You’ve never really seen the bottom of the barrel until you’ve been kicked out of a house party by a woman with an at-home dye job and Hobby Lobby art hanging on her walls. Now, I hope this never happens to you, but let me assure you: it feels miserable.
It’s a long, boring story, but trust me. From the moment I walked in the door, I could tell this wasn’t an environment where a person like me tends to flourish.
The lighting was that bitter yellow color, and people were playing cards in the living room. The kitchen had one of those huge, ornately-trimmed dark wooden shelves to hold plates. Plates that had apparently been airbrushed with portraits of angels. Lots of plates. Each one with one or more angels.
Now I’ve never really been persecuted in my life, but when you are used to being the loudest, gayest man in a room, you take on a certain watered-down form of double consciousness. Sure, gay men love interior design, but a lot of it probably stems from the fact that we’re generally forced to scan new rooms in an effort to figure out if some guy has a knife in his jean jacket pocket or something.
Before long, my gut proved correct and I was kicked out of the party by an angry hostess who told me to “shut the fuck up.” And I’m asking you to take a leap with me here, but I hadn’t even said anything!
The lesson here is twofold: first of all, don’t ever walk into a house party where the central feature is two side-by-side televisions that allow party guests to simultaneously play Call of Duty and watch DVRed shows from the fishing network. Second, leave every party five minutes earlier than you think you should.