It was such a lovely warm day out that I decided to go for a walk in city centre and bathe in the sun while it is still hanging around. I walked and enjoyed the warmth for a while with my backpack in tow. I stopped at the local caffeine watering hole and got a double latte as usual. I sat down at a wee table and started going back through my lovely friend, Susan Abraham’s, new book, Call the Ships of Dar-es-Salaam..
As I looked up to have a sip of the steamy and luscious coffee, I noticed a blonde in her mid twenties sit down across from me with several books in tow as well. I sat there, occasionally darting my eyes over to her, to see if she was doing the same. She happened to glance up as I did, so we exchanged pleasantries. She asked what I was reading. I told her about Susan’s delightful book. We started talking about our favourite authors. She asked me about Susan’s book and I even let her read a few poems in it. She was so enthralled by some of the poems like Lipstick Fish that she wrote down the ISBN so as to order it herself.
One thing led to another and she sat down at my table. We discussed everything from poetry to the weather. I spoke of my own poetry and my love of photography and all the arts. I was more than impressed by her intellect, not to mention the complete package. That’s when everything went horribly wrong.
She threw her hair back, smiled, and asked me a question that made me feel like barfing. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”
“What?” I demanded as a mountain of anger and confusion erupted from my brow.
She put her hand on top of mine, and said, “Oh, it’s okay now days. Don’t be ashamed of who you are.”
“I’m not gay”, I exclaimed whilst jerking my hand back.
Shock gripped her face, as she queried, “You’re not”.
“I’m not gay now, nor have I ever been gay, nor do I have plans to be gay in the future", I answered, as my heart and pride splattered to the floor in a pool of humiliation. (I mean that figuratively)
“I’m…I’m…I’m sorry…I just thought with the poetry and your kind demeanour that..you were…ya know.” Her countenance red with embarrassment and pity.
“Can a man not scribe sonnets of a beauteous nature and be soft spoken without being labelled as gay?”
“Again, I’m sorry…I just misread you, I guess.”
“You Guess?!”
“Yeah, most guys are more obvious in their pursuits.”
“The desire to procreate is a powerful one. I’m just like every other guy out there, except for the fact that I’m a lot smarter in my pursuits.”
“Well, let me apologize by buying you a refill.”
“I’m sorry, my dear, but I have to go and I don’t take pity drinks from women that have eradicated my self esteem, accidentally or not.”
“Aww..”
“Read the book and you might learn a thing or two about people”, I stated whilst grabbing my backpack and heading towards the exit of the caffeine watering hole.
Looking back at the entire situation makes me almost laugh and yell at the same time. I’m more confused that she would think such a thing. I don’t dress in any sort of flamboyant manner. I don’t speak with a high voice. I don’t flail my hands in the air while talking. I don’t get it.
As I said, I’m not gay, I’ve never been gay, I’ve never thought about being gay, and I’m never going to be gay. I don’t have anything against gay people. In fact, I’d fight for their right to be gay. I may not always agree with the way some people live their lives, but it is their lives, so I pass no judgement on them nor do I have the right to do so.
So ladies, just because a man may be in his thirties, clean cut, soft spoken, a clean freak, and kind does not, for the love all that is Holy, mean that he is gay! Believe me, I can be tough when necessary. I’ve taken more than my share of blows to the head and upper body. I’ve delivered quite a few too. If a man would have asked me that, I would have knocked him on his backside right then. 
P.S.: Susan, I’ll have that review by the end of the week. Your splendid musings and poetry give me hope for my own writing future.
