Transformer
At work there is a guy named Marcel who’s gay. There is a minor detail to this story and it’s that he’s not aware of it. I’m not going to spend time writing about the way he talks or the way he walks because I would mainly be describing a typical flamboyant gay guy and we all know about those. I will instead mention a few of his character traits. You see, Marcel gets hit on by older gay customers all the time at work; he also flirts back with them without realizing it. Like many gay guys, he surrounds himself with middle aged women who confide in him and cry on his shoulder, he has few male friends. Marcel also used to take Ballet when he was younger and his favorite singer is Joni Mitchell. He has unsuccessfully tried dating girls in the past and this is what we were talking about today, at break time.
Marcel: “Yeah, I don’t know like, I’ve not been in a relationship since I graduated from high school. I don’t know what it is.”
Me: “Well, maybe you just need to, hum, find yourself, you know?”
Marcel: “Yeah, like every girl I like, I just want her to take care of me and listen to me. But I always feel like I’m not good enough for them. My last girlfriend would beat me up, once she even threw a knife at me. It’s hard to find somebody you know?”
Me: “Yeah, well, you just need to find out WHO you like, and give yourself time to, hum, FIND YOURSELF, Marcel. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
And this situation reminds me of those times in Argentina, before my best friend Gabriel came out of the closet. I remember how we all knew that he was obviously gay but still granted him the benefit of the doubt; at least he would talk about liking women every once in a while. The problem was that all his girlfriends were usually Amazon looking women who were three heads taller than him and had coarse voices. Gabi’s last girlfriend, Paula is actually a Lesbian now, and I remember how once when we were all riding the public bus back from the city, Paula managed to grab a seat and had asked her boyfriend Gabi to sit on her lap. Seeing them was cute at the moment but who can blame us for not even raising one eyebrow that evening when we were all snaking at the table and Gabi decided to declare his new revelation to us:
“Carolina, Diana, Jasmine. I need to tell you something.”
“What Gabi”
“I think I’m gay.”
“Hey, can you pass me the cereal that’s next to you Gabs? Oh, so you’re gay, and the milk please, it’s over there. Thanks”
This is why my only wish for Marcel is that he can find himself soon. Because there is nothing as frustrating as lying awake in bed every night, staring at the ceiling and wondering for hours if you just might be gay. I have news, and the answer comes down to this: If you lay awake every night asking yourself if you just might be gay, then you probably are, time to come out of the closet.
Marcel: “Yeah, I don’t know like, I’ve not been in a relationship since I graduated from high school. I don’t know what it is.”
Me: “Well, maybe you just need to, hum, find yourself, you know?”
Marcel: “Yeah, like every girl I like, I just want her to take care of me and listen to me. But I always feel like I’m not good enough for them. My last girlfriend would beat me up, once she even threw a knife at me. It’s hard to find somebody you know?”
Me: “Yeah, well, you just need to find out WHO you like, and give yourself time to, hum, FIND YOURSELF, Marcel. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
And this situation reminds me of those times in Argentina, before my best friend Gabriel came out of the closet. I remember how we all knew that he was obviously gay but still granted him the benefit of the doubt; at least he would talk about liking women every once in a while. The problem was that all his girlfriends were usually Amazon looking women who were three heads taller than him and had coarse voices. Gabi’s last girlfriend, Paula is actually a Lesbian now, and I remember how once when we were all riding the public bus back from the city, Paula managed to grab a seat and had asked her boyfriend Gabi to sit on her lap. Seeing them was cute at the moment but who can blame us for not even raising one eyebrow that evening when we were all snaking at the table and Gabi decided to declare his new revelation to us:
“Carolina, Diana, Jasmine. I need to tell you something.”
“What Gabi”
“I think I’m gay.”
“Hey, can you pass me the cereal that’s next to you Gabs? Oh, so you’re gay, and the milk please, it’s over there. Thanks”
This is why my only wish for Marcel is that he can find himself soon. Because there is nothing as frustrating as lying awake in bed every night, staring at the ceiling and wondering for hours if you just might be gay. I have news, and the answer comes down to this: If you lay awake every night asking yourself if you just might be gay, then you probably are, time to come out of the closet.