Okay, okay folks - I got one thing to say:
Foreign does NOT equal =
GAY!
Now, this is coming from an expert: MOI. I am highly versed in dating foreign men and being a "fa- hag". Yes, I admit to believing that my previous ex
Italian, Mik, was gay for the first 2 weeks of meeting him as my next door neighbor - but that was partly because of the extremely tight Italian pants and T shirts he wore, the fact that we lived in Hillcrest (the gay part of town). Also, I already knew for sure 1 roommate of the 3 was gay, and Mik and Danny were constantly together and going out together and going to soccer together - I thought they might be a couple. Lastly, his northern Italian accented English was also a bit fay-sounding. See picture below of Mik, my old roommates Caren and Kim, and Danny at the ultra fay Hillcrest GAY PRIDE PARADE.
That said - I hear a lot of Americans (ignorant ones) bellow out that foreign guys are a bunch of 'fa-s'. (Personally, I just think they are jealous since it is widely known that American women LOVE foreign accents and foreign men.) *sigh*
Well, my current handsome beau of almost 2 years,
Patrick, is from
Ireland -- although he's been here long enough now to only use the accent when he wants to (too bad for E!!). And, yes, people throughout the years have also pinned him for being gay. When he lived in the USA in his 20s, he hung around a small group of straight guys, but were all into alternative music and that look - pegging them as 'gay' to the socially unaware American. (Puleease - those boys had plenty of female company back then...)
On my first date with Patrick, we ended latter evening for a drink at the gay bar,
"Bourbon Street" - partly because we both lived nearby and I also wanted to see if he was comfortable in his skin and not anti-gay. Well, all eyes were on my date, I can tell you - and gay men usually love ME - calling me "Penelope Cruz", etc etc. When one of us would go to the restroom he'd be singled out and hit on immediately hehehe. That's my Irish straight man.
Well, today I got a call from P stating that he has a secret admirer. "Whose arse am I gonna have to kick, now?" I commented dramatically - for P has plenty of admirers and exes and full-bussomed girly friends that I have to keep in check - shoot. P went on to say there was a note, a business card rather, left on his car this morning. It said on the back, "I lost your number, call me and let's go have some wine together.."
Ummm-huh.
"Well.." I said dramatically again in order to get a rouse from him, "somebody probably sees your handsome face coming and going and then they see me looking all homely and ugly cleaning your house, taking out the trash (next to the car) and walking the dog and they said to themselves, "shoot - that girl of his ain't NOTHING, I am going after that Leprechuan and we can go have an Irish Spring shower together!!'"
There was just one thing, though. P told me the name on the card.
It belonged to a
man.HAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH mwuah haa haaa hahaha!
Maybe it's the Banana Republic metrosexual dark T shirts he always wears.....:P
Hee hee hee. If you don't know what I mean by the term "shakedown" please refer to this previous blog here. 
