Dear Future Roommate (Part III)

Part I Part II

Dear Future Roommate,

I may switch to vagina.

I'm sorry. That's a bit much to wake up to. But I feel you should really know that your days as best friend to a (debatably) beautiful queer boy may be numbered as I'm thinking of giving up on the unfairer sex and joining Boobie Nation. That's right: I might pull a Cynthia Nixon.

The way I see it, there are only so many times that I want you to find me in delicto flagrante in the hot tub with some barely legal Hispanic or clearly-only-cause-I'm-drunk hairy flight attendant. The fact that I seemingly want you to find me in delicto flagrante in the hot tub at all is disturbing enough. NO ONE SHOULD EVER HAVE TO SEE THAT. I could never in a million years tape myself having sex. I barely enjoy looking at myself clothed. One time when I was 17, my sexual partner at the time and myself made a short video of us making out fully clothed and I had to leave the room when he watched it. So you see, Future Roommate, I really don't think you should have to deal with that shiz. No girl that I plan on dating would EVER give up her flower in a hot tub, so rest assured you will be spared the sight of not only my naked ass but also whatever she's got going down below as well. I'm not totally clear on the specifics as I skipped that day of health class. Regardless, I certainly don't want you and I finding out together.

You folks are just so much more enticing sometimes. You're all soft and smell like meadows and have those great chest pillows on which I may rest my weary, newly-heterosexual head. You brush and floss regularly, rarely have dirt under your nails and we could share exfoliants! Plus, girls are generally more forgiving of physical foibles and I could really see myself getting used to a beer vodka gut. I know you have as much vested interest in wenis size as the homos, but at least all y'all will keep any disappointment to yourself and then bitch about it to your friends. That's called being a motherfucking lady. Plus, I wouldn't have to shave my bits anymore.

I know this is pretty big news, FutRo (cute term, btw), but you really need to get over it. I mean, take a look at the kind of shit I have to deal with:

Reason I'm Switchin': [on Luminato, an arts festival] what have you seen so far?

Illustrious D: I went to Dark Star, a new oratorio about perceptions/history of HIV/AIDS. Amazing. And then the National Ballet's West Side Story Suite + a couple new works yesterday. I might check out the visual stuff on the way home (Atom Egoyan curated something?) and then Rufus Wainwright on Thursday.

RIS: cool you're all up on the culture!

RIS: i'm looking forward to pride

RIS: it's one of my favorite festivals!

ID: what are you doing for it?

RIS: being gay!

RIS: dressing slutty

RIS: it's the biggest gay party there is!

RIS: u?

ID: I'm volunteering for it. Otherwise, not sure yet.

RIS: really?

RIS: why did you decide to do that?

ID: Believe in the cause, good way to meet people, etc.

RIS: for sure

RIS: i haven't missed toronto pride since i first started coming in 2002

ID: What are your favourite events?

RIS: well this year i am really excited for cyndi lauper

RIS: and that i have a boyfriend that loves pride as much as i do. beer and cyndi's songs all around!


In summation: art blah, pride yay, volunteering why? and beer + cyndi lauper = heaven.

Fuck this shit, Future Roommate. I'm skipping over heterosexuality and going straight for lesbianism. Prepare yourself to spend a lot of time around macrame and women named Deb.


Love,

D