OH, BUT I'M A FREAK: THOUGHTS ON PRIDE

I had just gotten out of the gym. My friend the Frenchman had given me pointers on the bench-press and other exercises with the upper body. As he suggested, I was doing my one day a week bench-press workout. And my arms hurted.

It was thirty minutes before ONE LIFE TO LIVE. With thirty minutes to kill, I stopped by Borders Books. I never seem to get out to it enough with two jobs and the lust for computer time so I walked in to see if anything new was out.

I walked by the gay magazine section to find Fallout Boy's Pete Went staring back at me. That was surprising in and of itself. What was even more surprising was the need I had to look at gay magazines for the first time in years.

It could only be Gay Pride Week.

PRIDE IN GAY MEN

My eyes widened.

"They actually had a parade?" was the question that fell out of my mouth. The time was years ago. I talked to John on the phone. He told me about this parade in Conway, AR for Gay Pride. It actually made it down Conway's Main Street, ignoring protests from Arkansans against homosexuality. He told me it was crazy.

Except for brushes so brief I cannot even remember now, I have never had Pride touch my life. I've been gay forever, but...never been involved with Pride. I meant that I just haven't been...happy...when that time came around, full of pride that I was gay.

I went about my off day. I had an expansive phone bill to pay. I still had to hit the comic book store for the latest 'Hellblazer.' Not to mention I was hungry.

And...they were everywhere. The couple headed down into the Gaslamp, arms swaying too loosely. I saw the guy on the bus scratching his crotch. Then there were the various groups of guys in twos and threes.

Gay people.

And I would hear this song in my head.

Pink's "Stupid Girls."

Then the words came back to me. I talked to Cor earlier that day. He bitched about how pretentious and slutty gays could be. Kos had also said as much last week, preferring to rather go straight rather than deal with gays and their slutty ways which he felt would result in him being a bitter old man.

I saw the irony. An out gay man and a closeted gay man said the same thing. All gay men cared about was sex. No matter what they said, all they wanted was sex. Cor went as far as to say that they did sex with random guys like guys trying to win a contest. Then...they got HIV. THEN they regretted.

What was the Pride in that?

PRIDE IN ME?

There was a time when I was out and proud. I even came out to my father in 2000. I considered the same with my mother. I did Oasis, my life an open book I tended to frown at people who were not open at work, a result of the out and proud college friends I had in Jonesboro and Little Rock.

I do not think anyone who knew me in college then would recognize me now. Over the years I actually did separate my personal and professional life. That did not mean that I was not out to people at my jobs. It meant that I did not want my efficience in people's eyes to be judged by who I bedded. It shouldn't matter.

What I did not expect was how a person's identity could be affected. Unless I did something tattletale , customers and tenants never assumed I was gay. I found that funny, how a suit and tie could hide so much from people.

However, I had noticed a definite change in me. I rarely went out to gay clubs. My only time I saw other gays was when I was at work, walking around Hillcrest, or just at random times. Usually when I saw another gay person, they acted pretentious and...like Cor and Kos...slutty. They were full of so much drama. The gay clubs reeked of it. I just did not want to be part of that.

So where's the Pride in that? In me? Was I ashamed of being gay?

OTHER LIFE

There was a tenant at Hotel S from Miami. He was here to take classes at the Paul Mitchell School. He was quirky, usually with some clothes artifact from the 1980s.

What was even quirkier was the day I hear the clang. I ignored it since it was only the elevator. I took a brief glance up, just to see who it was. I looked back down, frowned, and looked up again.

It was a tall, dark-haired woman. Someone I did not know...a rarity. She turned around...and saw who it was. It was the tenant. He was dressed up in a long sleeved dress.

"I really need some water," he/she said. "Do you think I should go out in this?"

I stared at him. "Uh...you should do what you want. But...this is...Hillcrest."

He/she frowned in confusion.

"It's Hillcrest," I explained. "That means...there are bitchy queens out there."

"Yeah, you're right," he/she said, knowing bitchy queens will verbally cut you down for not looking like them. "Maybe I shouldn't go out, but I really want some water."

I looked at him/her, nodded in understanding. It would be nice to just stay in. Then I shook my head.

"You know what?" I said. "Screw them. They don't have the right to say anything. You want to go get water. Go do it."

And he/she did. Yes, some queens did make a stink (he/she told me later). He ignored them.

It occurred to me then. That I should probably take my own advice. I knew that the white gays never paid me no mind, except to be catty. Maybe it was about time I put myself back out into the gay community.

After all, you only lived once.

BUT...I'M A FREAK!

The taxi let me out at club Montage. For a year and a half, I heard a lot about it. It had both gay, R&B, and (best for me) rave nights. It was a three story club, complete with a main dance floor, lobby, various labyrinth-like entryways, and a roof bar with restaurant. In other words, it was a perfect way to end Pride weekend.

"Hello?" Art said into his cell phone.

"I'm about to walk in," I said.

"I'm heading down."

As I showed my ID to security, I couldn't help but think about the last few days. Friday I was at Urban Mo's with the Frenchman and his cousin. Saturday it was dealing with Circuits and a fun drag queen while listening to DJ De Leon spinning a remix of Madonna's 'Give It 2 Me,' stumbling to my sister's house (still drunk) at 6am. Now, here I was at Club Montage with a VIP Pass, coming to hang with my coworker friend Art.

Art was not a fan of techno. Therefore, most of my night was spent in the R&B room.

And what a room! It was designed like a dungeon...windows and floors. The DJ booth dividing the bar and the dance floor.

And Art and I danced ourselves silly. It was great to see Art outside of work. It was also great to see him smiling given his probs with his on-again/off-again boyfriend. At one point, we stopped. This guy in nothing, but black boxer briefs, grabbed us, one hand to each and dragged us out to the floor to dance with him.

Eventually, Art left. I stayed to get my techno vibe. As I was on the second floor balcony and noticed people were hooking up, staring at me as if I was an oddity.

I moved to the first floor. It had thinned out a bit so I could be seen more. And I felt eyes on me again. At one point, one guy that was near me looking down on the floor, walked to the other side of the floor.

Was I wearing a scarlet A? Worse...while he was cute...did he really think I was hitting on him? Did the whole room?

That brought to mind that feeling that I've had the whole weekend. While I had great fun (look at my journal entry) I kept feeling this...kind of echo in my mind. Especially Saturday and right then.

Loneliness. There were several times where I would had loved it if Kos had been there. It would have been nice to see him see non-stereotypical gays, or gays in unity or even gays in love. Other times, I thought it would be nice to just be with someone, a major theme with gays now that it was legal for them to get married. So...there were a lot of couple.

And I..was...a freak.

I left Club Montage. My taxi showed up. As I drove in it, my mind was on the fact that if I was going to be unashamed of being gay then I was going to have to accept all the problems that came with it.

Yeah, most gays only thought of sex. Yeah, finding a relationship...if you are looking for one...would not be easy. At times trying to find Mr. Right would be EXTREMELY frustrating. Most people...like black gays...would be better off being monks. Barsuk thought my chances of being happy were so slim that he wanted to take me out to have sex with a woman.

Was this the way I wanted to live?

I frowned as I laid in my bed.

"Wow," I muttered. "Overthinking."

Then I turned over and went to sleep.

Diego


 

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