Queer Guy for the Straight Gal

I am a fag hag. And proud of it.

It's not like I chose this, it's just who I am. I think it may be genetic. My mom is a fag hag too.

You know what a fag hag is: the girls who are hanging with the boys who would never actually want to sleep with the girls. We are spunky and goofy, sometimes a bit bitchy, and have all the same John Waters or Barbara Streisand references. (You are not a true fag hag untill you've seen Female Trouble and What's Up Doc. At least.)

We have straight girlfriends and guy friends, but really looooove our gay boyfriends. They shop with us and tell us the truth if something makes our ass look too big. They are great dancers and look good out there on the floor. They dress well and love "Sex & the City." We can check out guys together and they'll be more objective about my potential choices. And they give great sex advice - I mean, come on... they are experts with their own equipment and don't mind talking about it. How weird can a conversation about sex be between two freaked out straights? Ladies, isn't it just be a lot nicer to come to bed with a little bit of inside knowledge gleaned from your boyfriends? Seriously, one of my favorite books in the world is Sex Tips For Straight Women From A Gay Man by Dan Anderson & Maggie Berman. I showed it to a boyfriend and he gave it a good read - and recommendation!

One of my best friends is gay, but we didn't know that when we met in high school. At least, we didn't acknowledge it. Not that it was terribly surprising once he came out. I was one of the first people to know, so whenever I'd come down to LA from the Bay Area to visit with him, we'd head out to all the gay bars. I usually had fun, but early on there was one bad experience... We were at a place called the Motherlode in West Hollywood. This was about 13 years ago, so I have no idea if the place is still this girl unfriendly... but I was at the bar ordering a beer when a guy standing next to me looked me up and down, plugged his nose with his fingers, and said: "Ewwwwww... who brought the fish?"

I was the only girl in the place, and, coming from a town where skanky gals are referred to as "tunas," I put it together pretty quickly. I was bummed out, because I didn't think I was offending anyone with my quiet albeit estrogen-y presence. My friend was having a great time, so I just sat at the bar and kept drinking. Eventually, I had to go to the bathroom, where there were no doors on the stalls. I must have looked panicked enough, because this guy volunteered to block the door while I went, and chatted me up the whole time. He & his boyfriend wound up being my pals the rest of the evening, so I didn't need to worry about the one with a distaste for seafood anymore.

This came to mind recently when I was reading Bob Mould's blog. Bob Mould, former leader of great guitar bands Husker Du and Sugar, with some stellar solo recordings also, has been out of the closet for some time now. There had been a bit of debate on his blog because he had been bitching about the presence of some fag hags at a pretty much man-only night at a club he frequents. (Go here and scroll to April 13th.) For me, reading it, I didn't take offense to the term "fag hag" as others did. I was somewhat offended by the notion that I would not be allowed to go to this place. His statement was that sometimes, the girls have no place in the "man-pit." Evidently, a place as primal as the one he was at is Testosterone Only.

I guess this is why I pissed off the guy at the Motherlode. No ladies allowed. But I hate that... I am the one who crashed a bachelor party a few months back, after all. I was part of a Girls Only Oscar Party, but didn't get upset when a boy showed up. I would hope that the presence of a friend, who happens to be a little different, can't truly upset the balance of things that much. But I guess sometimes boys just wanna be boys and girls just wanna be girls.