Living in the mountains has brought me more surprises than the first year I was married.Being in charge of all the cooking and cleaning in a household is as much a drag as it sounds, trust me.One aspect of mountain life that has intrigued me is eclectic people I’ve befriended in the last few months.I’ve met a Zimbabwean who fled the war-torn country in 2000. I hang out with one guy whose mind is like a Rolodex of wisecracks and doesn’t like people who can’t take a joke.I now know a girl from Paonia who slept through a break-in at her house when she was in high school. Another Colorado native once had her G-string underwear stolen by some weirdo who snuck in her room through a window when she wasn’t home.Creepy, but true.The most fabulous friendship-developing experience I’ve had is getting to know some people in Glenwood’s gay and lesbian community.Before now, the only homosexual people I knew were my high school tennis coach and my doubles partner, who didn’t come out until well after graduation.Let’s just say I’ve lived a bit of a sheltered life.I grew up in a small town of around 1,500 people, 99 percent of whom are white. There’s something a little eerie about a place rumored to have had Klu Klux Klan connections in its early days and whose high school mascot is the dragon (that KKK mentality extends to homosexuals, for those wondering where I was going with this).Even though I later lived in the 12th largest city in the United States (Indianapolis), I still never made any gay friends. The closest I came to knowing anything about gay culture was watching “Will and Grace” and going to The Metro and the Unicorn Club to dance to techno and watch drag shows.Still, no gay friends.But I did share the women’s restroom at a gay bar with a man more beautiful than I could ever be. Red lipstick really can stop a man in his tracks.I find it ironic that it took me moving to the mountains to finally make gay friends.There’s more testosterone in this valley than an Alaskan bodybuilding competition.I love that my new gay friends, Eddie and Chris, call me “Sugar” and appreciate my kitten heels. I totally love that the word “fabulous” is as common in conversation as a drunk getting thrown out of the Springs on a Saturday night.When I first moved here, I thought all those fleece vests and Carhart overalls meant there weren’t any gay men around here. Two and a half years later, I’m happy to have met some of the men of the valley who love men just as much as I do – and who have as much trouble with men as I do.After all, a person doesn’t have to be female to dislike cooking and cleaning for a man.April E. Clark is hoping to find a fabulous scarf to wear at Gay Ski Week in Aspen with her new friends. She can be reached at 945-8515 ext. 518 and clark@postindependent.com