It’s disconcerting I have to say this, that I even have to emphasize it in caps. But, I am straight. When I was a kid, I was frequently called “son” or “little boy”, but duh! I made my mother cut my hair like my brother’s and dad’s. And I wore my brother’s hand-me-downs. If you saw a 6-year-old towhead sporting a bowl-cut, wearing a flannel shirt and faded blue Toughskins, you’d be justified to think “boy”.
But I’m 40 and have a long, well-established history of being straight. I’m married. To a man. I own impractical shoes. So, it baffles me why anyone would type “big ol’ homo” and find themselves on my blog.
Now I’m all self-conscious that my blog is projecting a homosexual vibe. Like, maybe I should decorate it with a bunch of flowers and pictures of men without shirts. God, I need to beard my blog. Maybe my blog is just in one of those strange experimental phases. Give it time, it’ll come around.