I headed over to the Gay Pride Parade in Copacabana this afternoon with some lady friends of mine. Overall, it was a fun and interesting experience.
I enjoyed that I could dance, and look like the ass I do, as no one would even notice me. It's really hard to take the attention away from the 6'3" tree of a man in pink fuzzy undies and a bra, 4 inch heels, and a tiara standing behind you.
I also loved all the greased up hotties in speedos on the music cars. It was almost enough to make a women stuff a sock in her pants just to get a closer look. Then again, way out of my league. I almost became anorexic just looking at the hotness of the hotness of the super hot gay man! I'd hate to be a main squeeze. Talk about high maintenance. I bet the beauty/workout regiment is like a woman's but on crack, weed, a little LSD, and some Argentinian Malbec.
Not to mention the insecurity issues! I didn't think men looked like that unless carved out of marble. I stand by the belief that things that beautiful are meant be to looked at, not touched... that is unless he's straight and has an obsession with tall awkward women who have popped out a couple of babies. Then touching is not only allowed but is recommended.
It got even more interesting when I got into a cab on the way home. I really know how to pick 'em, don't I.
He asked if I was a sympathizer. What? Are the gays the newest group of Nazis out there and no one told me? Now that would be a bit mind blogging to see, wouldn't it.
I asked him to clarify. He asked me, very gently, if I was pro-gay. I guess everything is on the ballot these days.
I told him of course! My husband is gay.
I had a peaceful drive home after that.
