Who's (Not) Your Daddy?

The other day, a customer at the bingo hall asked me if I was a daddy. Since it was an old lady who was asking me the question, I had to stop myself from blurting out the first naughty answer that came into my mind. Instead, I smiled at her and said, "No. I am not a father."

"Oh. That's a shame," she said. "I bet you'd make a great daddy."

Again, I had to stifle the urge to answer back with the first dirty thought that popped into my head as I pictured myself whacking some hot, hairy stud on the ass while yelling out, "I'm your daddy, bitch! Yeah, you better get down on your knees and show your daddy some respect."

While I fantasized, the old lady went on with her interrogation.

"But, you are married right?" she asked.

"No." I replied.

"Well, you do have a girlfriend then. Don't you?"

"Um, no. Not exactly."

"Well, Jason. What are you waiting for? I'm sure that you could make some girl very happy."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Really."

It was at this point that I excused myself from the conversation.

I am just so amazed sometimes that people do not immediately figure out that I am of the homosexual persuasion. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. I mean, I'm not a big old flaming 'mo. (Not that there is anything wrong with that.) But still, I always feel like people ought to know right away when they look at me that I am gay. I guess I feel like I'm wearing some sort of scarlet H on my chest or something like that.

I suppose that all stems from from my childhood memories of being taunted at school. Being called a faggot or a queer. One of my nicknames is Jay. You know how school kids like to make fun of you by rhyming your name with some derogatory term. Well, conveniently enough for me, Jay rhymes perfectly with gay. So, that was all of my childhood bullys' taunt of choice. I can still hear their hateful chanting in my head to this day.

"Jay is gay, Jay is gay," always in a sickening, sing-songy child's voice.

I guess that is why I think that everyone should know exactly who I am. If it was obvious enough to a bunch of second graders 29 years ago, then why is not just as obvious to everyone else today?

So, I guess that this was the origin of the scarlet H that I carry around with me today. It is only something that exists in my mind right now. Something that I have held onto from my childhood. Something that I used to be ashamed of, but now, I no longer am.

Yes, there is in fact a scarlet H on my chest. I now know that I put it there myself to remind me of exactly who I am and where I came from. Not everyone can see it right away. But, as time goes on, it becomes more prominent. It becomes more a part of me. It certainly becomes more visible as the days pass. One day, no one will be able to overlook it. One day, it will be such a big part of me, that there will no longer be questions like, "Well, you do have a girlfriend then. Don't you?"

One day.

Soon.

I hope...