My Dentist Accidentally Thinks I'm Gay (But I'm Not)

Here's what happened: I started going to my dentist (who is hot and gay) (there's a lot of that floating around SF) right around the same time my friend started taking her daughter to him. His office was right near Turkey's office, so when my friend was going for the first time, I left work at the end of the day and met her there.

We didn't realize it at first, but he thought we were a lesbian couple. Then after a couple of times of going, when he'd wave me goodbye while saying, "Say hi to F & H!" I mentioned it to F. "Do you think Dr. S. thinks we're some lesbian couple?" She thought for a minute before nodding.

You only go to the dentist every six months (assuming everything is fine), so all of a sudden it's two years in and too much time has passed and we can't tell him that actually, neither of us are gay at all. It would make him feel awkward and embarrassed, and you don't want to evoke those feelings in a person holding sharp things in your mouth. So now, when I go to the dentist, I'm sort of gay.

This is sort of a spin-off from above, but I love that my dentist (and his people) never lets anything hurt. Someone recently told me they think there's a trend now for dentistry to be more spa-like and less hurty and scary. Lots of people have huge dentist phobias like mine. If you will be in San Francisco and have a dentist phobia, please feel free to reach out to me and I will be happy to go with you to my dentist who will not hurt you, and I'll hold your hand through the appointment. My hot gay dentist will be gentle.

All Over the Board

1. About half a year ago, I noticed the beautiful salads the San Francisco Soup Company sells. So many people were happily eating them. They looked so pretty. So I got one. Then you know what else I got? Violently ill. That's right, the beautiful salad tried to kill me. I was so sad. For months I watched the happy people munching their pretty salads, wishing I could be one of them, knowing I wouldn't survive an attempted murder twice.
   
   This week I've been a little crazy, and today I decided to try the salad again. Let me tell you, they were just as beautiful today as they've been when the salads are in front of other people. The grass was just as green for me! It's now seven hours later, and I feel fine, so it seems like the first time was just an unfortunate fluke.
   
2. This may come as a shock to some of you, but GQ, my gay boss, is gay. I know! Anyway, one of our sub-tenant people was back in the office today after having gone camping for a long weekend. He and GQ were talking, and GQ asked where the guy went camping. They talked about location, and then I heard the sub-tenant say something about not being "too close to the homos or the meth-heads." Ever see those movies where someone's head dramatically jerks up and their eyes get wide? That was me.
   
   GQ didn't react at all to it, so I kept my mouth shut. Is it possible he missed it? GQ's been gay for like, his whole life, so maybe he worked out decades ago how to deal with comments like that?
   
3. Speaking of GQ! Recently, he and the other attorneys in our suite got their photos professionally done, for their respective websites. The photographer came to our office twice, and had zero sense of humor. One of the attorneys said, "One or two shots should be enough to capture my beauty," and the photographer was all, "What?!?! But how will I ... only two shots?!?! Blarphen?!?@?!" and we had to tell her she was joking. The photographer promptly developed a huge crush on GQ. To say she was disappointed would be a huge understatement. Her whole face fell, and she asked me a thousand questions about where he was.
   
4. The new season of Dancing With the Stars has begun this week, and the two people I was interested in seeing were Leah Remini and Snookie. I don't think Leah Remini is particularly smart, but she's funny. Sadly, it doesn't seem like she'll go far on this season. Girl can't dance. Plus she's very uncomfortable with her body (see: Amber Riley). Snookie however, can apparently dance. Shocker!

The List

At work I currently have a list full of names. These are names of gay professionals in Northern and Southern California. It was each person's name, their title, the company they work for, the county, and their email address. At the top of the list, in bold and extra-big font it says Privileged and Confidential. The list was given to me in a folder. There was some data entry to be done with this list. Any time I am not entering the data, the list is to be kept in the folder. If I walk away from my desk, the folder is to be kept in a drawer. If you've never done it, data entry is pretty mentally dull. The mind wanders.

When my mind wandered I noticed that some of the email addresses are not work email addresses, but personal ones. My gay boss is very out. I know, because we had a talk about it, when I had to call someone and out him, and wanted to confirm this was okay to do. Our sub-tenant is a branch of a law firm that includes one lesbian lawyer and one gay lawyer.

In my office, everyone is out. Very out. Lots of very un-PC gay jokes are made on a regular basis. Seeing this list, where some people used their personal email addresses rather than their professional ones was a stark reminder that not all the gay people are out. When I noticed this, I looked at the locations of the people using personal email addresses to see if my guess was correct. It was - all the people who used them happen to live in the very Republican, conservative area of the state.

