Or at least that's what I heard. Certainly not gonna risk that - so when Charming Calvin planned a reunion on his return with his Calvinettes - the trio of Steel, Stone and Solicitor - and insisted I came along, I admit to suffering a significant qualm. Or two.
Good move though. Meeting the hags has got to be quite a significant milestone in the homosexual relationship, right? Surely it means that I've gone up from the trashy one-night-stand anxiously hustled into the closet when a friend drops by to the reasonably sensible fellow you wouldn't mind introducing to the scrutiny of your judgemental friends.
Not sure whether the Calvinettes are as judgemental as me and my friends :) Sure, I'd met the Calvinettes individually during separate occasions - managed to be on my best behaviour each time! - but I've never actually sat through dinner with the entire coven in attendance. Who knows what kinda trouble the Charmed Ones could cook up all together in their bubbling, boiling cauldron?
Maybe I should have worn a bullet-proof vest!
After all who knows what kinda awful impression I made before! Racked with a case of terminal bashfulness, I know I occasionally come off ( erroneously indeed! ) as a snotty, arrogant fella in front of strangers! Though Calvin assures me that I passed muster with his friends before, I doubt the good fella ( oblivious as he is sometimes ) would even realize if his Calvinettes were busy hatching up a wicked scheme to be rid of me with spells, chants and lil voodoo dolls in horn-rims, sweaters and khakis.
Even worse if they were to blame me - as his blessed mama surely did - for plunging him into a sickening morass of homosexuality.
But never let it be said that I am faint of heart since I rose to the occasion and arrived ( almost! ) on time for the appointment despite my initial fears. Had my blessed crucifix clutched desperately in hand though.
Turns out the Calvinettes aren't quite as sinister as I painted them - a coven they might be but there was nary a newt's eye or dragon's fang in sight. All three sat aligned on the sofa looking as benign as could be. Unless Stone hid her athame well in her voluminous handbag.
With political topics dealt with in about ten minutes - turns out our Solicitor had turned Socialista behind our backs - I then asked them about Calvin while he cringed inwardly. Seemingly all thre burst forth regaling me with hilarious tales of Calvin during his schooldays. Turns out he was quite the sweet mama's boy. :) Which didn't altogether surprise me.
So we delved into topics such as schoolroom hijinks, bad boys and yes, Steel surrogacy. Seems like Calvin playfully broached the idea of surrogacy to one of his Calvinettes - and his housemate, Steel the night before. And though she made some token protests, Steel didn't seem entirely averse to the idea!
Though she had some peculiar demands up front.
- Yoga classes prior to delivery. No doubt part of her healthy living lifestyle - agreed since it would improve her flexibility and probably help joint movement ( helps during labour, I'm sure ).
- Maid obviously. Something I couldn't agree more.
- A home in Alaska. I am confused about this but she mumbled something about mobile igloos not needing constant housework.
- Fat farm treatment after delivery.
Now what do you make of that?