I should start by saying that Homosexual Gay Pride Day is my favorite day of the year. It’s sort of like queer Fourth of July. The whole thing is about liberation, it’s always hot, everyone is wasted, and if you’re lucky you can watch some fireworks. Oh, and you can definitely get laid if you want.
That stuff’s great and all, but it doesn’t mean there aren’t some things about the day that could be improved upon. So, on the occasion of Pride Day—which is this weekend in New York and has been spreading its gay cancer throughout the country all month—here are some of the things I absolutely hate about it.
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Rainbows
Gay men are stereotyped as having supreme decorative powers, and three lesbians could build a replica of the Taj Mahal out of vegan popsicle sticks if it was for a good cause. So how the hell did we get stuck with such a vulgar and garish symbol of our unity and freedom? And why must they be EVERYWHERE? It’s like drowning in a sea of unicorn vomit. Sure, the inverted pink triangle was the symbol that the Nazis put on homosexuals before gassing them, but even that is preferable to Roy G. Biv. We should have known, Roy is such a faggy name.
Happy Pride
Yes, Pride is a sort of holiday for 10 percent of the population, but don’t tell people “Happy Pride,” like it’s Easter or Halloween or their birthday. Pride is gayer than Christmas, which at least gets a Merry. Can’t we get something a bit jazzier? “Werq Pride.” “Snap Pride!” Even a “It’s Pride, Grrrrrl.” Something.
Sunburns
All right, everyone, listen up. Just because you’re not currently lying on a beach does not mean you shouldn’t put on sunblock. You are going to be standing outside all day in a parade or cavorting in the street or dancing on a pier. Put on some damn SPF or you’re going to look like some white trash jet ski junkie come Monday morning. Oh, and this goes double if you’re wearing a tank top: the gay uniform for summer (including the lesbians and their ironic predilection for wife beaters). Your back is going to look like a scarlet A by the time you get home if you’re not careful.
Corporate Sponsors
Yes, it’s nice that all of these companies want to show their support and try to get the gay dollar, but I’m sorry Altoids, I’m not more likely to buy your mints because you slapped eight hunky dancers in Speedos on a float and told them to throw your product out like so many Mardi Gras beads. Even worse, I read that American Airlines was hosting a performance of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert at JFK airport. Sorry, but all the gays have already seen this show (which, if you bother to follow Playbill on Twitter like any self-respecting theater queen, you would know is closing), and even if we hadn’t, we wouldn’t go all the way out to fucking JFK to see it. Sure, it’s in Queens, but come on! This has to do with selling American Airlines, this has nothing to do with gay people and improving their lives. Sure, I just came from a Barefood Wine party, but that’s only because Sharon Needles was there and so it’s, um, totally different. Yeah, that’s right.
Assless Chaps
For the last fucking time, people: There is no such thing as assless chaps! This is wrong and redundant. All chaps are inherently assless. It’s like saying “fingerless mittens” or “ATM machine.” As for dudes letting their asses hang out of chaps (which is what you meant to say), I’m all for it. Let that saggy bottom air out all fucking day. I’d rather look at that than some nasty beer belly at the Straight Pride parade.
The Pressure
“Girl, what are you doing for the parade? What about brunch? And on Saturday? Did you hear about the Out magazine party? Did you get on the list? Do you know who is performing on the main stage? What time are you getting there? Did you see how busy Grindr is?” God, queen, calm the fuck down. It’s not the last party weekend on Earth. Jesus. Just come pick me up with some vodka and Gatorade and we’ll watch the parade and get messed up. That’s all we need. And maybe some head from an out-of-towner.
Segregation
It’s different in other cities like LA, San Francisco, and DC, where there is one huge block party for the whole population, but here in New York all the Pride parties are broken down into their demographic contingents so you end up dancing with a bunch of other people who look just like you. The great thing about Pride is that it’s the one day that the Dykes on Bikes and the Gay Cheerleading Squad get to stand side by side in a great big circle jerk. I spend every Saturday with my peeps at Vortex, a dance party for twinky power bottoms in their 20s between 5’8″ and 6’0″, can’t I get a little more diversity on Pride?
Work on Monday
Seriously, can’t I just call in gay?
More from Brian Moylan:
An Etiquette Guide for Straight People in Gay Bars
