Most Probably Gay

I live in South Florida and like most of us down here, I'm from away. I've been here for about five years now and with each passing day what used to seem surprising, even glaringly different from my BF (Before Florida) life, now seems normal—well almost normal anyway.

One of the first things you need to know about South Florida is that it is pretty traditional. I don't mean the kind of right-wing-Republican-agenda conservatism of northern Florida. But Florida is still the south, after all. There's definitely a Driving Miss Daisy vibe to things. All those retired bubbies and zaydies, Latino and Haitian immigrants may vote democratic, but they love themselves some family values.

So you can imagine my first days at pre-school. We moved when my daughter was two and a half and, as I had just started my business, I was the one to drop her off and pick her up. To say that I was a bit of an oddity at the school is pretty accurate. Other fathers picked up or dropped off but I think I was the only one who did both. I was also one of the few fathers who worked from home. Again, there were others but they were either wasters, guys who couldn't get jobs, etc., or independently wealthy. Since I was neither and working in the rather ephemeral field of "marketing," I was different. Sure plenty of the moms "worked" from home but it was their husbands (lawyers, doctors, mortgage brokers, general contractors, etc.) who really provided for the family—just as my wife provided for ours. The moms sold jewelry or clothing or Juice plus, or worked in their family's businesses, which left plenty of time to volunteer at the school. And that's what really set me apart. I was the first ever "room dad" at pre-school.

Room moms are the heart of pre-school. They're the women who volunteer to help out in their kids' classrooms. They read to the kids, fill in when teachers need to be at a meeting and coordinate volunteer activities like the Thanksgiving bake sale. This fits with the natural order of things. A dad who would actually volunteer in a classroom full of children was obviously flawed and a likely pedophile. Room moms have names like Miss Debbie, Miss Allison, Miss Melissa, Miss Tiffany; they called me Mr. Jay.

A phone call from the room mom might sound something like this:

"Hi, this is Miss Misty (Floridian women often have names that verge on the pornographic), I'm calling to remind you about the bake sale on the 24th."

Here's how my calls sounded:

"Hi this is Jay, I'm calling to remind you about the bake sale on the 24th."

"Who is this?"

"Jay, I'm the room dad in Tiffany's class." (That kid is three and has a better room mom name than me!)

Oh right. (That poor man, he must've lost his job.) Yes, I'll be there. I was planning to volunteer in the morning."

"Me too, I guess we'll be working together." (Better see if I can change my shift.)

"Terrific! (Better see if I can change my shift.)

Being introduced to people at the school was also a hoot.

"Miss Chantal, this is Jay; he's the room dad in 1F."

"Very nice to meet you. What do you do when you're not here?" (Men most likely.)

"I run a marketing and communications company." (Probably thinks I'm gay and unemployed.) "Let me introduce you to my wife."

"Nice to meet you!" (Poor woman, husband's gay and unemployed.)