 I look fabulous in the middle of the dance floor. I’m trashed-
shaking, grinding up against a guy who’s feeling my ass. He buys me drinks,
provides hours of entertainment, then sends me home with a peck on the cheek.
He is the gay-everyman, and I am his fag-hag. I am not his accessory, and he is
not my novelty friend. We have an understanding, a beautiful symbiotic
relationship that centres around hot men, gossip and shoes.
After months of gay clubbing through winter, I was shocked recently when
I was refused entry to one of Sydney’s
most popular gay clubs on a Saturday night because of my strappy, summery
heels.
“But these are $300 heels. They’re gorgeous! What’s wrong with
them?” I pleaded. It was because they weren’t closed in. WTF??
Obviously no guy is going to show up to a club in sandals, so I am
convinced this is a ploy embraced by basically every gay club in Sydney to keep
out the ladies – particularly the unsuspecting fag-hags.
I was gutted. It felt like primary school all over again. “But Mummy
why don’t they want to be friends with me?”
I never give up easily. After almost 45 minutes of arguing with the
enormous yet dainty bouncer, the only explanation I could get out of him was,
“for OH and S reasons.”
Now this boof head must think I was born yesterday. What is it that
goes on in a gay club that is so different from all the mainstream clubs that
allow open shoes? Obviously there is a higher proportion of outies and a lower
proportion of orifices, but I never thought that would have an effect on my
shoe shape.
It’s a clever strategy to keep girls out of a club that hot gay guys
pay good money to get into. It’s just a product of the dwindling popularity of
the fag-hag. I’ve been introduced to gay guys by my gay best friend, only for
them to say, “Eew vagina. That’s dirty. Girls are gross!”
Excuse me? I must have been dropped on the head as a baby one too
many times, but I could have sworn the aim was mutual respect and understanding.
It’s a sad day when frustration and hurt turns to hatred and disgust.
Really it’s primary school all over again. Let’s remember the rules.
Everyone gets a fair go in the sandbox, whether they’ve got a bucket to play
with, or just their spade. Play nice kids.
- Berline Abraham
 |
Show/Hide comments
Show/Hide comment form
