Thursday, April 26, 2012

Darling, being gay is the best excuse you'll ever have not to be boring!

So says Eddy from Absolutely Fabulous: one of my favorite shows of all time. BUT.

(whining alert)

Man, I'm so not into being gay lately. At least my recent experience of it. Where do I start?

Shows like the deceased and not-at-all-mourned The A-List (both New York and Dallas versions) and the still-afflicting-us 1 girl 5 gays just annoy the everloving crap outta me. The A-List had no redeeming qualities whatsoever. The producers, I assume, thought it would be such a great idea to put the bitchiest, supposedly A-list gays in close proximity to each other, force them to flirt shamelessly and do all they could to wreck relationships, friendships, and reputations. Including their own. I've seldom felt so good about being a non A-lister. But I also felt sick to my stomach watching this the image we're putting out to society? Help us all. At least 1 girl 5 gays has the excuse of catering to teens and the twentysomething crowd. And if I were that age, I would be really gaga over the show. Still, it's kinda creepy, looking in on 5 gaybies (recycled at random from probably around 40 or so) and their resident hag (far too pretty for such a derogatory-sounding term). These guys pass judgment on each other, laugh with each other, share some deep secrets (and many, many more not-so-deep secrets), and talk about their sex lives outside of the show. Said sex lives include fellow cast members, so it feels incestuous. To be sure, they all look and act friendly enough, but really, what I can't abide is yet ANOTHER discussion of how people don't care enough about Madonna or Gaga, what actor you would do, what you were thinking when you were finishing your last hookup, and (I wish I were making this up) drawing what your parents look like naked. I think I'm just getting too old for this.

Also? Alcohol. It has its place, and right now, with a few exceptions, that place is not near me. Not because of any run-ins with the law, mind you. I just don't like the way I feel when I imbibe, and do whatever I can to make sure that any after-effects are mitigated as much as possible. It's become especially noticeable since I've begun working out, seeing results, and doing what I can to make sure I see more results.

Along the lines of alcohol comes the social scene. Okay, alcohol's good for that. I tend to come out of my shell once I get a few drinks down. Only problem is, I'm sometimes likely to spiral into sadness, or more likely, anger and resentment. And let me tell you, I am one evil, evil bitch when that happens. Friends often are surprised to find out that I have this mean streak in me, but it is true: I can be more bitter, scathing, and cruel - without any irony or dark humor to leaven it - than just about anyone I know. I don't get fiery. I become icy and numb. Don't cross me.

Oh yeah...back to the social scene. I joke to people nowadays that Mr. Man goes out and kicks up his pink sequined platforms with the fabulous crowd, while I stay at home, sip my chamomile tea and knit. Of course, this is relative to Mr. Man, who is far and away one of the most social people I've ever known. I tell people that I can be a lightbulb and light up a dark room, but I'm often next to the sun. And I HAAATE playing second fiddle to a guy who makes you feel as socially awkward as an autistic kid (though it is never intentional). (By the way, I just took an autism spectrum quotient quiz. My score: 30 out of 50. Above 32 indicates a likelihood of something along the autism spectrum. Apparently, I read people too well and am too sensitive to their expressions to qualify.)

The worst part? Let's combine all of the above and intensify it ten times. Travelling for gay parties that are all about sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll - or in this case, sex, poppers, and techno - just drains me in all ways possible. If I need a week or two to recover from the lack of sleep and wild times, it just isn't worth it. Yes, you can make tons of friends at said parties, which is cool. But I've been to enough of 'em - Dallas, Chicago, and God help me, New Orleans - to last me for a few years. I have no desire to do a bear run or circuit party anytime in the near future. (Meanwhile, Mr. Man recently expressed a desire to go on a vacation somewhere. All he listed were said gatherings.)

Can we keep going? Please? TECHNO MUST DIE. I'm sick of it.

Incidentally, I realized today that on the occasion of Denver's Pridefest, I will find myself cruising at 35,000 feet, returning from a glorious vacation in Europe, and landing too late to participate. And I celebrated inside.

Ugh. Years ago, I came to the conclusion that the only requirement to declare myself gay was to admit that I was sexually attracted to men, and that was it. I didn't need to live any kind of lifestyle to prove how gay I was. It's good to be reminded of this. If this whole scene is what it means to be gay, then I resign. I have a different, better gay life to live.

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