Having a dog can make one a lot of new friends. While the old trope of a cute guy approaching you on the street because he wants to pet your puppy is a true one, few romantic comedies include all the other types of people that are attracted to your little slobbery bundle of joy. From a meth-eyed derelicts to Drakar-reeking bros to an old man muttering that I should be careful because sometime dogs give seniors heart attacks and once an Pitbull turned on its master — all are given the benefit of my Neko’s little kisses while I patiently nod and smile through all manners of forced conversation.

However, one group of puppy lovers I’m generally happy to see are a gaggle of girls, ranging in ages from about 7 to 13, that live in the building next door to my own. It is a scientifically confirmed fact that puppies and youngsters be lovin’ each other, so both parties are generally excited to the point of much wiggling and tongue lapping at the others’ presence. In particular there are two sisters who recently gave up a dog that looks much like mine, and so are most likely to hang out and play with her while she’s out for her regular “sniff n’poop” walks.

The younger of the two probably hasn’t taken any notice of the fact that Neko has two male owners, but the teenage one started asking questions a couple months ago. It was an interesting process to watch. First there was the uncertainty that the two men could own the same dog, as evinced by her frequent confused questions of “Is this Neko? There was another man walking him this morning.” Finally she asked my boyfriend who the other owner was, and he replied (as I would) “Oh, that’s my boyfriend.”

From what I understand this had to be elucidated a couple times:

“Oh, your friend?”
“No, my boyriend. “

“Oh, your roommate?”
“no, my boyfriend.”

“Oh, your…”
“We sleep together in the same bed!”
“Oh.”

And I am careful not to read trepidation into others when they find out I’m gay, but I don’t think I made up the girls’ hesitancy to talk to me for a while after discovering that she was engaging in digital contact with the hound of the felchervilles. I’d still hear the excited “Ne-Ko!” when I stepped out of my basement, but at best the girl would run over, give my dog a pat or two without saying much to me, and then run back to her own stoop.

But eventually curiosity won out and I started getting what many of you probably would recognize as “The Questions.” Straight people, or closeted gay people, ask them euphemistically to figure out the details of your supposedly different life.

“Where’s the other man at?”
“Why are you home all day? Do you work?”
“You guys go to the same gym?”

The last one occurred as I walked down to a yoga class, sans dog. I got my usual “Where’s Neko?” (a question that always makes me want to respond with “I am not my dog’s keeper”) and inquiry as to when they could next see her. I told the 13 year-old, who by this point seems pretty comfortable with her favorite doggie’s two daddies, that my boyfriend would be walking her in an hour or two and they could say hi then.

Another little girl, who I’d never met before, perked up at that. She scrunched up her face and asked “You have a boyfriend?” The older girl hissed out a barely audible “Hush!” I replied that yes, I had a boyfriend and started to walk down the street. I heard the little girl say “uuuuhhhhh, that’s gay.”

It’s funny, because if an older person said this to me I would probably take umbrage with it. I’d say something rude and snappy to let them know that whatever their feelings are, it’s usually not polite to say such things out loud. But I don’t think there is a lot of use in channeling Oscar Wilde towards a person who only reads picture books. More than anything, though, I just find it so tiring to go through life constantly having to explain and defend who I am. I believe in being out in action just as much as in word.

So I spent months being as honest and casual about who I am to one girl and being rewarded with what seems like acceptance. Acceptance that I hope she carries with her as the begins the harrowing ascent through the epithetical peer pressures of middle school, high school and beyond.

And then there’s someone who I try to be that explicit with on the first meeting  and I’m told that having a boyfriend is gay. The statement is completely true, but I don’t think it was said as a neutral declaration. So you have one kid that realizes a gay couple’s dog is just as sweet, and another that has probably been conditioned through years of playground taunts to have a very explicit opinion on guys that have boyfriends.

But honestly, it just gets tiring to try and change everyone’s mind. I hope that this girl remembers me as the gay guy next door with the cute dog, and that sometime she will have a little empathy for the kid on the playground that keeps getting called a fag. But will I stomp over to her stoop, sit down next to her and explain from my heart that people are just people, and we all love the same way? I won’t. Is it selfish to not want to waste my entire gay life justifying it to the people around me? I know that young minds are impressionable, and all that, but it might just be counterproductive to have the lecture come from me when eventually it might start coming from her peers.

I answered  the other girls’ questions honestly and she seemed to understand all she need to know. When her less-understanding friend has questions for me I’ll be around to answer them. But until then I’ll just let her learn through my example and hope I can change a mind without wasting my breath.