Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Monday, October 30, 2006

All Bar None

Is it wrong to be slightly heterophobic?

I mean, I haven't been in a straight pub since Victoria Beckham had the surgery to make her look like a mouth-breathing guppy. We Gentlemen Who Are Going To Buy The Greatest Hits of Girls Aloud Wot Is Out Today Oh Yes We Are, it's so easy to get entrenched in your own little world of tinsel and gays that there be no need to wander into the smoky, mahogany pub world of the heterosexual unless you're really desperate for a wee after downing a bottle of Lambrini for a bet - as I'm sure we all have. It's a silly little fear, like I was wary that I was going to get into a fight for looking at someone's pint or spilling their girlfriend or something. Which in retrospect is as silly as every straight man coming into one of our wendy bars and expecting to be bummed within an inch of their life as soon as they bend over the bar to get a Baccardi Breezer.

Hang on, they drink pints, don't they?

Well, expecting to be bummed within an inch of their life as soon as they bend over the bar to get a pint of Baccardi Breezer, in that case. We must get our facts straight, ho-ho.

Anyway, my mate AJ and I had gone for a walk and were looking for a hostelry as, frankly, the nights were drawing in and my nipples were so affected by the chill that you could tie some ribbons to the top and pretend it was a maypole. So we made a choice to duck into the first pub we could find.

Which happened to be a bar that seemed to be someone's front room, with a jukebox in the corner. And this is where The Straight Fear comes in.

You know there's a weird feeling about stepping into a strange bar and you think that you're suddenly under terrible scrutiny? A card-carrying homothexual gets that each time, with a weird checklist of 'Oh lord, how gay did I do my hair before I came out? Is this shirt too low-cut? Do I look like someone who should be presenting a fashion show or someone who should be kicked in an alley just past a tube station?' All while trying to walk towards a bar in a manner that is both graceful and manly. Oh you try it - you look like you're being operated underneath by a magnet.

I know it sounds like we really should just be ourselves, and I do so agree. But still, there's something so primeval masculine about these pubs that just makes you question your behavior over and over again. Gone is 'How FABULOUS do I look!' when you leave the house, to 'How gay do I look?' when you go through the doors.

I was fine after the first vodka. Not the first this weekend, thank heaven: I'd had a glorious weekend with The Boy down in Brighton. Where I was still on a high from the a day in the week when he accidentally called me his boyfriend in the BBC canteen. Oh the romance, all over a tepid serving of penne pasta! I told him he couldn't call me that as he's still got one already and that was being greedy. But I still had a warm feeling inside me like I was Jodie Foster on that pinball machine.

So I took him down to Brighton for a (sly) celebration. And what a celebration it was; currently, down in some hotel near the sea-front, there is some poor functionary is looking at some sheets going 'HOW many times?!' Either that or wondering why two gaylords brought a pot of school glue away with them for a holiday.

anyway! The pub. Clearly we were getting at ease with the whole place because we went and played darts! Deadly fucking things they are; less so when I discovered that to do it properly, you don't throw underarm, but that's genetics for you. I threw one, and it bounced out of the board and embedded in the parquet flooring ONE INCH from my foot. And I don't like danger. I get palpatations just by carrying a CD too near the security barriers in Virgin.

And you have to do addings in darts! I can't do numbers. My brain doesn't work like that - I do pictures and words. So the obsession with Soduku is a mystery to me; you want to spend three hours putting little numbers in boxes, come over here and do my tax return.

By the end of it, I was convinced I'd won; though I think AJ thought the same. We were too pissed to care. We'd drunk ourselves silly and taken over the jukebox with Cilla Black songs and Girls Aloud. And that, my dears, is the key: there's no need to be heterophobic. Just take your gayness wherever you go!


First Nations said...

jodi foster? beautiful!
i skewered a guy in the ear with a dart once.
that came out wrong.

anyway it happened.

*slinks off*

Snooze said...

A splendid tale of conquering the straight bars! I had no idea what my people put you boys through.

AndyT13 said...

Riot! Wish you were here for the absolute panic of a Halloween parade in NY tonight. Do please call when you're in town hmmm?

mainja said...

funny, i took a friend of mine to a pub near my office and somewhere near the end of our drink he said "so, this is what straight people do..." as he looked around the room...

Qenny said...

Lovely bit of table turning!

Why do straight men think they're going to get automatically get hit on in gay bars? Do they really think they're that hot? Are the blind to the fact that the gay men around them will have made much more effort to look hot, even if that effort was directed at creating the impression that no effort was made at all? Honestly!

Spike said...

What Qenny said.

Inexplicable DeVice said...

Oh Spike, you're a master of words!

Anyway Lee, that pub must've been a little bit gay - after all, why else would they have Cilla Black songs on the juke box?

And if it had been glue, would it have been Gloy glue?

Tickersoid said...

I have it both ways, so to speak.
A lot of locals think I'm gay but Last Saturday someone offered to 'take me outside for a fight' because I spoke to his girlfriend.

Jemima said...

Many thanks for the timely advice. Throwing darts underarm = bad. Now I know.

Reluctant Nomad said...

The trouble with going to straight bars after spending too much time in gay ones is you suddenly realise that staring at someone intently because you're hoping he's going to respond to your sexiness is probably going to get you thrashed. Even more so if you do it in the toilets.

Anonymous said...

"You're Simply the Best"

That's Cher right? Damn it! My Other Half tells me it's the other diva. Anyway, you are.

Will said...

It's subtraction, rather than addition, in darts. But thanks for the reminder that I need to do a tax return...