I’m not sorry. Pink was in my crayon box, too.

Why is it that every time I wear a pink shirt (which is not often, since I only have two in rotation), I cannot go the day without hearing “hey, nice pink shirt?” These comments inevitably come from people with which I work. With the exception of one person (the second oldest and third-highest paid), everyone with whom I work has been to college. They are, presumably, educated people living the uncloistered examined life in Dallas. Why is it then that these same people find it noteworthy that a man would wear a pink shirt, and continue to find it noteworthy, even though I regularly wear pink?

I am not an effeminate man, so perhaps they don’t expect to see me in pink. Perhaps if I were effeminate, they would be less likely to say something, afraid that they might offend me in some way. Following this line of reasoning, I suppose that I should take it as confirmation that no one suspects my appreciation of the aesthetic (this is what I call my attention to detail, when my finances permit, in fashion and food) as anything effeminate.

I am glad that this is the case, because I find it incredibly infuriating and repulsive that cleanliness, personal hygiene, and fashion sense are all ascribed effeminate properties. If a guy has a clean, well appointed apartment, he must be gay. If a man appreciates a professional manicure/pedicure, he must be gay.

This line of reasoning was used recently by the Army to discover a translator’s sexual preference. Apparently, because of “don’t ask, don’t tell” policies, it’s not ok to ask someone whether or not they are gay, but you can use tricky questions such as “are you involved with community theatre?” to ascertain one’s sexual orientation.

No, I’m not kidding.

Never mind that the training the replacements for the nearly 11,000 gay soldiers dismissed since 1994’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy has cost the military nearly $329 million (or the amount we spend every two weeks in Iraq.

I’m not sure how this blog turned into an anti-homophobe, anti-war rant, but there you go.

I wear pink. The color was in my crayon box, so I figured it was fair game.