I knew it was too good to be true. Now, don’t get me wrong. My boyfriend has always been a sensitive guy. I like that about him. I don’t mind the fact that he constantly wears pastels and occasionally enjoys wearing my nighties when we have sex. But there’s being sensitive and then there’s just being a massive gay, and he’s treading dangerously close to the line.
I had an idea that something was up about a month ago when I noticed my boyfriend emerging from the shower with what looked like the remnants of mascara dripping from his eyes. I didn’t think much of it at the time. I mean, plenty of boys wear makeup, right? That’s not weird. It’s just rock and roll. No big deal. My boyfriend isn’t a raging homosexual. He’s just avant guarde. This is what I told myself anyway.
My gay-dar came into affect again a couple weeks later when the two of us went on a date to see Sex and the City, and, to my despair, my boyfriend cried throughout the entire thing. And I’m not talking just teary-eyed either. I’m talking full on, nose sniffling, giant gasps of breath sobbing to the point where the old couple next to us asked him if he was ok. When asked him what the fuck was so sad that provoked such a drastic reaction, he replied merely, “I just feel so bad for Carrie. I mean, men can be so horrible sometimes.” Whatever. Sex and the City is a comedy you freak. Pull your homosexual self together.
Still, within a week I managed to put the waterworks out of my mind, and was back to living happily inside my own little bubble of denial. That was, however, until I opened this month’s issue of i-D Magazine to find a picture of my boyfriend in full-on beauty mode, smiling seductively under a headline that read Pretty Boys: Men Who Love Makeup! And it wasn’t just that. What made it worse was that he was pulling what was possible the gayest face I’ve ever seen a human being make. It was a face that said, “Hello gay men everywhere—look how sexy I am. I’m gay too. Let’s get together and do gay things—things that don’t involve vaginas whatsoever, because I find those super gross.” Ugh. I’m freaking out.
So what am I supposed to do? Ignore it? Pretend it never happened? Should I buy a strap-on and offer to wear a fake beard when we fuck? I’m seriously confused. Is it me? Am I so repulsive that I’ve turned him off women forever? I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time. My high school boyfriend of two years is currently in the Broadway version of Hairspray. Literally. Oh why God? WHY?