SEPTEMBER 2012

THE SPRING FEVER ISSUE

Behind Geegee's curtain: The Idiot’s Guide To My Private Life



Bossdykelady told me that apparently you guys like to hear my own stories – hence the whole ‘Behind GeeGee’s Curtain’ thing and if I manage to impart any wisdom, even better.  I guess it means that apart from being the token straight chick it seems I’m the token old one too...  Hehehe

It’s been brought to my attention over the last few weeks that there seems to be a bit of confusion about who’s who in my life so I started making a ‘point by point reference for the confused’ on my Facebook profile.  It started as a status update, morphed into a note and I was still not done so I thought ah Fukkit, just make it a column already so that everyone who is stalking and trolling me can see.  I mean, it really isn’t fair to hide it from them by putting it on my Facebook where only my friends can see it.  I reckon they are the ones who need to see it most anyway because judging by the twaddle they’re putting on forums they really do seem to be the most confused.  Or idiotic.  The jury is still out on that one.

The confusion on Facebook is quite simple to put to rest.  No, I am not a lesbian – not even one who’s waiting for her husband to die before she comes tumbling out of the closet.  Does the title ‘Token Straight Chick’ not give it away?  People please, as much as I love my extended FB friends and chosen family I don’t want to worry needlessly about their IQ levels.  I’m not too clued up about the lesbian ‘mating call’ but after consulting with my Gentledyke I’ve realised I’ve been flirted with many a time when it just went right over my head.  I just thought to myself that lezzies are SUPER friendly people and that I should have become a Lettie Bag years ago.  Instead of running for the hills I kind of liked that though – at my age I’ll take a compliment wherever I can get it – so thank you ladies!  My personal favourite confusion about me is the time I was sent an inbox by a young queen who thought I was a Drag Queen and was looking for someone to be his Drag Mother.  I took that as a HUGE compliment because I’m convinced I was a Drag Queen in a former life and I have always loved Drag Queens because to me they’re like wonderfully brave and dramatic ‘fuck you’ Butterflies who don’t give a damn what people think of them.  So no, as much as I would love to be one I am not a Drag Queen either.  I am also not really a BDSM mistress.  Even though there are days when I feel like I could quite happily beat the living bejesus out of someone and getting paid for it would just be the tiny cherry on a very nice cake, the whole Mistress G thing on Facebook is a tongue in cheek thing, capice?  What I am is a rather vanilla straight woman who has been married for 25 years to a man I met almost 30 years ago – around the time my tits came in and he had 3 chest hairs. 

Ok, now that is out of the way allow me to explain my nearest and dearest.  Apart from the friends I choose as family and the handful of family members who are still in my life I have a son, a daughter-in-law who is like my own daughter to me and  a husband I call Hubs – he’s the straight one who Put A Ring On It 25 years ago.  He’s not active on Facebook because he says businessmen have no business being there.  I don’t do news so I don’t get it at all but News24 is his favourite reading and he loves commenting on the articles so when they changed things that you needed a FB account in order to comment he had to create one - much to his irritation, in fact he was so irritated he had me create one for him.  No, he’s not gay either – homophobia is a foreign concept to him and he accepts my gay friends just the way they are.  I’m rather proud of him for that because despite being accused of being into toy boys and called a sodomite and a fag lover he still welcomes my friends whenever they visit and the vicious slander is like farting in the wind to him.  He is very secure in his sexuality and a true Alpha Male, part of the reason I love him so much.  He even takes my Fag woofing at him with a massive pinch of salt and a healthy dose of bemusement.  That brings me to my Fag.  There is a very important rule in Gayland:  You Do Not Share Your Hag.  Ever.  Fags are extremely territorial about their Hags and I have had to nip many a potential bitch fight in the bud on Facebook.  My Fag is a female impersonator with the stage name Tarren I have known for many years and that bitch is girlier than me.  I love being his Hag, he is one of the most outrageous potty-mouthed people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and he also has the kindest heart.  He goes out of his way to shock me but I learned years ago not to look at his phone when he thrusts it at me and says ‘Look here doll...’  Tarr is into Bears so I have seen enough hairy asses and ball bags to last me a lifetime.  

Whenever Tarr comes over for a sleepover to keep me company when Hubs is away on business you’ll either find us in the lounge watching ‘Mama Mia’ wearing pink pajamas and fluffy slippers singing along lustily to the songs or we’ll be in the bar downstairs having cocktails and gossiping until the sun comes up.  Then there’s my gay husband I refer to as my Gusband.  He’s not really my husband, he’s my best friend and also the only man Hubs will trust to look after me if he’s not around.  Hubs calls him the ‘straight mans moffie’ and they’re very good friends.  Hawts doesn’t look gay so I suppose that could have caused a lot of confusion in the past about what our actual relationship is.  Although Hawts has never lifted his hand to anyone he could easily flat hand poesklap someone onto their backs if they fuck with me which is why I only ever go to Pride if he’s part of the party.  Tarren doesn’t mind at all because between us all we could ever do to defend ourselves is blow a rape whistle.  Tarr is very good at blowing things so I’ll leave that part to him and I’ll stick to hair pulling.  Then there is my Gentledyke – from the moment we met I knew I had found a friend for life.  She’s also one of the few people who’s louder than Hubs when they watch rugby and personally I find watching them far more amusing than watching the game. She calls Hubs her Strusband and he calls her his Gwife – no, not spelling that one out, it’s not brain surgery.  I am her Strife, although I think she’s trying to be funny when she does that because it should be Swife.  No, nobody is having an affair with anyone – it would be far too complicated to keep things ‘straight’ – geddit? Hahahaha

