what-a-closet

I am feeling down, and hoping that writing this will distract me awhile, even if not amuse or uplift. If you find some pleasure herein, write something to make me smile - I'm running a tad low on that.

By the heading I'm not, at least not consciously, suggesting that my life is in some kind of metaphoric lavatory; (I feel that) it's nowhere near one. Actually I'm being literal for a change, with the heading. What follows is an exposé of the shortcomings, perceived by me, of being gaysian - alternatively titled: "eight (of many more) reasons why I don't feel completely at one with the Community".

1. I like having long hair. I'm sure I wouldn't mind having short hair either, if I ever get my act together enough to book a hairdresser. I just haven't any special affinity for that spiky black-with-blonde-highlights I-wannabe-Shane-from-TheLWord "boys don't bother" do sported by every other girl in the Community. Except when it's on Shane, of course.
2. My wardrobe is not dominated by men's wear. Moreover, the few items of men's clothing which happen to be in my possession (mostly via mysterious channels unknown to me), I do not wear out on weekends.
3. My personal philosophy on eye make-up: [a] less is more; and [b] unlike in many other contexts, black is not suitable-for-all-occasions.
4. Less than 80% of my social network overlaps with the Community. I like the Community people I know, and meeting new ones. But I also appreciate the small yet rare luxury which comes with not-being-fully-integrated(-yet): of not being introduced as, or to someone who is, so-and-so's ex/current/prospective.
5. My means of stress/boredom relief do not include smoking. And as seductive as I find the way certain girls roll up tobacco in little squares of paper, it would take a helluva lot more before I let one smoke in my car/house.
6. I don't look upon "dirty bisexuals" with contempt and suspicion; not even the ones who turn out really to have been "only in transition".
7. I like hanging out with boys, including the not-so-camp/-fabulous (read: straight) ones. They (generally) don't patronise intimidate frustrate agitate me. Who knows, I might even find one to fall for some day.
8. I can: be obscene without using naughty words; express affection without raising my voice or excessive bodily contact; get in and out of a public toilet in under 10min; crack onto someone without the help of alcohol; ... Hehe.

I should probably apologise for sounding horribly shallow, ignorant, bigoted, stereotyping, inflammatory, antifeminist, misogynistic, or worse. But ha! Maybe I am all of the above. If not all at once, then definitely a bit o' this and that at any given moment.

queeries

Did something tonight which was random even for me. Went to an HREOC public forum, Same-Sex: Same Entitlements. Not a topic that regularly crosses my mind, but one I realise is important irrespective of personal relevance. Wanted to hear what people had to say, to be inspired - if not by the content then at least by the knowledge that somebody's doing something about it. (Yeah, mine's precisely the kind of attitude that does not progress make.)

Venue was Lotteries House, next to City West train stn and backing onto this beautiful-by-day-I'm-sure-but-creepy-after-dark park, where I sat for a good hour, reading by street lights The Symposium (can ancient Greeks be any more gay...) while trying to convince self-conscious self that she could walk in there with confidence and cool. The anxiety was totally unexpected; after all I've been spotted in naughtier establishments. I suppose it's different to come upon ppl not there to have fun, but rather to share difficult experiences, to voice their indignation, and to have all that subjected to public scrutiny. Maybe I felt intimidated, and somewhat like a fraud, who has trouble enough finishing assignments on time, making a little spare cash, occupying her mind with trivia, and such, to find time for getting appropriately outraged by any number of the outrageous things going on around her.

When at last I made my entrance, I found to my unsurprised disappointment less than 30 ppl in attendance. Mostly middle-aged folk, no one from other side of fence let alone fervent objectors (which would've for one thing spiced things up a bit, and for another indicated wider community awareness and concern). All the usual problems were raised and noted and left dangling with no quick-fix. But - many spoke and everyone who did was eloquent and earnest and uncrazy and made for persuasive advocates - if only they weren't preaching to the converted. Anyhow, I got what I went for.

L is for lazying on a fine winter day

One very sweet Chicksta made a copy of The L Word 3rd season for me without prompting and trekked all the way from Woop Woop to deliver it. I was therefore more than happy to shout coffee.

Afterwards we managed a 2-hour wander in, and around, KP, without getting up to anything naughty. For y'all this translates to "Don't hold your breath this one's not a Likely Potential" - just so we're on the same page.

