Me and my "roommate"

So, most of you that have lived as closeted pillow-biters have probably told countless unknowing friends and coworkers that you have a "roommate". Yet, roommates don't buy houses together, get a puppy, adopt a chinese baby and make each other their 401k beneficiaries. Realistically (and keep in mind, I still use this term on a regular basis), when we say "roommate", we mean partner... lover... BOYFRIEND...or at the very least, current f*ck.

My "roommate" is incredible. It may sound naive to some of you, but I'm so retardly in love. We're both at the exact same place, emotionally, and....out-ed-ly? He does have a couple of things on me, however (aside from the obvious!)...

He's responsible. I'm a total artist. He plans our finances like, ten years in advance. I almost went bankrupt as a server at a very pricey restaurant because I CANNOT operate on tip money. Cash in the pocket is more Kenneth Cole over a paid utility bill, every time...

He knows when to be reserved and listen. I have a big freakin' mouth. Seriously, I was the kid whose grade school report cards always said "Very smart, talks too much."

He's completely organized. Once again, an artist. I like a spotlessly clean place, but lets be honest, I'd be more likely to eat cereal out of a plate (yes, it can be done) than wash a bowl...

And again, no matter how naive y'all think this sounds, we've been together for almost three years, and we'll be together forever. He's the yin to my yang, or the yang to my yin, or he yangs on my yin...one of those. But there is one thing I've got on the boy....I'm about ten years younger, and I rub that in as often as necessary!

Finishing out the equation...

So, what good would I be without a proper hag? I mean, I may only be a few months into being able to tell myself that I like boys (which by the way, I really, REALLY do...), but I've read enough of my little sister's Seventeen magazines to know that even gay guys need a vagina. I've got a great one.

Fortunately for me, my best girl friend for the last six years has a reputation in our home town of being a fagmaker. We've spent the last six years co-counseling ALL of our friends as they've come out to us (good god they put something in the water in that little town!)... Anyway, its only fitting that after all of the queers we've been there for, I've now totally claimed her as my own.

So lets do the math:
(1) Listens to Rufus Wainright/Scissor Sisters (2) cleans room in tights and a dance belt (3) owns Beaches Soundtrack (4) calls football practice "football rehearsal" (5) has a hag....

It all adds up to a disco-dancing, Oscar Wilde-reading, Streisand ticket-holding, friend of Dorothy...

SHHH! I'm fabulous...

Let's get the simple stuff out of the way: I spent the first two decades of my life so immersed in the church world that I practically pissed holy water (even though Baptists don't really do the whole holy water thing)... I've been a youth leader, a bible study leader...heck, I even thought about going to seminary.

That being said, on the inside I'm a total queen. I love a good manicure. Very few things make me happier than a good non-fat sugar-free caramel machiato with a sprinkle of cinnamon. I've never cried as hard as I did when Emmett read his eulogy to George while he received his Crystal Dick at the porn awards (QAF). I mean, seriously, if I had my way I'd put on lipstick and a rainbow unitard and prance through the streets of Manhattan while singing a tribute to Judy Garland...okay, that might have gone a little far...

Anyway, the point is, I'm on my way to becoming an out and proud Southern Gay Man (see kimdog for a full description). Sure, I can count on one hand everyone that I'm out to, but that's a start for this church boy.

As this is my first blogging experience, I may babble, I might rant, I'll probably rave, I WILL overdramatize... My entries will be little therapy sessions in my journey towards freedom...don't laugh too much...