A Trip Down Wisteria Lane

This Halloween I decided to resurrect my idea for last year’s costume and go as Bree Van De Kamp (Hodge) from the critically acclaimed ABC primetime soap-esque indulgence known as “Desperate Housewives.” Traditionally, I’m not a fan of Halloween or the idea of dressing up, but I figured that this year I’d get in the spirit while adding a little order, and a few muffins to the holiday.

My ‘costume’ - sadly enough -was not much of a stretch (I had all of the clothes in my closet, undoubtedly purchased when I went through a phase of buying clothes fit for a stroller pushing soccer mom). Add some pearls, a personalized apron, a faux wedding ring and a slight hair adjustment and I was ready for a trip to Wisteria Lane aka Tucker Avenue, St. Louis.

One of my coworkers had tickets to a Halloween bash at City Hall and I was drafted to go. Thinking that the party would be a fancy, but tame affair, I grabbed my basket of muffins and made my way to the party. Upon entering, I knew that I had chosen a fitting costume because I quickly felt like an uptight and very straight laced republican woman in her early forties. I expected to see some over-the-top costumes and what I got was a herd of TWA stewardesses, a couple of scantily clad cheerleaders, and a Pooh fairy…yes, I said Pooh fairy. I may have stepped into City Hall, but I quickly found myself smack in the middle of the gayest party of the year.

Traditionally, I’ve never been uncomfortable in a room of a gay men (not that I’ve been in a lot of rooms filled with gay men…that opportunity rarely presents itself). This time, however, the sheer amount of estrogen* thinly veiled in testosterone** was overwhelming at times. My party -which included three straight women and one straight man who had no idea what he’d walked in on - and I seemed to find ourselves giggling and pointing like a group of tweens in a sex ed class. (Key: *code word for ‘packages’ ; ** code word for ‘Spandex’)

After a few drinks, and many compliments on my costume (Bree has quite a gay fan base, although they do question her motivation for abandoning her gay son on the side of the road - I told them that I regretted that decision and was living in torment), I became more comfortable in my surroundings. As the night went on, I engaged in conversation with a few party goers, and at one point thought that I’d discovered the only hot straight guy in the whole place.

He was dressed in a Top Gun jumper (pretty straight costume), he didn’t really know who Bree is (very straight) and he was eying my muffins (any straight guy would). Could it be?! Our conversation went something like this:

Him: So, are those muffins real?
Me: Yes, of course, I wouldn’t dream of arriving at a party without bringing a snack.

Him: My friends told me who you’re supposed to be…that’s pretty funny.
Me: Thanks (coyly). I like your costume too. I love Top Gun!
Him: Yes, it’s a great movie.
Me: Where are your aviator glasses?
Him: Oh, I don’t have any…one of my friends gave me the costume, otherwise I wouldn’t have dressed up.
Me: So, should I call you Maverick?
Him: Actually, I’d rather be called Ice Man…Val Kilmer was so hot in that movie.
Me Thinking: Damn it! They’re always gay or married…why are the hot one’s always gay or married
Me: Yeah, he was pretty cute, although I always loved Tom Cruise…especially when he was playing volleyball in jeans.
Him: He was pretty hot in that scene.
--introduced using real names --
Him: Well, it was nice to meet you.
Me: Yea, you too.

Shortly after my Top Gun encounter, my party decided it best to leave before things got too scandalous. As I left the party O’ queens, muffins in tow, I couldn’t help but think to myself 'I wonder if they all knew that I’m actually a woman and not a dude dressed like Bree Van De Kamp from the critically acclaimed ABC primetime soap-esque indulgence known as "Desperate Housewives." Surely it’s obvious (looking down at my boyish figure), well, maybe not.'