out in my headstraights by appointment only

Yesterday I was winding down the night with some people celebrating a friend’s birthday at his house. The night was going quite well, furiously fuelled by drinks and the occasional drunken singing. I of course was composing my sober self in a corner, chatting with a few people I had struck up a conversation with. Among them was a couple, quite chatty and seemingly harmless, and clearly into each other. I’ve been speaking to this people for no more than twenty minutes, when during a lull in the conversation the woman pipes up and says “Don’t be offended, but can I ask you about your sexual orientation?”

Now I’ve had this question thrown at me by strangers a number of times before, and whether not it’s in their right to ask such a thing is a whole other story. But I entertained the request and professed my love for ‘man parts’, much to the group’s intoxicated amusement. That would have been the end of it, except it seemed that I had unintentionally become the topic of conversation for the next half hour. “Are you dating anyone yet?” came next, which I swiftly shot down with a polite “No”, and a brief explanation of the ‘No fems, no fats, no Asians’ dating policy that seemed to often apply to me.

The new discovery of my singlehood seemed to excite my female admirer, who then caught me completely off guard with “OMG I have this amazing friend I should set you up with? He’s a TOTAL power top! Like a SERIOUS power top. Like he’s always fucking bears. Like BEARS! OMG! You would love him!”

If I was one to drink, I don’t think there was enough alcohol on that table to save me from this woman. After I politely declined her very generous offer, she insisted that I give it a thought and see her friend. I changed the topic quickly, moving on to talking about work and the possibility of visiting London, to which she chimed in with “OMG if we’re in London together and you’re going clubbing, you HAVE to take me with you – I am SUCH A FAG HAG!”

And there it was, bright as day, the two words that I loathed hearing. The ‘fag hag’ concept is not new to me, fuelled by disillusioned women who love being showered with attention by their gaggle of gays. It’s one thing to have a group of friends who are predominantly gay men, but when you crown yourself as their ‘queen’ and therefore proudly label yourself a ‘fag hag’, you’re seriously making an absolute shitshow of yourself. I remember some years ago going to a club in London with a friend, and while the night had started with just the two of us, mere hours later she had rounded up pretty much every gay man in the building and brought them to our table. They were of course fawning over her, and she was eating it up. One of the guys exclaimed “Fag hag in the building!” which brought out whoops and cheers from her and the rest of the men she had corralled, but not from me. The very term repels me, and I would never stoop to describing any of my female friends as such. I have plenty of women that I have strong friendships with, and it’s a special and treasured dynamic that isn’t based around my sexuality, or my magical powers to give them makeovers at the drop of a hat. There are plenty of women and gay men who love this ‘fag hag’ attitude, and it really is a bit of a shame sometimes. There are plenty of reasons why a gay man and straight woman should be friends, but her invisibile ability to attract every gay man within a 1km radius should not be one of them.