Does this mean I am a flamer?

I guess I have been watching too many episodes of Queer as Folk, back to back...

Tonight, after my Morris dancing class, I was a trifle peckish and went to my favorite Malaysian restaurant for a bit of satay. I brought a newspaper with me, to do the crossword as I nibbled and to catch up on world news, such as it is. I was seated at a small table near the bar, next to the window, with a romantic single candle in a glass votive. Do ya see where this is going?

I ordered, ate, and settled down with the paper. I was all absorbed in a story about a dishonest funeral parlor director who refused to cremate a body until he was paid in full when I noticed I was cremating my newspaper. Fortunately my boys are two, therefore I don’t panic easily. I crumpled the incinerating page in my hand, dropped it to the floor, and stamped out the fire. The other patrons were silent during this bit of excitement, but started a-buzzing as soon as the fire was out and their dinners were safe.

I had noticed a rather obviously gay group at the bar when I sat down. If their beautiful clothes, perfect hair and handsome faces hadn’t clued me in the following exchange would have:

Obviously gay handsome Man One: Jim honey, that is sooo something you would do!

Obviously gay handsome Man Two: But darling, you know I would have screamed and waved the paper in the air calling for help! Eeek! Eeek!

Me: I guess we all have our inner flamer.

Obviously gay handsome Men as a Group: Ha ha ha ha ha!

Then they told each other stories of how they set their most favorite tea kettles on fire and other harrowing tales. I took my charred bit of news home.

Inner flamer! Ha ha indeed...Emmett would have been so proud of me, keeping the flame buring bright.