Why I Love My MOs

I was out at a very meat market-y bar this past weekend. The usual Tom Foolery ensued: I was close-talked into a window by a particularly aggressive Drunky McGee; I was awarded a shot for bitch slapping a willing participant TWICE (you can't beat that with a stick); I got chatted up and then back down; I got caught up in a little intra-friendship drama out of sheer alcohol confusion; and (my fave) got to hang out with like minded people I set out to at the start of the evening. It was fun, but on many levels I longed to be amidst my male on males, dancing it out with mutual abandon and musing on how radical Lady GaGa versus hot her back-up dancers are. That's why I love every gay man or any GBF I come across...masculine energy to be had without the hassle of a sneaky booty play later, and maximum support of any lengthy grooming or celebrity gossiping. It's tiring to constantly justify your entitlement to be a diva in your own right, however subtle. I may be a gay man in a woman's body....that would explain a lot.



It's more than that for me though. The majority of gay men are used to feeling at odds with parameters and religious ideals most of us are entrenched in growing up. Within their own family, from an early age. They know what it's like to have someone that means a lot to them look at who they are and what they do with (even now a days) vehement judgement and negativity and shame. Weather they're out or not they're aware of it. They usually tend to be easier on those who are different, as long as the odd ball in question is being real in whatever they do. And boy howdy, I'm a whack job by most conventional standards so it's a mitzvah. But gotta be me. They gotta be them. Fun isn't contingent on me possibly giving up the goods. The goods are just appreciated and/or groped thereof, no apprehension about what I'll do in response, or what the rules are. They know I know what it means and I'm ok with a stranger coping a feel in that light. Like a high five with genitals, kinda.


If I counted the times I've had a knock down drag out good time at a straight Bro bar/getting hit on and tallied the same of a gay bar/with gay men, it'd be close, but favor of the latter. Hanging in any counter culture feels more like cutting loose, by nature of the people involved. The thin line between Saturday night and Sunday morning isn't so double edged or even observed at all. You can limbo under it. That leads to a more complete and total wild oat sewing.

Plus when I'm with them, they totally understand I'm representing/expressing myself for me, not for them, (but even so), they still give props. Straight guys tend to automatically assume you're seeking some financial or sexual validation from them if the sweater puppies are out to play. Sometimes that's the case with a lot of women but I RARELY play that card. I mostly like to play dress up and feel my age. Much like my tranny name sake in The Kinks' song, I just do my thing. If I want to hook up I will but I'll be in the drivers seat, much like a man. All my fellow 'Fag Hags' out there catch my breeze. Even if that label has contrary meanings to some, to me it says I'd rather be in the company of fun loving flamboyant men just like me. True that.


So next time I go out, I'm going to use my finely tuned homo spidey sense to find the fellas that only engage to talk shop, and not the other way around. Can't wait. :)