For those of you who don’t know what a “fruit fly” is, allow me to explain.

Quite simply, a fruit fly is a less insulting term for a “fag hag” or a gay man’s female best friend. Most grown women don’t appreciate being termed a “hag,” and many find the term “fag” to be an insult; thus, the term fruit fly was born!

Now, you may be wondering: why am I searching for a fruit fly? Don’t most gay men have those in abundance?

While this may be generally true, for me, recently, it’s not. I have had many fruit flies throughout my life. In high school, I had more than my fair share. If any of my high school female friends are reading this, then you might have been one of my fruit flies, especially if I helped you get over every single heartbreak you suffered, or if we went shopping together at South Park Mall in San Antonio, or if we were each other’s dates to school dances. You know who you are!

I also had quite a few fruit flies in college as well. We hung out, went to clubs, and drank together–sometimes excessively, but you were always safe with me, and I always got you to your dorm safely. It’s what a good gay does for his fruit fly!

However, most of those women (and myself included) didn’t get to enjoy the full aspects of the relationship because, well, I wasn’t out of the closet yet, so all those women were unofficial fruit flies for me.

Since coming out, I’ve had two “official” fruit flies, who still mean the world to me–Teresa and Jill. Our times together will forever remain close to my heart.

I remember first meeting Teresa at a mutual friend’s house. We bonded over American Idol and playing board games. And when we were teamed up together on the same team, no matter what game we played, we destroyed our competition. We were like Will and Grace, but better! And, yes, we were just as competitive as the characters from the show. If we played, we played to win!

I met my next fruit fly through a co-worker, when he brought his wife to the first dinner for faculty in our department. When I laid eyes on Jill, it was love at first sight. She was sassy, confident, and stylish. She was a horror movie fanatic as I was, and we made a weekly ritual of watching bad horror movies and eating junk food, much to my husband’s chagrin. (He hates scary movies!) To this day, all we have to do is mention Erin Moran’s death scene in Galaxy of Terror, and we bust out laughing. Most people we know hated that movie. But to us, it was small screen gold!

Here’s the clip if you’re never seen it. If you aren’t a fan of gore, just skip it and keep reading.

Sadly, those women moved out of my town with their husbands and the children that arrived shortly thereafter. Our bonds are still sacred and still in tact. I love those women as much now as I did when we were at the height of our fruit fly/gay man relationship. The only things that separate us are the miles between us. Nothing more.

It has been quite a few years since I’ve had a fruit fly, and these days, I find myself missing the special relationship that only occurs between a gay man and a straight woman.

My husband has a fruit fly, well, quite a few actually, but there is one fruit fly (as always), who reigns supreme. To keep my dear husband’s relationship with all his fruit flies from buzzing into discord, I shall not name names, but she knows who she is! I see the relationship they share, and though I’m loathe to admit it, I sometimes get jealous–not because he has that special relationship, but because I don’t.

And, it’s something I want to have again.

So, I write this post almost like a summoning spell (yes, I watched “Charmed” and loved it!), hoping by sending this out into the universe that it will work its magic and bring to me my newest fruit fly. A woman who has spunk and independence. A woman who meets the criteria set on the movie poster that is the featured image of the post. She should be irresistible, witty, and refreshing! A woman who loves to watch scary movies, eat junk food, share secrets, play board games, and be the heterosexual yin to my homosexual yang.

She has to be somewhere in this city, and I have to hope that she’s out there searching for the fruit that has been missing in her life!