So, my dad just called to bug me about going to the bank and he was all like “The Butcher’s gay friend knows the woman who does mortgages for people who are employed where you’re employed” and I use the word “like” because, clearly, those are not his exact words, but I bring them up because “gay friend” was word for word what he said.
Never in my whole life until this moment have I ever heard my dad use the term “gay” as a neutral descriptor used to narrow down who he was referring to. Never.
I give credit to the Butcher.
Tiny Cat Pants 
hooray for the gay butcher! I especially love it when i’m referred to as “the gays” that’s my favorite. : )
Why am I imagining a guy in 1890s dress, twirling his handlebar mustache with one hand while brandishing a meat cleaver with the other?
I do say, he is a gay sort of chap, isn’t he?
Harumph harumph
I used to work with a man named Chris who, even when there were no other people named Chris working at the restaurant who might be confused with him, would still be referred to as “Gay Chris”.
“The other Chris left six months ago,” he’d say. “Why the fuck am I still ‘Gay’ Chris?”
Good question, Chris.
I remember once, a few years ago, my dad came back from teaching and said he’d seen a very witty poster on campus. He said it said “we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it.” He thought it was a very cool poster, and wanted to know if I’d ever seen the phrase before.
It was the first pro-gay thing I ever heard my dad say. Did my heart proud.