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How Does A Young Homosex Feel In A City That Has Made It Legal To Marry One of the Same Sex?

5 Jul

This blog’s title is a question I heard about quite a bit from some news outlets.  It was mostly a hypothetical one used to open up an article about the news, but I figured I’d devote this space to my feelings.

First of all. I didn’t feel elation at the news.  It felt like f your son was a C student and he finally got an A. “Awesome! Can you do that again and more frequently?”  People had a literal ticker tape parade following it, but I feel that New York should really know better, so sue me for having a higher standard for my adopted city.   I moved away from Los Angeles because it’s a bullshit place with bullshit legislation.  New York has a liberal attitude with a hard ass spirit, and I expect a lot of fairness from it.

Secondly, do I now feel pressure to marry?  Well no, not really, and it’s probably because I’m not in a Charlotte Bronte novel.   I think fewer people my age feel the same pressure as was felt generations ago regarding marriage.  My attitude is more generational I suppose.

Thirdly, do I see marriage in my future? I think so yes.  I did my research too.  Marital status gives people some great benefits, but if I were to get married I could only file joint taxes on a state level and I’d have to file as a single person on a federal level because of DOMA which Obama says he refuses to defend, but then says that marriage is a state issue…

Motherfucker, if marriage is a state issue then why would I be paying more federal dollars?  Poop or get off the pot here.

Fourthly final words.  The marriage issue is important mostly to old people. VERY old people who’ve been together for centuries and they now get a slice of the pie. One day we’ll all be old and we’ll have our own demands for respect, it’s not a bad idea to offer the same thing to our elders now.


Pride 2010

29 Jun

I was in a dark bar where my eyes could barely make out shapes.  There were several flat screen televisions beaming in footage from the parade occurring outside.  In the TV you saw drag queens, muscle guys in tight shorts fondling each other, and anorexic boys.  We were inside and we were dancing and drinking when a drunken girl leaned in to ask me;

“Do you feel pressure to show up to these?”

The question was valid.  This was New York Pride 2010 in a city known throughout as not only being post racial, but also possibly post-homosexual.  The days of extravagant gay club nights are gone, replaced by smaller mixed lounges and bars, the flaming queers now mostly dwell on perpetual cruise ships and Fire Island nude beaches, and what is left in the city is a decidedly more chill variety of guys who dig guys.

And yet I found myself going to Pride, albeit locked within the confines of a dark and dank bar.  Pride isn’t about protesting, and it almost isn’t about remembrance, a term I despise because I feel that people who remembrance are people who don’t research and contemplate.

Pride, for me at least, is about visibility.  It’s also about getting fondled inappropriately but that is also implied in the visibility part.  Being queer was never about accepting a common symbol like a rainbow, or about behaving a certain way, for me it was always about letting yourself be known.

I am who I am and I am here.

That is not to say then that you can’t be excused from not attending a Pride festival, especially if you are as deeply opposed to baking in the sun while feigning in excitement and watching a parade.  I have to confess to having a personal interest in the event as I met my first love at a Pride event when I was 18.

I wrote about him and the event, I uploaded it to my old blog and then it got published.  I showed my love the article and he kissed me.

I was so young.  I looked on over to Fly G this Pride and saw him doggedly leaning against a wall, tired and cranky, wanting to go home, and I thought that maybe it’s not for everyone.

It still has its place though.  People ask me why gay people need to be proud of how they were born, and I answer that heterosexuals are never NOT proud they’re hetero.  They will never shut the fuck up about who they want to fuck, who is fucking them, what the hole they’re fucking is up to, what the fuckers are doing this weekend with their fuckee, and how much fuck they wish they were fucking.

So one day out of the year, we get to be jerk offs, is that too much to ask?

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