GAYS VERSUS FAGS

It was any other day at Hotel S. Okay, it was a little brighter for me. I just started working out again at one of the nearby gyms. It felt good to feel like I was going something since I was going through Mercury Retrograde.

I looked forward to talking to Barsuk, the Russian tenant who been brainwashing me to try out the gym. He through I would continue to cop-out. Well, I was going to stick it to him.

That happened to be one of the first days with Vic, my replacement at work since I was moving to Las Angeles. Tattooed and multicultural in many ways, Vic was also a Klub Kid. Once we joked over Cancer boyfriends, Vic and I bonded quickly.

Barsuk shot around the corner. Usually, he stopped for a brief chat before his workout. He saw Vic, said a hi, and dashed off. That produced a frown.

Later on, Barsuk came back, sweaty from his workout. Vic had already vanished for the day. I was about to ask Barsuk how his workout went when the following words came out of his mouth:

"You know," he began, "there are gays...and I think there are cool. Then there's fags. And I hate fags."

Needless to say...my jaw dropped.

Then I thought...at least you don't think of me as a fag. However, his comment made me wonder...is there much of a difference between gay and fag?

A TYPICAL WALK IN HILLCREST

My pre-work routine was as followed:

Shower. Pack sandwiches and I have meat. Push-ups. Then...walk up University Avenue. If I'm early, I sit at either the library or Starbucks, and write for thirty minutes.

Usually, I write at the Starbucks that marked the entranceway to Hillcrest, the gay section of San Diego. Stoplights lined the corner. So did bus-stops. People come and went. In other words...the perfect place to people watch.

What did I usually see?

Well, the Starbucks workers were always cute. Most were buff to stocky, smiles on their faces and straight acting. At least one was kinda queeny. I had good enough gaydar to know they were all family. Going by Barsuk's definition...the one queeny one would be a fag while the others were gay.

Then there was the walk to work. Usually I stopped at a 7-Eleven for a five hours energy drink. Then (if I didn't pack my food), I hit Jack in the Box.

Along the way...they were everywhere. Gay people lounging on patioes either with coffee or liquor. Gay people walking down the street, their chest held forward, asses out, hands waving. One tattoo gay guy like to walk his dog during this time with tight blue jeans and nothing else.

Putting Barsuk's definition to the test, I would say all the lounger gays were fags with their airy laughs and need to stare people down with their unneeded commentary. At least half of the walkers would be fags with the hand wave, something straight men here don't seem to do at all. The dogwalker would probably get props as gay until his mouth opened...that queeny voice his body language betrayed revealing him as fag.

It was all just labels so it really didn't matter to me. What did matter however was the fact that 9 times out of 10 usually during these walks to work, I would be sassed in one of two ways.

The first way was the technique of the gays. Gays would be attached to the ones who are buff or even straight acting. They either stormed down the street like a soldier marching. Or they walked down the street like a model on a runway. Either way, they acted like I was lint.

The second way was the technique of the fags. Everything--every step, sigh, headtoss--had to be melodramatic. Heaven forbid someone does not look like them. They pranced down the street like they own it. They can't even prance down it alone, content to have an entourage. And they always have to have a little comment.

While I do not like labels, there was one thing I really did not like. I disliked fakers. Usually, people who acted like how these fags and gays act are making up for some insecurity. Maybe they would be happy if they were more real with themselves and not as fake as they are.

But the truth...people fear change. So I would do my pre-work routine tomorrow. I would still have to deal with the same crap. So while there appeared to be a difference between gays and fags, they had one common thread that I found immediately.

I disliked them equally.

EQUALLY?

They say everyone has a preference. And while that is always true...whether they are conscious or subconscious preferences, there was another true statement I knew of. Put two horny gay men in a room, something is going to happen.

So I looked over the ads that show up weekly to my Yahoo account. I'm not looking now, but it was always nice to check in. When I was looking, I got a good diversity.

It was a shame. I could not say the same about other ads. Normally, I looked at ads. They would sound great. Then I skipped to the Ideal Match section. While everything under it was 'Any,' there was one listing that was not. It was ethnicity. It was very clear. Anything, but black, would do. Oh, wait! Under their ads, they also did not want fems and/or fats.

Outside, I have to frown. That was pretty narrow thinking. People came in different sizes and shapes. These narrow-minded idiots were missing out on something, but not trying...period. What was the point of the ad at all?

Inside, I just smirked. Puh-leaze the majority of these guys went out to the clubs all the time and messed with just about anybody. And also made it seem like they were so macho when they are probably more fem than the people they reject.

There's a thought. Fags and gays actually had something in common again. They were just like everyone else.

BACK FROM MARS

I sat at Starbucks again. There was a new worker there. He was a tall light-skinned black guy. He was pretty nice, kinda cute, and gave my gaydar a nice beep.

So when I looked at him? Did I see a fag? Did I see a gay?

Actually? I grinned. I saw just a cute guy trying to make a living. I guess if I had to label he would be a few gay. Oh, the horror!

You see...I consider fags to be stupid ass gay men who should be slapped for their shallow stupidity. The Starbucks worker did not look or act stupid so I don't consider him a fag. So there was a difference in my eyes.

Now...the Latino in the elastic black shirt on his cell phone and the two emos outside...straight fag.

Diego



 

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