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Well, Tampa - I'm glad if you enjoyed all that - even in an *ironic* way. You said you loved
Torch Song Trilogy; and I loved it, too, and thus ~ I rather went off, on a tangent ;-)
Torch Song was all about a cute boy who fell in love with a female impersonator, and so I thought you might be amused to see some of the greatest footage, in this
genre, that I'm aware of. (It's certainly not for everyone.)
About 15 years ago, after a very successful diet (which I have to add, hasn't been replicated, since): and having attained a new job - I thought checking out a couple of gay clubs MIGHT be just the thing to do. (I was sadly mistaken, of course.)
The first people who approached me there, were drag queens, and female impersonators. (More the former than the latter, because very few of them could really SING, as Craig Russell could.) Some of them were nice, some of them weren't. I just sat at the bar, sipping a Dalwhinnie, and
watching. (I'm a writer - I watch everybody, and everything.)
So, one evening one of these ladies sidled up to me, and said, "Darling, you're the belle of the ball, you know. No one KNOWS you. No one knows WHO you are, or WHAT you're about. We all think you're either a lapsed priest, or a NARC, from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Tell me, TELL ME, your whole life's story."
So, Tampa, I TOLD her my whole life's story - in the compass of seven-and-a-half minutes (boy from the farm, just trying to meet someone nice): and she said, "OMG, you're SO F***ing BORING. GO HOME, now." (That didn't fill me with confidence.)
The second drag queen, though - I must tell you, was ravishingly beautiful (such a beautiful facial structure, and statuesque, as well) and also very
KIND. She sat down beside me, and said, "Oh my DEAR, we all know you're very nervous. Take my HAND." (I did.) Well, she said (and she winked at me): "Cold hands, warm heart, that's what I always say." (And then she whispered in my ear, all sorts of advice about how to meet nice men. . . and how to tell the good ones, from the bad ones. She said to me, "Dear - - - I can tell you're a country boy: shy, but nice. You just hang in there, till you find the right man: and I can tell you deserve him.")
A few weeks later, she didn't show up at that bar. The bartender (who took an interest in me, just because I was new, and shy) told me that she had died (of complications from AIDS) on
his sofa, a few nights before. And I went home and honestly, cried a little.
I have to say that that whole experience, in the "gay scene" didn't work out for me, that well. (I was never really cut out for it.) I met a couple of people I wanted to date, perhaps, but they all had problems or agendas, beyond anything I could cope with. I attended a couple of extraordinarily odd parties, chasing a couple of those guys. (One was hosted by a perpetually-stoned Englishman called Francis, who always appeared in drag, at the club, and who always insisted, "My name isn't Francis - it's EDWINA - PLEASE CALL ME, EDWINA." To this day, I STILL wonder why he didn't just call himself "Frances" ~ it would have been
SO much easier!)
Needless to say, while this was an interesting experience, it didn't take me very far in life, at all. In total, it lasted about six or eight months. I did, however, enjoy ONE signal triumph - which had nothing to do with either a drag queen, OR a female impersonator.
You see, Tampa, there was a beautiful (truly exquisite) STRAIGHT BOY who worked at this club (his sister was a very cute, boyish lesbian, who got him the job): and he worked as a busboy, there. He was EXTRAORDINARILY beautiful (jet-black hair, deep brown eyes, high-high cheekbones, and an aristocratic Roman nose) and all the members (young and old) were constantly hitting on him, as he went about his business, gathering up spent bottles, and mopping up sodden table-tops. Sometimes, when he got finished with his shift, he'd come and sit next to me, and just TALK - - - about his family, his girl-problems, and stuff like that.
Late in December, 1999, he came and sat next to me, and said: "'A' - I want to ask you something. On New Year's Eve, the club is going to be closed: but we are having a big New Year's Eve party, for staff and 'special patrons', only. It will be a free buffet, with dining, drinks, and dancing. And our boss expects
all of us staff to attend. I don't want to lead you on - because I AM STRAIGHT - but this is so scary, to me. I
have to go, and all the 'special' patrons have been asking me if they could be my date. I was just wondering. . . if I PAID YOUR TICKET for YOU -
would you please be my date, and PROTECT ME?"
I find it hard to believe that any gay bar or club any where in the world, even Canada, would be closed on New Year's Eve - one of the biggest if not the biggest money making nights of the year!
"Because," he added, "I've been working here for a couple of years, now. I NEED the work, and my sister got me this job. But every night, the guys here wink at me, make comments about me, and even pinch or slap my ASS, sometimes. You are the ONLY guy who treats me like a real human being. You listen to me, and I know you care about me - and you are never mean to me, and you never expect things from me I can't do, and would never do. Would you please just help me out, and
be my date, on New Year's Eve?"
I said, "Sure, C. I would be
honoured to be your date, on New Year's Eve. We'll have a nice dinner, and a nice conversation, and if anyone makes a pass at you, I'll knock him OUT." He smiled, and gave me a great big HUG, big and strong, right that minute. (That felt nice.)
And that's exactly what happened, Tampa. We DID have a beautiful dinner. And we DID have a beautiful conversation. And we DID even have a funny spin around the dance-floor, once. And after it was all done, C. said, "'A' - THANK YOU for being such a nice guy." At 3:00 a.m., I poured him into a taxi and sent him home - and then went home myself, to figure out what was next. (Not a hell of a lot, as it happened.)
Yes, usually, nice guys DO finish last - and DEAD last, at that. But, you always have to be true to YOURSELF. And I always try to be. And, that's how I marked the new Millennium, with the cutest guy in town, and was the envy of
EVERY gay guy at the arctic circle. AFTER THAT - I figured my work (not to mention, opportunities) at that place were pretty much done, and I quit going there, soon thereafter ~ but. . . I'll never regret having been beautiful, sweet, straight, C's date, on New Year's Eve, 1999. It is really one of the happiest, saddest, bittersweet memories, of my life. But, mostly
HAPPY.
It was the only night in my entire life that every gay guy in town, wished he could have been. . .
ME. I'll never regret taking care of dear C., and loving him for the sweet guy he was.
And. . . I haven't met a drag-queen, since.
"A" XOXOXOXOXOXOXO
*"What are you doing, New Year's Eve?" ~ Rufus Wainwright
xo
The New Year's Eve party is such a poignant moment for posterity. 
