DC Gay Pride festivities were last weekend. The parade was Saturday. The weather was perfect: sunny, warm but not too hot and sweaty. I went with Alex who I've mentioned before in this blog. He is gay--and getting better at it I think.
Anyway, if you're an avid reader of my blog, you might know that Alex doesn't know I'm gay. He is one of the last few social groups I have down here that doesn't know. This is deliberate. Anyway, again I am in a situation where I am amongst the gays, but as a straight ally--not a fellow homo. This is fine with me. I am comfortable with it.
Alex was pretty tame the whole day---I thought he would wear some bright neon orange tank top or some assless chaps--just because he could get away with it and not even get a second glance. Instead he just dressed and behaved normally-- I think he's gotten the whole "I'm gaaaaayyyy nowww" thing out of his system. Speaking of, I overheard a seemingly new "lesbian" begging a gay man, "Teach me how to be gay!!" to which he paused, sensed her overzealous approach, and then said, "Well... just... pace yourself."
Which immediately reminded me of Alex. Pace yourself. Sure you've been closeted for the first 23 years of your life, sure you've got a bunch of pent up sexual aggression, sure you've got endless opportunities to get your ass hole licked via craigslist, grinder, and and that other grinder that's for hairy people (I don't remember the name, maybe some of you out there know it)--- BUT point is, you've got plenty of time, you're whole life even! So just pace yourself! Anyway, I thought that was a pretty witty and honest response for being put on the spot.
So anyway, the parade was fun, we got drinks before hand, met up with a ton of other people, gay and straight, guys and girls, so it was completely normal for (straight) me to be at this event. No heads were turned, no suspicions sparked. We watched the parade flow through Dupont (DC's gay district--even though according to the elite gays, it's moving elsewhere). Occasionally the parade would come to a stop for whatever reason and you'd be stuck staring at the same float for a while. Funnily enough, instead of one of the many many many PG13 harmless floats--like the pro-gay Mormon float--THIS is the one that happened to stop RIGHT in front of us.
One of the more raunchy floats and DEFINITELY the float with the hottest/fittest guys on it-- BLASTING that song by.... googling it.... googling it now.... Icona Pop "I love it"
So imagine THIS:
Dancing to THIS fabulous jam. I DON'T CARE! I LOVE IT.
Pretty awesome.
Anyway, later my friend Lily, who I've also mentioned a few time in this blog, is lesbian(ish) now. She thinks. Or. She's decided. For now. She got a short haircut? So... yeah, she's a lesbian.
I think she describes herself as "queer" but I call her "sexually flexible" because I think she's just exploring. She grew up in an environment where boys were off limits. Even inter-sex high-fives were seen as punishable acts. One day while blowing a dude she looked up at him, cock-in-mouth, and started bawling, "I hink hymah wessian". Translation sans the cock: "I think I'm a lesbian."
So, she pretty much forced me to attend a Drag King show at Phase 1 lesbian bar in SE DC. Which to me, half sounds awesome and half sounds dangerous. I've hung out with a few butchier lesbians, some are cool with me, others not so much.
I've been judged before.
I'm gay, but don't look or act like it, so I'm not like the happy-go-lucky-fun-sassy-boa-wearing gay, so even if I were like, "No, no, see, it's cool, I'm not a threat. I'm gay..." they would just roll their eyes. And from their perspective, I can't blame them... what do I offer them? I'm like the worst.
Obviously, I'm not a girl-- and the only overlap we have is the gay thing--but they invalidate that-- so whatever. Some lesbians think I'm a cute and fun masculine gay--maybe a fun accessory-- but the less fun ones almost seem like they're masculinity is in question because they're being one upped by a gay. Whatever.
I'm not being terrible, I swear-- I'm basing this off of one (emotionally fucked up) lesbian and her dyke buddy--whatever, so be it.
Anyway, the King show was fun and different. Lots of beautiful tattoos, risky piercings, and short haircuts. Oh, and lots of beer. One girl asked me if she should start drinking protein shakes because she wants big arms. I shrugged and told her yes.
There was a shockingly low-level of energy considering there were people literally performing in drag no more than 4 feet away from any given person.
I would scan the audience and see a bunch of motionless manly looking women, arms crossed, heads baaaarely bobbing-- it was like a straight bar full of stoic men who were too afraid to show the slightest bit of rhythm. It felt stifling.
But honestly,which is more engaging?
These charming fellas:
Or these beautiful gems:
Not bashing the Kings. I think they're great. It's awesome when people find a community where they can express themselves and feel accepted and behave they way they were born to live. It's fantastic and admirable. There were even a handful of transgender performers who had gotten top surgery. It was awesome to see them feel "at home" for once and totally accepted and loved for it.
And I'll end this blog with a zoomed in pic of my favorite DC pride parader. If only we could all be as care free as this priceless gem:
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