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poop beetle: Jim
6.2002
Jimmy stopped by while I was mopping the kitchen floor. He stepped into the house and asked how I was doing, and I started bitching- about nothing I can remember. He asked and suddenly I had this rhythm going mop/ bitch. He stood at the door of the kitchen and nodded politely with empathy and patience and then he said "well, guess I'll see you later". And then went to my husband's office to tell him he was gay. He sobbed in my husband's arms. And my husband said it's o.k. And I'm so glad you told me.
I would have been so good at that.
So then several months go by and I have to hear from all his other friends he told out-right, how he's doing with being officially gay. This is actually more than "officially" because Jimmy was way in the closet- not one of us could have guessed. He has good friends who love him- and that's me too. But because I wasn't mentally present for that moment, I don't know how to approach him about it. What I can talk to Jimmy about is depression and family. Nicorette gum and drinking too much coffee so you think you're a psycho and why IS caffeine a legal drug?
So circumstance arrives and we're hanging out alone- no husband, children, etc. and I say in so many words "so how's the whole gay thing going?"
And he starts to tell me, and seems pleased to do so- and I'm nodding and being the supportive friend. And then I ask him how is it in his new neighborhood since he just moved. He's in the holdout Hispanic cusp of a neighborhood that has taken on real momentum since a great number of lesbians have moved in renovating and landscaping so that Martha Stewart would swoon. And I say, "I know there's a strong lesbian community, but I don't know about gay men, but then it's mostly Hispanics around where you are". And he says "that's true, but I took a walk yesterday and I saw two really cute gay Hispanic guys". And I say "gay Hispanics? hmm I wouldn't have thought of that. How could you tell?"
And he says "oh. You could tell."
And he grins. And it's not lascivious or anything like that. It's a purely sweet living life, kind of grin. But . . . I blink. And he changes the subject.
About a month before this conversation he brings a "friend" to dinner at the house. The friend is very apparantly gay.
It's my son, Haaris' first birthday and he brings him a supersized panda bear with attached baby panda. The gift is from both of them but the friend, who I find out later is just a buddy, picked it out.
But I don't know he's only a buddy. I make assumptions that are not corrected until a few days later when the gossip mill starts churning. In the meantime, during dinner I'm way too cheerful and animated. I seat them side-by-side and look at them as if they're already hung in a frame. One speaks and I look to the other for his response.
And I so wanted to be better than that. But, truthfully, I'm a prude. Not about homosexuality- just about talking about sex -dealing with sex, in general. I blame it on my mom. But then she's tried to change. I have a sister, ten years younger than me. My mom has lightened up so much my little sister actually tried to talk to her about sex.
I know this because the only conversation I've ever had with my mom about sex was about how uncomfortable it is to have other people try to talk to you about it.
