I have a friend, Ms. Morgan, that faults me because whenever she is around me and a small child is in the vicinity, Ms. Morgan blurts out something inappropriate. It's happened multiple times and is rather uncanny. I think it's hilarious, she gets embarrassed.
On Thanksgiving, the tables were turned. I was standing in our friend Dan's kitchen helping him prepare for roughly 20 friends coming for dinner including our friend Choo's parents. And by helping I mean talking to Dan while he set out appetizers. I was flipping through his collection of postcards from various friends, all of which say only, "Dear Dan, You are so gay. Love, [name]." Someone started it and now it's a lovely tradition of which Dan is quite fond. They were mailed from all over the US and even internationally, so one can only wonder what the postal authorities think. One postcard picture features a butt, tightly encased in jeans, sitting on a large pole. Just a tad suggestive. Hanging out of one of the pockets is a red handkerchief.
Sensitive readers and small children may wish to tune out at this time.
Handkerchiefs hanging out of back pockets is an elaborate code between gay men about what sexual acts they like. The color of the hankie indicated what act you are looking for, while the pocket you wear it in signifies that you want to do that act or have that act done to you. I'll stop pussyfooting around (excuse the expression) and just lay it out there. Coral on the left? Suck my toes. Coral on the right? Toesucker. Light blue on the left? Looking for head. Light blue on the right? Cocksucker. Grey on the left? Bondage top. Grey on the right? Tie me up (or down). Robin's egg blue on the left? Let's 69. Robin's egg blue on the right? Anything but 69. And so on and so on.
Now of course only gay men would come up with a code that requires one to distinguish between light blue, Air Force blue, robin's egg blue, aqua, teal, and medium blue lest you end of having sex underwater when all you really wanted was to blow a cop. The full list exists out there on the Internet. Nota bene: it is crazy specific verging into scary territory. Do you need to know that maroon is for cutter/bleeder? No? Well you know it now. Having warned you, here's one version. I've never actually seen anyone wearing hankies in the roughly 15 gay bars I've been to so maybe hankies are a relic of the past like the moustache-and-tight-pink-polo-shirt look.
Now that we've completed our gay sociology lesson for the day, let's get back to the postcard where as you recall there is a red hankie hanging out of the, I think, left pocket. Red = fisting. I'm really not going to explain that. Just google it. Oh look, I just did and the first link is Fisting Made Easy, so there you go. Anyway, I turn to Dan and say in a louder than necessary voice, "You know? I think I've finally gotten to the point where I'm not freaked out by the mention of fisting."
And that's when the screen door opened.
Remember how Choo's parent's were coming over? See Dan usually leaves his front door open when he's expecting guests, so the screen door with it's many, many holes for soundwaves to pass through was the only thing between us and the outside. Dan went into aggressive shushing mode and my face got very hot. Luckily it was Choo sans parents. Of course, when Ms. Morgan heard about it she thought it was hilarious.