I've almost single-handedly rearranged the furniture here three or four times since I moved in here with Honey, some few months ago. My inner gay guy is so happy that the other, more male, sides of my persona are raising a howl. This is the price I pay for being a house hubby who loves hanging with his friends-- some of whom are very, very gay. But then where would my class be without them?
Hang around a snazzily dressed gay guy long enough and the stylishness you envy will rub off on you. Just pray that's the only thing that rubs off of him and descends on your shoulders like a comforting feather boa... yesss... so soft, so downy... I positively must get the matching sequined dress, high heels and ABBA soundtrack...
You know I'm kidding, right? Right...?
I'm a little miffed because I'm putting aside valuable work time to please the missus. She's got a friend coming over. Tonight. So they can have that high school sleepover they'd always talked about but never got around to doing some ten years ago. Ergo, the domicile must look less like a Real Man's™ pigsty and more like my new phone: Sleek, Chic and Metro™. My e-portfolio may be far from leaving the conceptual stage, but the rewards of making your woman happy usually outweigh the lost time and revenue.