my very gay lenten promise.
i spent all day trotting about on the internet reading this little something or that little something all in some way linking back to being gay, or how gay it all is, or the gayest gay that ever gayed a gay and what have you. It was like my own mini pride celebration (seeing as how i've never actually been to a pride celebration its purely conjecture.) but every now and again i like to have these little moments where i remind myself that being gay is the best thing to ever happen to a boy from small town texas - because it got me the hell out. for a little while anyway.
as my blog can surely attest, i have been the poster child for gay america for the last year and a half - dating, marching, fucking, standing up for myself and for the most part just being as prideful as a one man pride parade can be. but without all the hideous raindbow accoutremonts. i mean seriously, too much pride can be has ugly and warping as shame. being gay is and always will be the least interesting thing about that person. that's why it is always better to compensate with fashion.
and so tonight when i went to the local blockbuster (which has become my new hangout/passtime/excuse for living) i thought, best to keep with the theme of the day and rent something unbelievably gay. i finally narrowed it down to the two only gay movies this small town can handle: The Notebook, and Touch of Pink. (i know what you're thinking. "the notebook isn't a gay movie" but in all seriousness, its a period romance staring the bitch from mean girls and this man, who i am assured will be shirtless at least once. i mean, lets call a spade a queer, shall we?) i couldn't decdide what would be the gayer of the two and so i said, oh what the hell! ill rent both!
so as im walking my tags up to the check-out desk to pay, i am suddenly stricken with panic. i have never seen the man behind the counter. ::GASP:: where are all the clerks who know me? do i really want my first impression with this new clerk (who i am positive i will see on a more than constant basis for the next two weeks) to be on my queerest of queer days and whilst renting the faggiest of fag movies? (well, the faggiest of fag harlingen,tx movies)i decide it won't matter, as long as i can make the transaction very brief, and just get him to not shout out the titles of the movies i have rented and their respective due dates at the end.
so what ends up happening, is for the brief moment i am checking out i follow everything the clerk says with "uh-huh, is that it?" he says, "so you're getting the notebook, and touch of pink?" the little shit smirked at that. and i replied "uh-huh, is that it?" and he told me how much is was and i replied, "uh-huh, is that it?" i mean, i was so convinced that the blockbuster clerk at the harlingen, tx branch was going to judge me that i pre-emptively judged myself. in fact, it was more that judging, i SHAMED myself. i finally, and with a seriously deflated ego, finished the transaction and fleed the store (i quite literally walked out on him while he was trying to shout out the names of my movies so anyone who heard and took a gander over to see who would actually rent such gay movies would see nothing but a little culligan-shaped cloud where a person once stood.
i drove home covered in shame. my OWN shame for being exactly the stereotypical gay person that the smug blockbuster clerk assumed i was. and it of course didn't help matters that I watched Touch of Pink first and that the story was all about coming to terms and finally embracing and being ok with your own sexuality. i mean, it was a horrible movie. but i laughed, almost cried (i am still not a crier, no matter how gay and full of shame i am), felt all warm and fuzzy, and smiled a lot.
still though, as im about to head off to bed and i recount tonights events, the only thing im left with is my shame and of course an addendum to my lenten promise to myself and to god. that i will never let someone make me feel ashamed of who i am again. (or at least for the next 40 days.)
as my blog can surely attest, i have been the poster child for gay america for the last year and a half - dating, marching, fucking, standing up for myself and for the most part just being as prideful as a one man pride parade can be. but without all the hideous raindbow accoutremonts. i mean seriously, too much pride can be has ugly and warping as shame. being gay is and always will be the least interesting thing about that person. that's why it is always better to compensate with fashion.
and so tonight when i went to the local blockbuster (which has become my new hangout/passtime/excuse for living) i thought, best to keep with the theme of the day and rent something unbelievably gay. i finally narrowed it down to the two only gay movies this small town can handle: The Notebook, and Touch of Pink. (i know what you're thinking. "the notebook isn't a gay movie" but in all seriousness, its a period romance staring the bitch from mean girls and this man, who i am assured will be shirtless at least once. i mean, lets call a spade a queer, shall we?) i couldn't decdide what would be the gayer of the two and so i said, oh what the hell! ill rent both!
so as im walking my tags up to the check-out desk to pay, i am suddenly stricken with panic. i have never seen the man behind the counter. ::GASP:: where are all the clerks who know me? do i really want my first impression with this new clerk (who i am positive i will see on a more than constant basis for the next two weeks) to be on my queerest of queer days and whilst renting the faggiest of fag movies? (well, the faggiest of fag harlingen,tx movies)i decide it won't matter, as long as i can make the transaction very brief, and just get him to not shout out the titles of the movies i have rented and their respective due dates at the end.
so what ends up happening, is for the brief moment i am checking out i follow everything the clerk says with "uh-huh, is that it?" he says, "so you're getting the notebook, and touch of pink?" the little shit smirked at that. and i replied "uh-huh, is that it?" and he told me how much is was and i replied, "uh-huh, is that it?" i mean, i was so convinced that the blockbuster clerk at the harlingen, tx branch was going to judge me that i pre-emptively judged myself. in fact, it was more that judging, i SHAMED myself. i finally, and with a seriously deflated ego, finished the transaction and fleed the store (i quite literally walked out on him while he was trying to shout out the names of my movies so anyone who heard and took a gander over to see who would actually rent such gay movies would see nothing but a little culligan-shaped cloud where a person once stood.
i drove home covered in shame. my OWN shame for being exactly the stereotypical gay person that the smug blockbuster clerk assumed i was. and it of course didn't help matters that I watched Touch of Pink first and that the story was all about coming to terms and finally embracing and being ok with your own sexuality. i mean, it was a horrible movie. but i laughed, almost cried (i am still not a crier, no matter how gay and full of shame i am), felt all warm and fuzzy, and smiled a lot.
still though, as im about to head off to bed and i recount tonights events, the only thing im left with is my shame and of course an addendum to my lenten promise to myself and to god. that i will never let someone make me feel ashamed of who i am again. (or at least for the next 40 days.)
posted by culligan at 11:42 PM
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