Thursday, November 15, 2007

In Da (Gay) Club (or Thank heaven for homosexuals)

When I was in New York James wanted to give me a taste of the "New York experience" by taking me to a gay club. Dude, that's so gay. You might think I had a problem with the "gay" part, but it was really the "club" part of that phrase that I wasn't a fan of. I don't really mind the "gay" part. Gay dudes have actually played an important role in my sexual evolution. Because let's be serious, girls are terrible at giving compliments. For all the advice dating websites give about "Remember to compliment her on her appearance," girls apparently can't take their own hints. For years all I would get would be compliments like "You have really pretty eyes" or "You have nice hands." Boooooring. It wasn't until I started hanging around gay guys that I started feeling like somebody wanted to screw me the same way I want to screw girls. What's that? You'd love to bend me over and drill my asshole? Why, thank you! What a lovely thing to say! I'm actually gonna pass, but it's nice to feel desired.

James, apparently refusing to believe a human being could NOT enjoy clubbing, tried to entice me with the promise that "There'll be straight girls there, too" (because who doesn't want to hook up with beards and fag hags?). I guess his logic was that as the only straight guy there I'd have my pick of the female litter. I found this logic interesting because it reflected a fundamental flaw in the gay man-straight girl relationship. For all the close interpersonal interaction these two demographics share, they clearly don't understand each other on a fundamental level. Perhaps because straight girls aren't "the enemy," gay guys don't have to get into their heads like we do; but I had to explain to James that the primary reason straight girls go to dance at gay clubs is not because (as some gay people seem to believe) gay clubs are inherently more fabulous, but rather because it offers them an opportunity to dance without concerns that the guy will expect something at the end of the night. Ergo his logic was self-defeating.


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