Meet Rocco

2:09 pm · category: Rocco's Modern Life... With Me

Over dinner conversation, my roommate gleans that I’ve mentioned his existence on my blog.

Roomie: Don’t talk about me on your blog.
Me: I didn’t say anything specific. I just mentioned your existence.
Roomie: Again, don’t talk about me on your blog. And don’t tell anybody that I’m gay.
Me: What? It’s not like I’m going around telling people all willy-nilly. I mean, everybody knows. You’ve been out for, like, a decade.
Roomie: Yeah, but I’m not going to tell people anymore.
Me. Whatever. [Pause.] Does this mean I get to be your beard?
Roomie: What’s a ‘beard’?
Me: Huh? Didn’t you live in San Francisco? Isn’t that, like, your capital? [Pause.] Are you even remotely familiar with cultural stereotypes particular to your situation?
Roomie: What the fuck are you talking about?
Me: [Exasperated.] Never mind.

Later that evening…

Me: Look, I’m going to talk about you on my blog. You’re just going to have to accept it. But I’m willing to let you have an alias. Who do you want to be?
Roomie: I don’t know.
Me: Oh, come on. You can come up with something.
Roomie: What about ‘Rocco’?
Me: Works for me. [Pause.] Wait. Isn’t ‘Rocco’ Madonna’s husband’s name?*
Roomie: Yes. No. Yes. [Pause.] I’ll choose something else.
Me: Too late. Now you’re Rocco. And this is what I meant by the ‘cultural stereotype’ thing.

Even later that evening…

Me: So, if you’re serious about this ‘anonymous gay guy’ thing, I’ve got an idea. What if we let the neighbors think we’re married? You know, not flat-out lie… but who would be rude enough to ask directly? I mean, around here people just assume. So I figure we butter up everybody in the neighborhood, then we create a home owner’s association for the subdivision. Naturally, we’ll be the president and vice president by virtue of the fact that we united the neighborhood with a common purpose. Then when the members find out that we’re not married, you’re gay, and that we don’t even own the house, there’ll be a coup and we’ll be ousted from our positions of power. They’ll try to sue, but we’ll get a really good lawyer.
Rocco: No.
Me: Oh, come on. We’ll make a statement. And they might make a Lifetime move about it. And if they do, I want to be played by Alanis Morissette.
Rocco: Alanis Morissette hasn’t done crappy cable since that Nickelodeon show, and she’s a foot and a half taller than you.
Me: That’s not the point.
Rocco: [Pointedly.] No.
Me: [Pouting.] Fine.

*It has since been pointed out to me by my youngest sister that Rocco is actually the name of Madonna’s son; her husband is Guy Ritchie. Way to represent for your people, Rocco.

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