Snuggie.

When it comes to touching people, I feel like I err toward the side of caution. I don't particularly enjoy being touched by people that I don't know or particularly like. I'm not going to be the person to give you a hug when I first meet you. I have had people go for a hug after the first meeting and it will only end in tears.

But if you are my friend, particularly one of my gay friends, watch out. No body part is safe. I hug, I snuggle, I big spoon, I hold hands, I grab asses. You name it, it will probably be attended to in some platonic way.

Which is all the more awkward when I find out that a friend doesn't like being touched. I have this friend that I recently found out doesn't like being overly touched, so you know that it is like telling a two year old not to touch the hot stove. All I want to do is touch this kid. I want to hug him, I want to watch movies intertwined on the couch, I want to be the goddamn big spoon. It's awful. I do all of those things with his boyfriend, no problem. Boyfriend and I will kiss goodbye, and he's by the door of his car with a lame, "Call me tomorrow." What!? No. You will take your hug like a man and then you'll be on your way.

Everyone needs their personal space. I get it, I shouldn't intrude, personal bubble, all that jazz. I'm pretty sure that he considers me to be a good friend. I feel like we moved past casual acquaintance a while ago. But I'm still afraid that anytime my hand accidentally grazes his knee, he's dying on the inside.

I hate to think of what he's thinking when I "accidentally" squeeze his ass.

Lessons Learned

A lesson I learned over the weekend -- never turn your back on a gay man with a water balloon. You will end up with a soaking wet ass.

You Don't Own Me

The use of possessive pronouns between gay men and their queer dears has always interested me. I'm definitely guilty of it -- "my gays," "my boys," etcetera. The first person I can remember hearing it from was Kathy Griffin on her Bravo show. She was talking about her friends and she called them "her gays," while the camera panned to a man with the caption of "Kathey's Gay". It brought to mind a group of gay men that she kept in a spare bedroom solely for fashion advice and a sharply worded sassy comment.

I've asked a few of my friends if they mind being identified as "my gays," and got mostly nonchalant reactions -- shrugs or simply, "whatever, it's not a big deal." I sometimes fear that they don't appreciate being referred to with solely an identifier; why not just say "my friends" instead of "my gays"? My mother, of all people, once scolded me for referring to one of my friends as one of my gays, telling me that I need to consider the rest of his personality and not just that one label, the one part of himself.

I was recently hanging out with two guys that I have gotten close to, and one of them remarked that I have "adopted" the other. That was what got me on this thought process. I don't know of any other social circles where this sort of language occurs than the relationship between gay men and straight women.

But then I realize that I'm probably just overthinking it and should just go out and enjoy a cocktail with my new adopted gay.

In with the new.

Befriending new gays is very nerve-wracking to me. It's sort of like a first date-- I stress over what I'm wearing, what I say, how I think they're perceiving me. Sometimes I wish that I had a sign on that says, "I'm cool, I promise. Give it a week and you will love me."

I'm in a community theater production of "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" as Mrs. Potiphar (because of course I would be cast as the Slutty McSlut of the Bible story), and am meeting new gays in the process. It's not a problem in community theater, but I always strive to find ways to make sure that everyone feels comfortable and knows that they can be however they want to around me -- after my years in the gay trenches, there is very little anymore that shocks me.

Making friends as an adult is difficult at times. It isn't like college, where you join a club or have a class and make friends. I'm always afraid that I'm going to come on to strong when meeting new people and somehow alienate them in the process.

In the end, I just rely on being the most fabulous I can be and make sure that they know that I will always have their back and will stop them from leaving the house in ugly shoes and be there for them when they're having a drunken emotional meltdown. As a professional Queer Dear, it's the least I can do.

HIV Cure?

A friend of mine posted this article on Facebook this morning. A man with both leukemia and HIV underwent a bone marrow transplant and his HIV has seemingly disappeared. It bolsters the opinion that a cure may one day be found. Very interesting stuff.