Are you gay?, 11.2006
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Lil’R notes recently, Hey Canada is a whole different country! You’d think that would be obvious, but it’s only minutes away and the people do speak a somewhat similar language and dress warmly most of the year too, etc. If you add American arrogance into the equation, it’s a simple matter to confuse the nation for an annex, sad but true. As it turns out, though, since it’s a different country maybe I can go there and not be in my own country, which metaphorically speaking could be the middle porridge moment in this sequence of my lost-in-the-woods story line. They open the kitchen for you if you’re hungry even if it’s after 9 p.m. Sooo nice, for real.
But what the hell is up with the obsession with whether or not you’re a gay man? I’ve heard of this, but from afar, and I chalked it up to something I know about but can’t feature, like the seal-only diet of the Inuit. In the states, men do call each other ‘faggots’ as an insult, from playful to violent in intent. But even if meant playfully, after a couple of times, an American ‘straight’ guy will probably punch the other guy in the face or something. My current hypothesis is that this running you’re-gay no-you’re-gay thing between Canadian men is partially the result of the lesser tendency Canadians have in general to interpersonal violence. Hence they can keep that up without risking bloodshed. Also the fact that it can be a never-ending topic/joke might indicate a lesser degree of violent homophobia. I’m not sure. I have to do more field work on this, which won’t be hard since all it takes is several Canadian men in the same room for the subject of whether one of them is gay or not to come up:
D. are you still faking this girl out that you’re not gay?, asks J. Does he go down on you for hours to cover his gayness?, he asks S., D’s girl.
You’re gay.
No, you’re gay.
Ok, it’s true, says J. to S., I’ve had your boyfriend more times than you have—Worst 2 minutes of anybody’s life, man or woman—but at least I don’t go down on women to fake them out, that’s pathetic.
What are you a Black Guy!?, asks M., J’s brother.
No, but there is no need for that kind of thing, sex is for the man, it’s for procreation, I’m a religious guy, says J.
You’re like that Black Guy, who works at such-n-such (there’s one Black Guy?), but he doesn’t have to because he’s got that big black cock.
You oughta know, since you’re gay.
It’s not about that, says C., the nice looking guy whose wife is pregnant.
Yeah, says M., straight guys and lesbians like to do it, Right?, he asks my friend K., whose eyes are wide with the hilarity of it all.
Um Sure, she shrugs. (lol)
M. says, If you’re good looking like him (gesturing at C.) it’s one thing, but a guy like me has got to have talent. [He does look like one of the pudgy minor characters from The Soprano’s, truth be told.]
It doesn’t matter if you are good looking, says C. You can’t spend your life with someone who doesn’t want to give you a blow job that lasts a good half hour at least, and vice versa. (Nods all around, a serious Truth of Life moment.)
I knocked up your wife, says J. It only took like 30 seconds, she hardly even noticed. I did it as your friend, it was a job that just needed to get done, ya know what I’m saying?
HEY, that means you’re kid’s gonna be GAY, says half the bar in unison. (lol)
for Fort Erie and FaintedInk in particular (f’n priceless so funny):
The Tragically Hip ("the Guess Who of Canada")- Bobcaygeon
