One of the reasons we bought our condo is that the dining room is shaped like the cockpit of the Millenium Falcon. Of course, our view is mainly of drug deals going down in the alley rather than the cosmos, but you gotta use your imagination. My usual seat in the dining room, where I work on my laptop, looks straight into the living room of an apartment across the courtyard, one floor down, about 50 feet away. Or 200 . . . I’m not really good with spacial relations. Anyway, when I’m not looking at my screen, I’m staring absently into this living room. We used to know the guys who lived there, Bandrew and Bason - I actually went to university with both of them - and they kept their drapes closed. They had light, linen-y sheers, but even at night, with the lights on in their apartment, you couldn’t see much. Not that I was watching or anything, guys, but after years of Queer as Folk, I kind of expect all the gay men I know to be engaged in hot, sweaty sex at all hours of the day, in all rooms of their house. Now, I don’t spent ALOT of time hanging around our 6-windowed dining room unsuitably attired (read: in my giraffe nightie), but there are times when I wander in there without pants on, looking for pants in the dining room (because often there are pants there). Or I might spend time in there with my finger up my left nostril, trying to realign my rogue nose-jewelry. When I thought I had lost the pendant off a treasured necklace last week and Katr found it hiding under a boob when she was feeling me up - that happened in the dining room.
Because of their drapes, I was denied voyeurial access to Bandrew and Bason, but I also felt protected. So you can imagine my combined delight and chagrin when I noticed that there were new tenants in the apartment and these people keep the drapes open. AT ALL HOURS. At first I was overjoyed and set to watching them carefully, trying to determine if they were two cute gay men like Bandrew and Bason, or if they were two kinda boyish lesbians (even better) OR if they were (gasp) HETS, but without my glasses, they both just looked like Elvira Kurt. I was going to get my glasses, but was distracted by something in my teeth and it was then, while I glamorously rooted around in my mouth after some stringy pineapple, that I noticed one of the new Elviras was WATCHING ME. In a private moment. IN MY OWN HOUSE! Outraged, I got up and lowered the blinds. And then turned out all the lights. And then raised the blinds a little and peered out at the new tenants. They’re lounging on their couch. They’re not DOING ANYTHING and yet I CAN’T LOOK AWAY.
Speaking of condo-board-approved window coverings - we called a company who advertised in the Pink Pages (Free measuring and installation!) to come and set us up with some drapes for our bedroom. They sent over a very fey, very tanned gentleman with lots of heavy silver and black jewelry, gelled hair and that weird “Fine, DON’T take my ideas, REJECT me!” melodrama that has accompanied some of your gay men since time began. We’ll call him “Byle". Byle loved our brazilian cherry floor, he LOVED it. He LOVED our crazy colours and big art and he heartily mocked our tinfoil-accented boudoir. He called us both “girlfriend” alot. He showed us all the “wild and crazy” fabrics, was upset when we didn’t go for the one HE liked but rallied quickly when he realized that the one we’d chosen was real, real pricey and would probably pay for several more years of membership at TanFastic. He was tallying up the cost of our drapes and quizzing Katr about optimizing his web site when somehow, we got on the topic of relationships. Being a window covering professional, Byle spends a LOT of time in peoples’ homes and sees all kinds of relationship dynamics and he told us that he could see that we had a very good relationship. Apparently, most of the couples he does drapes for are of mixed gender and usually the woman picks out the fabric, the man couldn’t care less until he finds out how much it is, then they have a fight in front of Byle and then the man hands over his credit card. Katr starts extolling the virtues of same sex relationships and says that because of the way we are socialized, men and women often have a hard time communicating. That’s when Byle mentions HIS communication problems - with his GIRLFRIEND.
Did YOU think Byle was gay? You did, didn’t you? Just READING about him, you thought he was gay. The man is like Jack on Will&Grace. Now, I understand that sometimes, very fastidious tanned men who call you “girlfriend” and work in interior decorating and squeal over your hardwood floor aren’t ALWAYS gay, except that they ARE and my question is, what woman, in this day and age, would date a guy like that? I am DYING to meet Byle’s girlfriend. Because I need to let her know that De-Byle ain’t just a river in Egypt.