An Open Letter
5 September 2004
To the Mothers of Gay Men from Atlantahoustondallas:
Although I cannot claim to be much of a girl-kisser myself (Kinsey 5, thankyouverymuch), I have the utmost respect for women–especially women like you, who have spent the best years of your life raising young boys: toilet-training them, helping them with homework, allowing them to prance up and down newly-refinished hallways in your best leather pumps. These boys have now grown into men–often respectable men with good careers and even better grooming habits. You are to be commended for your good work.
However.
When you were explaining the rules of fashion and decorum to your wee Williams, I believe you may have missed a very important bit–specifically, the part about wearing shirts. Now, I understand that New Orleans has a problem with both heat and humidity, and I know that for those reared in colder climes, one’s first instinct upon entering the city may be to rip off all one’s clothes in an effort to better ventilate one’s body. I also understand that there are appropriate times for men to go about shirtless–when they are at a beach, for example, or a nudist camp.
It has come to my attention, however, that your sons seem to believe that going shirtless on city streets 24 hours a day is socially acceptable behavior. I must respectfully disagree: no matter how fabulously tan and sterroided your sons’ bodies may be, there is no excuse for exposed male nipples in restaurants, on public transportation, or in the Chanel boutique at Saks. New Orleans is now awash in a sea of swaggering, bare-chested muscle mutants, the sight of whom is a distraction to even the most jaded of our city’s libertines. I lay the blame for this squarely at your well-shod feet.
Please don’t take me to be a prude–one cannot be such and live in such a city–but I do have my limits. Kindly take your sons in hand, drag them to Eddie Bauer or The Gap or Lerner Plus or wherever they prefer to shop and buy them some suitable attire! (Note: on your shopping excursion, please do not allow them to visit Abercrombie & Fitch–far too many of them have already been there.)
I thank you in advance for your attention to this matter and remain,
Sincerely yours,
Richard
A Very Concerned, Very Gay New Orleanian
Related posts:
You know, I have often considered posting a bit about this very same thing on the Seattle Metroblog (http://seattle.metblogs.com/blog). There are men who do this in Seattle as well, so don’t feel alone. And this is coming from a very heterosexual female who doesn’t mind the male form…but on the street…it doesn’t seem right. 3 cheers for your putting it into words!
It would be a real shame if you didn’t send that into the times-pic. I think people would pee their pants.
Heh. It sounds like West Hollywood, only on Bourbon Street… and with a personality. Oh, how I miss Decadence. That being said, my roommate was rolling on the floor laughing when i printed this for her. I think I’ll be sending a copy to my mom at some point.
Careful. Y’all might encourage me with all those sweet, kind words, and I think everyone agrees that the last thing I need is encouragement.
Your best bet is to treat me like a five-year-old on a sugar high: just ignore me. I’ll wear myself out soon and sleep right through the night.
Thank you so much Richard, for putting down the words that I just didn’t have.
Wow, I have to differ with all of you on this one. Shirtless at the Chanel counter in Saks? In restaurants? I’d like to have seen that–although I imagine you’re stretching the truth.
Let goodlooking shirtless men be shirtless, please. Send’em to college that way, and to the office, for that matter. If you don’t like the look, please avert your eyes.
Honey, yes, it’s interesting at first, seeing all those shirtless men, but after a while, they all start to look alike–thanks in no small part to the easy availability of hormones and 24-hour gyms. To put it in Baudrillardian terms you might appreciate, they’re all copies of copies of copies. Or–to paraphrase one of my favorite literary non-philosophers–after you’ve tried chatting them up and realized they’re only interested in G, K, and other letters of the alphabet, you will begin to understand that there’s no there there.
Clearly, there’s a time and place for men to be shirtless–for example, right now, in my boudoir. But to see nothing but naked male torsos for days on end? It’s a bit like that image of hell foisted on many young Protestants in Sunday school: hell is eating nothing but chocolate for the rest of your life. Not to mention that walking around without a shirt is just plain tacky.