The Confessions of An Ugly Gay Man
Somewhere Over the Bloody Rainbow
I’m not sure how to start this ridiculous monologue about my life, my worries, and woes; the things that consume my sad excuse for an existence. So I guess I’ll start with the pleasantries and introduction.
My name is Alex, of course that’s not my real name but whatever, and I’m twenty-five. Well I’ll be twenty-five soon. I’m built like an overweight quarter back with a large nose, and very bad complexion. I’m half Native American and Hispanic. I live in a horrid little city called Flagstaff in the northern part of Arizona. It’s not all bad, but it sure as Hell could be better. And that’s beside the economic difficulties and cost of living.
I guess my real beef with the town is the lack of courtesy shown by the fellow inhabitance of this city. I’m not just talking about the anti-gay, homophobes that spew their nonsense like a busted fire hydrant. I’m talking about the people within the LGBT community, coworkers, roommates, and other people within the social spheres that we build. And the people that pretend that they didn’t see me on my motorcycle and cut me off on the roads even though I’ve been in their field of vision for the past five minutes, but that’s a story for another time.
For the benefit of everyone I should start at the beginning of this whole fiasco and omit all the inconsequential details. It started on an ordinary day, well as ordinary as it gets for my day.
All I wanted to do after I got off my overnight shift from work was to get some breakfast, relax a little before heading off to bed and sleeping the day away only to return to work that night. It was a good morning and I was feeling good about nearly everything which is a rare mood for me to be in. Until I remembered why I was so… chipper that morning.
Most of the giddiness was because of a blind date I was set up on by a friend of mine from work. All the signs from the heavens were pointing to utter disaster however, the false euphoria that clouded mind at the time overcame my sense of self preservation and I eagerly went to meet up with my date.
I went to a small café near my apartment, order a cup of coffee, and called my friend to let her know where I was waiting for my date. I left a description of what I was wearing so he could recognize me and told her where I would be seated waiting. She responded quickly saying he was on his way. I sipped my coffee slowly and awaited the arrival of the mystery man.
Three hours and forty minutes later I’m still sat in the small café, with a bill for eight cups of coffee no breakfast, and no date. Needless to say that I should have given up after the first thirty minutes of waiting in the café. Finally getting tired of the wait, I paid my bill and made my way home. As I was walking I texted my friend and informed her of what transpired, or what didn’t if you want to be technical.
Later that night when I arrived to work, I found my friend sitting at the desk waiting for me. After an hour of hearing her whine, at great lengths and in even greater detail about some personal issue that don’t even concern either of us, she finally decided to address what happened that morning.
“Oh yeah my friend went to the café and saw you waiting there. He said that he didn’t think you were that big and that you weren’t his type” She says in a half bored voice. “He was like, ‘I didn’t want people to see me with that so I booked it out of there before he saw me.’”
All I could think to myself was, ‘that’s awesome’. That is the icing on the cake right there that is. I remain as indifferent as I can and said “Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t meet his standards.” I didn’t really have the heart to ask why she didn’t tell me that; I could have salvaged the remaining portion of my dignity and left the café instead of ordering eight cups of coffee and waiting for a man that was clearly not interested in me.
And my friend being the sweet ‘angel’ that she is say, “See that’s why I keep saying you have to work out with me. It’s not like you can do anything about your face but damn, do you have to make the body match the face?”
It’s those rare caring moments that you really get to see what goes on inside the minds of your friends. And I have to say it was a real eye opener. Seriously? Was it too much to ask for a heads up on a botched date? I suppose it was, and the insult was just the salt on the fresh wound. Apparently, the “I got your back” clause is only extended to the remotely attractive people of society. The get out of jail free cards are reserved only for the beautiful. I can’t help but think to myself that somewhere over that lovely gay pride rainbow there is place where men are considerate, our friends actually support us, and there someone that will find us and love us for who we are regardless of what we look like. Yeah, somewhere over that bloody rainbow.