I wasn't lucky enough to be born with it. I hang around with a lot of gay people, but the gene doesn't transfer to me. I've tried rubbing against gay men who have a talent for decorating (and other things) but osmosis doesn't work. You either get it – along with straight, white teeth, thick wavy hair, and the gene to make you tall – or you don't.

I didn't.

I don't know what kind of gay man I am. I have absolutely no clue when it comes to decorating, clothing styles, the latest dance craze (I can't dance anyway), antiques, the cocktail simply everyone is drinking today. (I've heard of a Cosmo, but couldn't tell you how to make one.) I don't put «product» in my hair. I wouldn't, even if I had hair.

I fall flat on my face in every aspect of what gay men are supposed to excel at doing. With the possible exception of dishes. Not old or «collectable» dishes, just plain old dishes. I like glasses, too. Crystal in particular. I was told by a clerk at Pier 1 that I should refer to glasses as «bar ware.» Ok, I like bar ware.

I have no idea if what I find attractive is in vogue, but what the hell. If it gives me pleasure and doesn't hurt anyone, who can bitch at me if I mix the colors of my Fiestaware? (Does anyone collect Fiestaware anymore? See? This is what I mean.)

I'm particularly inept at home decorating. We moved into our current home (Hell's Half Acre) 2 years ago. The place was remodeled by the previous owner in 1979, and it looks it. In the kitchen, the cooktop and sink are dark brown. I think they call it 'coppertone'. God, it's ugly. One of these days I'll get ahead of the bills and replace it. But what would I change it to? White? Stainless steel? Damned if I know.

A large room was added to the house, also in 1979. Some would call it a Great Room, I think. It's nice, but not great. The walls are paneled. I want desperately to take the paneling down and have regular sheet rock put up, but I'm at a loss as to what color I would paint it. I watch HGTV but it's no help. On one show, the decorators come to a home and tell the homeowner,

«Use color! Don't be afraid of COLOR!!»

Then on the next show, the decorators are saying,

«I LOVE the look of white walls! It makes such a statement with these furnishings!» So I'm afraid the Not So Great Room is going to stay just the way it is until I get shit-faced on beer some night and start ripping paneling down.

Last winter I took the plunge in the living room. I had the wallpaper removed. It was a floral print (vomit), probably put up in 1979. I wandered through the paint section of Home Depot looking for just the right color for the walls. I love places like Home Depot, especially the lumber and electrical departments. There are always these big, butch, good looking men with large rough hands walking around there. A real testosterone overload.

So I'm in the paint department, looking at thousands of colors. I don't know what to choose. Some shade of red? Green? Brown?

(«Don't be afraid of COLOR!!»)

Maybe white? («It makes such a statement!»)

After a few hours of looking at little tiny swatches, I decide to «not be afraid of color» (EEEEEEK!), and settle on «Fresh Praline.»

«Fresh Praline» is a little darker than «Crème Brulee», but lighter than «Wheat Toast.» (What the hell? Am I painting a wall or having brunch?)

The brand I choose is Behr.

Glidden sounded way too gay, and there's no brand called Nice Balls. Besides, I know and love a lot of guys who are behrs.

Really. This is how I pick paint.

So I proudly take my Fresh Praline home and paint the living room walls.

Two coats.

Oh.

My.

God.

The fact that I did not get the decorating gene is proven once again. Fresh Praline, my ass! My walls look like Fresh Baby Shit. If this is what a praline looks like, I ain't eatin it.

It's good that the Fresh Praline is in the living room, where we spend very little time. We spend most of our time in the Not So Great Room…admiring the paneled walls.

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