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“Are you gay?”
Of course this crazy Icelandic would think I’m gay.
She just thinks I’m too fabulous to be straight.
But why does she ask?
I let a very straight laugh from me, just to show how little I am that.
Gay.
“What? No, no, no. Of course not. I am russian.”
“No?”
Does she not hear well?
I said that I was not gay.
“No, no. There are no gay people in Russia.”
“Statistically speaking I think that’s impossible.”
Nerd. Okay, that may not be that true, but she’s Icelandic.
She has never been to Russia.
“That’s true, 100%-”
Play dumb.
“Genderfluid?”
“I’m not gay, you know.”
What does she even think with genderfluid?
I may have gender, and I’m quite fluid, but that doesn’t mean genderfluid.
“Nonbinary?”
Oh, now she’s getting desperate.
“No, no, no, no, no nonbinary. I’m he/him pronoun. He/him.”
-
Being queer in Russia is in fact not very safe.
But being queer and coming back from the Eurovision Song Contest with second place next to Greece, is hell.
Of course is it not that big of a deal when you just had an affair with one of the ones who worked there.
Kevin Swain.
I like that danger, you know.
But Kevin is not for me, in terms of a “long-term relationship” that he was after. I did just say that he could easily find a new person to flirt with when he works with Eurovision, but that didn’t help.
Mita also thought that she could flirt with this guy, but she doesn’t know me. She knows that I’m Russian and that’s all. I told her to go back to that hell called Greece.
I could tell her that I’m queer, but if the global papers get to know that, I’m not only dead in Russia. My parents already don’t want me, so why would I make it so that nobody would want this gorgeous lion of love.
Anyway, I’m going to see my friend after Eurovision.
He knows I’m queer, and he is probably too.
Why else would he be so weird with his hockeymates?
-
So I’m going to see Ilya Rozanov, the world-wide famous hockey player for the Boston Raiders.
You should just know how many times we have fought over who is the most famous.
Yes, he is a world wide famous hockey player, but I have been representing Russia in Eurovision 3 times now, I am quite well known.
I open the door to his luxury apartment and the first thing I see is this erotic Russian hockey player. But you all know him as Ilya Rozanov.
“You were a mess yesterday.”
“Have you seen yourself when you play hockey?”
“I would be called a mess if I got second place in the hockey championship. Against Greece.”
“Do you want to represent Russia next year, you say Rozanov?”
“That’s my Lemtov.”
He walks up to me and gives me a kiss on each cheek.
And one for the lips.
“More than you usually give me.”
“I feel generous this time.”
We go to the kitchen and he drags me to the table.
But first I have a question for him.
“Will you tell me what’s up with you and Hollander?”
Rozanovs eye twitch.
I’ve got him.
“Nothing, he’s my rival. That’s all.”
“There is more of a heated rivalry between you two than there’s rivalry.”
“Where have you heard of this, then?”
“I have been on Tumblr, Rozanov.”
There exists some very disturbing fangirls there who have shipped them since they started playing hockey.
“Of course. I have some affairs with Hollander, so what?”
Now is he of course trying to brag about it, like there is something revolutionary that you have kissed your rival. Who doesn’t do that?
“But now this is only about you and me, Lemtov. Come over here.
I want to feel you.”
This maybe will be a more interesting night than what he thought.
What you now can think of when you are with Rozanov.