Boys Under Maintenance

So what did Fabulous Felix, Strapping Shane and I talk about till the wee hours of the morning? While the guys and I were having the heart-to-heart the other day, the subject of maintaining a guy came up. Committing to a relationship can already hard enough without having a partner who's a demanding diva. After all, haven't we all seen that high-maintenance queen throwing a hissy fit in public?

Diva : I've been waiting for a whole 2 minutes and 33 seconds. Simply unforgivable! This is it! I'm calling our entire three day relationship off! And no, I'm not returning that Bvlgari ring you gave me the last time you forgot to ask me to dinner.
Victim : But I got run over -
Diva : Excuses! Talk to the hand, bitch. You are dead to me.

Seriously. And this is over being late a few seconds. Imagine the big stuff.

Wait a minute, they'd never get there at this phenomenal rate of breakup. Short of marrying a virtual saint.


Strike a pose!
Here I thought I got away from all this pretentious rubbish when I turned gay. Seen my high school friends squabble over the teensiest matters - from missed dates to forgotten phone calls - with the boys desperately trying to placate the disdainful tween queens. Sad to say, I think ( most! ) women have been unfairly tagged with the high-maintenance diva label. These days, it seems as if the gay boys can certainly give them a run for their money.

Must be exhausting dating an emo fella who gets easily offended by the smallest slight! Having to watch each and every move, censor each and every word so as not to ignite a bitch fest. It would drive me insane.

But why? Are gay boys born with a sequinned neon-lit pink passport that automatically gives us the right to be patently unreasonable and throw hysterical fits when things don't go our way? Have we all been periodically bullied in school till our self esteem rates so low that we bristle and rile over every perceived slight?

I think we all gotta chill a little.

At least I've tried to. Perhaps it's age but I've learned to put a filter on my thoughts - and acerbic tongue. Counting to ten works. Eschewing that diva image, I try not to fly off the handle at every turn. Wouldn't do to lose my temper on a sensitive soul such as Charming Calvin after all!

I guess I'd consider myself pretty easy. Low-maintenance. Just give me some sex, a lil understanding and the occasional uproarious laughter over my lame jokes and I'm yours.

And I'll try not to be a bitch.