I just don't see the pastel fuss.

January 9th, 2016

Some people's sexual insecurity is staggering. Not mine, though. Aww, yeah.

I'm not sure if it's a Midwesterner thing or an east half of the country kind of thing, but I've been running into an inexplicable problem 'round these parts the last few years. You see, as most people who know me are aware, I enjoy wearing bright clothing. And by 'bright' I mean 'fluorescent'. I have a small collection of neon yellow shirts, and while I was happy with those, I hit the mother lode last year.

When my parents visited us here in Ohio last spring, we went to one of the legion of flea markets lining I-75 south of Dayton, and in this flea market I encountered a happy man who sold nothing but fluorescent garments. Ostensibly for construction workers, since a lot of them had safety markings on them, the rest were just plain T shirts or caps or hoodies or whatever. And they were gloriously bright.

I was, naturally, quite ecstatic. In addition to the usual yellow neon, there were also pink, green, and purple fluorescent clothes. It was like a sensory smorgasbord, at least for me, and I picked up several of this happy man's wares. Sadly, I was (and still are) a bit too tubby for the green or purple shirts he had, but there were still plenty of yellow and pink neon tees available in my size. So I bought a few of each.

Just to prove I ain't making this stuff up.

Pink isn't really my color, truth be told, but I'm not averse to it either. Imagine my surprise when, upon wearing my eye-piercing neon pink shirt about the area, I've found that people take exception to it. The first time this occurred, Brenda and I were on our way to the Mammoth caves, down in Kentucky. After dodging a bunch of bigots selling 'neck CDs out of their van (long story) when trying to purchase a soda, I was accosted.

Not violently, mind you, but the clerk at this gas station exclaimed at me "You're a brave man to wear pink!" I didn't really know how to respond to this, so I looked at her and said "Sure?" Shrugging this off to general asshattery, I got on with my trip to the literal depths of the state, but what's distressing is that this was only the first instance of this irksome behavior. It happened again just this weekend, in fact.

Me and the sexy other had stopped in the midst of running some errand or another, and once again I was accosted by some clerk at a gas station, merely because I had the temerity to wear my nuclear powered, pink T shirt. I'm not really sure what the problem is. It's not just a man thing, either, because both men and women have proven nonplussed by my chromatic choices in clothing.

As I had to remind myself only six days ago, it is in fact 2016 now. I don't have a flying car, and I don't have a jet pack, but for goodness' sake, why do I still have to put up with people who are Hell-bent on keeping an entire color assigned to but a singular gender? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, as ignorant as the American people have proven to be, time and time again, over the course of my life.

Which once again reminds me of my theory in this regard.

firebomb@obnoxiousjerk.com