Calling in to the doctor’s office this weekend, I got another object lesson in how prejudice makes you stupid.

I try to talk to the doc on call, who promptly asks my relationship to the patient.

Boyfriend brings on the response: “……oh.”

I tell him that my boy is in a lot of pain. His witty contribution: “You know, pain is subjective.”

At which point, I load up on every male priviledge i can grasp at for the purposes, telling him that if my boy is an Eagle Scout farm boy who got this injury driving truck…then the least he can do is take this seriously. I mean, since when is queer pain not as real as straight pain. And if he wasn’t all these things, should he be deserving of less care? If he was the kind of gay that wears pink feather boas, we don’t take him seriously or think that he can be tough? What the fuck is up that i have to masculinize his persona in order to get his pain taken seriously?

I try to tell the doc that he’s got an infection. No, the white pus in the wound can’t be an infection…they’re careful, and besides, it would be draining more. Guess they decided to store some tapioca in the incision, and it’s nothing to worry about. Nevermind that it’s been clearing with the application of peroxide and anti-biotics. No, it’s better to assume that the gay boy doesn’t know shit, and it’s just whining.

I really want to meet this doc.

I have a feeling he doesn’t really want to meet me.

Yours in anger,

Sly Civilian