Vancouver
2 min

The sister you never had

Gay guys are kind of like the ultimate butler/pet/sister

This straight woman I know used to cringe whenever I suggested that her two infant sons might grow up gay.

But lately she seems to have had a change of heart. “One of them can decorate my house,” she says. “And if the other one’s gay too, then he can help me pick out nice clothes.”

You know what’s responsible for this attitude adjustment, don’t you? She got cable.

When her kids are napping, she watches Queer Eye For The Straight Guy, What Not To Wear, and So Chic With Steven And Chris. And her mind is opening up. She’s realizing that gay men actually have a constructive role to play in society: they were put on this earth to help the poor breeders who are so busy running the world they just don’t have time to think about things like furniture or clothing.

It’s amazing, but true — gay men are all born with this incredible sense of style. Not only that, but they are constantly on the lookout for a straight woman in need. They’ll use that excellent, bitchy sense of humour to point out where she’s going wrong: “You want to keep those capris? That is so 10 minutes ago! Into the garbage!”

They will find ingenious ways to make her pretty no matter how ugly she is, and they will turn her boyfriend into a gourmet cook with good manners no matter how stupid or smelly he is. That’s just what gay guys like to do. They’re kind of like the ultimate butler/pet/sister you never had.

I wonder what would happen if this woman I know had another kid, a girl, and I raised the possibility of her growing up to be a dyke.

Oh my god, she would be faced with the prospect of an ugly kid with no sense of style, let alone humour.

Imagine, a daughter with a bad haircut who doesn’t give a shit about straight people and is always going on marches and yelling at people for being politically incorrect. It would be tofu this and organic that, excess body hair and no manners.

That’s what I thought to myself, anyway, but the reality is that when I talk about dykes with this woman or other straight people I know, they generally look blank.

In spite of the best efforts of The L-Word to establish a popular image of us as rich, pretty, skinny and even fashionable, dykes seem to exist pretty much under the radar.

In my shallower moments I long for some utopian future where dykes are as well known as fags — though I could do without the butler/pet/sister combo.