My cousin,
his niece. They’re having a baby. And so we bought our gifts, stuffed them in
overpriced (but super cute) gift bags and showed up for the shower. Fifty
people—half men, half women—but only two gay guys.
We’d never
met before but I could tell he’d been primed. Oh, you’ve got to meet James. He’s funny and smart. And,…he’s single. I
got a similar backgrounder file on Rich: outrageously funny, so loving, great
fun.
I didn’t
need an introduction. My gaydar worked just fine. Presumably so did his because
he approached and chatted me up within five minutes of arrival. Nice guy. Same
age. We laughed as we sustained a fifteen-minute conversation. That’s an achievement
for me since I find chitchat challenging. Even more remarkable: I didn’t feel a
layer of sweat coating my forehead or wetting my underarms. I was calm, maybe
even charming.
But then
maybe it’s because I knew things weren’t going anywhere. I could tell in an
instant from his breath he was a smoker. I’ve had a long-term relationship with
a smoker and I’m dead certain I never will again. Besides, to hit it off would
be complicated and impractical. I’ve started seeing someone else back in
Vancouver and the uncle of the mom-to-be lives in Ottawa. So pleasant enough,
someone to connect with during future family functions in which cousins and
uncles are invited, but nothing more.
None of my
relatives or family friends quizzed me later in the day. I could feel eyes on
us as we chatted during that first exchange and during two other occasions at
the shower, but half my family is still too repressed to ask about anything gay
and the other half knows I prefer to keep my thoughts to myself (and to blog
readers, of course).
So it ends
quietly. The two gays showed at the shower, they brought amazing gifts (as gays
do) and they went their separate ways. The main players were fine, but I
suspect the armchair gay-watchers left disappointed. It’s bound to happen when
your gay pool is so small.
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