A big gay t-shirt!

So this last weekend was Pride, and I had an unbelievable amount of fun. I spent most of the weekend with Nebraska, which was very cool, and funny enough I didnt get annoyed with him. That says something. Normally after about 12 hours with someone, I'm ready to cleave their skull in two. Not so with Nebraska. He gave me my space, let me do what I needed to, yet we still spent a good amount of time together being all "coupley." And I didnt have any homocidal feelings. Thats a good sign.

By Saturday night I was all Prided-out. I had enough "gay culture" for the evening. So Nebraska and I went to go see Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth." I need to do some independent research to see how much of what he is saying is slanted or whatever, but my first thought is that the movie was damn compelling. Definitely recommend it. Great ending too with a Melissa Etheridge song. Anyway, back to Pride--

A couple of observations about Pride: first-- What the fuck do I have to do to convince people Im gay?

I spent a good chunk of the weekend helping to man the booth for my law school, and got to be the "Im a student here, and I love it," guy. And people would cock their heads and puzzle, and finally ask, "Well, are YOU gay?" Id kindly respond that I was, and I love my school. But it must have happened a good 20 times. Maybe I should have been wearing a tighter shirt.

Then, I was watching the Pride parade yesterday with Nebraska by my side, still being coupley and everything, and this guy taps me on the shoulder: "You're straight, right?" Huh, what? Im standing at the mother-fucking Pride Parade with the guy Im sleeping with, and Im still getting that? What do I need to do, develop a lisp and a limp wrist? Seriously. My question for the guy who was asking was then, "Why do you ask?" His response, "You just look straight, and I was trying to prove a point that not everyone here was gay..." So, apparently, this guy looked into a crowd of homos and determined that I was the straight one.

I guess the only reason that this even mildly bugged me is because I spent the weekend NOT judging (at least out loud) (okay, outloud but at least not so they could hear me) the relatively freaky fags that come out at Pride. Good for them. God Bless. Not my type/style/size/color, but whatever. And yet I dont happen to fit into the norm on the other end, and I get questioned. Wierd.

Second observation: just cause Im at Pride doesnt mean I want you speculating about my "relationships" any more than anywhere else. Its really none of your business.

I was walking hand-in-hand with Nebraska, which feels pretty damn cool, and this guy from the Minnesota Committed Couples booth (or something of the sort) comes and gets in our face, "Are you two a couple?" I almost mauled out his eyes. Here I am, a somewhat committment-wary guy, trying to avoid "the talk" as best as possible. By "the talk," of course I mean the "we're-sleeping -together -regularly, -so -what -are -we, -lets -get -a -definition -out -on -the -table, -and -PS -you -cant -look -at -other -guys" talk. Then comes along a complete stranger who decides he needs that talk to have happened and for us to come hang out with him now. That warrants a mauling in my mind.

Later last night I had rejoined Nebraska at the bar (where we were oddly exiled outside... wierd setup) and another person asked us. Having a few beers under my belt, the answer was glibbly, "He's good in bed, so Im gonna stick with him till I get bored or annoyed." Funny enough, Nebraska didnt seem to mind that answer. Maybe he might work afterall.

Favorite t-shirt quote of the weekend:
"I dont cuddle, but I'll hold you tight while I fuck you."