Let me explain: About seven months ago, he decided on a whim to buy the movie Mommy Dearest, claiming this was a "must see" movie for any and all gay men. I shrugged.
Off and on every few weeks on a night when no Netflix movie had appeared in our mailbox, he would tentatively offer, "We could watch Mommy Dearest you know," as if I were simply dying to watch a movie I had never heard of about Joan Crawford, you know?
Granted, my membership as a gay man was already questionable, what with my aversion to anything labeled a "musical" and a distinct distaste for Bette Middler and Barry Manilow albums. But my passion for dance music generally and a dying devotion to Moulin Rogue has thus far kept my membership from lapsing, you see?
So as I lay healing, contemplating my navel (quite literally the Frankenstein version thereof...), his words drifted through the air once more and my will power collapsed:
"Love" isn't exactly the word to describe it. "Boring," perhaps, or "Blah," but Love? Not quite.
Me: Fine, put in Mommy Dearest and let's see what all of the hoopla is all about.
Rich: When you put it like that, I'm not sure I want to anymore.
Me: You have been ragging me to watch this for months! Either we watch it now or it goes on eBay.
Rich: But it's my movie!
Me: Anything we do not use is fair game, I'm sorry--those are the rules we made.
Rich: Fine--but you're going to love it!
Adding to the utter amazement at how such a movie could ever have become a cult classic was my own confusion: Yes, I heard the references to "Joan Crawford," but in my head I kept picturing "Joan Rivers"! I kept asking things like, "This is a biography?" and "This is supposedly a true story?" and always met with a resounding, "Shh! Yes!" as Rich sat enraptured by the show playing on our television.
Then there was the ending.
Now if only I could locate that damn agenda everyone keeps telling me I'm supposed to have...
Me: She's dead? I thought you said this was a biography!
Rich: It is!
Me: But she's not dead!
Rich: She's been dead for a while, darling.
Me: Then who's the chick doing the E! fashion stuff? With the big mouth?
Rich: That's Joan Rivers.
Me: Oh... Oh, so this is the woman who wrote that Valley of the Dolls book?
Rich: That was Joan Collins.
Me: Then who the hell was this?
Rich: Joan Crawford. Big-time actress.
Me: Yeah, I got that, but what's she been in?
Rich: Oh, things like Whatever Happened to Baby Jane, Torch Song--a bunch of others.
Me: Well, I've heard of the first one...
Rich: You've never seen Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?!
Me: Based on other movies you've been excited about recently? I'm not missing much.
Rich: Are you sure you're gay?
Rich: I think you're in danger of having your license revoked.
Me: Because I found this movie wanting and haven't seen the other?
Rich: Among other things.
Me: Okay, Mister "I wish the eighties were back." Talk to me when you can pick out something not in neon orange on your own, okay?
Rich: Is that so, Mister "I still think Jeans and T-shirts are a classic look"?
Me: They are.
Rich: I wonder if WalMart has Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Me: Oh, god... If I lose my gay membership, you lose your WalMart privileges--fair enough?
Rich: (He grins) Fair enough.