There is only one man in the world that I will permit to call me a fag hag....and even though the words are (to me) the furthest thing from the truth, they come from a place of great affection, a long-standing joke between us, and he proceeds the phrase with referring to me as a bag of jam (long, strange, story). He knows I'm no hag. I'm a smart, attractive lady who enjoys rolling with her posse of handsome, smart, talented gay friends. When I go to heaven, God will look like Ian McKellen (as Gandalf) and St. Peter like Anderson Cooper (in halo and a tight black t-shirt). The heavenly chorus will be made up of Neil Patrick Harris, Jim Parsons, and Matt Bomer. And you know what? I will love it. Because those guys ROCK. I'm going to see Magic Mike tonight, and I can honestly say, I'm most excited to see Matt Bomer. Is it really fair for one human being to be that good looking?
I am not a collector of types. Groups of friends tend to have a lot of the same qualities or interests, and as someone who is very much into the arts, a lot of those people (men and women) happen to be gay. I don't just surround myself with any particular person, I am friends with people who are great, and such a large portion of the gay community is great, it's who I end up knowing and enjoy spending my time with. Gay men are (for the most part) smart and funny and sweet and alive. They live in the moment. They smell good and laugh loud and will squeeze your shoulder when you need it. They will dance with you, and speak openly about what they think and feel. Now, this doesn't make them substitue girlfriends or boyfriends. I feel this is the biggest mistake straight women make! Don't try to make a gay man into your boyfriend or best girlfriend! Don't drag them shopping if they don't like it, or force them to cuddle in front of "The Notebook" just because you have your period and feel lonely. It's like any great friendship, you must appreciate and be appreciated for who you are, not what you could be to the other person.
I am on my way to becoming the Liz Taylor of gay husbands. I use the term "gay husband" for several of my dear friends, who I'd marry in an instant just for the joy and privledge of spending every day with them. Then, in my fantasy, we'd hang out together at night with our respective boyfriends and life would be super awesome. But now (at least in places that aren't heart-breakingly cruel and hypocritical of what freedom and human rights are) my gay husbands can have gay husbands of their very own. And that is wonderful. As long as I get to come to the wedding (and wear something faaaabulous.)
