Main | Sunday, January 30, 2005

Flaming Son of "Gay, Gayer, Gayest"

Faithful Readers: It's baaaack! "Gay, Gayer, Gayest...THE REVENGE!" Here's a few more gems, culled from emails, stories told first hand, and some pulled from the comments of the original post. They sparkle with a glittery gay light. Enjoy.

Lee @ Skittles, Colorful And Tart

One: Trying on my mothers old fancy dresses in the basement at age 11 or 12. Putting on the velvet and crinoline and taffeta and spinning around to to watch the skirts twirl. I remember wanting beautiful clothes like that.

Two: Wanting a Barbie for Christmas at age 7.

And can you believe it took me until 30 to accept it in myself?

Anonymous #1

Okay, I think this is very gay: About 10 years ago when I was 19/20 and I had my parent's house to myself, I would practice my "runway." There was a very long hallway between my room and theirs, so I would set up a full length mirror on the furthest wall in their room, crank up the my latest house music or techno tape and walk back and forth and emulate all the big girls from the time: Christy, Linda, Naomi, Kate, Amber, Shalom & Kirsty as they walked for Versace, Helmut Lang, John Galliano and Chanel. I had all their walks and turns down, esp. after studying countless numbers of hours of "Fashion TV with Jeannie Becker" and "Style with Elsa Klench." And no I never put on a dress or heels (and never wanted to) and every now and then I would even pretend I was one of the cool guys on the runway, but that got boring quick. I've put the runway behind me, but every now and then I catch myself walking like Giselle or Caroline Ribeiro or Michelle Hicks. Yeah, I know....sooooo gay.

Anonymous #2

GAY - I begged my parents for a Miss Piggy handpuppet until they finally broke and bought it for me. I was 11 years old. GAYER - One of my favorite activities as an 11 year old boy was to give that Miss Piggy hand puppet a lavish makeover. She had gorious blonde hair and a rubber face perfect for my mothers Cover Girl. GAYEST - I would often transform her into Joan Crawford Piggy.

Ensie @ Both Hands

Gayest moment #1: Being a Girl Scout counselor and attending an Indigo Girls concert with 18 of my fellow lesbian counselors the year I came out. And singing along. To every song. Every. Single. One.

Gayest moment #2: Driving at midnight from San Diego to an after-hours club in LA, dancing until 8am and drinking breakfast at a local bar. My friends and I then attended the Long Beach Pride celebration. This whole adventure was fueled by really bad crystal meth snorted in the porta poties(!) and a couple of tabs of E. I spent the next two days unable to sleep, dehydrated, and totally nauseous. Ahhh--the memories!

Ghost @ Ghost Of A Good Thing

My gayest moment was retold to me by my sister. Shortly after I came out in college, she and I were having lunch and she asked me if I remembered how much I loved Strawberry Shortcake when I was little. "Ummm, yeah I do." was my response. I was a little embarrassed by the her saying that at the time. God if I only knew what was going to come out of her mouth next. "When you were six you used to run through the house with your Strawberry Shortcake comforter screaming 'Bruce Springsteen is so HOT!' 'Bruce Springsteen is so HOT!' Having just come out to my sister a few weeks earlier I was mortified. So basically the gayest thing I've ever done happened when I was SIX YEARS OLD! It's a huge laugh now but I could have jumped in front of a bus when she said that to me!!

Horndog @ A Rat's Ass

The gayest thing I've ever done was on New Year’s eve 2002. I went to a sexparty at a penthouse in Manhattan with a view of Times square, and fucked in the freezing cold outside on the balcony wearing only combat boots and a black full length faux-fur coat while watching the ball drop at midnight. But then again who hasn’t?

Sam @ Mad Life

Three years ago, at work, I jerked off in a stall in the restroom while letting the janitor watch. He was about 50, Mexican and didn't speak a lick of English. He loved it. But I know he told all his Spanish-speaking-only janitorial friends because when I got my lunch at the cafeteria, they'd all be sitting around a table staring at me wide-eyed with half smiles like they were gossiping. I just smiled back.

Riley @ Life Of Riley McCarthy

This isn't my story. It belongs to my friend Emory. I mentioned it to Boysbriefs Chris, and I thought I would post it here. Once, in the '70s, Emory hosted an orgy at his lake house in honor of his friend Liberace's return to Atlanta. As Emory put it, "Miss Liberace" had Emory hide his usual jewelry in a vent in his house so that it wouldn't get lost during the orgy. The next day, Liberace was scheduled to do an appearance at a mall, and his assistant called Emory in a panic so that Emory could return the rings before all Liberace's yenta fans caught wise. Emory has a photo up in his house of he, his partner and Liberace backstage at the Fox. When younger gay men (like me) see it, we regard it with shock and awe.

The gayest thing I ever did, though not to the Liberace level, was own a full collection of "She-Ra: Princess of Power" action figures and a Crystal Castle playset in the fourth grade.

JR @

One sunny Saturday while at gay camp with my boyfriend, we were invited to a wedding. Their campsite, which housed a trailer and wrap-around deck, was decorated with dollar-store streamers and foldable wedding bells and overlooked the plastic wedding aisle, cake tent and booze-covered picnic table. Porn played continuously on the deck's mini TV while guests slurped cocktails and mingled, a mix of harnessed leathermen, other gay campers and drag queens - my favorite being Stevie-O who was decked out in a sun hat, Jackie O sunglasses, five o'clock shadow, a purple sequin dress and fuck-me boots. As “Going to the Chapel” played over the speakers, the Maid of Honor, an old queen dressed in lime chiffon with a platinum beehive named Aunt Peg, led the way down the aisle followed by Burnie, the teary bride wearing a beaded wedding dress zipped halfway up her hairy back. She took her place next to her tuxedoed groom, a supposedly straight man she'd met a week ago. The ceremony was short, but managed to fit in on-command blowjobs as part of the wedding vows. Afterwards the happy couple was toasted with cheap champagne in plastic glasses, while guests helped themselves to a buffet of hot sausages. When it came time to throw the bouquet, I hid off to the side as two anxious fags fought over the bundle of plastic flowers, falling onto the table of booze. If it wasn't for the wedding video, I don't think I'd believe my own story.

