The first time it happened, it was mildly funny.
The clueless server in the Skyline Dining Room dropped off our water glasses, beamed at us with a vacuous smile, looked around our table, and said, “What? No wives?”
The question took us all off guard. One of our gay friends said, “Nope,” and we tried to resume our conversation.
Our server, however, did not take the hint. “You left the wives in the room or something?”
“Nope,” we said again.
Later — at the same meal — the man who couldn’t take an accurate order if his life depended on it tried to distract us from his incompetence with the same question: “So … where are the wives?”
I glared at him. “There are no wives.”
He left me alone.
Later that same night, in the Cadillac Cafe, the woman who brought me a peanut butter milkshake gave me a lascivious grin and asked, “So … where are the ladies?”
I grinned back. “We’re right here, honey.”
Her smile became fixed and plastic. “Oh,” she said, and wandered off.
And then, lo and behold, the next day at breakfast, a loud waiter with an island accent handed me a bran muffin and said, “So, gentlemen, where are the wives?”
“THERE ARE NO WIVES!” I said, louder than I meant to. “THERE … ARE … NO … WIVES!”
“O-kay,” he said, ambling off. “No wives.”
We got off the boat and, as is our custom, found our way to the local WalMart. There, as I shopped for macadamia nut candies, a woman from California sauntered up to me. “These are the best prices on the island,” she said.
“They are,” I agreed.
“My husband and I always buy our souvenirs here,” she confided.
“It’s the best place for it,” I agreed.
“So,” she said, beaming at us, “where are your wives?”
It was the sixth time I’d been asked that question in twenty four hours.
Instead of screaming, I just burst out laughing.
She raised her eyebrows. “What?”
“Gay men don’ t have wives,” I said.
“Oh.” She blinked, glanced around, and pointed at my shopping cart. “But I see they do have macadamias.”
LOL. Well, at least the last woman had a sense of humor!
Sigh. I imagine those cruises aren’t the most gay-friendly places. I do think you’re better off with any of the fab hotels in Hawaii… and don’t rule out the luxurious little houses you can rent all over the islands.
Well she could’ve said, “Well, at least I see you’ve got Nuts!”
Honestly though, maybe you just need to take a long a t shirt that says “No Wives, Don’t Ask, We won’t tell! and you won’t be made to feel like more of a moron”