Well, well, would you imagine that.
Seems I really am the straightest gay in Dublin.
I am an ‘emergency plus one’.
My poor demented friend Ciara needs a beard for a wedding.
A man who is so crushingly masculine no one possibly spot that she is a bull dyke.
I am that man!
Bask in the shadow of my glory little man.
Thankfully she scrubs up well.
Nails done, make up done, hair done.
She look like a picture of femininity.
Not that she was not feminine before, just in a different way.
What you thought bull dykes were not girlie?
What funny ideas you have about gender.
She was just a unconventional.
Get your head around it.
Actually, I would make a great boyfriend or husband.
I’m big and strong.
Hung like Shergar.
I can bake a quiche, and I never leave the toilet seat up.
Fuck me, I’m a total catch!
We will spend the night dancing, charming old aunties and uncles.
I’ll tell them we have been dating years and that I plan to propose.
They will love that.
I’m going to propose in New York, and then we’ll live happily ever after.
People do love fairy tales.
How depressing! They make me sick.