As I watched the Tony Awards Sunday night, I said it again: I would trade all my gays to be friends with Neil Patrick Harris.
And I have a lot of gays.
It started in high school when every guy I fell for turned out to be gay and hasn’t really waned in the past 25 years or so. I used to think that I turned them, but later came to realize, that like a moth to a flame (pun intended) I just attract them.
Recently, I have tried to put a stop to it. When my motherly work friend grew tired of getting excited each time I mentioned my night out with “Steven” or “David” or “Morgan” only to be saddened to find out that they were gay men, she sat me down and said, “Darling, you’re shopping for milk at the hardware store.” It was then that I decided that I could not take on any new gays. So now, when I meet a new one, I politely tell them that I am not taking on any new gays at this time – but they are welcome to fill out an application and we will keep it on file and they will be notified in the event of an opening for an interview.
And they are all close, old friends who – as long as there isn’t a Jonathan Adler warehouse sale – are always there for me. And they like to go to shows, try new restaurants, help you pick out outfits, and motivate you to work out because “If you don’t, you’ll be fat and no one will ever love you.”
But I would trade them all for NPH. As completely hilarious as he is playing it totally straight on “How I Met Your Mother, “he played himself so well when he hosted the Tony’s. The opening number was Legen….. wait for it……dary. But, the next night, I turned on my local PBS station to watch a documentary on service dogs and their physically challenged owners and I immediately knew the voice. That’s right. NPH. And don’t even get me started on Dr. Horrible’s Sing Along Blog – he even works with Joss Whedon, (creator of the greatest TV show ever televised, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but that’s another blog post).
So, I decided that I was going to stalk him (only online, I am far too lazy to actually stalk him in real life). Okay, I followed him on Twitter. He used the word “kudos” 3 times in a week; he has not one, but a matching set of gaybies; he isn’t even remotely sarcastic, ironic or funny. At one point, in all sincerity, he said that he was “super duper happy.” Really?
My gays are so much funnier than he is in real life. None of them have more than one child. I think I’ll keep ‘em. But don’t tell them; I want to keep them on their toes.