Outed by Time Out New York
Wednesday was a very, very strange day for Miss Heather. Our apartment building was paid a visit by New York’s Bravest because one of my neighbors called 311 to report a strange smell. Since our buzzers are inoperative, I had the honor of ushering these gentleman around our humble domicile in a dirty tank top and boxer shorts.
As if the previous was not enough Chateau de Ghetto fun for one day, I also received a phone call from a bill collector trying to chase down one of my upstairs neighbors. Though I found this to be mildly annoying, it was hardly remarkable. No sir: fire trucks, foul odors and past-due bills are child’s play compared to what else this day had in store for me. This was the day, dear readers, I learned I am a lesbian. Or at least look like one.
It all started with a phone call from Beatrice of Casa Mon Amour:
There’s a picture of you in this week’s Time Out New York!
Beatrice: They wrote up my restaurant and you are in the picture they used.
I quickly got off the phone and hunted down a copy of this periodical. I ended up having to walk south of Greenpoint Avenue to find it because all the magazine stands carry in my corner of the ‘hood are US, OK, a slew of Polish publications and even more porn. Who knew Big Black Butt had such a following here? I didn’t. Until today.
Upon discovering my much sought after mag, I shelled out three bucks and commenced to rifle through it like a madwoman. As I was waiting for a half pound bag of rice at The Garden, I found what I was looking for:
OH MY GOD!
There are two woman in the above photograph. I am one of them. The other one is the Co-pastor of the Greenpoint Reformed Church. We are both married; me to a man, her to a woman. If this is any indicator of the accuracy of Time Out New York‘s “gaydar” I would like to humbly suggest that it needs a little refining. My above-depicted companion agrees:
TONY tries to be so trendy featuring lesbians on a date. Unfortunately they haven’t updated their gaydar. I may actually write them a letter about it since the implication of the photo isn’t very good for a married member of the clergy.
Appearances aside, we both found the print publication of our “date” very amusing. In fact, the only thing I took issue with was being called a $50.00 date. I cost a lot more than fifty bucks. Just ask my husband (whose hand can been seen in the bottom left-hand corner of the above photo). Monetary considerations aside, my “date” thanked me for a memorable evening:
Even… a simple meal in a small neighborhood restaurant turns into a truck running into a building and a photo in TONY.
To wit I replied:
I try to entertain my guests, that’s just good manners.
I have emailed the above clipping to my parents, mother in law and sister in law. I have yet to get a reply from any of them. Who knew coming out would be so hard? Then again, you know what they say:
The family is always the last to know.
Or would that be me?
UPDATE, 11:42 a.m.: I have heard back from my sister in law. She writes:
I just realized something. Your big coming out in TONY was just a day too soon. Today is National Coming Out Day. They were oh so close…
Damn. Oh well…
HAPPY COMING OUT DAY FROM NEW YORK SHITTY!