Bestie vs. Pride Month
A story about gay rom-coms, dramatic eye rolls, Netflix complaints, and the irony of criticizing a genre you're basically starring in.
Readers, during Pride Month, I wanted to watch cute gay rom-coms. That was it. Nothing dramatic. Nothing controversial. Just a few movies with some romance, some humor, a little emotional damage, and hopefully a happy ending where nobody dies, disappears, or turns straight before the closing credits.
Apparently, this was too much to ask.
Craig was fine. Craig understood the assignment. Craig sat there like a normal person, ready to watch two men make terrible decisions, avoid their feelings, eventually communicate, and fall in love. Bestie, however, acted like Craig and I had personally ruined the entire month of June.
Readers, I need you to understand how personally this man took it. Every cute moment was too cheesy. Every emotional scene was too much. Every romantic plot point was apparently offensive to his delicate little documentary-watching soul. This is a man who will voluntarily watch three hours about something nobody has ever heard of and call it fascinating, but two men flirting on Netflix? Suddenly we have a national crisis.
One of the movies we watched this month was Bros. Was it a little cheesy? Of course it was. It is a rom-com. That is the entire point. I did not turn on a Pride Month romantic comedy expecting a gritty war documentary with subtitles and a sad violin. I wanted cute. I wanted funny. I wanted two emotionally constipated men to get their lives together before the credits rolled.
Bestie did not share this vision.
Which is what makes the whole thing so funny to me, because here is this man critiquing every fictional relationship on the screen while sitting beside the very person he built an actual life with. I’ve watched enough of Craig and Bestie’s story over the years to know that if someone pitched it as a screenplay, Hollywood would probably buy it. It has drama, bad timing, twists, and somehow, against the odds, a genuinely happy ending.
So yes, I find it hilarious that the man who practically lives inside one of the only love stories that still makes me believe in love has the audacity to sit there and judge fictional romance.
Sir, respectfully, you are not above the genre. You are supporting evidence.
But that is Bestie. He will roll his eyes at a love story on TV while living one in real life. He will act like feelings are an inconvenience while having one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know. He will complain the entire time, judge every detail, sigh like he is being personally persecuted by happiness, and then go right back to being a good husband, a good dad, and one of the most loyal people on this planet.
So during Pride Month, Craig and I watched a cute gay rom-com. Bestie suffered dramatically. I enjoyed myself. Craig enjoyed himself. Bestie’s complaints were entered into the historical record and immediately ignored.
Because the truth is, Bestie can hate gay rom-coms all he wants. He still married into the best one I know.