Mike @ Seamus McStebbins

I grew up on a farm in a tiny town in upstate New York. Not a dairy farm, with animals or anything, but a fruit farm. (Yes, I know, how ironic.) So we had grapes, apples, peaches, pears, cherries, etc. We also had a roadside stand in front of the house. One summer I was home from college (I was 21, I think) and I think I was in one of my major depressive episodes, so I didn't have to go out and work out in the fields, but I was expected to handle customers at the roadside stand. One day, about 11am, the doorbell rings. I'm upstairs, but don't want to go down. I look out the front window where I can see the stand. It's a customer, and she wants something, either change, or a different variety of apple, or just wants to make sure she gives the right money. (we have an honor system, but if someone's home, we're supposed to go out and help them.) I see my dad drive up in his big Ford pick up truck. He sees that there's a customer and goes over and takes care of what she wants. Then I can hear the door slam and his heavy footsteps on down the hallway to the bottom of the stairs. He yells up, "Are you there? We had a customer! Where were you and why didn't you take care of her?" I reply, "I was in the bathroom, and couldn't make it out in time!" But really, I was applying a St. Ives Swiss Formula Peel-Off Hydroxy Masque and it hadn't set yet, so I didn't dare go downstairs with it on. Cucumber or Peach, I think. He called me downstairs to yell at me, but when he saw what I had on my face, he just shook his head and left. Needless to say, he was not suprised when I came out to him a year or two later.

Perry @ withheld

As for mine, at 16 I was part of the high school drama club and we were supposed to come to the annual awards banquet dressed as our "hero". I was out to a few friends but not that up on gay culture and not really aware of the concept of drag. I decided to come as Diana Ross. I also had to have my wisdom teeth out the day before the event. In retrospect I understand why our gay drama teacher was so amused by me showing up in full pancake makeup and an afro wig, slinky little red dress from the thrift store I'd severely altered with maribou feather trim, bugle beading and a hemline slit up to my boy parts, high as a kite on vicodan and booze, tottering around on 4 inch heels. I've never been gayer. At least I hope.

DF @ Thesaurus Rex

Okay, so the gayest thing I've ever done? If you don't count singing "Gold Dust Woman" with my old band at the Pride Festival in Atlanta in the summer of 2001 (you've never seen a hillside of lesbians get so excited so fast about anything, ever), you would have to go with my soufflee phase. Yup. I was waiting to get my taxes done a couple of years ago and I found a recipe for lemon soufflee in a magazine. I realized I'd never had soufflee and if I waited around for someone to make me one, I just might wait for the rest of my life.

So, I tore out the recipe and took it home and made a lemon soufflee. It didn't fall. It was delicious. So, next I tried orange. Also good. As were cappuccino souflee (espresso and cinnamon), mocha (espresso and chocolate), chocolate, chocolate screwdriver (chocolate, vodka, and orange), and vanilla. I started making one every couple of days. I would get them ready to bake and take them to friends' houses and bake them there and make a pot of coffee and EVERYBODY got some soufflee. It was some kind of mania. It passed.

Paul @

In 1994, the Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras was broadcast on national television for the first time. I marched that year in a parade entry organised by my friends Mark and Bruno, with the theme of "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs". I was recruited to play one of the dwarfs, "Sleazy".In the days leading up to the parade the planned broadcast, on the taxpayer-funded national brodcaster, drew howls of complaint, questions in parliament, and the usual anti-gay sentiment from the usual quarters. It also turned out to be the highest-rated program on the ABC that year.As I walked up Oxford Street in my "Sleazy" costume, which was made of black leather, I saw a cameraman coming towards me with a lipstick camera, which zoomed towards and around me.The next day, my mother called. Sounding half angry, half bemused, in that way that only a 70-year-old Catholic mother of seven can, she said:"Walking down the street with no bottom in your pants, Paul! I didn't know where to look."

Matt @ withheld

When I was a kid, I was really into He-Man. For all the obvious reasons. He-Man was hot. I had every He-Man action figure. With the action figures, I began to really explore some adult themes between He-Man and his "deeply loyal companion" named Ram-Man. Jesus fucking Christ, that show was GAY. It got gayer though when He-Man's sister, She-Ra, joined the mix. In no time I was dressing in drag as She-Ra -- remember, I'm 8 years old -- with my mom's high heels, a long t-shirt with a belt cinching it at the waist, and a blanket tied as a cape around my neck.

Gayer still may have been my first sexual experience, during which I performed oral sex on a stranger while he watched Designing Women. Ahh, to be in love...!

Michael @ Try Not To Panic

Years ago, when I was in High School, our family decided to draw names for Christmas. My Uncle Dan drew my name. Now my uncle was a manly construction worker that always had a new girlfriend. He would often point out high school girls to me and comment on how, he was sure, I would like to get to "know" her. Well, I guess he asked my mother to ask me what I wanted for Christmas. I told my mother, not knowing my Uncle was my secret Santa, that I wanted Barbra Striesand's "Broadway Album". Yeah. Babs' "Broadway Album". If that wasn't a clue to the family, I don't know what is.

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