The MisAdventures of a Fearless Fruitfly

"And this is my little sister," he said, his hand at the small of my back, urging me forward to meet the coordinater of the night's event, an owner of a local couture shoe boutique.

It was Take-Over and this was my immersion into the world of, well, a special kind of social networking. Michael, of course, was lying about our relationship. And after a few of our little outings, seeing the same people repeatedly, the truth was discovered.

"Oh. You're just another fag hag," his new boyfriend said snidely upon our introduction.

He was WASPy, tall, blond and had a mouth full of lasered-white teeth. I referred to him as Mr. Ed (a nickname that simultaneously offended and entertained my friend Micheal). I thought his remark was rather rude considering that A) this was the first time I had met him B) Michael was the one who invited me, I was not the desperate tag-along I seemed to be and C) the word hag is repulsive (hag I am not). My astonishment was apparent, so Michael's other friends suggested a much more female-friendly term...and that is how I earned my title as fruitfly.

I took my title seriously, putting on my heels and attending events, helping with dinner parties, wearing many playful dresses--all while sipping at a various assortment of martinis.

At one Take-Over, I amused my Gay by dancing with a middle-aged lesbian, at her request (or rather when she pulled me onto the dance floor, Michael laughing at me the whole time). I did whatever I could to amuse him.

***

"Hey, Michael," I shouted across the hall. "Can I wear this dress?"

I had been bored and nosey and decided to go through his closest while he was getting ready. It was one of the dresses he and a group of guys bought for PRIDE in ATL the year past (the same year these middle-to-late-aged men decided to randomly join the parade line, referring to themselves as Sisters of the Rainbow). They each had a various color of the same strapless, cotton floral sundress. Michael's dress was fuchsia, but I chose Marc's (his live-in boyfriend) blue version. It went better with the orange peep-toes I had worn that day to work.

He laughed and agreed it would be fun, so I shaved my legs in his bathtub and tucked in the straps to my (non-strapless) bra and we headed to the Pink House. Needless to say, we were the hit of the night and I was happy to have been of assistance.

***

We have not been out together in a while...since last spring. With school and work...and his new long-distance lover, we have not made the time. Anyway, I am twenty pounds too heavy now to be an accessory and fifty pounds too little to be a true groupie (really, you should see these women). So until the I make the necessary adjustments, I will not be Out.