Limed for the Truth

Today I was called a homophobe. That’s right, Poldy got called a homophobe. I’ve been called other names before, thinking nothing of the rather bland kakonomes: fag (1), pillowbiter, cocksucker – all the homophobic slurs under the rainbow.
See, the thing is, I am about 99.475% straight, but most people think that I am gay when they first meet me. And I don’t blame them, either: a love of opera and literature; fashion sense; decent diction – all signs point to queer. I am comfortable enough with who I am and understand that, yes, I am heterosexual, and thus do not feel the need to change my nature and tastes to accord with traditional (read: constructed) masculine tendencies. Nor do I disdain so-called “gay stereotypes”. If someone talks with a lisp and says “fierce” more than once a day, it does not even cross my mind to demean this person. Because, guess what – homosexuality is a. o.k. with me. I’ve been to the village Halloween parade, I work at the Gap, I have friends who live on Christopher St.. >. I’ve got enough credentials to chair the Gay – Straight Alliance of America for crying out lout.

So you can imagine how shocked I was when someone called me a homophobe. I was so taken aback that I couldn’t even get out an “oh no you di ‘ehn.”

Let me set the scene for you. I was in the city, after an interview for work and lunch with a friend, when I got a call from another friend to meet up for coffee. There’s this place right by Washington Square Park that makes excellent bread, which I love to have with a strong cup of black.(2) Soon after we have placed our orders, we strike up a conversation about my new job and how I didn’t get the pay I wanted, but are rudely interrupted by an obnoxious black gay man on his cell phone: “Tell the bitch hell to the no.”(3) Looked like this guy, but with a Mohawk. He sat down two seats down from me on the long table, and couldn’t go three seconds without being served. “AH, HEL -LOW? ARE THERE NO SERVERS HERE, HONEY?” You know, one of those overdramatic gay guys. Whatever, it’s cool. My friend and I continue our conversation.

After five minutes, another gay black man arrives, with much less pomp and circumstance than the aforementioned man. However, this does not stop him from causing a scene. , Darling, where have you BEEN all my life?(4) He goes up and kisses the new butt pirate(5) on the cheek like a movie star. And this does not phase me, because, this is completely normal. My licentry detector picks up nothing to be disgusted at.(6) Thins start to get a little weirder after that. Our super diva starts talking about how he banged two guys last night. Again, this doesn’t phase me. Frankly, I care as much about a guy talking about some guy he had sex with as much as I care about a guy talking about a girl he had sex with. Which is to say, very little. The conversation got too vivid for public though. He started talking how one guy’s penis was so small that he made fun of him, after our Diva described an almost rape like(7) sex scene. Then he started talking about how he needed to get some nigger dick, and how he both caught and received a man with, apparently, quite a large penis.(8) The conversation turned, quite honestly, too graphic for me to desire to transcribe. (It has impressed itself indelibly to my memory though. Email me if you want the details though…I guess…eww)

I wouldn’t be seeing my friend for a while, so I wanted to continue our conversation, which was impossible due to both the volume and content of Our Diva’s dirty descanations. I turned to him and said, “excuse me, sir, you conversation is a little appropriate for such a public space. Could you change the subject, or, maybe, go to a table and talk a little more quietly?” I thought I was civil and asked a very reasonable question.

Apparently, Our Diva didn’t agree. His eyes widened to caricature levels, and his jaw fell to the floor. “AWWW HELL TO THE NO! WHAT, WHAT, YOU SCARRED OF GAYS OR SOMETHING? YOU SCARRED I’M GONNA STICK MY BIG BLACK COCK IN YO DAINTLY LIL’ ASS? YOU SCARRED YOU GONNA LIKE IT AND BEG FOR MORE?” The answer to all those questions, was, of course, no. The conversation would have been just as vulgar and unpleasant had it been lesbians or a straight couple.

Rather than give Our Diva more fodder, I just left.(9) This situation is a rather extreme example of something that goes on quite often in society. I understand that, in many parts of the country, homosexuality is forbidden and unspoken of, and gays are discriminated against. But, come on. We were in the village for crying out loud. This guy was probably some rich socialite who has never been discriminated against in his life, and just wanted a little drama to spice up his day. But, this sort of thing happens more than often. Many gay critics (both in the media and the self-appointed critics in our everyday lives) have carte blanche to make disparaging remarks on whatever they see as below them. (10) Of course, this works for all protected minorities. We all know what happens when African-American culture is criticized by WASPs.(11) I understand that in the rest of the country, gays need to be protected so that they can come out in comfort and live everyday lives. But, in New York, it’s time to grow up. Perhaps talking about promiscuous sex isn’t private, as there is no love involved, and such be a subject decent for the public forum, and I am just some prissy Catholic. But I doubt it.

(1) True Story: I’ve been called a faggot by a large Puerto Rican while I had an arm around a girl I would have sex that same evening.

(2) Le Pan Quotidien. Their whole shtick is communal tables so that you feel like your in some sort of a community.

(3) Follow with a dramatic “TWIP” of a slammed RAZR flip cover.

(4) This is said in a way so that no three notes are said in the same tone, with the “BEEN” jumping up an octave – the same way many musical theater geeks seem to sing their converstations.

(5) I keed, I keed

(6) Yes, that is a rhetorical usage of the passive mood.

(7) “Fucking neophyte started bleedin’ all on ma dick.” I’ve overheard something like this a few times around the village. As an outsider to the gay culture, I always wonder what goes on in these situations. I am very afraid that there might be some confused guys out there who move to the city, assuming that they are gay because they don’t fit in at home, who are brutally taken advantage of by gay men who know all too well what they’re doing. However, this might be the homosexual equivalent of reefer madness, so I just keep my mouth shut.

(8) Which, he, of course, referred to as cock or dick. **INTERPOLATION** It got me wondered how penises are thought of in the gay community. As a guy, it is commonly a source of base pride to have a large penis. Is it the same for your partner? Is it like having a woman with large boobs, or is it rather the ability to take on a penis of such equine size? **END INTERPOLATION**

(9) Hey, free cup of coffee!

(10) Which is pretty much everything.

(11) I hope to soon write an article (much more formal analysis than this little vignette) about Fordam Road, - the Mecca of hip hop culture.

This entry was posted on Sunday, May 27th, 2007 at 11:07 pm and is filed under Miscellaneous . You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.