FAG HAG

On Saturday, I completed the East Bay AIDS Walk with my staff in the morning and attended an evening gala for a well known LGBT Foundation in San Francisco. They give my agency unrestricted funds every year, so my boss and I thought it was only right to cough up the $200 per ticket and get dressed up.

A night out in the wacky world of LGBT. Their functions are usually filled with drunk queens and butch lesbians, feeling each other up, or arguing. I decide to dress conservative being that it's work related. I hide my midgets and wear black pants. We get there and look out onto the ballroom. There's a sea of white gay men. I recognize several of them from sitting on various HIV/AIDS community planning groups when I used to work in the city. (I used to get into heated arguments with them when it was time to consider allocations for funding. They fund their white gay male centered organizations and left the residual money for agencies that targeted people of color and/or women to fight for the scraps.) Now I'm in a room with all of them and their buddies. It was sheer hell. My boss and I decide to get our money's worth. She heads to the free bar and I head to the buffet.

I get a tap on my shoulder and it's Sam. He runs a slew of AIDS service organizations in the Castro, which is the mecca for all gay men, all over the country. He was my worse enemy while we sat on the board together. I was shocked that he decided to come up to me, but when I saw his beet red face smiling, I knew he was drunk off his ass.

"Hello, darling! You look so beautiful! I know you hate me, but I was only a bitch to you because I wanted to be you!" I try to keep the courtesy smile on my face and I pat him on the back.
"What do you mean?" I asked with a nervous laugh.
"Honey, every White queen wants to be a voluptuous Black girl with an attitude! You haven't figured that out yet?" All I can do is laugh.
We make small talk and make a fake promise to do lunch.

I start looking for my boss and I find her talking to a group of women. I add myself to the circle and try to look like I care about what they're talking about. The woman next to me is wearing some African mu-mu looking gown and she has short sprouting locks. She stares at me like her eyes have x-ray vision.
"You smell so nice."
"Thanks." She gets closer, pretending like she's sniffing me, but I catch her eyes trying look down my top. I don't swing that way. "You look no older than 20. How old are you?" I see my good friend, David across the room and I almost fell on my ass running across the room to him.

David is a former co-worker (also a former Catholic priest). He used to find casual encounters online and fuck them in his office during lunch. He was out of control. He's a short, white chubby gay guy in his mid 40s, but manages to date only cute young black men. He also has a couple of young black thugs from Bayview Hunter's point in his stable. We meet every month in the Castro for brunch and he parades me around gay bars to show me off to his friends.

I stick to him the whole night and keep one eye on my boss so I don't lose her when it's time to leave. Thirty minutes pass and I'm ready to go. I spot my boss in a corner with one of the women. They are a bit too close to each other. I know my boss' partner and I already spotted a couple of their mutual friends, some watching her in the corner with this lady. I walk over to them and I tell her I'm ready to leave. She's stupid drunk.

"I'm not ready to leave yet. This is my friend, Emma. Isn't she hot?" I pry her away and get her outside. We're waiting for the valet to get my car and a news camera approaches us. A reporter asks if we don't mind talking about the event. My boss' drunk ass decides to answer for both of us and the camera man sets up the camera. He shines the bright light on us and the reporter spits out. "Do you believe that one day California will allow same sex marriages?" She shoves the mic in my face.
"Uh, umm.." I don't remember what I told her, but I know it was intelligent enough. My boss grabs the mic and screams, "I'm a proud lesbian and I've been with my partner for over five years. I don't want to marry her, but I should have that right. She's too clingy." I truly doubt they'll air it.

We get in the car and she pulls out an ol' school zig-zagged joint.
"Do you indulge?" I lie and reply, no. I also tell her my car doesn't have a lighter. There's no way I'm going to be that relaxed around someone I work with. She sticks it back in her pocket and starts snoring. Every now and then, she babbles something and goes back to snoring. We reach her house and I nudge her to get up. She looks at me, still buzzed. "Did you enjoy being a fag hag tonight?" She doesn't wait for me to answer and I watch her slowly but surely make it through her front door.

I get home and call my parents. My mother answers the phone. She sounds worried.
"I saw you on the channel 4 news at some gay function. Are you gay?"