My Gayness is Showing

At least 51 out of the 52 Fridays a year, I do my house cleaning. It’s just a disciplined habit and the reason I chose a Friday is so I can have the bulk of each weekend to rest.

While I was finishing mopping just now, a chuckle came to my lips in recalling something that was once said in regards to the order and cleanliness of my home. Years ago, I operated Family day homes and one day I had a few fellow child care providers, all of whom were, of course, of the female variety. One woman’s opinionated teenage daughter was also in the mix and at one point she questioned, “Are you sure you aren’t gay??”.

Another “cleaning episode” was more recent and involved a girl I was dating on and off. It was a Friday evening and I made it known I’d be cleaning but she was more than welcome to come over and either help or chill, and we’d spend time together after. When she arrived, I was elbow deep in cleaning the bathrooms and she was nice enough to sweep my kitchen floor…then sat on the couch and hung with my daughter’s while I continued. When it was all said and done, and the house was clean and quiet, she complained about “being stuck with the girls” and apparently she “didn’t really think I was going to ACTUALLY clean the house”.

Cleanliness is something I have learned to appreciate. I feel the same way about order, in the world of chaos in which we live. If cleaning bathrooms and floors, and dusting makes me gay and a lousy boyfriend, well, then so be it. My gayness is apparently showing.

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