Ever since we've met him, Diffident David has always adamantly maintained that he passes for 'straight'.
Whatever the hell that means.
Much to his consternation, we usually reiterate repeatedly that a neat freak obsession with perfectly mussed-up hair and meticulously folded sleeves - coupled with that teensy bit of a swish sway when he flounces - reads as totally, utterly stereotypically gay. Blinding neon pink flashing sign patently obvious to anyone watching, short of the seriously visually impaired.
Of course he doesn't see it. Much like Mercurial Marshall before him who's practically gay enough for a dancing pride parade of shirtless go-go boys to drift by whenever he sashays by - and yet fervently insists that he's desperately hush hush discreet at work.
No one knows? Seriously?
The boys doth protest too much, methinks. Isn't it odd that the stereotypically gayest boys always think that their glass closets are impenetrable to others? Despite desperately trying to cover up your sexual proclivities with a lowered baritone and a macho strut, trust me - especially the boys working in the hospitals - the nurses always know. At least the more perceptive ones. Some of the doctors would know as well, after all we spend half our lives observing human behaviour and the peculiar nuances thereof.
Which is something our David is still living in dread of. Though something tells me he doesn't need to worry any longer.
David : I got a gift from the nurses the other day.
Paul : That's nice of them.
David : Take a look.
Paul : Wait, that's a pashmina.
David : Oh, is that what they call it?
Paul : That's a pashmina.
David : Yes?
Paul : They know you're gay.
David : What?!
Really? A pashmina.
Don't get me wrong, I love silky soft pashminas and have used them as scarves as well. In fact Charming Calvin spends hours just rearranging his scarves into dozens of fashionable permutations whenever we're in a temperate country.
But really, when was the last time you heard of any man - even a gay man - receiving a faintly feminine pashmina for a parting gift?
Yes, truly cosmopolitan metrosexuals could pull it off quite easily with savoir faire - but a pashmina in a soft lavender paisley? With short tassels? Over here in a our steadfastly conservative nation, it would ring a dozen bells of homosuspicion!
Whatever the hell that means.
Much to his consternation, we usually reiterate repeatedly that a neat freak obsession with perfectly mussed-up hair and meticulously folded sleeves - coupled with that teensy bit of a swish sway when he flounces - reads as totally, utterly stereotypically gay. Blinding neon pink flashing sign patently obvious to anyone watching, short of the seriously visually impaired.
Of course he doesn't see it. Much like Mercurial Marshall before him who's practically gay enough for a dancing pride parade of shirtless go-go boys to drift by whenever he sashays by - and yet fervently insists that he's desperately hush hush discreet at work.
No one knows? Seriously?
The boys doth protest too much, methinks. Isn't it odd that the stereotypically gayest boys always think that their glass closets are impenetrable to others? Despite desperately trying to cover up your sexual proclivities with a lowered baritone and a macho strut, trust me - especially the boys working in the hospitals - the nurses always know. At least the more perceptive ones. Some of the doctors would know as well, after all we spend half our lives observing human behaviour and the peculiar nuances thereof.
 |
| Maybe if I walk really, really slow, no one would know! |
David : I got a gift from the nurses the other day.
Paul : That's nice of them.
David : Take a look.
Paul : Wait, that's a pashmina.
David : Oh, is that what they call it?
Paul : That's a pashmina.
David : Yes?
Paul : They know you're gay.
David : What?!
Really? A pashmina.
Don't get me wrong, I love silky soft pashminas and have used them as scarves as well. In fact Charming Calvin spends hours just rearranging his scarves into dozens of fashionable permutations whenever we're in a temperate country.
But really, when was the last time you heard of any man - even a gay man - receiving a faintly feminine pashmina for a parting gift?
Yes, truly cosmopolitan metrosexuals could pull it off quite easily with savoir faire - but a pashmina in a soft lavender paisley? With short tassels? Over here in a our steadfastly conservative nation, it would ring a dozen bells of homosuspicion!
2 comments:
I have got pashminas too. In my closet.
That's what we told him too, david!
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