This was the last journal entry I included in my package to my creative writing prof:
Who are these fags?
So I went to this queer function last night run by the campus queer constituency group, held at the bar that I work at. I was quite surprised by the turn out, could have been 60 or 70 college aged queers at my bar, dancing and kissing and chatting up a storm. When I got there I knew no one. A few faces look familiar from campus, but I didn’t know anyone. I bought a drink and milled around the room getting more and more uncomfortable as I sank into a dark hole of isolation.
I was angry at these gays last night and I can’t figure out why. Well, I know exactly why, jealousy. How the hell did these fags have friends – gay friends? I don’t have any gay friends. I know my two ex-s one other guy in my writing class, and that about it. I have been introduced to a bunch over the past four years, but none of them are friends of mine. Even people that I didn’t know were gay were there, and seemingly in the Western queer posse. I mean come on, right?
I have a good idea of why don’t know any fags. I don’t like them. There seems to me to be this weird sexual tension amongst us, or maybe that is just me. Or if not sexual tension, its this other kind of competitive tension, like a silent pissing contest. Again though, maybe that is just me, they seem to get along fine with each other. I fell like I am being judged when I am in a room with them. Because I know that they recognize me from campus. I know they know I’m that fag who refuses to be their friend.
Which really is part of the equation. When I was in second year, I realized that there was a group of students in my faculty that were the elites. I made a conscious decision to infiltrate the group and though it took me a few weeks and a lot of ego stomping, but I was accepted. I realized in second year as well that the Western fags were a tight elite group, but I gave up trying to infiltrate them after the first try. They stand in a circle at the gay bar and look over their shoulders to see who is encroaching on their space.
I used to think that I was snobby bastard, which I am, but after Vancouver this summer I’m not so sure. Maybe its an East coast/West Coast thing, but I didn’t perceive so much attitude out West. Yes there are those gorgeous boys from ridiculous gene pools who make it clear that you must be of a certain aesthetic standard to get their attention, but they didn’t even seem as hostel as these queers.
On the one hand, it is all my fault. I work weekends, and the fags have all their bonding time at the bar on Saturday night. On that same hand, I hate going to that bar, it depressing - which is not to say there weren’t stints when I was there for months on end. On top of that I suppose I do contribute to the hostile relationship. But I truly think these queers are a breed of their own. And they can have it. I don’t care what anyone thinks are says, I am a well adjusted queer, whatever that means, and when I grow up I will have a gay posse too, who loves me for me, and the sad memory of being the unpopular fag will be a glimmer a nightmare a I may have once had.
