There are many reasons we moved to Chicago. Listening to young, straight, white females scream at the top of their lungs while walking through Boystown is not one of them. 

I don’t like the fact that the gay community is a tourist attraction for some. I find it insulting. We are not zoo animals. We are not to be observed in some natural habitat. Honestly, Boystown is not a natural habitat for me. I feel comfortable being gay anywhere, but I don’t feel comfortable when some young woman, looking like three pounds of sausage crammed into a one pound bag, screams “look at them kissing!”  She is referring to two young men outside of a bar on N Halstead.

As I walked by, tackily clad in Army boots, and doing my best Xena look of dissatisfaction, I said “simmer down, Prunella.”  I was prepared for argument. She stopped screaming. 

I went home. 

What’s odd is about 10 minutes earlier, a drunken man staggered into me, fumbling his way toward Belmont. I said to him, “easy there, Prunella”. 

Apparently everyone is Prunella tonight.