Today at work, I had the same remark thrown at me for the upteenth time, albeit by someone close I haven't seen in a couple of years and half in jest.
Are you Gay?
I responded to the query in a way I usually respond to such questions nowadays, by leaving it pretty much open-ended and grinning like a Cheshire cat. I'll rather leave people second guessing because, hell, do I really owe you an answer, much less an explanation?
And its the same thing when asked if I am going through a mid-life crisis, prematurely of course. A smile and a stupid pout. So what if I am?
You see, this behaviour is not borne out of a devious need to be reticent or dumb. Its a response borne out of sheer irritation at asinine assumption.
I mean the 'signs' are all there no? Recently divorced, flashy car, gym workouts 4 times a week, a good friend and confidant to girls but somewhat commitment-phobic, articulate and opinionated with a penchant for muscle Ts and singlets. They either think you're trying your darnest to be a 25 year old or you're, that's right, homosexual. At 35, you're not expected to behave this way. You're supposed to be happily married with offspring in Kindergarten, drive a MPV, do grocery shopping and take the kids to Piano class on weekends and be adorned with solid-colored Polo Ts 2 sizes too big to hide your prosperity 'belt'.
Bollocks!
That's a mental mould created by a society that's been brought up to believe that if you're not happily settled into the routine of fatherhood and 'husbandry' by your mid-30s, something is seriously wrong. You're different. And although not neccessarily verbalised by the trigger-happy thinkers, a freak case.
Even my former boss said he heard I was playful. And when queried about what he really meant by being ' playful', he asked me what I was doing with a Yellow sportscar and matching gaudy sneakers? Shallow little fella this one. I would say an Emotional Quotient of a Petri-dish.
I have pondered, trust me, on whether denying all charges and readily admitting to being lonely, depressed and thus retail/gym/boy therapy-dependent, would somehow throw alittle popular logic on the situation, change perception and bring balance to the force.
That would be a convenient lie though, much to my personal chagrin.
Because I like inconvenient truths. The world is not always black and white is it?
Labels: Musings