January 1998
s m u g
three dollar bill
by Willie Love

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Resolve

This year as I watched a bar full of drunk hetero couples pretend to be happy on New Year's Eve, I suddenly felt that my load in the world was lightened. There has always been some debate over whether or not it is harder to be gay than straight in America, and I'm telling you, I have the answer.

It all sucks.

The simple fact that we all need someone to fuck, scratch our backs, and go to family functions with is a crapshoot unparalleled in any other area of the human condition. Do we have this much trouble when we hire secretaries or select a dry cleaner? No. We have to find one person who is so accomplished at about a thousand things we require to let them into our world that it makes it well nigh impossible to find someone who's spent a lifetime preparing to serve our needs that will, and this is the kicker, also need exactly the set of skills we have spent a lifetime mastering.

I realize that this complaint is not new, and far be it from me to take credit for inventing this opinion on the state of human affair's de coeur. Oh, but let me write the screenplay, please.

In other words, I almost gave up. I went through a phase where I thought this was my problem, not the plight of the whole human race. A friend of mine summed it up best when he said "the ones we like are not the ones we like to fuck." And he was right. My best friend, a guy who's not even on the pink team is a great guy. Loyal, funny, gets my jokes and has successfully made it through a vacation, 12 road trips, nine messy breakups (5 for him, 4 for me), 4 family weddings, innumerable moves and an actual hurricane. No wavering, great friends. Not once did I wish he was gay. Never. I also assert with some certainty that he never wished I was a woman. I've known the guy since I was 21, and 12 years later, we're still buds. We never talk about our feelings unless we're drunk enough that we can write them off the next day, and he always calls me if he's going to be late. I know he doesn't extend the same courtesy to the women he dates.

Where is this all headed? Okay, here's the thing. I say we find someone almost good enough, and right before we make that big plunge, we hook them up with our best friend. Kind of like a finishing school. I mean we can say "Oh, no honey, I love those bikini briefs. Really. I mean on you, that is." Because if we say "What the hell are you wearing you hideous freak!" that cuts into our nookie time. After a couple weeks at camp Kevin, though, my suitor would know that I like hot sauce on my popcorn, never wake before 10am, secretly love the music of Nancy Sinatra and Nirvana, but hate Streisand and Pearl Jam. It's really quite simple.

You best friend could also probably tell your paramour things you haven't discovered about yourself. I fear the conversation, but I'm sure it would be for my best interests. Why is this not done? If our friends are supposed to want to see us happy, then why aren't they willing to do it for us? Why isn't this a law for the love of God, why don't you have to prove this has happened before you get a marriage license, or a mortgage or domestic partner papers?

So, that's my resolution. I'm starting here by announcing my mission to make this an accepted practice and moving to phase two in the next few days. My ad budget is small, so i'm going to start with a wild posting. After that - who knows. I know I'm fully prepared to do whatever it takes to make this happen. I have resolve and I'm turning it into a resolution. I'm willing to do it for my friend if they're willing to do it for me. I consider it an investment in the greater good.

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willie@smug.com

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in the junk drawer:


November 1997
October 1997
September 1997
August 1997
July 1997
June 1997
May 1997
April 1997
March 1997
February 1997

featurecar
net
worth
chair
bumping
uglies
gun
smoking
jacket
barcode
ear
candy
pie
feed
hollywood
lock
target
audience
scissors
three
dollar
bill
dice
compulsionvise
posedowncheese
the
biswick
files
toothbrush
mystery
date
wheelbarrow
and such
and such
hat
blabfan
kissing
booth
martini






     
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