Brand Name: Italian, Gay, Fat and Single

The only saving grace from having dinner with my father’s side of the family was me moving three hours away. Being that I was home and able to attend Sunday dinner, I was wishing for something that could save me.

That something came in the form of a text. Will you go shopping with me? – Newly single. I jumped at the chance, standing up and saying, “I have to feed my dog. I’ll call you sometime next week?” I kissed her cheek. She packed me a bowl of pasta, some meat and a few homemade breadsticks and off I went.

Its not that I hate having Sunday dinner with that side of the family, Its just that I don’t know how to be myself around them. I also haven’t told them about my sexual orientation, in fear of the mafia coming after me. They are always so serious, talking about who died, who wishes they were dead or whose having a baby this week. 

On the road to meet newly single, I wondered why Italians were always “part of a mob.” Why blonde haired girls are always the dumb cheerleaders. Why gays are always the one to go to for fashion advice. Why are Asians always the good ones at math, science and reading?

Why are we always branding ourselves? Are these stereotypes even real? I wondered, for the briefest of moments, who even came up with those called ‘brandings.’ Because I have met a smart blonde… Okay she was dirty blonde. I had an Asian friend who wasn’t good at…. Well she didn’t know how to give directions. And my dad’s side of the family… well… I'm not allowed to talk about that.

As I pulled into a parking space near the front, homeboy doesn’t walk far distances, I found newly single sitting on a bench, eating a pretzel. Without even saying a hello, I asked her, “Why did you call me?” She seemed afraid, like I was going to hit her or place a mafia hit on her or something.

“I don’t know. Because. I guess… you were free?” I took that as the best answer and into the mall we walked. I’m still not sure why she called me, my fashion sense is not quite a sense but a feeling.

I feel like looking like a homeless drug junkie and I hope I don’t meet my boyfriend today.

Turns out that my help wasn’t really needed. She didn’t buy anything and we chatted for most of the trip about her impending addiction to alcohol. “Because I have nothing left.”  Maybe sarcastically. Maybe not.