I have many gay friends. I always have. Gay friends are cool…because they are your friends, right?
I guess I’m lucky. I was raised, by and large, to be non-judgmental. My parents didn’t really bring up the whole race, creed, sex thing. I have never even thought about someones sexuality beyond how it may have meshed with mine back when I was younger, single and on the hunt. I mean, who really cares? We’re all on this rock for 80 years or so. Vive la difference.
Maybe it was the college thing. I attended a large state college with a very diverse student body. Advertising, film, design, art, theater, philosophy and psychology were all main fields of study for me in college. Not exactly a curriculum that seeks out and demands staunch heterosexuality in its students. I even did some college projects creating videos and ads for Gay and Lesbian Services of Kansas (GLSOK). They needed the work done and I needed some portfolio pieces. Actually, I did some work for a fraternity and an engineering department, too, among others. See, I’m accepting. My work was multi-cultural. And, yes, the University of Kansas had a gay and lesbian services organization back in the 1980’s. Surprised? You shouldn’t be. GLSOK was a great organization of wonderful people trying to help students of all kinds find their way in the world. Although now, if it still exists or needs to exist, I am sure it would be called something like GLBT-LMNOP-SOK or something. Inclusivity and all.
Maybe it was the work thing. I worked in restaurants and bars for years. My first restaurant job was at the tender age of 15. My first exposure to gay and lesbian life in the restaurant world was at the tender age of 15, exactly twelve seconds after starting my first job in the restaurant business at the tender age of 15. She was actually a man, and an incredible pastry chef. The lemon squares just melted in my mouth. Bars and restaurants have been, throughout history, the best place for the, let’s say, socially, culturally, sexually or artistically out of the current conservative cultural mainstream to frequent, meet and work.
I worked in advertising after college. That bastion of radio, print and television creativity also seemed to be a place where the gay and lesbian community seemed to be naturally present and out in the open a bit more than in other jobs. I didn’t necessarily see a lot of alternative lifestyles on display at IBM, law firms or Anderson Consulting. Then the AIDS epidemic blew up and, suddenly, someone’s sexual orientation was incredible important to everyone.
Keep in mind, back then, one of the only examples of openly gay life was Billy Crystal’s character, Jodie Dallas, on ‘Soap.’ This wasn’t the open and crazy 90’s people like to talk about, or today where Gay and Lesbian pop culture is mainstream.
So, the very idea of me writing this, thinking back to a time when I may have differentiated between one group of people and another, seems a little weird, because I really never have differentiated. Hell, I don’t even know what to say to avoid sounding critical or judgmental or biased or bigoted or whatever. I don’t know the right terminology. I honestly don’t know because I never honestly payed attention. Lucky? Okay. We’re all the same to me. I love all, as long as you’re not an asshole, cut me off in traffic or take the last egg roll at the buffet. You know, important stuff.
Well, keep all that in mind while a tell you a very short story about my skin. I’m getting older. I live in a very dry climate and, although I have the traditionally greasy olive oil skin of my Mediterranean roots, I have started to suffer with some touches of dry skin. So, just like any other incredibly confident heterosexual man in his 40’s, I went on a quest for information regarding the best skin treatment regiment. Men do that. We take care of our skin, too. Seriously. Soaps, lotions, exfoliating products, everything. Well, needless to say, I was totally out of my league. The sheer volume of options is overwhelming. I stood in the aisles of the grocery store, shoulders hunched over, probably drooling, staring at the shelves and shelves of products as if I was staring at a massive train schedule or fast food menu written in some ancient Japanese code.
Down but not out, I consulted the magazine section of that particular local supermarket to see if there were any easy solutions in bold print on any of the covers of the magazines. I am lazy, after all. I’m a man. I thought I would see article titles like; “Take care of your skin: 12 easy steps,” or “Make her love your skin, here are the secrets.” And, I did. “Make your skin look younger forever.” That was awesome. Magazines. Is there anything they can’t do? So, I grab the one with the good looking guy on the front and the best title and flip though, quickly finding an article about the 2012 top ten skin care products for men. Awesome. I was on my way.
In record time, I was through the skin care aisle with my magazine in hand, grabbing the bottles of my skin salvation plan and then I was off to the check out. I was proud of myself. Shopping has never been a skill of mine, nor has skin care. That’s when it happened. A neighbor of mine, who will remain nameless, was in the check out line in front of me. We exchanged pleasantries and quick stories of our wives and whatnot, all while he kept glancing down into my basket. Again. Again. Finally, I had to ask what he was looking at.
“What?” I said. “You never seen a guy buying skin care products? I need good skin. Don’t you? My old soap was drying me out. I need cream. I want to keep looking young. I want to keep a bit of a tan from my last vacation. What?”
Not thrilled about being confronted, he blew it off and quickly returned to chit chat about his upcoming vacation. That’s cool. I can back off. I mentioned that I just saw this article in my new magazine about the beaches of Fiji and how I would love to go someday. See. There’s the article. Right there on the cover of my new Instinct Magazine, American’s #1 Gay Men’s Magazine! Ahhhh. Now I get it. I looked up and he was gone, having moved to the self check out line. See ya, buddy. Asshole. He would never make it in advertising.
I can’t wait until the next neighborhood block party.
On the bright side, my skin has never felt more silky smooth. Thanks, brothers.
