Why I Love My Gay Boyfriend

by Sabrina Zollo

  “Stop being so desperate,” Jackie advised. “It’s irritating.”

  “So where’s the amazing Stevie?” Lindsay asked.

  “Oh, he must be running late from work,” I covered up for him. I had run by his office to pick him up, but he wasn’t there, despite the fact that I had sent several emails and texts. I was running so late that instead of trying to track him down I texted him in the cab.

  “This place is cool,” Calista said. “I like it so much better than those phony chi-chi bars around your work.”

  “You don’t like those places? Why didn’t you say so before?”

  Calista shrugged. “It’s easier for you.”

  “I hope this place isn’t too underground for Stevie,” I looked around worriedly. It wasn’t really Stevie’s scene.

  “Well, given that it isn’t actually an underground bar,” Jackie said. “I think you’re good.”

  “Why are you obsessing about Stevie like he’s your boyfriend?” Lindsay asked.

  “I’m not obsessing about him, I’m just worried because he’s excessively hygienic. Dirty places freak him out a little,” I defended Stevie.

  “This is a bar in downtown Toronto, not Calcutta,” Calista said. “So unless he’s OCD, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  “He may be a little OCD, but not in the clinical sense,” I said.

  “He sounds like a blast,” Lindsay said. “Where is he? The show’s about to start any minute.”

  “Um…” I checked my cell phone for text messages. There it was – a cancellation text.

  So sorry gorgeousness, work emergency. Can’t make it tonight.

  I was disappointed and embarrassed. Stevie never let me down and now he was doing it in front of my girls.

  “Something came up at work and he can’t make it,” I tried to brush it off casually. “That sucks.”

  “Wow, he just pulled a Veronica,” Jackie said. Calista and Lindsay laughed in agreement.

  I was horrified. Was this how I made them feel every time I cancelled? “Is that an actual term you guys use?”

  “Well it’s true,” Lindsay said. “You can’t be offended by the truth.”

  “He just got promoted and is having a really tough time at work. He’s working crazy hours,” I decided to defend Stevie rather than myself.

  “Sounds familiar,” Lindsay said.

  “Anyway, it’s only temporary. He better snap out of it. I need him around to save my ass at work!” I tried to make light of it but could tell that my girls were not impressed by Stevie.

  “Never mind your ass, who’s going to save your soul?” Calista asked.

  I thought that was a bizarre comment but wasn’t able to ask since Carpenter Boy’s band came on. I was expecting a painful hour of loud incomprehensible punk rock but they were surprisingly quite good. It was a catchy combination of funk, punk and pop. I was digging them. I pointed out Carpenter Boy to my girls. They nodded and smiled in approval. Nothing like lead singer status to turn an average looking boy attractive. Come to think of it, the audience was overwhelmingly female. Still dressed in my trendy, try-to-impress-Caden, over-priced outfit from work, I realized I stuck out like a sore thumb from the casual, under-stated style of rest of the crowd.

  Then I recognized the drummer. It was Naked Towel Boy. Yay! Mystery solved. Or at least part-way solved. What was the drummer doing alone in Carpenter Boy’s condo taking a shower?

  “The drummer! He’s Naked Towel Boy!” I yelled to Jackie.

  “He’s hot!”

  “Gay?”

  She squinted her eyes in concentration and then shook her head. “I hope not. You can have the lead singer. Drummer boy’s mine.”

  That was a good sign. Jackie generally wasn’t attracted to homosexuals. She would undoubtedly hit on Naked Towel Boy and solve the ambiguous, sexual preference mystery.

  After the show, the band was surrounded by female fans. Feeling out of place, I suddenly felt reluctant to go speak to Carpenter Boy. Calista, Lindsay and Jackie prodded and pushed me to go congratulate him as aggressively and irritatingly as toddler beauty pageant moms.

  “Come on,” Jackie shoved me in the direction of the stage.

  “OK, OK, quit it,” I yelled and nearly bumped into Carpenter Boy as he approached.

  “Hi!” My girls and I chimed in unison, smiling and standing at attention.

  “Hey, Veronica, you made it! I’m flattered.”

