Thoughts On Faghaggery

Posted: October 20, 2011 in Uncategorized

I am a big fag hag and always have been. I’ll bet it’s politically incorrect to use the term but I think my gay friends are okay with it. There’s nothing I love more than a gay man who will talk about fashion or just talk shit with me.

I’ve been assured that gay men are not ALL witty and stylish, well-read and opinionated – I’ll have to take this on faith. In my experience, gay men are fun to be around because they are expressive and REAL. I feel completely comfy and at home in their company. I may even be a gay man trapped in a woman’s body! (Except maybe for my indifference to designers and couture and the fact that I’ve always been a tomboy who loves sports talk and beer). Other than that, I love to look at men’s clothes and don’t mind wearing them if they fit nicely. I’m also biased towards men’s cologne – they smell waaay better than women’s. I’m interested in the arts and I appreciate the theatrical in nearly every context.

I love the fact that we’re always ready to talk about hunky unattainable models and actors and have them as our imaginary boyfriends i.e. James Franco. I like it that in their company I am never bothered by talks of healthy living, hot cars, and getting it on with yet another bimbo for the night. I like learning about Grinder and hearing them whine about their phantom weight gain. I can appreciate their attractiveness without sexualizing it. I LOVE being called Doll. It’s all good.

I drifted toward gay culture because I have always perceived myself as an outsider. I feel like in one way or another, spoken or unspoken, I bond with gay men over shared feelings of social rejection, love of camp, and appreciation of John Waters movies. And for the obvious reason that, hey, we all like men. A lot.

Contrary to the majority’s ignorant perception of this kind of affinity, I don’t seek out gay men because they “make me feel safe.” We seek each other out because we make each other feel stimulated and free to be the bitches that we are, and rightfully so. It is a mutually fulfilling relationship: My gays get the appearance of heterosexual legitimacy and intimacy free of sexual tension; I get a touch of glamour and performance and exoticism.

“The company of the gay man gives the straight woman the potential to express her sexuality without feeling the need to tone it down,” says Justine Pimlott, director of the documentary Fag Hags: Women Who Love Gay Men. “There’s a mutual identification.”

Ultimately, I love these men because they treat me like how I deserve to be treated: like a Queen. I love that having them in my life means renouncing extended bouts of depression in exchange for endless laughter and real camaraderie that seeps into the soul. I love that they accept me for the freak that I am and knowing that no matter what, the feeling will always be mutual.

They will never be ashamed of me and my company and vis-a-vis. And that means the Universe to me.

They’re more of a man than all you straight boys could ever be, and more of a woman than I could ever hope to be.

Now, who wants to chastise me for my terminology or stereotyping or what have you? Bring it. Cause baby, I was born this way.


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