Memoirs of an Unwanted Currency
Christopher Hurtubise
Being gay in the USA is like being a two-dollar bill. People know you exist, but they may not want you in their world. Getting a two-dollar bill as change creates angst and confusion. Oh, these still exist. Putting it in your wallet is almost admitting defeat. Gosh, it’s going to rub against a one and a five. Some will buy something extra just to have an excuse to dispense the intruder. Some may show it off. Look at this! It’s a two-dollar bill. Isn’t that wild! Nobody collects two-dollar bills.
Have you ever wondered why so many actors on Broadway are gay? Gays make great actors as most have lived some of their lives acting as someone they aren’t.
I’m an old fart. If I had come out as gay when I was young the consequences could have been huge. The high school I went to run by a group of closeted Jesuits, would throw you out. Friends and family would likely disassociate from you. Social isolation.
There are worse consequences. Remember Matthew Shepard? Personally, I’ve had a lot of hate thrown at me. Once while leaving a gay bar, I was on my way to my car about one-hundred feet away. As soon as I closed the door two police officers approached me and said they would escort me to my car. I said that I could manage. Then I was told of a serious threat where someone was going to violently attack anyone leaving the bar. Ironically, a short time later a police officer pulled a mean trick on me which ended up on national news.
Homophobia is everywhere. When we lived in Westbrook Maine, police, city workers constantly harassed us. I had put up a standard mailbox by the curb even though all mail for the small development was delivered to a large multi-box style setup at the entrance to the development. Christmas Eve one year I received a letter from public works stating they weren’t responsible for damage to a decorative mailbox (it had been there for two years at that point). My partner asked me what the letter meant. I stated that it meant they were going to destroy it. Right before New Years I was at the large kitchen window looking down the street. We hadn’t had a snowfall for over a week. A city snowplow entered our street.As it nears the mailbox it lowers its blade, smashes the mailbox, then raises its blade. The following summer there was a note on our house from the police stating they would take our dogs away if there was a complaint about barking. Our house sat on half an acre. Our dogs weren’t barkers. A police cruiser came down our street while our dogs were oh the second-floor deck. A neighbor’s dog, diagonally across from us was outside barking it’s head off. Same thing on the opposite diagonal, their dog was loose and barking. The officer ignored both barking dogs while he crept past our house. Police made it a routine to drive by our home very slowly. On my way to work one morning at six in the morning, a cruiser was just passing our home as I was about to pull out. I followed him for just a hundred feet. Lights came on and he had me stop. He asked why I was following him. I stated it’s the only way for me to go to work. He badgered me for a bit. I asked why he was on this street as I had looked up his route previously and he should be miles away. Before he could come up with a lie, I stated I had several time stamped pictures of him passing our home that I was more than willing to share in an editorial. That ended one issue, but another remained. One of the few city services we had was trash pickup, at least for heterosexuals. Often our trash was often ‘accidently’ missed. One time they sliced the bags open and found part a spider plant we had trimmed. A note was attached saying they don’t take lawn debris. I had enough. I loaded the trash bag in my car and went to city hall where I asked to see the mayor. The mayor wasn’t in, so I spoke with second in command. Right off the bat I explained that I had suffered a traumatic brain injury and can only talk to one person at a time or I’ll get overstimulated and must leave. We went into an empty office. No sooner had I started talking when two more women entered with a barrage of questions, talking over one another. I stated that I needed to leave and left the torn bag of trash there. As I exited the building a policeman in full swat gear, including a semi-automatic rifle across his chest, stood in my way. As I maneuvered around him, he kept saying that he wanted to talk with me. I ignored him and got into my VW. He rapped on the window. I lowered it halfway and asked him if I legally had to talk with him. He quietly said no, but he would like it if I did. I agreed and put the window all the way down. After explaining the events over the previous year, he had a shocked look on his face. I can’t tell you what to do, but if I were you, I’d contact American Civil Liberty lawyer and file a lawsuit. After that all the harassment stopped. Instead of a lawsuit, we sold the house and moved to California.
This hatred towards gays kept a lot of men in the closet, heck you couldn’t even be willing to risk your life for your country. You were a second-class citizen, denied the same rights as your heterosexual brothers. The worst offenders, even today, are the closet cases. By being adamantly anti-gay they deflect attention from their behavior. An appropriate saying is, I think he protest too much.
Gays developed code for whom they may think is gay. If two gays were walking down a street and one’s gaydar goes off, he may say to the other, I think he’s a friend of Dorothy, or I think we go to the same church.
Not to say there aren’t some advantages of being gay. If possible, go with someone close to your build and instantly double your wardrobe. Neither of you are likely to remember your anniversary. Toilet seat up, who cares. Farts, nothing to be ashamed about.
Gays are misunderstood. My niece was in a class when being gay was being discussed. The teacher, now remember this was thirty years ago, stated that gays don’t broadcast their sexually. My niece’s hand shot up. My uncle’s license plate says 2 X XY. The teacher admitted she was shocked. She then said that isn’t something a heterosexual would do. My niece’s hand shot up. My dad’s license plate says breeder.
Why heterosexual men don’t embrace gays is beyond me. Think about it. Gay men typically love women, just not sexually. Gays often have a lot of straight women friends as there is no sexual tension. A beautiful woman, upon finding out that I’m gay, asked me if I really wouldn’t want to sleep with her. No, but I’m dying to meet your brother. Gays make the best wingman. If a straight guy were to see two men walking in front of him and they’re holding hands, his first thought should be, great, two more fish in the sea for me. Of course, those two fish are probably lesbians.
This misunderstanding of gays only creates more gays. If men are closeted, they prove they are straight by having lots of kids. All men are horny, just watch the movie American Pie. If all gays felt comfortable coming out of the closet, they wouldn’t be producing mini gays. Eventually, being gay would be rare.
Today’s youth don’t like being labeled as gay. I’m not gay, I’m in the wrong body. Thank Bruce Jenner for that. Now there is an explosion of transexuals. Imagine disliking a label so much that you’re willing to take hormones for the rest of your life and undergo surgery. That takes balls.
Imagine the future where who you love doesn’t bother anyone. You’re one of the few gay men in the city and attending a party. You’re dressed well and wearing two lapel pins, a small pink triangle and a small rainbow flag. It’s open bar. The host ask if you’d like another beer, you say yes, but let me leave the tip. As you open your wallet you notice he is looking at your pins. You hand him a two-dollar bill. As his wife joins him she exclaims, Oh my God, I haven’t seen one of them in ages.