  “Great show! These are my friends,” I introduced them, praying that they would remain cool and subtle. It soon became painfully obvious from the ensuing interrogation that I had brought my girl friends to check him out.

  “Your girlfriend must think your band’s so cool!” Lindsay said. I could feel my face growing red.

  He laughed good-naturedly. “Uh no, don’t really have a girlfriend.” I was laser focused between his eyes and Jackie’s boobs to see whether he was checking out her boobs.

  “Really? You must have your pick of girls!” That was Calista’s not-so-subtle observation. I shook my head, willing them to please stop with my eyes. My face was starting to burn with embarrassment.

  “Uh, not really. They’re really all here for the drummer. Chicks dig him.” Indeed, Naked Towel Boy appeared to be in his natural habitat, now shirtless and swarmed by chicks.

  “But does he dig chicks?” Jackie jumped in. “I mean, are you sure he’s not gay?”

  “Gay?” He laughed. “I’ve never heard a girl ask that question. He’s definitely very heterosexual.”

  “Are you gay?” Jackie asked. I cringed and actually covered my eyes with my hand.

  “Uh…” he looked confused. “No…”

  “Good, let’s all go hit on the drummer,” Jackie suggested and dragged Calista and Lindsay with her, leaving Will and I standing alone in the awkward aftermath of the assault.

  “Wow, your friends are really, uh, forward.”

  “Yeah…sorry about that,” I apologized. “You took it pretty well.”

  He nodded and shrugged. “How’s the Ikea unit?”

  “The…? Oh, yeah, it’s back in the box.”

  He laughed. “Well, the offer still stands…I mean, for me to come over and help assemble it.”

  “I don’t think you’re gay,” I blurted. He looked confused and unfortunately a little offended. “I saw the naked drummer taking a shower alone in your condo.” I tried to explain.

  “What?” He looked startled.

  “No! I mean, I, uh, knocked on your door and he answered it in a towel.”

  “Oh,” he said, relieved. “Lucky you.”

  “I have a gay boyfriend so I guess I just think everyone’s gay now.”

  “Your boyfriend’s gay?” His face betrayed his disappointment.

  “No! I don’t have a boyfriend. It’s my friend. Totally platonic. He’s gay and I call him my gay boyfriend…’cause it’s…it’s funny.”

  Will’s face showed confusion and complete lack of agreement that it was funny. “I don’t get it,” he said.

  This was possibly more awkward than my conversations with Caden. It clearly wasn’t working out and I needed to end the pain immediately. “OK, well, I guess I’ll see you around.” And I bolted.

  Perhaps the painful experience with Carpenter Boy would prepare me for the painful snake lashing when I presented my free research plan to Savannah.

  I knocked hesitantly on her open door. “Savannah, do you have a moment? I have a solution to the Phat Lash research.”

  She nodded. “Make it fast.”

  “I have a crazy idea,” I said as I tentatively entered her evil lair.

  Savannah made an expression as if she were constipated. Probably not the best opening line.

  “What if we just have a focus group with Gisele employees?” I continued, trying to sound confident. “We would give them free Phat Lash before it hits the market and an invitation to the Gi-Spot party. Stevie could be the moderator – every girl feels safe confiding to a gay guy.�
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  There was an agonizingly long silence as I braced myself for the impact of her scathing response. Her Medusa head of snakes were strangely silent.

  “Well, what the hell are you waiting for? Go, go – do it!” She ushered me out of her office with her hands.

  I stood in shock for a moment. Had I actually escaped the inevitable snake lashing and gained Savannah’s approval?

  “Go!” She practically yelled. “Before I change my mind.”

  I smiled and all but ran out of her office. “Thanks!”

  Stevie was virtually impossible to find and so it was my good fortune that I ran into him on my way back to my cube. I was happy to give him the good news in person.

  “Stevie, about last night, you suck!”

  “I’m delighted that you’re so happy about it,” Stevie replied.

  “And Savannah has approved of how you’re going to make up for it!” Stevie looked alarmed. “You’re going to moderate a focus group of Gisele employees for me! Yay, Stevie saves the day! Again!”

  Stevie’s face blanched. He did not look nearly as excited as I thought he would. “When?” he asked nervously. “It’s kinda crazy this week…”

  “Oh, come on! It’ll be fun!” I jokingly punched him in the arm. He recoiled.

