Yesterday afternoon my partner called to say that a colleague had invited us to his place for dinner. This colleague is gay and partnered.

My partner said, “Do we have any plans on Saturday evening?”

I said, “No, why?”

“That gay coworker of mine I told you about and his partner want to have us over for dinner.”

“Did you tell him that I was a vegetarian?”

“Yes, they’re cooking Indian. Is it OK for me to say yes?”

“Why not?”

“Well, because you know how you are about gays.”

“Just find out what type of wine they want us to bring.”

Later that afternoon, I couldn’t shake the idea that I was some homophobic prick, some gay-hating fag, a self-loathing mo. Of course, that’s not true. In fact, it’s far from true.

I’m openly gay. Openly gay in the sense that I don’t refrain from talking about my partner and do like to crack off-color, mean-spirited jokes. I’m not gay in a lispy, swishy way. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I find nothing wrong with lispy and swishy, but only if it’s not an act. If a gay guy behaves that way because he’s from some redneck town and thinks that’s the way he’s suppose to act, then of course I don’t like it. It’s an act. It’s phony and I hate phony. If a gay guy is femme because, God love him, he popped out of his mama’s vagina knowing the lyrics to “I Will Survive” then peace be with you and let’s grab a margarita.

What I don’t like…I just took a break from typing to watch an episode of Sex and the City on Lala TV, the Lifetime Television for Women (and gay men) of Japan. How gay is that!?

What I don’t like is the cattiness, the bitchiness and the underhanded backstabbing that accompanies too many gay friendships. There is a reason the majority of my best friends are women (gay and straight).

I remember a gay male friend back in college once said to me, “You know, when I was growing up, all the gay men on TV were nice and caring and supportive of their friends and each other but that’s not true is it.”

I agreed. Incidentally this friend soon became my college nemesis. To this day the thought of him makes me want to grab him by his pale little throat and toss him out a window. Asshole talk shit about me! So what if I slept around a little? I was in college. So what if I had a temper? I’m brown. He and his pudgy-faced, fat-lipped, Grover from Sesame Street little spic faggot of a friend can kiss my naturally brown ass!

See that? I’m not a homophobic homo. I’m just a mean mo.