Don't Believe The Stereotype!!

As a gay woman, I really should know better than to believe in stereotypes regarding other 'social groups'.

I do not own a pair of dungarees. I do not wear lumberjack shirts. I don't have a man's hair-cut nor do I weigh twenty stone. I don't work as a bus driver. I don't live in Brighton. I don't drink lager in a tankard. I avoid starting fights with large men if they throw a sideways glance at my girlfriend when we're out in public. Nobody has, to my knowledge, mistaken me for a boy recently.
In fact there is very little, in my outward appearance, to suggest that I might be gay. (I prefer that term to 'lesbian' as that word is so very synonymous to me of all the things that I am not.)

So you would think that I would avoid using stock stereotypes when it comes to making important decisions about other people.

Unfortunately for us, when my girlfriend and I first moved in together, we got ourselves a flatmate. We couldn't stay in my old flat as my Evil Ex wouldn't give me his key back or sign off the joint bank account until I signed the paperwork to give my notice to leave it. Ho Hum. Anyway, as our flatmate was a gay man, I stupidly assumed that he would be fastidious about housework, a great cook And incredibly tasteful and stylish when it came to decorating.

Not so.

He was the biggest, fattest, laziest slob I've ever met. His contribution to personalising the flat was a collection of nasty, cheap ceramic tigers, all of which were huge and a display cabinet held together with bits of gaffa tape and tin foil. Even now I have nightmares about those damn ugly tigers. Ugh.
He never once cleaned the bathroom or the kitchen. We would go out to work in the morning, leaving the flat clean and tidy. When we got home, he would have used every single plate, pot, pan, bowl and item of cutlery in our absence. Along with about a litre of cooking oil scorched on to the hob.
It was awful.

Then he got a boyfriend. The boyfriend was married with children. I'm not a hugely judgemental person (we All f*ck up from time to time) but they used to sit slagging his wife off something chronic. It made my blood boil because although she may well have been Attila The Hun, having the husband that you've invested half your life with running off with another man is just Not Nice. And it made me uncomfortable to hear my flatmate moaning about the time his new-found beau would spend with his children. The whole situation was pretty yucky.
The two of them were as vile as each other when it came to hygiene. And they were on My computer all day and night (until I removed all the wires from it one evening when they'd pissed me off one time too many). The new boyfriend didn't contribute anything to the household bills for Two Months. He was quite happy to drain all the resources, but when it came to paying for them it was a different story. To top it off, the original flatmate decided to quit his job and go unemployed for a while, so they got even worse with the bill-paying.

One day, we dropped home from work on our lunch-break. It was unplanned, I'd forgotten something or was waiting on a letter, I forget exactly why now. Our two Evil flatmates were loading their possessions (along with some of ours) into a van. And looking rather shocked to see us!
They pretty much screwed us over, and to this day still owe me about £800. I'll never get it back but I heard recently that Mr Married went back to his (clearly stupid) wife which is revenge enough for me.

The moral of the story is, don't let your brain trick you into believing in stereotypes. Because in life, these stock characters just don't exist. I'm sure there are gay men out there who have beautiful, well kept homes (I actually know several) but if you choose to share your home with one, check out his current address first. He might just turn out to be a pig in diva's clothing!