Dinner and a Closet

In class last week, I overheard a few undergraduate Columbia University students talking about an exceptional man. Strange? Maybe. It was an 8AM women's studies class in which I am the only male. I was doing the Times crossword and drinking the breakfast of champions: Diet Coke.

He was, I deduced, one of their boyfriends. "He's not like any other guy. We connect so well. He's so sensitive." Soon, I heard, "He dresses so well. Oh, he's just metro." Then I began to worry. I knew that I had heard too much when one said, "What's with all the pants and shoes? He owns more than I do." I stopped cold. I knew then that I had to say something. I refrained.

"He wants so badly to be a rabbi. Everyone thinks he's gay; he can't be gay. And, besides, he's so sloppy." I then turned around and blurted out what everyone knows to be universally true: "I'm a slob!" to the entire class. Only one girl laughed, and she was a lesbian, cute and blonde. I was mortified. I sounded like an asshole. What was I doing, trying to enlighten the Ivy League-educated liberated women of the Upper West Side? What's wrong with me? I assumed that these girls were liberal. Of course, they are, except when it comes to their relationships. What's with the homophobia when the issue hits home?

I thought that I was being funny. I thought that I was spreading the Gospel. Didn't she want to know? Didn't her friends, at least, find it humorous?

Good luck, girlfriends! You know that even I don't like dating the gay mens. Gay men too often date unsuspecting straight women with a disposition to indulge themselves in wishful thinking. I just wanted to help a sista' out. I have realized: Gay men are the coolest, except when you're dating one. If that's the case, he might as well set up camp in her walk-in closet.