Of Fag-hags and queer dears, the fair-weather friends of all great fairies

Gay men are often surrounded by a swarm of bosom buddies and fair-weather accomplices who are interested in every lurid detail of every deed undertaken, with an emphasis on the most intimate crimes which, once uttered, are never to be told to anyone. Among them, there’s always one, the bee mother, who never leaves him, as if the relationship involved an almost pathological dependency.  They are united in the front,  and, if for any insurmountable obstacle are obliged to separate, Miss Queer Dear  will message or call every fifteen minutes with an insatiable thirst for information, as if her queer’s  absence  were like missing a unique event.

It is true that for both the absolutely fabulous gay and his associated fairy godmother, the relationship takes on a symbiotic dimension that in which, despite its occasional inconveniences, is mutually beneficial. Both gain steadfast friendship, a treasure which social animals like we can not dispense with.  In the wild jungle of night, the gay serves to shield his feminine accomplice from the barrage of hetero sexual assault, as we’ve all seen how the “straights” quiver when faced with what they take to be her escort or boyfriend. Thus protected, she may lie in wait while sharpening her long fangs, so that she once has selected her prey from the shadows proffered by her gay companion, she can pounce like a mantis. Moreover, thanks to the presence of his fairy godmother, the gay is able to gain access to a menu of more or less straight guys (“heteroflexible” anyone?) normally absent in those places where Queer dear and her Queer normally reside.

The two enjoy themselves greatly with the confusion created by the complicity of which they enjoy in their public appearances, knowing that given the human species tendency to imagine things and  match each sheep with its partner is unable to discern after a certain time of night what  is true and what is a mere product of his imagination. For this reason, the other side of the coin is that the damage done by this relationship also can be quasi-pathological in nature due to the close proximity of bee and drone. Thus, the Queer deer complains that her queer scares away all the fodder and she has not a speck of red meat to eat. Likewise, his godmother’s magic wand seems to make potential suitors dissolve as well.  And so we see them, marching together through dives and pubs, hand in hand, drunk as lords after shooting in all directions with nary   a slain beast in their sack to show for it. This leads them to rent apartments in Berlin from time to time, and return to the routines of their own sexual preference, even as they pine for each other.



Tags: Fag-hags, friendship, fruit-fly, Gay, homosexuality, humour, LGBT, queer dear