A leash fit for a Queen

Whether it’s being asked to help with shopping, pretending to be a boyfriend, assuring a guy he’s good looking but not in a gay way, homosexual males have a fair amount of responsibility. This call to action is instigated by not only a desire for the masses’ acceptance but for indulgence of the differences. I rarely comment on my sexuality, as I’m of the variety of gays who find it no more relevant than hair or eye colour. But as history has shown, even those can be held important to some breeds of people. Whether I’m being told that I’m OK as I don’t “act gay”, or being told that I’m such a Queen because I “act so gay”, the inconsistencies of everyone’s expectations seem to ride on the idea that there must be some definition of a homosexual, outside of the, y’know, sexual part. Even on whether I drink beer or not.

One thing being gay does provide, is the freedom to be whatever you want, one moment it can be a raging, flambouyant squeal and the next a deep rumbling belch. Because you’ve had to go through the identity adventure of introverted sexual discovery, you know much more who you are and, so long as your environment is welcoming, are capable of expressing this. This is not obviously unique to homosexuals, but due to the fact that it’s socially known that “gays can be straight or gay”, I’m safe to use a hairdryer and straighteners because I’m gay, and thus any observations or accusations would never be considered insulting. If you’re a sexually secure and mature human being, whatever false allegations fall before you shouldn’t be a bother, but for every person so resolute in their self-belief, there’s a dozen still trying to find themselves, and though they may shake off allegations that their un-gender-specific habits confuse their sexuality, it can still have affect. There are also those who then indulge in “acting gay” when they’re straight, either a testament to their security, an overcompensation or just because they’re odd.

One thing I cannot abide, however, is the possessive nature certain breeds of people have over someone who’s gay. This isn’t a finger point at any specific genders, but there is this belief that because a guy is gay, he’s free game. I’ve been commended on my openness, in that I never shy from hugging on first meeting, that there’s never a front or an act and my inconsistencies are there upon first meeting, but what happens when this state of mind meets one that isn’t like this, is there’s a sudden shift in status. The one who’s open is suddenly forced into a submissive position, not wanting to appear standoffish or rude, they accept that who they’ve just met think it’s fine to drape themselves over them, to poke them, to invade their personal space. It’s common in specific breeds of the “alternative” who view themselves as different from the majority but rarely actually act on it. For example, if someone pokes me, I may make a funny noise or squeak, because it makes them laugh. But this creates a lack of respect, in which the poker suddenly believes they can do this again, and again, and again, that their new “toy” will continue to entertain them as that’s the only thing he’s shown interest in that evening. However, being a stable 21 year old human being, my interest in being prodded, groped and grabbed wears off extremely quickly. But one can’t suddenly shift from kind and funny and silly to rude. A simple “Alright, stop it now” or any gentle request is met with more fervent poking, as now it’s a game. Poke the queen until she handbags you around the face. This is why the desire to be a “faghag” is so disgustingly worrying, as not only is it a comment on the requester, who wishes to be seen as a purse, but by doing this, the gay becomes the “gay boyfriend” and is slave to the “hags” wishes. It’s foreplay to a bizarre sex game, the end of which has no climax in sight.

Also, wish to be my faghag, rather than my friend, and I’ll staple a hag’s wart to your face.


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