Out with the dogs, we encountered a couple doing the same. They live up the block, but we'd never met them before. The man was easy on the eyes -- and very chatty.
"Are you brothers?" he asked.
"Partners," said Dan.
"Oh, partners," said the guy, then launching into a rapid monologue about how great gay people are and how it's all cool. "But you look just like each other. Same haircut, even."
This led to a more novel query: "Are you military?"
"No," Dan replied. "Are you?"
He's in the Navy, which he informed us is chock full o' gays, and that's A-OK with him.
4 comments:
J and I were at a business dinner (his office), and seated with a colleague and her husband. Husband asked if we were coworkers.
"Partners," I said.
"That's what I meant," he said.
"No, paaartnerrrrs," me.
Then he launched into the not-that-there-anything-wrong-with-that thing, which is always great fun.
You're not partners anymore; you're spouses. Own it!
I'd rather be mistaken for colleagues than for siblings.
Alas, I've stopped trying. It's part of my think-what-you-want-I-don't-give-a-rat's-ass philosophy. One particular co-worker (for whom I had some regard) alluded to my "European business interests" a few months ago. It took only a few moments to determine that he believed my Dutch "partner" was working with me to corner the tulip market or some other scheme. Yes, I know, it's the Pentagon after all.
Must have been those buzz cuts, guys.
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