Fruit Fly

n An attractive female who hangs around gay males. The same as a fag hag but attractive. - Urban Dictionary

I am a Fruit Fly (well, maybe I'm a fag hag, but I really have an objection to the word fag and I like to think I'm not so hideous as to be known as a hag). Not only am I a Fruit Fly, I am unavoidably, since birth, a Fruit Fly. Today, I would like to recount the time line of this special trait to thank the young man that told me my hair was fabulous in that special way.

1986- I am now old enough that my hair is starting to significantly curl. The compliments only come from old ladies and gay men. This is a trend that will continue to present day.

1994- I read Moreta: Dragonlady of Pern which has been incorrectly shelved in the Young Adult section. My love affair with fantasy leaps to adult novels and I read my first gay love scene. I never turn back.

1997- I meet and date my first boyfriend. We will be together for two years (summers only) and he will give me the most fabulous piece of jewelry one thirteen year old ever gave to another. I break up with him over disturbing reports that he asks to be beaten up by the other boys when he's only wearing a towel.

1999- The Big Gay Summer. One of my peers, Twinkletoes encounters another boy Obi ( so named for his obsession with Ewan McGregor. Seriously, he wore a padawan braid the whole summer.) They fall deeply into lust. And I am asked by Twinkletoes for advice. To clarify, I had had no contact at all with Twinkletoes previously. He singled me out of dozens of other potential confidantes. He never gave a reason for this choice.

I become friends with Genie (name based on really incriminating photos). Genie will remain my most fabulously awesome friend to present day. He comes out to everyone in camp that summer and we are soon noted as being thick as thieves. Twinkletoes does not ask him for advice unless it is through me. Somehow it is assumed that I know more about being gay then the other gay kid. I can't make this crap up.

2000- My mother and father finally accept that Genie is gay and we will never date. Why must I spend so much time with gay men? My mother continuously asks. They come to me, say I. I prove this:

Setting: Shoe Store
My Mood: Terrible, see Setting. I hate shopping, especially in expensive shoe stores. Depressive angry funk of a teenager.

Myself: ::hating life::
Mom: ::obliviously shops for shoes::
Salesman: Hi, can I help you?
Myself: No, thanks.
Salesman: Oh, just here with your mom?
Myself: Yes.
Salesman: I go shopping all the time with my mom too. She takes forever! Now, I just blow her off, that's what being an adult is about, right?
Mom: ::continues to shop, finally returns to where I'm sitting::
Myself: Have you tried compost?
Salesman: We have! But the property isn't what it could be. My partner thinks we should just move.
::Mom checks out, we leave the store::
Mom: Oh my god! They just FIND you.
Myself: I know!

Today: Young man walks into the library sees me at the reference desk and squees about my hair. His hair is dyed pink.


There's more, but this post is already far too long. Do any of you have fun fruit fly or fruit stories? Share in the comments!

Catch you on the flipside,
CGL