Please Excuse the Gay – Throwback Thursday Post 01.04.11


Pardon me while I take this phone call at 7:45am, but my gay is calling. If you need me, I’ll just be in the other room … twirling my hair and putting my hand over my mouth so that you don’t hear my “I miss your face” voice.

I’m sorry if I may seem slightly aloof. I’m paying attention, I swear! Those purple pumps look better with that dress than the black ones. Pink lipstick, pearl earrings, and pull your hair back. See, told you!

And yes, I did just take a picture of my white hot chocolate and send it to him because next to him, it’s the next best thing. Because he’s everywhere. Club XS. He’s there. In the bathroom. He’s there. Island Sushi. Turn around. HE’S THERE.

But don’t worry, because I’m STILL HERE. And I’m still ME. And I’m still fun, and ridiculous, and sometimes a ‘lil weird. You know this. I’ll still throw back shots like I’m about to be on stage, and play wing-woman at the club. I’ll still be at every GNO with my LBD dress on and LDW trip onesie in hand (unless it falls on his birthday of course). I’ll even be there on those random nights. For when you’re sad. For when you’re hungry. For when you’re bored. For absolutely nothing at all.

So I know you see me texting away like my life depended on it. Kilig in full effect, cheesy smile plastered on my face, a foggy haze over my eyes, and bottle of gold glitter in my purse. But I promise I won’t turn into one of those girls you no longer want to share a room with because it’s always “So and so this,” or, “So and so that,” or “I have to call so and so because I just sneezed and HAVE to share the news with him even though we just hung up.”

But if it’s not too much to ask for … just let me … let myself be gay for a while. Just a little while. Please? ‘Cuz I’ve spent way too long wah-ing to not be swooning. Too many phone calls screaming, “I can’t BELIEVE he fucking did this to me,” to not be gushing, “OMG I can’t believe this is finally happening to me”. Too many hours dwelling to not be celebrating. Too many nights wallowing instead of laughing. ‘And I’m hoping that no matter how bad I may make you wanna yack with my hand made Christmas gifts and outlandish day dreams all involving him, you’ll take it over having me cry hysterically on your shoulder any day.

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