  “Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing his arm.

  “Sorry, I guess I underestimated my own strength,” I laughed. “Or you’re gayer than I thought.”

  “Well, I guess I don’t really have a choice if you already spoke to Savannah,” he said.

  “Oh sorry,” I realized that perhaps it was a little presumptuous of me to volunteer Stevie without first asking him. “I should have asked you first but I thought you’d love the idea. Isn’t it a great idea?”

  “Super,” he replied and walked away.

  A wave of guilt passed over me for a moment. I convinced myself that he was distracted or late for a meeting and the wave of guilt was soon gone.

  It was easy to cancel the project with the research company without penalty when I subtly suggested they would face the wrath of Savannah otherwise. Also, it was a shame that this project got cancelled but we had so many more exciting research projects coming up. Having worked with Savannah before, they insisted the work performed thus far be pro bono because they loved working with Gisele and please do consider them for the upcoming research projects.

  I would remember the weight that comes with dropping the Savannah bomb. Quite conveniently, the research company had already emailed me the discussion guides which I happily passed on to Stevie.

  Next step: focus group participants. Easy. Heidi owed me and she was the queen bee of Gisele, as I had shamelessly addressed her when I asked for the favour. She happily recruited two dozen of insecure mascara-obsessed colleagues, or as I had graciously described, fashion-forward, trend-setting cosmetic connoisseurs who believed the most important accessory to any outfit was mascara.

  Despite my ingenuity and brilliance, it was gnawing at me that Stevie hadn’t asked me yet how my encounter with Carpenter Boy had gone, nor did he seem excited to help me with the focus groups. He was a poor version of himself, like a bad Louis Vuitton knock-off. I had proven that I could get by now without his help but Gisele was a lot less fun without him. I’d rather stumble with Stevie than get by on my own.

  Just when my guilt was subsiding, Stevie asked me to text Jamie and explain why Stevie was canceling another date night. He also asked me to add that I was fully to blame. Slightly concerned for his emotional stability, I went along with it as if it weren’t a desperate plea. I hoped that he would bring his fabulous fierceness to my focus groups.

  The night of the focus groups, I had flowers delivered to Stevie’s office as thanks and in the hopes of lightening his mood.

  I set up a conspicuous video camera to record the sessions, knowing that Stevie and Heidi’s mean girls would cooperate if conscious that they were being recorded. Stevie arrived and surprisingly appeared to be in very good spirits. I hoped that his good spirits hadn’t been influenced by drinking spirits. I needed him to be sober.

  “My manager is super impressed that I’m leading these groups,” Stevie said to me as I decorated the room with various mascara products and advertising examples. “Apparently your idea has caught the attention of senior management and it’s considered very innovative. Thanks for including me!”

  I wasn’t surprised that Savannah hadn’t shared this praise with me but was surprised that Stevie was only eager to help now that he knew he would directly benefit.

  Heidi and her mean girls started to arrive. Heidi may have been the queen bee of Gisele but that did not mean that everyone adored her like Chloe and Jasmine. Also keenly aware of the senior management interest in this research initiative, Heidi had obediently recruited the profile I had requested, even if they despised her and her entourage. Heidi’s excessive hair and makeup had returned in full force.

  “Ladies, looking fierce tonight!” Stevie kissed them on the cheek as they entered the room. “Are those new boobs? Fab, girl!” Stevie was working the mean girls like the mayor of hot girl-ville. I had not anticipated the profound impact of gathering a group of insecure, shallow twenty-something year old hot girls in one room. The air was thick with perfume, insecurity and contempt.

  “Snap,” Chloe said in approval of Heidi’s high end escort look as she took a seat beside her.

  Holly, the Queen Bee of Bitchy Clique #2, was decidedly not in agreement with Chloe and scoffed from across the table. “Hey, Chloe; 2005 called. They want their line back.”

  Chloe scowled at her. Holly’s standings in the Chloe Tracker had no doubt plummeted down to the bottom of the list. “Shut up, you skinny bitch.”

  Holly perfectly lined lips smiled nastily. “Thanks. I didn’t know you thought I was skinny.”

  “This is awesome,” I gushed to Stevie.

