My Half-Gay Husband

He didn't start out half-gay. No. He was a regular straight guy who, he claims, marriage made half-gay by the incessant viewing of such amusements as What Not To Wear and Project Runway. One night he caught himself saying something like, "That woman should not wear yellow," and then exclaimed, "Jesus Christ! You've made me half gay!"

We both laughed our asses off, and still do, when another keen observation slips out when we're watching television or shopping. One time I said, "My gay husband" instead of "half-gay:" he sometimes makes the same mistake and then I yell, "Half-gay! Half-gay! Honey, I'm clutching on to the half that's straight!"

Many women are best friends with gay men, and bemoan the fact that they
can never marry them. Problem solved: you can make your husband half gay.
It's not as hard as you might think it is, and actually happened
without much effort on my part. First of all, if your husband or
boyfriend watches any kind of sport, you've got a running start. I
mean, come on: your man is watching a bunch of other men in close
physical contact. Personally, I think football is the gayest sport,
what with its inverse ratio of masculinity and butt patting. But don't
ignore basketball (so much contact) and baseball, which footballers
always think is gay (again, closet cases are often pointing the finger
at everyone but themselves). Secondly, home improvement is practically
a new national pastime, and moving from home makeover shows to fashion
makeovers is a small but significant step that can go by almost
unnoticed, until he says, "She needs a better bra." Remember, he may be stuck watching a woman get a fashion makeover, but he's watching a woman, with boobs. Suddenly, it's not so bad, is it?

The great thing about having a half gay husband is that you get all the
attention to detail, especially with your wardrobe, that you enjoyed
with your gay male friends, and you're sleeping with the same guy!
My husband not only likes to go shopping with me, but has a good eye and
will tell me when something is flattering or not. My style is louder
than his, but we can see those differences: I like to be noticed,
he likes to blend in. That is simply a matter of taste. He doesn't
mind being asked about the smallest of details: which flatware do you
like better? What color sheets do you think we should get? How about
towels? Every purchase gets the full review, and many stones are
upturned in the process.

I think he gets this from his dad.
When his parents first visited the States, we took them shopping.
We had to: they were obligated to return to India with gifts for
anyone they had ever laid eyes on. We went to the Mall of America,
which is overwhelming to those of us weaned on shopping malls, and
my soon-to-be father-in-law had to stop in every single store, just to see what they had.
He examined clothing like he was a tailor sent to memorize patterns.
My husband told me that his dad sewed a lot of clothes for him until he
became a teenager and only store-bought clothes would do. He even
lingered over children's clothes, while his wife teased him: "Are you
expecting? Who are you buying that for?"

He was also busy
calculating dollars into rupees, something that constantly shocked and
appalled him. I longed for him to speak more English, because he and
my father would have had so much to talk about. My father loves nothing
better than comparing prices from gas station to gas station, or from
country to country. He may very well have packed up to Kerala to get a
haircut that is even cheaper than one can get across the border in
Mexico. In fact, when we first met, I told my husband that my father loved
nothing more than saving a dollar. "Oh," he said, "then he's Indian
at heart."

Because my husband is only half-gay, his most favorite pastimes include
lazing on the couch, remote firmly clutched in hand, and searching the
channels for what, I don't know, or boobs. He has to be 'encouraged'
to share the housework, and even though baseball and cricket are the
sports that interest him most, any sport is better than nearly anything
else on television. We've sometimes told our friends and family about 'my half-gay husband' and the responses are usually uncomfortable laughter. It's almost like they think it's funny, like we do, but they also seem a little scared: is he really half-gay? Or gay? Why is it funny? Aren't they worried?

One night we were out with a friend of ours who is usually tragically casually dressed, and then will wow you once in a great while. This was one of the wows. She had a jacket on that I could not get over, and I talked about it with my husband while we drove home. I did mention, though, that her shoes weren't so great, but how I loved that jacket!

My husband said, "I didn't notice her shoes."

I turned to look at him and smiled. "The day you start noticing shoes, you are no longer half-gay. Then I'll be in real trouble, won't I?" We both laughed all the way home.