thelesbianlifestyle.com

Whilst listening to techno music this morning in the hopes of the deep base beats waking me up I found it fitting to write an ode of sorts to my gay boy.  He goes by several names. His given name is James, my niece calls him Pookie, and my brother and I refer to him as my Skinny. A “Skinny” is my brother and my definition of the skinny friend we both have that helps us do shit. Things like move, paint, and anything horribly physical fit into this category. Skinnys are usually docile creatures that are happy to please their fat counterpart. They are rewarded with sarcasm and the occasional rub on the head. Which in my skinnys experience is a whole new world since he decided to shave his head yesterday. No worries, I have already advised him that I would take him to the local army surplus store to get him a pair of shit kickers in the name of the Aryan race. We all make mistakes.

James has been in my life for over seven years now and although I don’t tell him as often as I should he has been a great friend and confidant. I don’t have to puff up my chest with James. I don’t have to be anyone other than who I am with him. We are, in essence, a fun to look at sudo hetero couple. I can get angry at times when we go out together and people assume I’m his hag. Then I look in the mirror and realize that I do rather fit the stereo type well.

James is the person I want to hang out with. He is the one person I talk to every day and the one person I call when I need to go to the casino. He is kind, has the softest hands in the world, and laughs at all my jokes. Despite James’ lack of motivation he has dreams and I respect that. He’s right beside me as we try to figure this life shit out as each year goes by. He was right there with me when my Dad was dying. He was the first person I called when he finally passed. He was the one I held on to when my niece had her second seizure and I thought I was going to fall to the ground like a woman in church speaking tongues.

I have heard the rumors that lesbians and gay men don’t get along. I will be happy to march on Washington to protest this notion. Or maybe it’s just the type of lesbian I am and the type of gay guy he is. Looking even deeper maybe it’s just the people we are and sexuality has nothing to do with it. Either way I needed to express my gratitude to a great guy and my best friend. May you all have a friend like him in your life. May you all have someone  you can discuss your bowel movements with and cry in front of. May you all have someone who will pick up your lighter when it falls to a place that you cannot possibly reach from a sitting position.

I raise my glass to you James. Or perhaps I should say, puff puff pass!

Your fat dyke hag and friend