This reminds me of Bill, Deb's late first husband. When Deb first told me about Bill (one of our early chats was about our first marriages, each to a gay spouse — yet another bond) she portrayed him as very gay (this was years after their divorce, when they were best friends again and liked to travel together) with lines like:

DEB: According to this map, you need to go straight ahead.

BILL: (looking DEEPLY offended) Honey, you never tell a gay man to go straight!

DEB: So how do I tell you to go (gestures ahead)

BILL: (with a swish) Go gayly forward!

So I was surprised when I met Bill and he seemed, well, straight. No gay mannerisms, no speech affectations, if I hadn't known better I would have thought he'd be pulling out pictures of the wife and kids any moment. Um, okay.

Yes, but Bill had just met me. Sure, Deb said I was cool, but still, better keep the shields up, eh?

By the time we'd gotten to his place for a party, with a bunch of his friends (who already knew Deb), I was accepted as one of the gang. Who were all total flamers (is that still a term?) trying to out-gay each other. To the point that I started to (I blend with the crowd I'm with — defense mechanism from my youth) until Deb told me to knock it off ("You know I'm marrying a straight guy for a reason, right?" "Sorry, Debster!").

And the same crowd was absolutely delighted when Deb, I, and her parents showed up for Bill's celebration of life (after prostate cancer). With pink flamingoes (Bill loved them) and feather boas everywhere. Because that was Bill, the real Bill.