by Zoë Pollock
Anne Helen Peterson recounted why American housewives fell for Rock Hudson. A reader shares his own story:
Both my partner and I are amazed by the number of single/divorced/widowed women who flirt with us and/or want to turn us into their best gay friend. They all know we have been together for 27 years, but seem to ignore that minor inconvenience. They sit much too close, insist on turning what should be an air kiss into one on the lips, and want to take just one of us out. Thank goodness for Caller ID, otherwise we would be reenacting all those Rock Hudson/Doris Day double entendre phone conversation movie scenes nightly.
My partner and I know these women are lonely, especially in the evening, but we have no desire to become walkers in the classic New York sense. We understand a woman's need for an occasional escort to a major event. But we really do enjoy our quiet middle aged weekend evenings at home, if we wanted to go out, we would as a couple, dammit. We have not been single for decades, rarely go out without the other and trust me, neither of us looks anywhere near as handsome as Hudson in our almost nicely tailored suits. Would these ladies constantly try to call to talk to a female friend's husband and then ask him out by himself?
I wonder if younger generations, who did not grow up on the saccharine movies but with marriage equality, will have the same experience. Or will women continue to have a best gay friend to cha-cha with when they can't get laid. Like in that more modern movie, My Best Friend's Wedding, where Julia Roberts expects Rupert Everett to be always available.
Sounds like the Disappointing Gay Best Friend goes back farther than we think.
The Dish 