The Best of Both Worlds

A few years ago, I was not sleeping.  I was restless and agitated.  I had birthed adorable children, ensnarled a sexy Italian husband, was the proud owner of a pet Yorkie and carried a totally chic Burberry purse.  Yet something was missing in my life and it wasn’t just my left breast…...and then it occurred to me OMG I DID NOT HAVE A GAY MALE BEST FRIEND! So, I went out and made one.  And I was right……it is pretty much AWESOOOOOOME! Finally I had someone in my life that connects with me on my mature emotional level and can also lift heavy shit. Kevin is undoubtedly a more evolved species, encapsulating the perfect concoction of testosterone and estrogen and yes, he is prettier than me.

Most men would be threatened if their wife was spending time with another man but Mike doesn’t care.  In fact he is ecstatic.  I am like an inbred Labrador puppy that never gets walked.  When I get bored I like to paint with bright colors and buy pets, so being married to me can be a laborious task.  Thanks to me, Mike is now living the best of both worlds.  I am distracted and he has another man around to discuss some stupid sport called football with.   Annnnnnd, as if this arrangement could get any cooler…..KEVIN IS TOTALLY ALLERIC TO VAGINAS hence posing absolutely zero threat to our sacred union!  So anyway, last week Kevin and I went shopping because he is moving into a brand new swanky apartment and he wanted to teach me how to buy some cool, gay stuff.

We took my five year old with us to peruse furniture.  Kevin immediately became fixated on a chaise lounge and a rug with green circles on it that would compliment his already gay bedroom set, trying to imagine how he would look lying atop it, reading a book on contemporary architecture, drinking a glass of expensive chardonnay, in dry cleaned pajama pants, with a fire burning in August, beneath an original oil painting from a dead artist, eating a plate European cheeses.  Bored, my daughter and I wondered around until we came upon some 4’ tall hand painted, wooden black giraffes, with red eyes.  Intrigued, I thought to myself “Who in the fuck would buy one of those ugly bastards?”  Duh. Me.  Because just then my kid walked over to the thing, accidentally knocked it over and sent its ear skittering across the floor.

The salesman rushed over because they creepily stalk all potential customers with their binoculars through strategically placed fake plants.  He snatched the giraffe from me and said in a huffy little tone “It is fine ma-am.  I will take care of it.”  I looked over at my daughter who was totally embarrassed and ready to cry and I snatched it right back.  I snapped, “Um Hi-iiiiii, actually I came in here looking specifically for a one eared, black giraffe and I want it.”  He glanced at me suspiciously.  Whatever dude, accidents happen otherwise you wouldn’t have been born. Eye roll.  I handed my daughter the ear and took the demon eyed giraffe over to the cash register and paid full price. 

We walked over and showed Kevin our purchase.  I told him it was a housewarming gift and watched gleefully as he paled and I shattered his gay chaise lounge fantasy.  Then I said “Just Kidding! It is for my kid!” “Oh Gaaaaaaawwwwwwd Erin, you almost gave me a heart attack, don’t do that ever agaaaaain!” I.LOVE.HIM.  XO     

P.S.  Thanks for letting me write about you Kevin.  I hope you are enjoying your new chair you manimal.  Rrrrrrrrrr.