I can remember, as a kid, being fascinated with the top of my father's dresser. There was always a jar of change, a tube of Blistex, and a wooden box where he kept--what? Change, maybe? Parking tickets? I have no idea. But it was sacred, somehow. Neither of my parents had "offices" or anything like that in the houses where I grew up, and the top of my father's dresser was the only place in the house that was his and his alone. I don't know why I was so fascinated with it, nor what internal force prevented me from carrying my interest a step further and actually snooping.
I hadn't thought about this for a long time. Then the other day, I was grouching at my DGF for putting unmatched socks on my dresser. "It has to be neat," I told her. "It has to be a certain way."
I have no idea why I am so fastidious about the top of my dresser, particularly given my lack of fastidiousness in other areas of my physical world (bathroom; car). I think it relates, somehow, to my childhood fascination with my father's dresser--my silly idea that it contained intriguing secrets.
Anyway, I snapped a picture of my dresser and the space above it. As you can see, my many ties are arranged in rainbow order (how gay), each hanging on individual hooks, with some bracelets and necklaces hanging on the spare ones. Below them, there tubes of Chapstick in a little wooden bowl that my DGF made, a random geode in another bowl that she made, some hand sanitizer, a little green jar with my collar stays, a clear jewelry/tool tray that I found at the hardware store (for my rings, earrings, and pocket knife), a wooden cigar box (which holds my watches), and a little soy sauce dish that's holding my spare change and a binder clip.
My DGF won't let me snap a picture of hers, but let's just say that there's very little question in our relationship about which of us more resembles a stereotypical gay man and which of us more closely resembles a stereotypical straight man.
Dear readers, I would love to have pictures of the tops of your dressers. Please email either (or both!) to me here by Friday, and I will post them anonymously in a future entry. No rearranging allowed--just snap a pic as is and send it along to me! (And if you want to share any memories of a parent's dresser, include it and I'll post that, too.)
I hadn't thought about this for a long time. Then the other day, I was grouching at my DGF for putting unmatched socks on my dresser. "It has to be neat," I told her. "It has to be a certain way."
I have no idea why I am so fastidious about the top of my dresser, particularly given my lack of fastidiousness in other areas of my physical world (bathroom; car). I think it relates, somehow, to my childhood fascination with my father's dresser--my silly idea that it contained intriguing secrets.
Anyway, I snapped a picture of my dresser and the space above it. As you can see, my many ties are arranged in rainbow order (how gay), each hanging on individual hooks, with some bracelets and necklaces hanging on the spare ones. Below them, there tubes of Chapstick in a little wooden bowl that my DGF made, a random geode in another bowl that she made, some hand sanitizer, a little green jar with my collar stays, a clear jewelry/tool tray that I found at the hardware store (for my rings, earrings, and pocket knife), a wooden cigar box (which holds my watches), and a little soy sauce dish that's holding my spare change and a binder clip.
My DGF won't let me snap a picture of hers, but let's just say that there's very little question in our relationship about which of us more resembles a stereotypical gay man and which of us more closely resembles a stereotypical straight man.
Dear readers, I would love to have pictures of the tops of your dressers. Please email either (or both!) to me here by Friday, and I will post them anonymously in a future entry. No rearranging allowed--just snap a pic as is and send it along to me! (And if you want to share any memories of a parent's dresser, include it and I'll post that, too.)
