The Only Gay In The Village?
The Wandering Minstrel was in town this weekend, playing flamenco at a Cockermouth tapas bar. The Management Consultant, a friend and former colleague, was visiting me so we went along to cheer the Minstrel on to his inevitable triumph. Now the Management Consultant is a chap of pronounced views & robust manner, somewhat uneasy in bohemian company, but in the course of the evening something quite unexpected happened. One of the hostesses of Cockermouth cafe society clearly decided that his presence betokened a hitherto unsuspected passion on my part, grasped the wrong end of a long and knotty stick, and let it be known she was delighted I had finally accepted my true nature.
My denials were in vain, and we found ourselves invited to grace her salon a deux the following evening.
Saturday night was great fun - we duly arrived and spent an enjoyable few hours in good company, the highlight being the piano playing of a flamboyant cross-dressing Dutchman who had spent some time in high security prisons (for professional purposes, we were assured).
Discreetly, I informed our hostess of her misunderstanding. The salonista refused to believe me. Each protestation only reinforced her disbelief. When the Management Consultant dozed off later in the evening her other guests took this as proof positive that we'd been at it like knives all weekend.
So I'm saddled with an unwanted reputation. What to do? I don't think there's an accepted social ritual for coming out as a straight man. Or should I just bask in my fraudulent exoticism? Etiquette mavens please advise.
My denials were in vain, and we found ourselves invited to grace her salon a deux the following evening.
Saturday night was great fun - we duly arrived and spent an enjoyable few hours in good company, the highlight being the piano playing of a flamboyant cross-dressing Dutchman who had spent some time in high security prisons (for professional purposes, we were assured).
Discreetly, I informed our hostess of her misunderstanding. The salonista refused to believe me. Each protestation only reinforced her disbelief. When the Management Consultant dozed off later in the evening her other guests took this as proof positive that we'd been at it like knives all weekend.
So I'm saddled with an unwanted reputation. What to do? I don't think there's an accepted social ritual for coming out as a straight man. Or should I just bask in my fraudulent exoticism? Etiquette mavens please advise.
posted by Nick at 6:28 pm
8 Comments:
Next time you go out, wear royal blue slacks and brown brogues.
They may think you're style roadkill, but at least they'll know you're straight.
I'd say just keep your excellent sense of humor, Nick. And for god's sake, remember not to protest too much.
This is one to which there is no simple answer, because of postmodernism which has made everything very complicated somehow. Crucially, don't be interested in football and never go to the gym. Or perhaps play a double bluff invoving Sitwellian rings, the ballet and Violet Cologne?
Erm. . . I think I'll pass on the Violet cologne, but thanks for the suggestion . . .
"Do not deny, always agree and always embelleish" is REALLY a motto to live by. Bravo!I will try, one of these days, to put it into Latin.
While you're about it could you come up with something Latinate for 'Bask In Fraudulent Exioticism'?
Were you wearing the Famous Black Leather Trousers at the event?
Thankfully not . . . since last year's Stranglers gig they've mysteriously shrunk a size
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