Speaking Out (of his mind!)	Speaking Out Archive

I think the gay and lesbian community would be a lot better off if all drag queens were put in jail where they belong. I didn't always hold this opinion, but I'm sure you'll understand why I feel this way after I share with you a terrible experience I had not that long ago.

My mother has often mentioned that she would be pleased if I were to bring over a nice young woman to dinner some evening. Naturally, I have never wanted to burden Mom with the fact that my interest lies in another direction.

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When I met Michael one evening at a reputable gay establishment, I thought I had found the perfect solution to my little problem. Michael, as it happens, sometimes ventures out as "Michelle." I thought if I were to date "Michelle" and bring her home to meet Mother, I could satisfy her justifiable desire to see her son in the company of a young woman. At the same time, it might assuage any suspicions that may have been aroused that time she found some In Touch and Blueboy magazines in the bottom of my bureau drawer. I was never fully certain that she had accepted the explanation that I had purchased these periodicals in order to assist a friend who was writing an article on deviant sexuality.

I should have realized immediately when I went to pick up Michelle that things were not going to work out. She was terribly overdressed and wearing a great deal of makeup. "Michelle," I said, "don't you have anything more simple and tailored? We don't want to give mother the impression I'm dating a woman who, in any way, might be considered coarse or declassé.''

"We certainly don't want to do that," Michelle responded reassuringly, "But, honey, unless you're about to spring for a whole new wardrobe, this is as simple as I've got."

The evening only lasted about five disastrous minutes after I had introduced Mother to my date. She inquired how Michelle and I had met.

Before I could answer, Michelle said something to the effect that the two of us had been cruising the same bar when she noticed that I kept eyeing her dick through some tight white corduroy cut-offs she had slipped into for the occasion. She went on to say that I looked really uptight and horny and she figured I might be good for a few laughs and that it turned out that she was right, and then she laughed.

I leaped up and hustled her out explaining to Mother that Michelle was the sister of an acquaintance of mine who had asked me to take her out as a favor since she had only recently been discharged from a mental institution and didn't have any friends. I said obviously she was having a relapse, and I had to get her to an emergency room right away.

As I drove her home I was furious. "Apparently, I misjudged you," I said. "When you put on a dress I thought at the very least I could expect you to conduct yourself in an appropriate manner."

For some reason, which to this day I do not understand, Michelle, or perhaps I should say Michael, instead of being chagrined by this reproof, doubled up with laughter as though I had just said something funny.

Obviously drag queens are dangerous people. It's bad enough that they don't act like real men, but what's even worse, they don't even have the decency to behave like proper ladies.