Whenever I hear of somebody gay who isn't out I want to encourage them to move to San Francisco. Irrationally, I think since I'm straight the right thing to do would be to move out so there's room for the gay people. They need this city more than I do. But the issue isn't that there isn't enough room. I don't know what the issue is (though this being a super expensive city probably has something to do with it). Probably can't presume that all gay people have the same reasons for not moving to a more gay-friendly place than wherever they live.

End Days Ending Even More!

Silliyak, thank you.

Last week I had lunch with (three different people, on three different days, and then went to a party on the weekend) the new associate from my old firm. The one from the Midwest. She's at the new firm with Turkey.

As of last Friday, almost two and a half months after working with him, Turkey's new secretary refused to work with him any longer. I am trying to not take too much happiness in this as I fear it's bad karma, but to be honest ... ha ha.

As for me? Gay Crush offered me a job a week and a half after my last day of working for Turkey. Yes. I know. !!! For a month and a half I worked from home while the new office was under construction. I am Gay Crush's first full-time employee ever. I am nervous for him. He literally has to cut his salary in order to pay mine. Luckily though, he is super busy and has a lot of client work. Yesterday he talked about billing out my time. As a legal assistant. Um, okay I guess. If the clients will pay for me to do all the same stuff I usually do as a legal secretary, then why not? (You may be wondering why they would pay if this is what I normally do. The answer is, the clients don't really know I exist yet - they're used to Gay Crush being a solo operation which means they're used to paying for him to do everything they need. So from their point of view, they can either pay $325 an hour for GC to print out and organize multiple contracts, or $100 an hour for me to do it. I'm just saying that at other firms, I do that type of thing for free.)

I am trying hard to get over my gay crush on Gay Crush, because it's not productive to have a gay crush on your boss. He will need a new blog name once I've accomplished that.

Hey, want to hear a story? Once upon a time, back when I worked in New York, I went to my boss and told her I would like more work, that I didn't have enough to do. When coworkers found out I'd done that, they said that was wrong, that one NEVER tells their boss that. I felt sure I'd done the right thing. I wanted more to do. Yeah, it turned out they were right. My boss gave me more, so much more in fact, that it was too much. Granted, she gave me one task that involved being tethered to my desk and one that required walking around the department floor, two things you can't do simultaneously. Maybe she just picked the wrong thing to give me to do as extra work.

Ever since then though, I have never ever made that mistake again in case it turned out the same way. I just screw around online pretending to be busy while waiting for more work.

Working with Gay Crush is different. We had what we called "an interview" but really it was just 15 minutes of sitting down and seriously talking about how it would be to work together. I told him, "I've never worked with a friend before, and as a friend, I've told you things I wouldn't ever tell an employer, and I'm not sure how that will work out ..." Gay Crush nodded and confessed he'd thought the same thing. To which I thought, "Really?! What did you tell me that you consider a secret? I'm so excited! What do I know?"

Basically we agreed that we have a lovely friendship and we are both good people who are direct, and we will simply talk about any issues that come up before they turn into something big. When I made my initial statement I was referring to him knowing about my learning disabilities. So far it's been fine. Last week we had to have computer training for a new program. Together. Over the phone with a third party (in England! with an accent! ask me to say repository!). The training was an hour long, and to be honest after about 35 minutes I was finished. I kept finding myself not paying attention. I worried. What if Gay Crush later got frustrated with me because he'd think I should know something since he knew it and I was with him when he learned it?

But I jotted down questions, and it turned out we had very similar ones, and that we also had the same concerns with the program. I think it's working out fine. Maybe I'm not quite as stupid as I think.

Anyway, yesterday afternoon Gay Crush asked, "I'm keeping you busy enough, right?" and since we're having this super honest relationship, I broke my own rule, and told him, "No." He seemed surprised, and confirmed, "No?!" I smiled gently. "I've kind of been spreading things out. It seems like we're in a holding pattern until I have access to the client network." Um, and until we've ordered folders so I can file all the random paperwork you've tossed at me. Hopefully I didn't just screw myself by being this honest. We shall see.

Let's Talk About My Gay Crush

My Gay Crush is so, so pretty. I was able to get a friend hired at Turkey & Associates to help with boxing up files so she was there today when he stopped by. She agreed that he's pretty.