Right, now I suppose it’s time to address some of the other bullshit that’s out there – until I get bored that is.  We’ve been accused of the most bizarre things but I must admit we did have a bit of a giggle the day Hubs was accused of ‘racketeering’ and we had to Google it.  I am not a thief who steals from the elderly.  The only thing I have stolen in my life was a handful of sweeties when I was 3 and I was made to go back and apologise so I suppose if the shopkeeper was elderly it is true then.  I am not a ‘filthy fucking fag hag’; I shower every day – sometimes twice.  My whole family doesn’t work for Hubs; if they do they must be invisible.  The only person who works here is my stepfather Duffy.  He doesn’t really work here though; he just comes over once or twice a week to have a chat with the Koi because he reckons they’re the only ones who miss him.  Scotland Yard isn’t looking for me, I don’t live in a Top Secret Mountain Lair so if they really were I’d be worried for the entire population of Great Britain about who is in charge of their security.  There isn’t a hit man on his way from Canada to ‘take care of me’ – if there ever was one that fucker must be swimming here and I suspect he may have drowned because it’s been more than a year already.  I’m not actually as thick as two short planks, even though sometimes I really would prefer to be thick.  Thick people never seem to worry about anything and always have a dazed and confused happy look on their faces.  I had about 2 years of that feeling after I had my brain tumour removed and was on handfuls of medication every day and as hard as it was to get off the prescription medication sometimes I miss being in a happy cloud of fluffiness.  I don’t call myself a writer; I’m a columnist and the day I will call myself a writer is the day I have a book published.  A paper one you can touch and feel and smell.  I’m not as lazy as a Mexican on holiday; I think that’s an insult to the people of Mexico because I’m far lazier.  Besides, aren’t you supposed to be lazy on holiday?  I could go into more of the rubbish that’s been written but I’m bored now and I think you all get the point.

All jokes aside though... Comments like the fact that I’ve been lobotomised and saying I only have one child because my husband is gay? Allow me to briefly address my trolls directly here:  Making fun of some of the hardest things I have gone through in my life and spreading spiteful lies about what happened when you know the truth?  You want to show Karma the finger?  Rather you than me thanks.  I have so much dirt on you that I could destroy everything about you but they were shared as confidences when we were friends so I will honour that – despite your actions.   We all have the ability to be vicious; it’s what you choose to do that defines your character.  You’ve done me a big favour though, actually more than one.  I now know I have the patience of Job, this crap has been going on for almost 3 years so my patience muscles have had a very good workout.  You have contacted my friends and family with everything from threats to blatant lies about me and some of them have even been subjected to crap being written on their profile walls. I also know who chose to believe all the utter unadulterated bullshit – unfortunately some are my blood - and I’m not Jesus so forgiving and forgetting is not going to happen.  That shit left the building before Elvis did.  I have had to change my cell number after more than 10 years; the peace and quiet has been lovely – especially since I am super allergic to my phone.  You have also shown me what to look for in people I let into my life.  The reason you were booted out to begin with was because of your obvious lack of common human decency and character and you have done nothing since then to prove me wrong, in fact quite the opposite.  My only regret is that I didn’t get rid of you a lot sooner; I like to think that I would have been spared some of these pathetic attempts at character assassination and your relentless and cruel backbiting behavior.

To me aging is pointless if you’re not going to gain some wisdom from the things you go through in your life.  I’m no angel, I have lost my temper occasionally over the years this has been going on and I regret it because I know I was raised better than that but I own it too because I know it’s me that allowed them to push me to that point.  Since I took out the trash I have made the most amazing new friends and reconnected with old ones.  Some I speak to every day and some I only connect with occasionally but there is always a meeting of minds involved and I know I have found a few lifelong friends amongst them.  I find myself surrounded by creative people with open minds and I love that, I feel like I’m home.  So many of them have kept me sane and been an inspiration to me without even knowing it and I intend thanking them on FB when this goes live as well.  I hope nobody gets all embarrassed about it and all.   So ladies, if there is any advice I can pass on to you from this experience it would be these two realisations:  I spoke to my friend Black Sam the other day - his own moniker by the way, he says it’s because he’s so black he has to smile so you can see him in the dark.  Anyway, I asked him how his wife and kids were and he said to me ‘Life is good thanks Mami, they still smile when they see me so life is good’ and I thought that was so simple yet so beautifully profound and it resonated within me.  As long as the people under your own roof are happy and love you and there is positive energy in your home, life is always good.  Also, no matter how much fun you have with someone or how much you love them – if they become possessive over you and hardly ever have anything nice to say about your other friends and you’re stupid enough to slowly allow yourself to become isolated, sort of like the parable about the frog being put into cold water that is then turned on so slowly he doesn’t even feel it when it starts boiling and he eventually boils to death?  Don’t walk...  RUN!
Live well, laugh often, love much and always remember to dance!

GeeGee xx

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