The 12 Worst Types of Gay Men
As New York City Gay Pride approaches, we’ll be hearing all sorts of tributes to triumphant members of the LGBT community and the great things they’ve done to shake things up and advance our place in the world. Fine. That’s definitely welcome and deserved and perfectly lovely. Woo-hoo! Congrats to all of those folks—no, really. But as usual, Debbie Downer here perversely longs to hear the flip side of that story. I mean, why not trot out a list of the 12 most awful kinds of gay men? The kind you run from? The kind you maybe even used to be? Couldn’t this be a learning experience served up just in time for Pride’s potential pitfalls?
Hello? Hello? No one seems to be biting this bitter bait, so I guess I’ll have to step up to the open mic and do it myself. Here are my 12 least favorite types of gay men. Hey, gurl, hey.
1. The kind that say “Hey, gurl, hey.”
2. The type that only date guys who look exactly like themselves. “It’s basically masturbation,” notes a particularly savvy friend of mine. Calling it “the height of narcissism” would also work. Whatever happened to the old adage, “Opposites attract”? At least lesbians help keep that one alive. And don’t even get me started on gays who have dogs that look just like themselves. Ick. Not cute. Paging Dr. Freud.
3. Niche queens who will only go to events that cater to their specific genre of gay. In other words, twinks who’ll only attend twink parties, bears who will exclusively hang out with other bears, and so on. Even at the zoo, a zebra has an occasional interest in sidling up to an antelope.
4. Gays who, when they travel abroad, refuse to go to museums or theater—just gay bars! It’s maddening! Why fly all the way to Florence or Prague when you might as well have stayed in WeHo? If your cultural tastes are that limited, why not just sit still at the Abbey and wait for the gay tourists from Florence and Prague to come to you.
5. Gays who’ve entered into a life of relative privilege and rights without having any clue as to what struggles came before it. They think all this progress simply appeared out of the sky, and it came about merely for them to enjoy it. These people have never heard of Stonewall, ACT UP, or even Britney Spears’ early years. What’s more, they don’t feel the need to keep the activism ball rolling because it’s just too unsavory a way to clog up their schedule. They‘ll even delete anything political from their Facebook page in favor of something about a reality show star’s latest elimination. If only the gay community could vote to eject them.
6. The kind that fight tirelessly for equal rights, but don’t want to be around black people or “fish.” A grasp of irony is not their strongest suit, if you ask me. (And they don’t ask me.)
7. Gay guys who fuck around on their boyfriends like crazy, but promptly end the relationship when they catch the beau even flirting with someone. Again, it’s irony in action—along with hyperactive hormones.
8. The kind who talk endlessly about their husbands, whether it fits into the conversation or not. “George and I, blah blah blah…Me and George, yaddada yaddada…Yours truly and the old ball and chain, namely George…Moi and my man, a.k.a. George…” and on and on, until you want to scream, “All right already, I get it. You nabbed a hubby!” Instead you calmly say, “So where is George anyway?” “Oh, him?” they wanly reply. “He’s been away. We haven’t seen each other for eight months.”
9. Fashion stylist gays. Not all fashion stylist gays, mind you—just most, I mean a lot, I mean some of them. According to an entrepreneurial source: “They act like they’re doing you a favor by borrowing your clothes! And when you remind them that they were supposed to return the clothes ages ago, they bristle, ‘I just got back from Paris and I don’t have an intern right now. Can’t it wait?’ If you retort, ‘Well, do it yourself,’ they’ll try to blackball you from a magazine you don’t even want to be in! They’re the worst.” And they don’t even look good—sometimes.
10. The kind that gab interminably about their sumptuous beach house in Fire Island, Rehoboth, or Fort Lauderdale, but never invite you! Why would anyone want to hear miles of blather about a lush summer estate if an invitation isn’t attached to the spiel? It’s like describing your body in graphic detail to a sex addict, complete with all kinds of come-ons, then walking away.
11. The ones who kvetch about how HBO’s The Normal Heart had straights playing gays. They seem to have forgotten that we’ve fought for equal opportunities so gays can play all sorts of things and so can straights. It’s acting! Besides, didn’t they notice Matt Bomer, Jim Parsons, Joe Mantello, Stephen Spinella, BD Wong, Jonathan Groff, and Denis O’Hare in the cast? Pay attention, gays!
12. The kind who are so glued to their technology that they have completely lost their ability to communicate in person. You know, orally. With actual words. Face to face. Instagram this, bitches.
And happy Pride!
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GIVING THE GAYS A RISE
I know you love the kind of gay who gives gossip, so here comes a whole bunch of it, all about New York City, since I seem to be lacking a sumptuous beach house to write about. Just when Hell’s Kitchen appeared to have reached its gay limit—like some of the twinks I know—even more bars happen to be heading there. For one, John Blair, Beto Sutter, and Ted Arenas will open Rise Bar in the Fall. Says Justin Luke, who’s the bar’s community liaison, “I don’t think that HK is reaching a saturation point. I think it’s experiencing a renaissance. Out with the old and in with the new. Rise Bar effectively stretches the Gayborhood farther north and brings a new lounge and new nightly programming from three of the most experienced nightlife business owners in the city.” So everyone rise up north for Rise Bar, oh-kye?
Meanwhile, the original hub of gay nightlife, the West Village, has suffered another setback because the long-running drag bar Boots & Saddle didn’t get approved for its new location. (Community boards can be so hatey.) I hear the place, which is affectionately called Bras & Girdles by insiders, is closing at the end of the month, but they’re looking for a new space that will work out—hopefully not in HK.
In the heart of Times Square, the drag restaurant Lucky Cheng’s has had some struggles, and now the boite’s irrepressible owner, Hayne Suthon, has sadly died of cancer. Hayne was a sort of Auntie Mame to the downtrodden and weirdly gorgeous, long serving lipsynch, S&M themes, and chocolate high heels to open-minded tourists. Her legend will live on, but the club is another matter. I hear her daughter owns the name, but the investors own the space. Staffers are waiting to hear what will happen.
Another great loss was the recent suicide of Derek Neen, the premiere doorman at clubs like Beige and the Roxy for many years. The problem was that Derek was deported to his native Canada, where he tried to get into nightlife, but he was having a hard time and felt isolated and hopeless. His snappy, genial way of dealing with the impending hordes was always an act of pure genius. I will celebrate this year’s Pride in his honor.
Speaking of Pride, there’s a bit of a messy situation going down here surrounding it. Promoter Brandon Voss tells me he’s being sued by Heritage of Pride for promoting “NYC Pride” clubs events (the bashes are for Matinee and Supreme Festival) since HOP has trademarked that name. An emergency injunction was issued, and they’re suing for damages. (One of the side issues is apparently that Azealia Banks is performing at the Supreme event, and she’s been in a controversy involving alleged homophobia.) Voss says it’s absurd that any organization should “own” Pride, especially one which he feels is using this as a tactic to funnel revenue to itself. He adds, “We have written testament from HOP itself (Chris Frederick) that they only gave ‘10% of $30k net income to charity last year’.” Chris Frederick responds that they have no comment on the lawsuit at this time. Be proud, gays!