Saturday, 1 December 2012


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image for My life as a man #36
Ed/Al dons his gay apparel

Don we now our gay apparel

There is a guy with whom I work who just recently "came out of the closet" and admitted that he was gay. Shit, I knew that, or suspected as much, when I met him; but it makes no difference to me any damned way. I suspected he was gay because he was never seen with any woman-anywhere-at any time; and women were forever throwing themselves at him without any effect at all.

The more he turned them down to go out for a drink, or the better looking they were who he turned down for any number of rendezvous, the harder they all tried to be the one woman he would choose.

Let me explain something to you women: if a guy is good looking, single, dresses well, has panache, his own place, a car, does not live with his mother-is everything you want in a man; and you have emphatically shown that man that you are willing to give up the goodies, and he remains uninterested; he either has no dick, or has no intention of giving it up to any woman, not even you because he is gay!

Anyway, Ed, I'll call him Ed, though his name is Albert, came over to the house last night to talk. That surprised me because Ed (Albert) never seemed interested in coming all the way out Coal River to see me before. I told him as much, too. And he said he wanted to talk with a straight guy about how to get a straight guy to "flip."

Fuck me; I had no idea what he meant. I asked him if he'd tried a trampoline. He said, "No, I hadn't thought a trampoline would help me with this guy." So I asked him which guy he was trying to "flip," and just what the hell did "flipping a guy mean?"

And he told me it meant to get the guy to go from being straight to being gay, or at least to being bisexual.

"OK, I said. The longer I live the more I learn."

So I asked Ed/Al who the lucky guy was, and did I know him?

He told me I "knew him pretty well, certainly better than he knew him."

I was getting a mite bit uncomfortable because it had just dawned on me that I might be the guy Ed/Al was trying to flip.

But it wasn't me Ed/Al was interested in, not at all.

"Oh Lord no, it isn't you. Jesus, do you think I'm stupid? No one is interested in you romantically, not that I am aware of; and I do not have time to tell you why that is other than everyone on the planet knows you are a complete and utter loser as a romantic partner," he said.

Well I never…

But Ed/Al could have knocked my ass over with a feather when he told me who the straight guy he wanted to flip was: my nephew, the Outlaw 1%-er biker, Danny. They met at a pig roast at my sister Sue's house back in August, and Ed/Al had fallen head over heels in love with Danny.

"Holy fucking shit, are you insane," I shouted at Ed/Al? "Danny once tore the head off a guy who looked at him with a smile on his face, before he realized the guy was smiling at a girl behind him."

"So, you're telling me I ought to play hard to get with Danny," he asked me.

"No, I'm telling you that Danny will rip off your head and shit up your neck if he finds out you are romantically interested in him," I shouted even louder than before.

"I think you're wrong. Danny took me for a ride on his Harley at the cookout," he said.

"Do-fucking-what! Danny took you for a ride on his bike?"

I was not only befuddled, I was flummoxed at the very idea my homicidal nephew let a guy get on his bike. He never even took his father for a ride on that Harley. I asked him to let me ride it one day and Danny looked at me and said, "I'll let you ride my bike if you let me fuck your daughter."

"Hmmm," I muttered. "How did the ride go, Ed/Al," I asked him.

"Well, Danny drove really fast and told me to hold on tight around his waist in the turns," he told me.

"The fuck you say," I said. "As I remember it, you were gone for quite a while. So was Danny. It never occurred to me that you two were together. Did you stop and jump on a trampoline at any point that evening," I asked.

"Stop it with the trampoline stuff, and listen to me. I bought a leather vest from the Harley-Davidson store. I also got this neat, black leather do-rag, and matching chaps. I anchored the look with really scruffy, second-hand, black engineer boots. Do you think I should have the vest embroidered?"

"By all means," was all that I could get out of my mouth.

"Listen, I don't want to impose, but I know for a fact that you won't have a date for Sue's Christmas Eve party. Could I go with you? Then Danny and I can sneak out later without anyone noticing."

OK, I'm now utterly bereft of any ability to think at all. What Ed/Al is proposing is that I become an accomplice in his flipping my nephew-although to be fair to Ed/Al, maybe Danny bought a trampoline and I'm just unaware of it.

"I'll dress like I always do, but keep my biker stuff in the car and change before Danny and I leave," he told me.

Don we now our gay apparel has just taken on a whole new meaning to me.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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