Why I Love My Gay Boyfriend

by Sabrina Zollo

  “Fabulous,” Stevie agreed, relieved for the change of conversation.

  I ran to Mateo’s cube after lunch to congratulate him. “I saw you and Heidi at the coffee bar – you did great!” I high-fived him.

  “It took two weeks for me to make my move. I was stalking her at the coffee bar, it took forever for her to be alone.”

  “I’m dying to know – what did you say?”

  “The first thing that came to my mind: Do you come here often?”

  I paused.

  “She had the same reaction as you! So I said just kidding and she laughed.”

  “Were you kidding?” I asked.

  “Nah,” he answered.

  “Well, whatever works,” I laughed.

  “I would have never made a move if it weren’t for you,” he said.

  “Really?” I asked, flattered.

  “Yeah, whenever I started thinking I didn’t have a chance, I just thought of you and your crush on Caden and it gave me hope that at least I had a better chance than you.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Not so flattered anymore.”

  “Seriously, thanks for your advice. It really helped.” He man-hugged me awkwardly, bumping his shoulder to mine and patting me on the back. He suddenly sprung back, his face panicked.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “She saw me hug you,” he whispered.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, she stopped by to say something to me and saw us hugging and then just kept walking.” He looked devastated.

  “It was a man hug! Tell her it was nothing.” I said.

  “No, no, she won’t believe me,” he slumped down in his desk chair, head in hands. “How could I screw it up before it could even be screwed up?”

  “Don’t worry, Mateo, I’ll go talk to her.”

  I’m not sure what possessed me to get involved but Mateo’s desperate unrequited love struck a chord with me. I knocked on Heidi’s cube door. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” she frowned, on guard.

  I sat down in the spare chair beside her desk. “Look, Mateo has a huge crush on you. It’s really sweet and I think you should give him a chance.”

  “Who’s Mateo?” she asked.

  “Oh, sorry, I mean Matthew.”

  “Oh,” she said. She played with a section of her hair. “Yeah, he’s nice but…I don’t really think he’s my type.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, he thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world and he would treat you like a princess. Isn’t that what any girl would want?”

  She looked back at me, silent.

  “Think about it,” I said. As I left her cube, she sat quietly, still playing with her hair.

  Chapter 12: Intervention

  “You were right,” Heidi appeared at my cube, espresso in hand. Her hair and makeup were less overdone and much more appropriate for one not involved in the sex trade.

  “Right about what?” Heidi appeared to be speaking to me as if I were her fashion equal. Was my outfit that fabulous or had hell frozen over?

  “Matthew’s a sweetheart,” she whispered. “He’s totally different from anyone I’ve ever dated before. He’s actually…nice to me.”

  “Oh good, you gave him a chance. How did it go?”

  “Good. This is for you.” She handed me the espresso. Was I that notorious an espresso aficionado that even Heidi knew my vice? “I’ve been pretty horrible to you and just wanted to say thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” I graciously accepted the espresso. This was my fourth one of the morning and frankly, it would have been rude to turn it down. “You were only mean to me that one time you laughed at my ugly outfit.”

  Heidi blinked. “Oh, we always laugh at you behind your back.”

  “Yeah…that’s probably not necessary for you to share with me.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone about Matthew and me,” Heidi requested. Ah, of course. Here was the ulterior motive.

  “No worries,” I told her. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything I could do for you. Are you single? I could set you up with someone.”

  “That’s all right.” I was still recovering from my date with Shrek and certainly did not trust Heidi’s judgment in men. She would probably set me up with a drug lord or porn producer. “I’ll think of another way you can pay me back.” It was a joke. Sort of.

  After guzzling my espresso, I dashed over to Mateo’s cube. “How’s my favourite playboy? How did it go with the Heid-ster?”

  “You’re the best wing man ever,” he whispered.

  “It’s no big deal,” I said. “You didn’t tell her about Caden, did you?”

  “No, you can trust me,” Mateo answered. “I owe you big time.”

