Oddly enough, I'm getting e-mails from Ex-Gays, all claiming they read my ramblings (and selected BTL personal ads) "just for old times sake."
I've tallied six: a grief therapist, a pit bull groomer, a U of M herpetologist, a singing waiter in need of a Christian hip-hop gig, an Urdu-speaking used car salesman, and a born-again ballroom dancer with recently acquired fallen arches. (Sorry, Dancing With the Stars.)
It's revealing what they say: "I'm blessed to be free of the gay lifestyle, and with help of the Big Bro Upstairs I'm planning for a macho wedding, three patriotic kids, a conservative tri-level dwelling, an eight-wheel-drive SUV, a medium-sized mega-church membership, and not one but two carefully staggered home loan mortgages. Amen."
I'm infinitely polite to these Ex-Gees. (God knows I have few enough mentally stable gay PG readers as it is.) And, I'm honest. I don't ask for prayers, pictures, or phone numbers, though I'm sorely tempted by FALLEN ARCHES. I happen to like flat feet. Especially in Holy Land sandals.
"Thanks for your e-mail, GOOD GRIEF. I do understand that the gay lifestyle might seem a dead end for you. Maybe things would have been more lively if you didn't let your rigor diddle your mortis. Gay or straight, you can't have a rainbow without rain. Happy puddles, Mary."
Sometimes my e-mails bring a surprise. SINGING WAITER sent me a copy of OK magazine."Here's what you're missing. Try it, dude. You'll like it. You may be over the hill, but do something about your hump."
Admittedly I've had little experience with his hetero humps. (Once only: I was drunk; but that hardly counts). But I checked out OK. (Skipping 'I'm Pregnant!: Jamie Lynn Spears. Pure unadulterated sibling rivalry. A 16-year-old's bid for publicity, with 18-year-old boyfriend Casey's six-inch PR help and mom Lynne's 50-something oh, well, whatever compliance. I'm sure Casey at the Bat broke no sandbox records scoring home plate.)
I not only got an OK eyeful, I learned a lot. I've never seen such gorgeous gussies. A tad plastic (as in recycling) but gorgeous. Vibrant. Grinning. Waving. Showin' off. All 200. Role models for straight-arrow America! What like-minded Ex-Gee wouldn't want to date one? Get matching face lifts? Live happily ever after with their in-laws?
And the gowns! To diet for. The envy of any anorexic cross dresser. (Item: Maureen McCormick, age 50, lost 38 pounds in three months.) And those starlet bangs. (Of 10 voted on by readers, the best forehead fringee is . . . Keira Knightley!) And, Which hunk has the most power between his legs? (Georgee Clooney on his motorcycle, of course, sillee, with votes 40 percent). Category: Which blond has the better new blower? (Ashlee Simpson, with 62 percent). Keira, who? Ashlee, who? Blow what? 38 pounder, no pickles!
And living the straight Gee-spotters "lifestyle" costs bucks. Ex-Gees, considering marrying a dream fantasy (while two-steppin' a sleepwalker's nightmare), might think twice. Yes, Whose fashion cost a fortune?
Count these blessings: Paris Hilton's Classic Chanel purse ($2425), Heidi Klum's Mouwad earrings ($880), Carmen Electra's Marc Jacobs "shiny red trench over a tiered frock, with coordinated Black patent pumps" ($1900). T'aint cheap, Jamiee Lynnee, even if sob-sis Britnee frets $14.25 for a Starbucks latte is a lot. Slurp. Slurp.
'Yes, SINGING WAITER. Scribble on your menu. There's no free lunch in this life. Or the next one to come." (PS: Loved Davee Beckham's spread-legs pix. I think you'll agree, Ex-Gee. He's humpee. Over or under anybody's hill." [See OK page 47.]
Parting Glances: The hump on the hill
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