Therapy by Dante Harker

Therapy

No Place for a Gay Man

Mike looked around in disgust; a family wedding was no place for any self-respecting gay man. Though the more Mike thought about that statement, the more he realised that after a week of staying with his parents he was low on self-respect.

To make matters worse, this was his sister’s wedding. Not a problem in itself, he got on well with his sister, it was just that she was excessively religious. To be fair, if you got her on her own, Kate never gave away any signs of her devotions to God. Well, maybe the odd “Bless You” dotted here and there, but she didn’t sport the usual nothing behind the eyes, all accepting, “if the bible tells me so” expression.

Daydreaming, Mike did not notice a woman walk up behind him and call, “groom!”

Mike jumped and let out a small, high-pitched scream, by way of reply. Then, after quickly scolding himself for his open display of campness, he spun round to glare at whatever offending article had caused his loss of composure.

Mike took a step back in mild horror as he came face-to-face with a grossly obese woman. Though it wasn’t that this wretch was wider than she was tall, (though being fat was usually enough to get Mike’s back up), no, it wasn’t the fat at all, it was the dress. He wasn’t sure if she had knocked it up herself out of a pair of 1970’s curtains—in a “waste not want not” kind of a way. Still, even for a dare, Mike didn’t think that it was right to be out in a citrus green, ankle-length outfit—and to wear a pink floral hat and matching belt was just an insult to good taste. Mike thought that it would be funny to say to the woman—a woman who you could see from space—that he had “not noticed her there.” But then, noting his mum out of the corner of his eye, giving him one her “get on with it” looks, he thought better of it, and smiling politely he pointed, with good usher style, to a place on the right. The curtain lady returned his smile and plodded off.

When the light returned, it appeared that she was not alone, though how Mike could have missed the cutie, even with the woman blocking out the sun, was a mystery.

“Come on, James, there is a space here,” the woman barked.

“James,” Mike spoke under his breath—the cutie has a name.

Mike watched as they took their seats. Well, he watched James as he took his seat. One look at that green dress was enough for one day. What is it that florist’s say? “pink and green should never be seen” or something like that.

“Cute, don’t you think?” Mike smiled as his companion for the day took her place by his side.

This time he hadn’t jumped; he had heard Jess approaching. She had a bubbly, almost bouncing, way of walking that was instantly detectable.