My boyfriend refuses to costume ourselves as Prussian Blue for Halloween. PB are the Aryan tween crooners who have (because of their racist songs) gotten a lot of mention lately in both the mainstream press and on Foxy's blog. (Much respect for Foxy; he's quite humorous.)Sadly, my burly, bearded boyfriend and I won't be donning blond wigs and baby tees in parody of these xenophobic pixies.
Quoteth Bryce, "No way! That's like dressing up as Hitler… or the Olsen twins."
What a wit. This is the first Halloween I've considered a couple's costume, ever. The entire endeavor of a couple's costume is absolutely fraught with peril. Well, everything in my life is fraught with peril.
Nonetheless, conceptualizing my sexy man disguised as Cleopatra to my Antony, or Shirley to my Laverne, or a smiling Justice John Roberts to my haggard Harriet Miers truly sends shivers up and down my spine. (Both good and bad shivers.) Halloween has always been my most favorite time of the year. Suddenly I'm willing, nay, I've already offered to share the exhilarating horrors of this annual obfuscation with the man who cuts his toenails infront of me and grunts happily on our poo-pot.
I once considered the couple's costume a shoddy expression of utter co-dependence. There's always that gay couple who show up dressed as Sonny and Cher every single Halloween. Indeed such couple's costumes are rather co-dependent, but beyond that, I see them now as one of the truest expressions of love that a gay couple can share. Well, next to a Diamond Rainbow Sapphire Princess Ring Band from Diamond Harmony's Rainbow Jewelry collection, that, my friends, is love. That's gay love.
Suddenly the jealousy and competition common to any relationship kicks in. For gays wearing costumes, the jealousy is even greater. What if his costume is more fabulous than yours? What if his is worse and tosses shame on your costume by association? What if everyone lauds him with compliments disguised as Rosa Parks and no one even mentions the attention to detail you achieved dressing as a vintage, Montgomery bus seat?
Conceptually, a couple has to be in the same head-space for a brilliant costume to really pop. If we had dressed as Prussian Blue, Bryce's disinterest in their racist rhetoric would have played against me drunkenly singing hateful epithets at passersby on the street, such behavior he sufficiently dislikes as it is without me justifying it as a "Halloween costume". Sigh.
What a wit. This is the first Halloween I've considered a couple's costume, ever. The entire endeavor of a couple's costume is absolutely fraught with peril. Well, everything in my life is fraught with peril.
Nonetheless, conceptualizing my sexy man disguised as Cleopatra to my Antony, or Shirley to my Laverne, or a smiling Justice John Roberts to my haggard Harriet Miers truly sends shivers up and down my spine. (Both good and bad shivers.) Halloween has always been my most favorite time of the year. Suddenly I'm willing, nay, I've already offered to share the exhilarating horrors of this annual obfuscation with the man who cuts his toenails infront of me and grunts happily on our poo-pot.
I once considered the couple's costume a shoddy expression of utter co-dependence. There's always that gay couple who show up dressed as Sonny and Cher every single Halloween. Indeed such couple's costumes are rather co-dependent, but beyond that, I see them now as one of the truest expressions of love that a gay couple can share. Well, next to a Diamond Rainbow Sapphire Princess Ring Band from Diamond Harmony's Rainbow Jewelry collection, that, my friends, is love. That's gay love.
Suddenly the jealousy and competition common to any relationship kicks in. For gays wearing costumes, the jealousy is even greater. What if his costume is more fabulous than yours? What if his is worse and tosses shame on your costume by association? What if everyone lauds him with compliments disguised as Rosa Parks and no one even mentions the attention to detail you achieved dressing as a vintage, Montgomery bus seat?
Conceptually, a couple has to be in the same head-space for a brilliant costume to really pop. If we had dressed as Prussian Blue, Bryce's disinterest in their racist rhetoric would have played against me drunkenly singing hateful epithets at passersby on the street, such behavior he sufficiently dislikes as it is without me justifying it as a "Halloween costume". Sigh.
The candle in the Jack O'Lantern is burning thin. I (or we) must think of a costume and fast. The weekend's parties approach with the clackety clack of the headless horseman's horse's hooves on cobblestones! I really don't want to be Sonny and Cher.
1 comment:
More precisely, it is like dressing up as Hitler AND the Olsen twins. And thanks much for the shoutout. Blush.
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