Is it offensive to discuss your dead grandfather’s views on lesbians with strangers?
Let me put it in reverse for a sec. Last night I went to see Sin City with the huzbond and some good friends. We had a great time and ended up boozing at the Bishop and Belcher well into the night.
Sin City is great, btw. Leave your politics at the door and enjoy the slick sights and silly dialogue. Damn, Clive Owen is fine. But Mickey Rourke, you break my heart! Remember when he was sexy? That smirk, those eyes. And these days? In 2003 the Guardian said it best, “he now looks like raw beef shaped into human form, dripping and pink”. Christ, it’s even more true today.
I knew at some point in the evening I wanted to hop over to a friend’s birthday gathering but I left the address at home and wasn’t sure they’d still be there after midnight. I took the chance and hoofed it home, grabbed the address and cabbed it over. I was in luck, there was time for one last drink.
The waitress came over for last call and for some reason told us a little joke about a yank moving to the deep south. It involved lesbians which reminded me of my grandfather.
You see, when I was about twenty years old my grandfather asked me if I was gay. I hadn’t had a boyfriend for a long time, basically ever (William doesn’t count, assholes just don’t count in my mind), and he thought it was an appropriate question. I told him no, then he eagerly asked if I knew any lesbians. I said yes and his eyes widened like the chance of a lifetime had finally arrived. He then said these words which I will never forget (please apply Polish accent for authenticity), “I know what gay men do. But lesbians? What is it that they do? Huh? They lick? Lick what?”
It’s one of those moments when the whole world as you know it blurs and shifts a degree or two never to balance back. It hurts. I thought about my granny… poor lady. Grandpa never braved the thighs of skullcrushery.
Did I make a faux pas? Can one broach these subjects with an unfamiliar public?