Did I tell you about the present he gave me? A while back he went to Manhattan for a week, and while he was there, went to a fancy candle shop and created a candle with a scent he had them make from a feminized version of his cologne (which, hilariously, he assured me he gets a lot of compliments on), that came with a label that had my name on it and everything.

Also, he insisted I send him my resume, as he is contracting at a lovely firm that I'd be happy to work at, and within four hours of my sending the resume to him, he'd submitted it to the firm. If only all networking could be this easy.

Because we are shutting down the firm, Turkey's Personal Assistant (in case you're keeping track, in the less than two years I've worked for him, there have been four) has been spending a lot more time in the office doing moving things. All the subtenants have to move out, including Gay Crush, who really just keeps his furniture there since Baby Lawyer's been using it, but when he was told this is happening, he ordered a shipment of boxes so he could box up his stuff to move. PA ordered boxes too. Boxes came and she used three before it was discovered they were GC's. We apologized and I promised when ours came we would give him three. I decided to move his boxes out of the sunken living room and into GC's office (behind a locked door) so that the same mistake couldn't happen again, and PA said to me with a smile, "Just grab one more!" Um, that's stealing. Are you freaking crazy? I was only able to give GC two of our boxes, so tossed in a ream of paper as a substitute. I didn't tell the PA I did that, because she has this attitude that Turkey is the most important person around. Which I understand - he's the one who signs her checks, but it's still quite uncool to blatantly steal from someone. 

Turkey wants me to sign a release in exchange for giving me severance. GC encouraged me to let him look it over. Firstly, I've worked with Turkey for almost two years, and he still can't spell my last name right. Yogurt does NOT have two T's! Secondly, there are blanks in the most important parts (where it says how many weeks of severance I get) and the release is unsigned. Part of the release says that I am required to sign within seven days of being given this thing. Oh wait - that's only if I'm under 40. If I'm over 40, then I get 21 days. How is that not age discrimination? Also, I am allowed to discuss the release with nobody except (whoopsie!) my spouse or domestic partner. So again, discrimination, this time against single people. Wow, and the thing is only like two and a half pages!

Clearly I'm ignoring that shit. I forwarded the release to Gay Crush pointing out the two issues I had with it, and he agreed and pointed out a third. You know what makes me a little uncomfortable about my friendship with him? Every time we go to lunch, he insists on paying. He's a mensch that way, and it's gentlemanly and sweet and appreciated. But. He always waves me off, even when I ask to leave the tip, claiming I help him out so much, lunch is the least he can do. Except ... he's helped me a lot lately. It's at the point where I'm kind of tempted to slip the waitstaff my credit card when GC isn't looking and simply beat him to paying the bill. Though I know a few people who would get horribly bent out of shape at somebody doing that, so I don't know.

Lastly, Gay Crush recently wore dark jeans, a button-down checked shirt, a sweater-vest, a tie, and designer sunglasses. If Robert Palmer decided to bring back the videos with a slew of girls all dressed the same except switched out girls for guys, Gay Crush would totally get a prime spot.

Something Interesting Happened On My Lunch Hour Today

I ran into Cat Lady on the street! You remember her, don't you? Well, we met at the corner and smiled at each other. She'd dyed her hair a new color, and I said, "Wow, you dyed your hair!" and thank goodness that's all that came out of my mouth because my main thought was, "It looks SO MUCH better than that yellow pee color you used to dye it!"

Cat Lady's response? "I did it to match my cats." Ah. I see nothing much has changed in her life.

She tells me the Gay HR Guy isn't there anymore. I don't tell her that I'm Facebook friends with him and know that. Cat Lady says they moved her desk to the other side of the floor, and now she sits right in front of the new HR guy's office, and she hates it, and hates him. That I have no idea how terrible that is. I remind her about how close I used to sit to the Gay HR Guy (the HR guy at the firm I'm temping at now is also gay - is there something about HR that attracts gay guys?). "Didn't you hate it?" Cat Lady asks me.

I shrug as we stand outside Walgreens. It never bothered me, to be honest.

And that's the end of that. Cat Lady was going into Walgreens and I was continuing on down the block, so we parted ways.

What a Difference

Last Thursday morning my phone rang at 8:30 a.m.  It was a temp agency, asking if I could work for two days.  How soon could I get to the FiDi?  I said I'd be there by 9:30 a.m., and raced around my house like a maniac.  

When I got to the law firm, they directed me to the Word Processing Department.  This is the ONLY law firm where I'll work in that dept., because my skills in this area are my greatest weakness as a legal secretary.

