Just
about everyday, The Roommate asks me the same question: Does this look okay?

I
hate that question. Hank Hill said it best. "That's what you
call a loaded question. No matter how I answer, there's a bullet in every
chamber designed to blow my brains out."

As
she
continues to press me, I try to answer as best I can.

The
Roommate: Does this look okay?
Me: Sure.
The Roommate: You didn't even look up.
Me: I saw it before.
The Roommate: When?
Me: You know. That other time you wore it. You know. That time
at
the place with the guy. It looked fine then; it looks fine now.

The
Roommate: Does this look okay?
Me: Yes.
The Roommate: Does it make me look like a lesbian?
Me: I don't know. Let me see you go down on a woman and then
I'll tell you.

The
Roommate: Does this look okay?
Me: No.
The Roommate: What's wrong with it?
Me: The scarf looks weird.
The Roommate: But I have to wear the scarf!
Me: ...
The Roommate: I have a stain on this shirt and the scarf is covering the
stain. I don't have time to iron anything else.
Me: You look fine.
The Roommate: But you just said... (phone rings)
Me: I'll get it! (runs for dear life to answer the phone.)

The
Roommate: Does this look okay?
Me: (fingers in ears, leaving the room) LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!

I'm
not good in that department. Oh, I can point out the obvious fashion faux
pas. Too tight, too loose, brown shoes with black belt. But The
Roommate is looking for a style maven. I'm basically a t-shirt and jeans
guy. No, scratch that. I'm a long sleeve shirt with the sleeves
rolled up over the t-shirt and jeans guy. I am no Queer Eye, nor do I
suspect I will ever be. I took the Queer Meter test this weekend. I
scored an appalling 43%. Micheale said not to worry. Her wife only
scored 43%. "But I can attest that she is definitely 100%
gay," she boasted.

I
think The Roommate's ideal roommate would be Carson
Kressley. Someone who
can be her gal pal, her girlfriend, her Gurrll Friday. Someone who can
dress her. I tell her to consult her gay coworker. He knows more
about this stuff, however he's the reason she asks me the dreaded
question every day. "He made fun of my blouse today," she pouts
over dinner.

"Next
time he does that, tell him to fuck off," I tell her. "As if he
should talk. Dockers aren't necessarily fashion
forward."

Okay...so
maybe I'm a little more than 43%.