GAY PEOPle's ChronICLE JUNE 19, 1998

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BIG TIPS

Aaaagh! He squeezes the toothpaste in the middle

by M.T. "the Big Tipper" Martone

I have been betrayed. As may have been mentioned in these pages at some earlier date, I used to be a Speed Stick woman. And no, I'm not talking about Lady Speed Stick. (Actually, I believe the Lady Speed Sticks were the arch-rivals of my high school's lacrosse team. Hmm. I'll check my yearbook.) I'm talking strong enough for a man, but made for, well, a man.

It comes in manly scents like Musk, and Nail Gun, and Beer. And best of all, chicks dig it, but it's not technically perfume or cologne. Well, I thought chicks dug it. A few months ago, I was informed that I smelled really "deodoranty." Who wants to hear that?

So with only one doleful glance over my shoulder, I cast out the Stick, and switched to the more healthful and unscented natural crystal rock. Pow! I couldn't believe it, but it worked! I was completely scent-free. Friends stopped saying "smell ya later." I could hide from a bloodhound.

So where does the betrayal in this story come in? I'm allergic to the stupid natural crystal rock! I'll spare you the details, but lets just say my dress shield modeling gig had to be postponed several weeks. So anyway, while I was tapering off the crystal rock, and before I had bought a new Stick, I found myself at work one morning, still daisy-fresh mind you, but wanting a little insurance.

There's always a weird array of grooming detritus in the bathroom there, so I started snouting around, and found... some teenthemed deodorant. Whatever, I was in a pinch. I gave myself a swipe on both sides, and ended up spending the entire day at work smelling like a Jolly Rancher. If there is a god in heaven, I'm sensing a definite lack of holy sweat glands.

Dear Big Tipper,

I can't believe I haven't seen this in your column yet, since it must come up for many couples. What do you do when your partner mauls the toothpaste tube? I swear, “Allan” just squeezes it in the middle, and after about a week, it's almost impossible to squeeze it normally, or get the rest out.

I don't feel like this is too picky a thing to be mad about. I don't get mad about any of the bathroom things, like wet towels on the floor, or beard hair in the sink: He eventually cleans up after himself, and I'm not a monster. I just go crazy when he wasted something we own together. What do you think? Tubey or Not Tubey

Dear Squeasy,

Guys and Dolls may have espoused the "Marry the Man Today, and Change His Ways Tomorrow" philosophy, but I don't

think a behavior as primal as toothpaste application can be changed permanently.

I think you've solved your own problem: Buy separate tubes. This way you don't have to feel like he's ruining your smooth tube experience, and you don't have to suck him dry of that wildness that you probably love in everything else he does.

If it galls you to have two tubes going at once, buy a pump. (A pump tube of toothpaste! Jeez! Dirty minds!)

Dear Big Tipper,

I don't have a question as much as I'd like to address some community ignorance. I'm in a wheelchair most of the time when I'm out and about, including nights out at gay bars. I deal with the usual crap that comes up every day. People stare, or ignore me, or get annoyed when it takes me longer to get on or off the bus. Whatever. Everyone deals with difference in more or less intelligent ways, and when people have a problem with me, it's exactly that: their problem.

There is something that people do, however, that isn't just rude, it's completely unacceptable, and that is moving my chair without asking me. Some people are trying to be helpful, and depending on my mood, I'm more or less patient with them.

Last night, I actually had someone shove my chair a good three yards because I was "in her way" as I waited in line for the bathroom at a bar. I did my best to "rip her a new one," but it was pretty loud, and she was drunk, and I didn't feel much satisfaction from the exchange.

So let me lay it out while it's quiet. You wouldn't push someone up to a bar to "help them" get there, so if I haven't asked, don't push me. And I'm not a shopping cart that got in your way at the grocery store. If you wouldn't shove someone out of your way, then don't roll me out of your way. If you have a question, or need to get by, or think I might need help, ask me.

And if you want to buy me a drink, ask me too. I say yes a lot to that!

Don't Feel the Wheel

Dear Rolling Along (Alone) Like a Tumbling Tumbleweed,

Thanks. Basically, if you wouldn't pick someone up, toss her over your shoulder and carry her across the street to "help" her without asking first, don't do the equivalent to anyone in a chair. Take care.

Burning questions? Etiquette inquiries? Write to me care of the Chronicle, P.O. Box 5426, Cleveland, Ohio 44101, or fax to 216631-1052, or e-mail martone@drizzle.com.

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