No matter how unique a bar tries to be it’s the people inside that define the atmosphere. Nearly every gay bar, with the exception of some incredibly sketchy locations where you are likely to catch a disease, are filled with the same people. Here are a few of my favorite…least favorite:
Let’s start with, the Fag Hag! Weight is no longer a defining feature of today’s modern hag, oh no. Once upon a time, these girls had no choice but to befriend the gays, because they couldn’t afford the keg it took to get a straight guy into bed and designer date rape drugs weren’t easily accessible. But girls have realized that their boyfriends are generally idiots or less fun to run around with than their gay counterparts. A gay best friend will listen to all your bullshit problems and tell you you’re right. The only downside is that the influx of lady hags is at a tipping point where many gay bars look more like lesbian bars without all the carpet munching.
Then you have Mr. Eyes, he sees you not looking at him, or maybe it’s your friend he sees not looking at him. It really doesn’t matter, he will stare you or anyone near you down from across the room with the faint hope that you’ll make eye contact. And you will, the hairs on your neck stand up like something from a horror movie, letting you know a predator is near. Your eyes meet and he grins, suddenly you feel like you’ve been visually assaulted, there’s nothing you can do but try to take your filthy self to the bathroom and scrub away the shame.
My least favorite person is the Tourist. Oh God, the Tourist. If you make the mistake of speaking to him he’ll latch on to you and your friends like a leech that’s been deprived of nourishment for years. He’ll play twenty New York City questions with you in an effort to find out the best bar, the hippest location, the best hook-up spot, the next drag show, where there’s an after hours event, where you live… If you make it through the line of questioning without shanking the guy you deserve a freaking medal.
Do you smell that? It’s a hipster fresh out of Williamsburg. I love Brooklyn, but hipsters are tarnishing the good reputation for robberies and stabbings that Brooklyn once stood for and replacing it with cute coffee shops full of people unable to comprehend the concept of water and soap. Talk to this guy and you better be ready to get a hippie mouthful of crap about saving the world. Saving the world? You could help contribute to society if you stopped sucking your parents dry, put down the paintbrush and got a job like the rest of us. We all hate you.
Ouch, my eyes! You’ve just run into the flaming queen of the bar. He, oh wait, she is busy blurring the gender lines while twerking like Miley Cyrus to that gawd awful Robin Thicke song. Every gay stereotype will fall from this guys mouth at a volume only matched by the drag queen with a microphone. And isn’t it weird how our attention hunger flame thrower acts like he knows every bartender, DJ and drag queen while they give him a WTF look?
And no gay bar would be complete without the daddies. Oh yes, they are here and plentiful. I’m not sure if it’s because the generations prior were more interested in growing the world population, but daddies outnumber twinks in the bar almost three to one in all cases. Either there are more of them or the twinks are late getting to the bar because they’re stuck at home adjusting hair and makeup. The daddies are probably the least terrible guys in the bar. They’ll buy you a drink, speak intelligently and even hold up a real conversation. Unfortunately, they usually have a beer gut if they’re talking to you and there’s no way you want to crawl under one of them. It’s such a disappointment because all the great features can’t do anything to stop the shallow in all of us.
There are so many more people that frequent the bars but these are the cream of the crap crop.