September 16, 2017

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.