  I almost answered that he didn’t owe me anything but stopped myself. Having these two people owe me favours might come in handy later.

  “Please don’t tell anyone about Heidi and me,” he continued in a whisper. “She’s kind of weirded out about dating someone at work.”

  “Your secret is safe with me. So you guys are dating now?” I dropped my voice down to a stage whisper.

  “Well, we’ve been on a few dates so I guess so…”

  “A few dates? It’s only been a week!”

  “How do I keep this going? What’s your advice, Wing Man?” he asked.

  “Just keep treating her like the princess that she is,” I assured him.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way for my Heidi,” he grinned. “I’m a changed man, Ronnie.”

  It was a little couple-in-love gross but it was also kind of sweet. I smiled to cover up my wistfulness. I didn’t know what was more surprising to me – the fact that Heidi actually liked Mateo or the fact that I actually envied what they had.

  “Just…don’t dance in front of her…” I advised.

  Heidi did not lose sight of my seminal actions that gave birth to her secret love. She continued to faithfully feed my coffee obsession. This did not go unnoticed by Stevie and Sydney.

  “Holy Justin Timberlake!” Stevie exclaimed after Heidi greeted us at the coffee bar with my ubiquitous espresso. Jasmine Tit took that opportunity to inform everyone at the bar that her boyfriend also loved espresso. It was my seventh of the day. “You should be swinging by the chandeliers by now.”

  “I’ve learned to control the adrenaline rush,” I delicately sipped my espresso as we headed over to the garden. I had grown fondly accustomed to my racing heart rate and mile-a-minute speech. “But frankly, they’d be a lot better with a shot of Jäger, don’t you think?”

  “You’re addicted,” Sydney said.

  “No, I can stop any time I want,” I retorted. “I only drink socially.”

  “Not the Jäger, I meant the coffee.”

  “I don’t drink anymore coffee than anyone else,” I answered, growing irritated.

  “What Sydney’s trying to say,” Stevie jumped in with an annoyingly gentle voice, “Is that we care about you and we’re concerned for your health. We want to help you. Help us help you.”

  “What is this? An intervention? It’s freakin’ coffee! Get over it!” I was surprised by how quickly my defensiveness rose. “I mean, it’s not like I’m on drugs.”

  Stevie and Sydney nodded sympathetically, seemingly unsurprised by my dramatic reaction, which irritated me even more.

  “Caffeine is like denim on denim,” Stevie explained to me slowly as if I were a child. “Too much of a bad thing is not only harmful to yourself, it’s offensive to others.”

  “I would never, repeat, never wear denim on denim.” I affirmed.

  “It starts with a great pair of jeans. Then you start wearing them too much. Sometimes even two days in a row.” Stevie shuddered. “The next thing you know, you’ve added a jean jacket.”

  Sydney put a hand on my shoulder. “It’s time you put away your jean jacket.”

  “Says who?” I asked.

  �
�Says Google.” Stevie had me there. One couldn’t argue with the sanctity of Google.

  “What’s up with Heidi? She’s like your coffee pimp. Is she trying to sabotage you?” Sydney asked.

  “No, she’s just being nice,” I said. “She only brings me one a day.”

  “Why so nice?” Sydney crossed her arms suspiciously.

  “Maybe she’s just a nice girl. Can’t someone be nice without having an ulterior motive?”

  “I’m on to you Ronnie,” Sydney did not believe in niceness for nothing. “Something’s up and you’re blackmailing her.”

  “Let’s get back to the coffee,” Stevie thankfully interjected. “Just try drinking a few less a day, sweetie.”

  “Fine. As long we never have this ridiculous conversation again,” I conceded.

  “Good, I’m glad you agree. Now there’s one other small issue we wanted to address…” Sydney continued. “It’s your obsession with Caden. It’s out of control.”

