Today I’m jetting to Washington, DC for a baby shower for my friend Chris. As I may have likely mentioned, this marks my fifth baby shower, which for a guy is a little strange, even if I am gay. (Although for that matter I honestly don’t know another gay guy who’s gone to a baby shower. Maybe it’s just me, and my torturous karma for decrying babies all these years.) This is one I’ve actually been happily anticipating, as it’s a Jack and Jill affair (the other ones I’ve attended have been all women – which can be a bit much).
Normally I wouldn’t travel this far for a baby shower. Even Suzie’s in Brooklyn was a bit of a stretch for an as-yet-unborn child, but Chris is the guy who performed our marriage ceremony. He’s the guy who taught me to be a little less afraid of straight men. He’s the guy who showed me that true nobility came not in titles or riches or fancy clothes, but in the integrity of an honest heart. He’s been one of my best friends for almost two decades, and anyone who sticks around this crazy mad-house of moods deserves some serious loyalty. Besides, the mother-to-be is even cooler than Chris.
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