This year I wanted to stay far, far away from the Gay Pride Parade as possible. I had plans to skip town with someone…but alas… God tends to laugh at poor unfortunate souls who make plans.
It’s not my style to sit at home and mope. I rubbed some SPF 80 sunblock on my face (it was like Kabuki makeup) and I lined up my clan to meet up for Pride 2010. My friends Judd and John waited for me at Starfucks. They saw me crossing the street and could not help but give me shit—“Bitch, it took you an hour to put on a thong and walk out of your house naked?”—That would be John. I actually went commando in some dark denim shorts with a shirt tucked into my butt cheeks. It’s so damn hard to look this easy.
Every year I walk around and cock-watch during the parade. This year I didn’t even protest when Judd and John parked themselves at a corner to be spectators. I wandered around for a bit, but didn’t stray too far. It was actually nice to just relax and watch my fellow fagged ones holding rainbow flags while they jiggled their junk on a fruity parade float. We waited for Grand Marshals Kelly and Sharon Osbourne to float by. They looked every bit like Pride Royalty (Judd does Kelly’s hair and John does her makeup).
The parade was endless. The plan was to walk to the Palihouse (fancy Hotel No Tell from Hell in the heart of Weho) where the Privileged Pretty Gays were having a special Pride shindig on the rooftop. We got to the doorman who started to treat us like doormats. There was no room for us, he started to huff and puff–but then Kelly O and friends stepped up to the plate. John was like, “We’re with them.”–all important like. Kelly squealed when she saw her Team Gay.
A sea of heads turned like a domino effect when we walked inside. I was the only shirtless bitch in the building, but all eyes were on Kelly, who looks freakin’ amazing! She’s beautiful, but has not lost her playfulness. I had never met her in person, sooo…Judd took the honor of an introduction. The fucker called me “Pablo” (oh, he’s real cute). She corrected him, drawing out the u in Pauuulo, which was sweet, but then she looked up at me and said, “I read the article by the way (I interviewed her for FRONTIERS) and I did NOT like it at all,”—in the haughtiest English tone she could muster. I felt my face turn hot and my neck begin to quiver. She looked up and said, “I’m just kidding. Judd told me to say that.” I was horrified when she hugged me, cuz I get real slippery when wet. She fucked me up. We had a good laugh while we made our way towards the rooftop. Judd is sooo gonna get it.
We stepped onto the rooftop where the Privileged Pretty Gays smiled with bright eyes and tight 20-something bodies (the good side of 20’s). However, most of them clutched their cocktails for balance, clearly feeling so damn unpretty inside their tight skins, which is one of life’s many fuckovers. I hid my crows behind my ten dollar throw-away shades and shamelessly seized a photo-op with Miss O., while I still had the chance. We didn’t stick around for too long after that. I had friends waiting for me at the festival. I was hell bent on taking my problems to the dance floor. On our walk to the festival I was getting a slight stir from the crowd on account that I was half naked. John had to break it down for me—“Bitch you ain’t that jammin’. You get one day. That’s it. Enjoy it.” I just can’t get the respect that I’m entitled to. (more to cum)
I can’t tell you the last time I went to a Pride festival as a civilian. Normally I volunteer manning some booth handing out a bunch of beads to lesbians and overweight Latinos (they LOVE themselves some rainbow pride beads let-me-tell-you…it’s the weirdest thing). I also can’t tell you the last time I PAID and had to WAIT in LINE to get into the damn festival neither. Old habits, new beginnings.
I met up with my friends Gabriel (I pronounce it gayyeeebriel), David (we like him; he’s getting jumped into the gang for sure), Nakhone, Ryan, Milo and others on the dance floor. And we let them HAVE IT! Dancing got me into so much trouble in terms of drinking and drugging back in the crazy years (the DJ made me do it all night long). But that was then. I can’t remember the last time I danced so much, so hard and had so much fucking fun. My back is killing me right now! Yeah, there was a shit load of hotties, but a lot of them were MB (as in muscle bottoms) and too many of them suffered from a severe case of a gay face (it’s where I’m at in terms of boys at the moment, I’ll get over it). I’m so not about hookin’ at the moment, but stay tuned… (more below)
One thing that really sucks about pride festivals is that you’re bound to run into ghosts from your crooked past. I saw old friends (who didn’t look so good), guys that I partied with (who looked even worse), and it was awful running into a parade of old tricks (If I don’t remember, it didn’t happen). Then there are the guys you kinda/sorta fucked over (gulp).
I recognized one guy that I kinda/sorta dated for a brief moment. He and I hit it off famously…that is, until he caught me making out with his older brother. I remember him freaking out—“No! Not with Paulo,” he begged his brother, who apparently had some kind of fucked up cock blocking history. Then he turned on me—“And YOU! How could you kiss my brother?” Older bro was taller and hotter, but I couldn’t tell him THAT. That would be rude.
Anyway, cut to today–there was young bro standing by a hotdog stand at the festival. I haven’t seen him in like years. He looks more muscular than I remember. I wanted to say hello, but his brother was standing next to him looking uncomfortable after giving me the side-eye. Older bro went from taller and hotter to just plain old, which is OK if you’re into that sort of thing. Eventually the younger half looked my way, cuz I was just standing there staring. He gave me a quick up and down look-over (the shit looked TIGHT). Then his eyes turned cold and he deliberately looked away. Ouch. Needless to say, it was best to let that one go. I felt bad, but saw no point in apologizing with the brother standing next to him. Instead I led my clan of sobers to the dance floor and we made the rest fall back.
I guess you gottah take the good with the bad when it comes to events like this. No lessons were learned, but I still gave you Kabuki Theatre, I got Kelly Osbourne, Privileged Pretty Gays, a shit load of attention and I got to dance my ass off all day long without ONCE thinking about drinking or drugging. I’m so cured.
Long story even longer…it was a good day. I’m glad I didn’t stay home and mope.