Miss Betty and her Last Straight Male Friend

Perhaps I should expand upon my history as a serious 'fag hag' (hate that term, but don't have another one readily available). It probably began in my youth where the Parental Body surrounded me with a variety of interesting people who were to me simply "friends of the parents". The fact that "Bob and Cathy" were of different genders and "David and John" were not made absolutely no difference in my world view at that time. Actually, it still doesn't and I have a great deal of difficulty with people who make distinctions on these superficial grounds.

However, I took issue with unkind people at university who said to me "Betty - you have no straight male friends!" "Nonsense" I would reply, and refer them to my dear freind Headbang8 as an example. I should mention here that my definition of "straight male friend" is someone who:

a) is not a partner of an existiing girlfriend: and
b) I haven't slept with/am not planning to sleep with

Fairly simple paramaters I think.

Anyway, I will put here the item written by Headbang8 sometime after the occasion of his coming out. Remember, these are his words ...

Blog Title - High Maintenance Hags

OK, you're a single female. You have a gay male friend, in fact, you have several. Does that make you a fag hag? Almost, according to my Hag Numero Uno, Miss Betty Fjord.

"Well, that does it!" she replied after I came out to her. "Whenever anyone said 'Betty, all your male friend are gay', I could say, 'No, there's Headbang'. She sucked deeply and theatrically on a Marlboro Light, and stared into the middle distance. "I'm officially a fag hag".

I put my arm around her shoulder, conscious that this gesture no longer counted as flirting. "Haven't left you much wriggle room, I guess."

It took only a nanosecond for her to move into action. "You're 35. It's a little late. You want to be gay, sunshine? You'll have to shape up. I got my work cut out for me."

Since she had great experience of quality gay men, I listened. Her insta-Gay program included:

* No beer
* Nightly chardonnay
* shave head ("Only straight guys keep the Einsten wings after they go bald, Headbang. Use my Nair.")
* No watching team sports
* Matching cutlery
* Matching socks
* Tighter underwear ("Only straight guys hide their dicks behind the drapes, Headdy. Go out and bulge!")
* Get rid of the Land Rover
* Move in to her spare room

Over several years, I did all of these, under her close supervision (except the Nair). She particularly loved supervising the chardonnay, which needed to be chilled just so, and could contain no traces of oak, lest it butch up a perfectly poofy drink. She would suffer no butch affectations amongst her fags.

"But Betty," I protested. "I'm doing invert 101 at the Gay Men's Health Centre, and my teacher said there are actually some quite butch homosexuals, you know, with jeans and flannel shirts and stuff. Why can't I be one of those?"

"Of course there are butch homosexuals. They're called lesbians. And sometimes," she said wistfully, "I wish I were one of them."

"As a fag buddy, you realise that it's your duty to comfort me whenever a guy is thoughtless, inattentive, or dumps me for no good reason."

That would turn out to be often, so I felt if better to just move in.

*************

So said Headbang8 some years ago and the situation has hardly improved. I can say, however, that I DO have one straight male friend. It is Steve, the Delightful Accountant who might not qualify for the b) list if it were not for his wife J, who has credibly promised to eviscerate anyone who comes near him with lascivious intent. ANYONE!

The story of Headbang8 and Steve the Delightful Accountant and the Night of the Mistaken Bed Arrangements must be left for another time ...