There is a guy that I know and I would swear he is gay. Completely, utterly, no doubt in my mind. Then someone mentioned he was married. To a lady. I was completely astounded.
Now I'm feeling a little unsure; a little insecure. In addition to thousands of cues I've misinterpretted, he only hangs out with guys. Then there's his attitudes and beliefs, his style, his habits, his favorite drinks and the fact he loves and attends all Pride events in a three-state radius; he is so wrecking my expectations! Mostly, it's because he sends me emails written in Arial font. I'm a font snob and perhaps I read too much into it. Hmm.
Chris countered with the idea that perhaps this guy is bi. Or somewhere else along the sexual spectrum. Now I don't trust my impressions; I wonder how many other friends I've mis-interpreted? In the end, it doesn't matter. I just really, really hate being wrong.
I've repeatedly said I prefer to think of people like mushrooms: adventuring/reproducing by spores alone. In fact, I like to say that none of my friends have sex. I'm not wierd about this, really. People don't like to think of their parents as having sex (ew!)...I just extend this same process to all my friends. Congratulations, you are a mushroom! Though it's equally ucky to think that I've walked though a spore trail during a windy afternoon.
Moral of today's story: I can't believe someone in the choir stole my stapler. Who steals a stapler?
An Erinku:
spiral vase
empty,
clean
who's is it?
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