  “What do you mean? Can’t I secretly lust over my boss in peace?” So maybe I constantly searched his name on Google and maybe I was unable to participate in a conversation whenever he was in the same room because I would be concentrating on lip reading his conversation, and maybe I nudged people out of the way at the coffee bar or in the halls or in a meeting to say hi to him. But that’s normal behaviour when you have a little crush, isn’t it?

  “I don’t know if it’s so secret…” Stevie tried to put delicately. “You’d have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to notice that you’re Lady GaGa over him.”

  “I’m not hurting anyone. It’s fun. You guys make fun of me and call me barren. You laugh. I cry. In private. It’s our thing.”

  “It is pretty funny how pathetic you are,” Sydney admitted.

  “But you’re hurting your career,” Stevie added.

  “No…it makes me work harder because I want to look good for him.” I countered. “So I’d argue that it’s actually great for my career.”

  “OK, sweetie, if you say so.” Stevie still looked worried. “Just please try to be less Lady GaGa about it.”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not fully fluent in gay yet.”

  “Just be less friggin’ obvious about it,” Sydney translated in her usual tactful loveliness. “And stop dressing so slutty. Just because his girlfriend’s a slut doesn’t mean you have to dress like one.”

  “Fine,” I pretended to be grumpy about it but the Caden intervention alarmed me. I thought my crush was discreet but how humiliating if it came off as tacky as denim on denim.

  After the coffee intervention, I had arranged a bitch session with my girls over drinks after work at the Windsor Arms Hotel, just a few blocks from where I worked. I was hoping for solidarity and a shrewd counter-attack. They didn’t offer either. Instead they were confused at the denim analogy.

  “What’s wrong with denim on denim?” Lindsay asked. “It was my favourite outfit in grade seven.”

  “Exactly!” I said.

  “How can denim be compared to an addiction?” Calista asked.

  “Speaking of hot guys,” Jackie jumped in, clearly indicating that she wasn’t listening. “How’s it going with Carpenter Boy?”

  “Carpenter Boy’s shackin’ up with Towel Boy.”

  “What? Carpenter Boy’s gay?” Jackie was disappointed. “What is it with you and the gays? What are you going to do about it?”

  “Nothing if he’s gay. I can’t cheat on Stevie.”

  “Right, you’re an equal opportunity monogamist,” Calista agreed.

  “Stevie and his gay-dar are going to check him out at the Rivoli. You guys finally get to meet Stevie!”

  “You mean – he’ll finally get to meet us.” Lindsay corrected.

  “I can spot a gay from a mile away. They’re the only men who don’t stare at my boobs. I’ll let you know the deal with Carpenter Boy,” Jackie offered.

  “It’s ironic that Stevie and Sydney are on an intervention kick with you because we’ve also been wanting to give you an intervention,” Calista said.

  You’re kidding me. I’m annoyed already. “For what?”

  “You’re working way too much. We never see or hear from you. We see you maybe once a month and you take forever to get back to us.” It seemed like Lindsay had waited a while to vent.

  “That’s not true,” I said, trying to hold my irritation back from growing into full-blown anger. I came here to have a bitch session and now it was turning into a bitch session against me. I started yearning for a Jäger bomb.

  “You hate your job but you’re letting it suck you in,” Calista added. “You spend more time doing something you hate than with people that you care about.”

  “That’s not true.” It was frustrating that they didn’t understand. I needed their sympathy, not their holier-than-thou advice. “It’s just that it’s a really busy time because I’m doing two jobs right now. Things will get better after the Gi-Spot party.”

  “You said things would get better three months ago,” Lindsay reminded me.

  “Stop making excuses for the Man,” Jackie added. “You already do that enough for the guys you date.”

  I felt like a husband being accused of cheating by his three polygamist wives. They were the ones who convinced me to take this job in the first place.

  “I’m sorry you guys don’t understand.” That was the closest I would come to an apology.

  “Just don’t let them take advantage of you,” Calista said.

  “OK, guys that’s enough. I feel like I’m being interrogated. I hang out with you to forget about work, so let’s just forget about it.”

