There are so many times when he'll be talking or singing and I have to say, "I have no idea what that means." So he's educating me.
I remember one night at the Cape when he forced me to watch Chicago and Eddie Izzard even though I was exhausted. He set me up in a Clockwork Orange eye-opening device, and then proceeded to fall asleep himself. My gay culture is often accompanied by the soundtrack of his snoring.
But my Lessons in All Things Gay has recently lead me to the movie Trick. Which I loved. (There's a post on straight women/gay men relationships in me somewhere. It's just waiting to mature before it comes out.)
Now I can't stop working, "It burns!" into every conversation. And I can't seem to stop screeching, "Where's the cheese for these goddamned fries!"
He's turning me into the quintessential fag hag against my will.
I just started reading Tales of the City too. But please, please, please don't ask me if I love it yet. Because I don't want to disappoint you. I'm positive that I'll come to love it. I promise.
But I'm such a straight girl. Because this has been my favorite part so far.
Boo yah! Take that, all philandering whores. Score one for happily married couples everywhere.
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