The only reason I make an exception at this firm is because they know this is not my forte (I gently made this very clear somehow), and the W.P guys only give me straight revisions to work on.  Table of contents? Not for me!  Table of authorities?  Not for me!  48 pages of scribbles and arrows and hand written notes written sideways and on the back of the page?  I'll take it!

So it works out well.  I can't begin to explain how much my mood shifted at the end of the week due to working.  Granted, I was a little tired Thursday, what with not getting in my daily 4-6 hour nap, but I sucked it up and dealt.  

It was so nice to have somewhere to go, something to do.  It was so nice to have people to talk with in person about the election.  I think that may be a small (yet significant) reason for my depression - talking in person can go a long way.  

You know what I did for the first time in my entire life?  Said something to a man about his husband.  The very first time I worked in this WP department, I was covering for a gay man who was out because he was getting married.  He's an older guy, lived in SF since the early 80's.  

On Friday he was telling me what it was like here - how utterly scary it was, saying everyone was just dropping like flies.  The drugstores couldn't keep enough canes in stock.  He fled, and moved out to the Bay Area suburbs for four years, too scared to stay in the city.  It was interesting and sad to hear about a time I'd read about in Newsweek.  

I hope somebody at that firm goes on vacation soon.  Or retires.  Retiring would be good.  For me.  

Loose Ends (In My Brain)

- So remember Christian Siriano, on Project Runway? You know, the young gay guy with funky hair? Well, he has a boyfriend, Brad Walsh. I follow Brad on Twitter and read this morning that Christian would like to send some dresses to Michelle. Obama. You know, that woman whose husband is going to be POTUS? Yeah, her. If anyone has a direct connection...

- While I am beyond elated that you know, yes we did, I am having a hard time believing it's really real. I am more excited about this than I was at going to Disney for the first time. And that's not just because I ran into my sixth-grade teacher at Sea World while holding three dead fish to go feed to the dolphins.

- With this elation comes worry. I'm scared of an assassination attempt. Can we donate money to the Secret Service?

- In his acceptance speech, Obama told his daughters he will get them a puppy when they move to the White House. Mr. Obama, please consider me for all your dog-sitting needs. I can provide references.

- Lastly, I'd like to throw out a big what the fuck regarding California's Prop 8. I'm very disappointed. While I know it is not a gracious thing to insult those who think differently, I can't help but feel that people who voted YES must be stupid. I don't say this as an insult, though I know it is one, I say it because I feel surely those people must just not understand what they're saying.

People are BORN gay. It's not a choice. You come out (literally) into the world, and it's just ... inside you. It's not a decision, but an inevitability. Kind of like with hair color. Can you imagine if the bible said anyone with blonde hair should not be allowed to marry? It would be laughed at, and everyone would stand around agreeing that while the bible has some interesting things, clearly it has not kept up with the times. Except not everyone would, and that's just one more example of why I think critical thinking should be taught in public schools.

Floating

I'm not just floating between desks, but also between law firms these days. This week I'm working for three partners, two of whom are gay, while their secretary is off at Burning Man. I haven't been trained here, so attorneys give me things to do and I nod like I understand, but I don't. Yesterday afternoon I emailed the HR woman who coordinates floater placement and asked her whose brain I can pick on conflict reports and submitting new matters. Supposedly there will be a quick training session today.

Today's product that we're unofficially testing is Lubriderm Skin Nourishing Moisturizing Lotion with Shea and Cocoa Butters. I should be honest with you guys - I have naturally soft skin, courtesy of my great-grandma, who was generous enough to pass it on down to my grandpa, who passed it on to my mother, who gave it to me. But, just like some people believe you can never be too thin or rich, I believe you can never have soft enough skin.

This stuff went on really well. I always notice if lotion ('it puts the lotion in the basket') is too watery, and this was not. I am not in love with the smell - it's not at all overpowering, but when I do smell it, I am kind of reminded of babies who just got a bath. Which would be as nice as it sounds, except it's as if that baby's mother sniffed her kid and decided that despite the sweet baby smell, the baby needed a little something extra, and put on some smelly stuff.

You should all come meet me on my lunch hour to pet my hands - that's how soft they are. I will have to investigate at some point whether the regular Lubriderm can achieve this level of softness. Later on I will report back as to how long the softness lasted. I know you're all anxiously awaiting the results of this highly scientific testing.

UPDATE: It worked well, but did not last until lunch time when used after 9:30 a.m. Semi-frequent reapplication needed.