ISO A FAG HAG

My dear college friend Ann has been with me thru thick and thin (tho that don't mean she was always nice about it) but now she's married to a good guy, has got herself an adorable son, pregnant with her second, and lives somewhere past Pasadena. Can you imagine? People actaully living past Pasadena! Believe you and me, a place like that exists cause last week, her parents just moved from Virginia into her non 310 slash 323 area code.

So anyway, I've never really thought about it but these days as I'm spending Saturday afternoons alone, single and alone, I can't help but to think that I have been robbed of every gay man's right to have their very own FAG HAG.

I mean, who can I go to with all my insignificant problems? Who can I call everytime HE calls? Who can I be on the phone with whenever my boss needs me? Who can I watch tearjerkers with and sing Wilson Phillips with? Who can I share the latest "He's soo gay" rumor with? Who will I go buy an overpriced cup of coffee while shopping with? Who will I take to straight company functions and then hit the gay bars after with?

All my Willy friends have their own Graces and hanging out with all of them only begs the question,"Where's my replacement?"

Funny thing about Fag Hags tho. They are no fun, bitches from hell unless they are your very own.