Hair-Raising Tricks and Treats

There are many stops on the road to seriousness. In addition to the many fuel and potty breaks, one must never forget the crucial “meet-the-friends” stop. I have now endured two weekends of covert evaluations from and introductions to Daniel’s friends. This is really one-sided as he has many more amigos than I because he has been in New York a year longer.

While we’re still largely living in paradise, a bit of reality should be expected to set in when one realizes the other company his beloved keeps. To be honest, I was more impressed by Daniel’s academic colleagues than his other friends. The former is quite amiable and amusing. They have manners, they and made me feel comfortable, the new person in a group of six others. The first set of friends, however, left a bad taste in the mouth of last Saturday night.

Perhaps it's that I feel compelled to hair-pulling in the company of almost-thirty-something gay guys who are only now trying desperately to relive the college years that they spent in the closet. The most unpleasant part of the whole thing is the feigned masculinity and unmerited pretense of (often blond) bimbo boys.

I’m being merciless; I know. What to say? It’s been the sorest part of a painless coming-together. I shouldn’t complain, but I had no idea. These are simply the growing pains of a nascent relationship. They should really make pills for such aches.