  Before Chloe could lunge across the table at Holly, Stevie loudly and jovially announced that he would be turning on the camera.

  “Now now, girls, smile and look pretty for the camera,” he advised, hands on hips. Chloe grudgingly settled into her seat, shooting daggers at Holly.

  “You need to leave now,” he told me as he fiddled with the camera.

  “What? I can’t stay? This is my research,” I insisted, outraged.

  “I want my ladies to be comfortable confiding in me without feeling scrutinized.” Stevie smiled lovingly at his ladies of the night.

  “They’re being recorded,” I pointed out.

  “I want her to leave too,” Chloe piped up. The room unanimously agreed. At least they agreed on one thing.

  I pretended to graciously comply, hoping that Stevie was merely buttering up his ladies of the night and not favouring a room full of hot insecure girls to his fabulous Ronnie.

  Chapter 15: Self-Proclaimed Hot Girl

  I don’t know why I had doubted Stevie’s loyalty towards me or his brilliance in manipulating hot girls. Stevie was back on top of my world with his usual fabulousness. We watched the DVDs together in awe and admiration of both his artistry and the confessions of these self-proclaimed hot girls. He was masterful at encouraging them to share their genius with the world of less fortunate-looking people.

  It was a curious exposé into the psyche of a self-proclaimed hot girl. Much like SUVs feel they are entitled to more of the road than their smaller counterparts, so hot girls feel they are entitled to more out of life than their less hot counterparts. Indeed, hot girls should never wait in line at a club or restaurant; should always get first dibs; should never have to get out of the way for anyone, including vehicles; and God forbid, should never be told that something is sold out or fully booked. But with self-proclaimed hotness and all the associated benefits of such entitlement comes the price of maintaining the esteemed title of hot girl. It was astounding that such hotness could drive so much desperate insecurity of losing said hotness.

  The other oddity that struck me was their crippling obsession of
the male opinion. I thought it was only Jasmine Tit who could not exist without the approval of her boyfriend but it became very clear that all self-proclaimed hot girls live in constant fear of lack of approval of their future boyfriends.

  Mascara was the one cosmetic must-have that these self-proclaimed hot girls felt had the most significant contribution to their hotness. They believed that they were unrecognizable without mascara. They wouldn’t be caught ugly without it.

  Based on these confessions, Stevie and I formulated our recommendations for repositioning Gisele’s mascara portfolio to drive multi-mascara usage: Emergency Mascara (a smaller mascara wand that would fit in a small clutch); Night Out Mascara (a dramatic mascara for social nighttime occasions); Everyday Mascara (a less ostentatious but effective mascara for everyday use); and Diva Mascara (false eyelashes plus mascara combo kit for special occasions). Within each of these mascara usage occasions we proposed different benefits, like lengthening, thickening, and colour.

  And thanks to Stevie’s masterful facilitation, I was able to unearth from the DVD confessions an innovative marketing idea to launch Phat Lash. I learned that being the hottest girl in the room can be stressful to maintain. People look up to them for always being on the cutting edge of fashion and beauty. It’s an important role they play for those less fortunate-looking. But sometimes it’s hard to keep up with all the trends when hot girls have such enviably cool on-the-go lifestyles. Enter: Hot girl brand ambassadors. Cosmetic companies send hot girl brand ambassadors free products and if they love it, they talk and blog about it. And because so many people look up to hot girls, what hot girls love instantly becomes a big hit when the less fortunate-looking copy them in the hopes that they could be just a fraction as hot as them. Supposedly. Savannah no doubt was a self-proclaimed hot girl so her approval of my hot girl brand ambassador idea would be the ultimate litmus test.

  In the meantime, now that the agencies were briefed, everything was going swimmingly well with the Gi-Spot party planning. The fruits of my labour would finally be revealed in a big meeting I had booked with Caden in which the agencies would present the final event proposal. The account managers were all women and were tripping over themselves to impress Caden. Get in line, beeyatches, get in line. The beeyatches were assembling an invite list of local celebrities and socialites and securing MTV and Fashion Television to cover the event. Based on viewing the racy UK Gi-Spot TV ad, they were recommending an edgy S&M-inspired theme (sushi and martini) for the party.