Before today we'd only chatted online and run into each other a few times @ Meat Market #1. But there's no substitute for the low-key face-to-face one-on-one. I know I couldn't get by without the eye contact, the idiosyncratic accent and rhythm of each voice, the spontaneous and irretractible intermingling of ideas and, last but not least, the not having to shout and/or send out wrong signals by leaning in too close.

new shop in town

And it doesn't look like a meat market. (What I've termed the Meat Market isn't entirely one either; I just project.) It is, however, immediately adjacent to this Chn restaurant frequented by my folks and all their friends. How convenient. I can bum a lift next time they have a get-together. *nervous laugh*

I am, of course, referring to sKandalous (feel free to puke at the name; I did). It opened last weekend and tonight was the first of its weekly ladies-only thingamajigs. Already scepticism abounds re its prospects of survival; to be expected I suppose (though I steered well clear of such dull conversation). It got to be pretty packed when we left, so, not a lost cause yet.

Noted:

• upstairs dancefloor: fuelling my not-entirely-irrational fear of collapsing suspended dancefloors
• leather sofas: ideal for losing one's needles in
• make-out booths: neither comfy nor discreet (unenclosed and well illuminated)
• lots of new faces: reassuring to know that not the entire community lurk at the MM

Still wobbly with the cold, and still have one entire unit to learn in four days. But decided to drag myself out there before being overtaken by Existential Crises yet again. So cheers to the Amazing Girl Engineer who invited me.

vicarious lie-ability

"Mum, I don't feel like coming in to the restaurant tonight. I just broke up with my girlfriend." Now if that's not a flawless coming-out spiel, I don't know what is. Huge round of applause to NS (aka Suga). What ensued was a week of festivities dedicated to the Complexity of Being Gaysian.

When Suga's mama finally cornered her for the inevitable intervention, the result was at once heart-wrenching and hilarious:

• Your father won't find out about this.
• Nobody else in our family is like this, so it can't be genetic. You must've talked yourself into it.
• Those white girls, they're only after your money.
• I'm telling you right now, you will die alone.
• ...

Not that I feel an inkling of inclination to follow suit. It isn't something that should be done out of peer pressure, or on the spur of the moment when you literally see the liberation your friend feels and find yourself envious. Sophisticated cost-benefit analyses are involved. Years of sanity, of several parties, are at stake. Besides, my home-front is a lie with or without this sordid dimension.

boys on the side

Out the front, actually. 'Twas Women Only Night (WON) at the Meat Market. All those with Y chromosomes were barred from the courtyard.

Wouldn't've gone but for Cherry's birthday drinks. Ahh the things we do for girls. Even wore makeup (!) and slutty jeans (ripped in a wikid place). Unfortunately, by the time I got there (11pm) she'd drunk to a state of contented oblivion, and my decent sensible side took hold and quelled any compulsion to seduce. Who am I kidding, there's something, and it ain't goin' nowhere.

Turned out to be a great night all the same! Suga and Foxxy (S&F - as yet unofficial but what the heck) are always fun to hang out with and tease the crap out of. Also met E, Suga's very own boy minion - an absolute riot, and roughly (no pun intended) her male equivalent. Of all the nights he could've chosen to make his comeback onto the Market... (To eliminate confusion, boys and/or those ideologically opposed to the concept of WON were confined to the indoors area, so it wasn't like E had to cross-dress to sneak in.)

People I didn't expect to see / who didn't expect to see me:

• Ex of Nobel-Laureate-to-be (NL2b) / current of ex-pal and Prime-Minister-to-be (PM2b). She claimed to swing occasionally but I could tell she was just another garden-variety hetero dag. *g* Still, we moved some dirty for the ladies. Can't wait to hear PM2b's reaction when I'm finally outed. It'll be simply delicious.
• S, sister of Cat (my adopted sister). I knew about S (who didn't?), but Cat hasn't told her about me. S and I were friends in Year 9, then she became troubled (not referring to the fence jumping - that came much later) and drifted away.
• V, Honours comrade. She seemed slightly rattled to be spotted at such establishment, even though her bf was with her, and stressed that they came to support a friend. *rolls eyes*

Fuck-me outfit was sending out wrong signals (or rather, right signals in wrong directions), so I stayed close to my crew. Bad move! They loaded me up with champagne (so nice not having to drive) then let me loose. Lucky I had ample self-restraint... Well, not really. All it took was residual clarity of mind to perceive the ferality abound, to not want to partake therein.

Admittedly it's been a looong time since I got this tipsy. But I played it up a bit to excuse bad behaviour. What a hideous cliche I've become.

Oh I did spot one hottie, whom I bummed a light off. (Chill folks - queer as I am, I haven't taken up smoking. Was only helping out S&F who were busy with you-can-guess-what.)

Afterwards, McHappy Meal in hand, we headed to Foxxy's for a brief recovery session. A very trashed E continued to blab about his priest bf and his trophies for the night (too vulgar to repeat even here). I continued to apologise repeatedly to S&F for myself and E. Poor things.