Get Stuffed.

Urban Cocktails: The Big Pink Elephant in the Room

I am about to reveal to you something so shocking you will be utterly dismayed. At first confusion will set in, and though this may take sometime for you to ponder, hopefully you will come to understand when I tell you that I’m a gay Catholic Republican. Yes, it’s true. Now breath. The type of reaction I receive after telling people shouldn’t surprise me, it’s understandable that adhering to the ideals of Catholicism and Conservativeness while being gay can be mind boggling to some. Although I am not going to get into the reasons behind by choices, I am going to let you in on the problem it causes when trying to find and keep a boyfriend in a city full of liberals.

Over the summer I met this really great guy. He was very funny, quite charming, and extremely educated. Ricky was a politically driven student at Hunter. He was planning a major coup d’état of his college’s Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, and everything else under the sun club. Ricky had missed a semester in school due to a lack of finances, and his position as president of the club was taken over by a “super queer,” as he called it. Ricky was ready to go into political battle with his opponent and I was prepared to stand by him and be his Evita.

The time we spent together was wonderful. We’d walk around the city, eat out at quirky restaurants, and talk about our interests. Inevitably, the subjects of religion and politics are bond to come up, especially with such a politically minded person as Ricky was.

On a whole, I have come to respect other people’s religious and political beliefs and I have even come to accept the bashing Republicans and Catholics receive. I understand the reasons behind the bashing and do not get upset by it. However, the time came where I could no longer avoid talk of my religious or my political beliefs. On the religion end of the spectrum Ricky and I matched, not 100 percent, but good enough to not let it interfere with our budding relationship. The Political end of the spectrum was another story all together. We clashed like brown shoes on a black suit. What was even worse was that Ricky just couldn’t let it go.

I was very willing to accept his crazy liberal ideals and extend him an invitation to the cabin; unfortunately logs just weren’t his cup of tea. I tried to convince him that I was an educated Republican and that I voted for Gore, but even if we shared that much, it wasn’t enough. Funny, one would think that a collective hatred for Bush would bring about unity, but no. Don’t forget, there were still social and economic issues that Ricky and I couldn’t see eye to eye on. Thus it was time to pack my elephant trunk and hit the road.

I have to say I was saddened at first by this ruined romance. I thought Ricky and I could really have had a great thing. But I soon realized that if I was with a person who couldn’t accept and put aside my opposing political views, then I was better off with someone who could. I may have missed out on my chance to play Evita and be fabulous in vintage Dior, but I ended up gaining something even better: A Canadian! And if there’s one thing any good American should know, it’s just how damn good those Canadians are in bed.