Someone running for elected office in our home state contacted me the other day to say, “I heard that you and your partner got married. Congratulations. As you know, I am running for [position] and my team is creating ads to air as we run up to the primary election. Will you and your partner join us to be featured in our ad campaign?”
My spouse was sitting right next to me when I got this call. I put it on speaker so he could hear the conversation.
Me: why us?
Candidate: because I’m told that you guys epitomize the typical same-sex married couple.
Me: define typical.
Candidate: you own your own home, you have a good life. You guys work for a living. You contribute to your community. You entertain people of all stripes — not only gay, but straight or trans or whatever.
Me: Entertain? Who told you that?
Candidate: I couldn’t come to your Thanksgiving dinner last year, but I wanted to. I heard it was a smashing success.
Me: that’s something that I do for older friends who would otherwise be alone. We do not invite political candidates or elected officials, though [U.S. Senator] dropped by, but that was to give me a recognition plaque. Last thing we want is that kind of attention, and my friends are not to be hounded by politicians running for office.
Candidate: that’s not what I intended to do. I just wanted to come to say hello. But back to the point — your parties are well-regarded in the community.
Me: we don’t have parties. Once a year, I host a pot-luck for senior pals, and that’s it.
Candidate: [pause] … you mean, you don’t have dinner parties for your friends?
Me: nope. [by then, the spouse was signaling me to end the call. He had enough.]
Candidate: [won’t stop] Well, anyway, you guys are just regular, normal gay guys who got married and we’d like to feature that in our ad.
Me: tell me, what are “normal gay guys?” Are there non-normal gay guys?
Candidate: that’s not what I meant. (hum, haw, scramble) Sorry, no offense. It’s just that you guys fit the demographic for our ad. You represent a typical household, that’s all.
Me: [not wanting to argue, but I also had enough] Sorry, but no. We do not want to be featured in a political ad. Period. We do not want that level of attention.
Candidate: but you’d be helping your community. You know…
Me: [not wanting to parse the word “your” but thinking he meant the gay community, rather than the neighborhood where we live] No.
Candidate: we can offer to pay you scale for your time.
Me: No.
Candidate: what would it take to get you guys to say yes?
Me: Nothing. I said no, and I mean it.
Candidate: why?
Me: We do not engage with politics. It’s ugly and I’ve been burned terribly before. My spouse doesn’t want any form of recognition or visibility, and neither do I. I said no, and I mean it.
Candidate: [won’t give up] You are our number 1 choice. Really, won’t you reconsider?
Me: I betcha you say that to all the guys. But the answer remains no.
Candidate: will you think about it and call me back if you change your mind?
Me: we’ve thought about it. The answer is no. Goodbye. [then I hung up.]
Spouse: you stayed on the call much longer than I would have. Sheesh… [rolls eyes.]
Life is short: the consequences of such attention are unwanted. Thanks, but no thanks.
I do understand where you two are coming from by not wanting to be involved with that group. Still……you did miss a chance in a lifetime. Just imagine the look on his face if you had welcomed that guy (and his crew) into your home holding a butcher knife while wearing your cooking apron over your motorcycle leathers and boots. Tell him you’re considering going into business for yourselves and that you’re going to call the company, “Mr. (or Mrs.) Lovett’s Meat Pies.” I don’t think any amount of smelling salts would’ve brought him (them) around again!
I’ve miss you and your great sense of humor, Bill. Thanks for the amusing comment.
I’m glad you had fun with the politicians. The evil part of me is thinking what else you could have done…
(while on phone – you say): Hold on a minute, Mr. Politician… (to spouse you say) Hey, honey bun! Didn’t we agree that tonight you were wearing the pink lace undies and it was my turn to wear the spandex thong? And don’t forget, tomorrow is our playdate with Bill and Ed from down the street…
I think the politician would have hung up on you.
Then again, maybe not…