Last night, my friend Drunkos and I went out gay barring. Much like gay clubbing, only with less dancing and fewer drugs. We sashayed in, as sashaying is our only means of transportation after a 60 oz bottle of sangria split between the two of us. And as we're both fragile mo's, we were considerably drunk as we sashayed into Phoenix last night.
Within like 5 minutes of us being there, Drunkos gets hit on by a cute-ish 32 year old skater-rocker guy, with one of those adorbale little chain belts for his wallet. They proceeded to talk/make out for the rest of the night and I, being the loser that I seem so intent on becoming, sat in a corner by myself, thumbing through an HX. I did get to read a sassy little interview with Pink, though. Who knew she did a track with the Indigo Girls for her latest album?
As I sat there in the corner, I reflected on my drunken state and the actual social situation I was in. A gathering of gay men, drinking and partaking in flimsy dialogues seems a simple enough situation. However, I could not bring myself to get past the superficialtity of it all. Once the skater man-boy came over and invited me to join the conversation, after Drunkos' unsuccesful attempt, he tried to spur me into action. Going so far as to call me "great-looking." I include that only because I like to read it and hear how it sounds in my head. He went on to say that, "We're all friends here. We all want the same thing."
And he was right. We're all guys. We're all gay or bi or queer in some fashion. So, what's the big deal?
For me, though, I do not see the few, broad similarities between us, but rather the few, albeit significant differences. For me, the queer world is still in black and white. There are the black gays and then there is everyone else. Whether this is a product of internallized racism or actual racist sentiment, I do not know. I rarely find myself attracted to other black gays, and thus I don't feel that anyone will be attracted to me, despite my "great-looking"ness. Then there is the fact that I am still not comfortable with myself or my sexuality. That epiphany of sorts came out, like most do, in an altered state of mind. If you just get lost in your thoughts sometimes, you can find yourself in some place you never expected or realized even existed. But when I can't even bring myself to accept myself for who I am, how can I possibly expect to find anyone to love me? Outside of just paying them, but who has escort money these days?
The differences aren't so important. I know that. I've learned that. Hell, I even teach that. But it's always hardest to take your own advice. Especially since I'm half in the bag most of the time, so how the hell would I know what I'm even talking about? Yet, I know that we are all humans, thus we all have some very important and fundamental needs in common. As in the need to love and be loved, and the need to be happy. So then I should just be able to pick my self-loathing black, gay ass up and start acknowledging our wonderful sameness, no? Fuck you. It's not that easy. But at least I realize what I need to do: Next time at a gay bar, I might just put down my free copy of HX, throw caution to the wind and actually crack a smile. If only at the absurdity of someone actually reading one of those cheap, greeting card-sized faux magazines in a dark, dank bar at 1 am on a Thursday night.
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