A wise teacher once told me (and the rest of a class full of hormonally dysfunctional, zit-faced 9th graders), “Birds of a feather, stick together.”
Or, as the gays say, “Hey y’all!!! How’s all my bitches? Mmmm-hmmm, I’ve got my new jeans, so we all is hitting up the P-house tonight, and see if we can’t find me a stallion to rip them off, baby! Whoo Whoo!”
It is true, gay men tend to flock together. They shop together. They go clubbing together. They leech onto one another and watch shows like Project Runway and anything MTV together, all the time trying out the newest designer drugs.
Not I..
Watching this fag parade from afar, I have slowly come to realize that I just do not fit in with most homosexuals. In this way, I, Matty… have become lonely. I have never kept a true gay friend.
Meet Nelson Radar.
Nelson is also not your typical gay guy. He works as a car mechanic in Whorelando, isn’t afraid to spit on the ground in front of company, drinks beer, and isn’t afraid to be himself.
When I first met Nelson last January, I was at first appalled. He seemed like a rather strange creature, never talking directly to my face, but instead glancing around the room, as he rambled on without changing his voice. He drove his car like a maniac, made really bad jokes, and overall seemed unsocialized. But after a few drinks, Nelson began to calm down a bit, and by the next morning we’d found things to appreciate about each other.
I visited Nelson a second time about a month later, and found myself once again enjoying his friendly weirdness. I learned he 1. likes watching the history channel 2. has an insane love for fish, having two 50 gallon tanks of his own and 3. likes the same kinds of tea I do (and beer).
A few weeks after that, I found myself on a bad date, with a man I was convinced had one goal: to kill me with boring talks of computers. Afterwards, I instinctively called Nelson to tell him about it.
“Come over here,” Nelson said in his unemotional monotone voice. “I’ll take you out.”
Last night, I ended up in the middle of unwanted gay drama. As the man I was pursuing as my new husband (mind you, this is after putting 2 hours of work into this guy) was running away from us all with his ex-boyfriend yelling, “You said you were my friends!” …. I realized that he definitely was no longer a contender for husband.
Watching him angrily strut away from us (his three friends and I), I pulled out my cell phone.
“Hello?”
“Nelson! It’s me! I’m at P-House. Not having a good time.”
“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
Today, as I hung out at Nelson’s house with him, watching Modern Marvels (history channel), I realized something. I got a warm feeling. And started smiling.
“Hey,” Nelson said. “Look at Rebel.”
I glanced up at the cat laying on the back of the couch above me. He was staring down at me intently.
“You know what he’s saying?” Nelson joked. “He’s saying, ‘I’ve got my eye on you, you silly faggot.’”
As Nelson and I laughed, and knew now for sure….
I, Matty McManson…. have a true gay friend, and his name is Nelson Radar.
