Finding
old-school gay shame is more difficult than ever. Even at
Christmas.
“You have
to work on Christmas Eve EVE?” wailed my husband.
“People
not having conniptions call it December 23. But yeah, I have
to work.”
“But
that’s White Christmas night!”
We had planned to
go see White Christmas. I know, dorky. But we
like it. It was playing at a revival theater here in
Los Angeles. Somehow the husband believed I would take the
night off from the every-Friday-night DJ gig at the
leather–bear–no-dancing bar I worked at.
But I didn’t even try to make it happen. I like
money. And I loved the idea of working at a gay bar so
close to Christmas.
Here’s
why: Some of My Best Friends Are… Never
heard of it? It’s this amazing 1971 exploitation
movie about pinkie-ring gays in a bar on Christmas
Eve, a situation best summed up in the words of one of
the movie’s homo-hating straights: “Where else
does a fag have to go?” It stars people like
Rue McClanahan, Fannie Flagg, Gary Sandy, and Gil
Gerard. In other words, old people you’ve never heard
of. Except for Rue McClanahan. Somehow even the young
gays are into The Golden Girls. Anyway, every guy in
this movie has a scarf knotted around his neck and is
calling another man “Mary.” Oh, and
Warhol superstar Candy Darling is in it too. She gets beaten
up -- the film’s idea of getting off easy.
Anyway, think The Boys in the Band, but way less
mouthy, more resigned, depressive, and Well, I
guess I asked for loneliness when I chose this
wayward lifestyle. And to think they call it
‘gay.’ Like I said, amazing.
So obviously I
was really into the idea of being up in my DJ booth for an
all-seeing view of what would happen in a gay bar on an
actual almost Christmas Eve. There was going to be
tragedy all around, dark souls brooding, each solitary
invert making The Night his lover. I had to witness
that. I took my bag of CDs and headed in the direction of
Lonely Street.
Click here to follow The Advocate on Twitter.
Page 1 of 2