  “Ah, you know it’s fall when Burberry’s in the air,” Stevie took a deep breath of the Burberry air as we strolled through the side streets of Yorkville during our lunch hour. It was a completely incomprehensible observation to me. All I saw were wellies, designer bags and trench coats, all of which, incidentally, Stevie was wearing.

  “So how’s it going with Jamie?” I asked. I knew it was a sensitive topic so I had waited until Sydney was not with us to ask.

  “Is this a counter-intervention you’re having with me?” Stevie shot back, immediately defensive.

  “No, not at all,” I assured him, taken aback by his aggressive response. “I’m just curious how your love life’s going.”

  “It’s fine,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

  Uncomfortable with his discomfort, I decided not to push any further. “How long were you and Sydney planning my coffee intervention? Sorry, I didn’t mean to overreact – it was just so unexpected. I laughed about it afterwards with my girls.”

  “I thought I was your girl,” Stevie said, pretending to be hurt.

  “And I thought I was your girl,” I mocked him.

  “You are my girl. Well, after Madge and Lady GaGa. You’re a strong number three.”

  “Then why are you so chummy with Sydney? You guys are always ganging up on me. I feel like the third wheel.” I didn’t know I felt that way until I said it as a joke. But now that I said it, hell yeah! We were like a freakin’ tricycle.

  “Oh, you’re such a jealous lover,” Stevie said.

  “Do you like your new mistress?” I teased. “Is Jamie jealous of her?”

  “Leave Jamie out of this!” Stevie yelled.

  We both gasped at his uncharacteristic outburst. Stevie covered his mouth with his hand and stopped in his tracks.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me.” Stevie moved his hand from his mouth to his heart. “I guess I’m just a little on edge about Jamie.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Why?”

  “He’s so perfect and I’m so happy, I’m just scared that I’m going to screw it up,” he said. “Like I always do.” It was hard to believe that my perfect Stevie could screw something up.

  “You’re incapable of screwing anything up,” I assured him. “The more you think about it, the more it’s going to freak you out. Just stop thinking about it and enjoy
being with him.” I was pretty impressed with my advice. If only I could follow it.

  “Easy for you to say,” he said.

  “I know, I’m full of shit,” I admitted.

  “Hey guys!” We were approaching the office entrance and Sydney was just coming out.

  “Go away, we’re having a moment,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Stevie agreed. “I want to be alone with my girl.” He smiled at me.

  “OK lovebirds,” Sydney rolled her eyes. “You freaks.”

  Chapter 13: Ruffian and Man Boobs

  I had been having recurring nightmares of being caught ugly in Gisele – both awake and asleep. The night before my performance review I had a particularly intense nightmare.

  I’m in a Marketing Review meeting and I have an answer for everything. I am so right that I am cocky. Chloe is there, among the designer suits and they are looking at me in horror. Chloe points at my face and I realize that they are not horrified at their lack of intellectual superiority to me but by my ugliness. I feel my face. The Lego-like acne on my face feels like it is growing. Chloe laughs but the designer suits start screaming and covering their eyes, blinded by my ugliness. They try to run out of the boardroom but they can’t find the door. Some lunge under the table in fear and others try desperately to pry the windows open. Oompa Loompa appears in his jester outfit. He jumps up on the boardroom table. Chloe joins him and they start dancing an odd jig, an ode to my ugliness. I see Caden among the chaos and try to call out to him to love me, please love me but I can’t speak because my teeth are falling out. The screams of horror reach deafening proportions.

  I woke up wondering where my friends were in the nightmare.

  I paid obsessive attention to my appearance that morning. If I was going to fail my performance review, at least I was going to look fabulous going down in flames. I chose a vibrant green dress, the colour of money.

  I was distracted that morning, drinking my espresso, pretending it was my only one of the day.

  “Green looks fa-bu on you,” Stevie gushed. “You should only wear jewel tones.”

  “Thanks,” I said, my vacant expression as inflexible as Celeste’s Botox-ed face.