Welcome to “Another Important Piece of Writing” a monthly newsletter/life update/writing exercise/rant/potentially the next most important piece of literature from the 21st century but probably not.
As I mentioned last week I’m on the apps (kind of). I couldn’t put my finger on what was bothering me SO MUCH about the idea of them and online dating* in general, outside of the fact that it’s weird you can pick up your phone and have a rational debate about whether you’re in the mood for pussy or pizza – until now.
*Dating men, that is. I’m bi, but it just so happens that men have been more insufferable (how surprising).
The thing about even attempting to date men is that you have to, for their sake, pretend like all their little tricks are working and like you haven’t seen them done a million times before. You have to give them false hope, like playing hide and seek with a child but you can see their feet peeping out from under the curtains. It would be cruel to break their little hearts, so you have to put on the performance of a lifetime to pretend they’re the best hide and seek player the world has to offer.
I feel like what I imagine a weathered female peacock would be like after one too many breeding seasons. They surely must get accustomed to and tired of the males parading around doing their same old dance, year after year. And yet generously they let them do their little unchanged jig to get it out of their system, watching on no doubt through long drags of a cigarette while sucking down the last few drops of their cleanskin wine to get through another one of these tiresome ceremonies. Mum always said it’s bad luck to have peacock feathers in the house, but perhaps she was referring to being careful what energy you bring in (male, that is).
Every man on a dating app thinks he’s so special because he claims he’s a gentleman because he grew up with sisters; that he’s the MOST loyal, MOST trustworthy and the MOST respectful. He’s the first guy to introduce me to cool things to do on the weekend like going on hikes and drink spicy margaritas. You wouldn’t believe it but this one’s “simple pleasures” are coffee on the beach and lazy Sundays watching this thing called “Netflix”.
I’m not saying women or even myself are better, I’m sure we’re not. I’m just getting tired of the whole dating app charade, like we’re not pretending what we’re doing is any better than popping into a storefront window, putting a sign around our necks that says “minor damage, good with stranger, free to good home”!
Long story short I have deleted those god forsaken, piece of shit apps.
~~~
Check in with your gays this month because they are already tired!
Unless you’ve been living under a rock (or are colourblind) it’s Mardi Gras and Sydney World Pride this month which means the queers are booked and busy. It’s only been a week and my more prominent queer collagues are already run positively ragged!
It’s great that my friends are getting so much acknowledgement and work this month but there’s also an undeniable feeling in the air – as there is every year – of corporate tokenism and insincere wokeness.
During the week I work just off Oxford Street, the gay heart an soul of the Inner City, where you can’t even blink before seeing another company rolling out their brand spanking Pride ads littered throughout bus stops and shopfronts.
”Fly with Pride!” one ad proclaims.
”The scissors ALL lesbians use!” the next declares.
”The cheese only fa-” you get the point…
Speaking with a comedian friend last night he was worried he was becoming an “old whingey gay” because he was so frustrated with Pride already (dw babe, you’re not). Although grateful to be considered when people are looking for a “gay host”, he wants that enthusiasm for him and his act to spill over when people are just looking for a regular host.
In spite of a great week of shows, he realised the only reason he was gigging so regularly with his friends was because they’ve all been booked together for once; citing the rarity of having more than one openly queer person on a line up at a time.
While there’s a gorgeous party atmosphere and proclamations of love and acceptance in the air, there’s still a sadness that lingers because this feeling doesn’t extend to the rest of the year. There’s a disconcerting feeling people experience when taking money from a corporation that doesn’t have a good track record with LGBTQIA+ policies, but is forking out thousands of dollars for queer acts and branding for the sake of their appearance.
Sure, they’re mindful of cultural safety around the “Big Gay and Lesbian Love Affair Festival Day Out Extravaganza Time” in partnership with a brand who thought it would be fun to yassify their company name to something they heard out of context walking past their roommate watching an episode of Ru Paul’s Drag Race (read: BWYASS & Glambrero’s), but their silence is deafening the second somebodies trying to change their dead name on their electricity bill or feel safe existing comfortably in your store.
So check on your queer friends! They’re tired from keeping you entertained like no straight performer ever could, whilst attempting to tear down the entrenched sexist, mysoginistic and transphobic views left over from our dogshit ancestors all while wearing 8 inch heels that laugh in the face of the laws of physics.
~~~
I liked doing a listicle of things last month, so it might be something I incorporate into every newsletter if I can manage to remember I’m writing one.
This month:-
List of all the things that made me unreasonably angry:
- Somebody getting tagged in an instagram story but it was just the person’s food they ate at the restaurant with them (plus the fear that this could happen to me)
- Somebody asking for tips on Twitter about their rescue greyhound instead of asking, I don’t know, a greyhound rescuer or dog trainer?
- Somebody walking the correct way through the Woolworths self check out when I was objectively walking the wrong way
- An old man asked for my seat on the bus (the high front one – not labelled as accessible seating) because he said he had a bad back. I pointed out the empty, identical one across the aisle but said “he didn’t like that side”
- Guy at the bulk bill place trying to cut in ahead of people because he “couldn’t wait” (as if we can)
- A man on Hunge tried to match with me by asking me tips about stand up comedy because he wanted to try out his first five minutes
- Not understanding the art at MCA right away because I was cranky and about to get my period
- Having to go to work after a week off work/on my period/in general
- Somebody getting flowers for their ‘“work anniversary” mainly because I would hate if that happened to me
To balance this out please see a list of:-
Things that gave me hope (objectively shorter):
- A lady realising she was about to walk in front of me who paused, smiled and let me walk past (a rarity in Sydney)
- Somebody laughing on the phone with their friend before work
- A tiny, tiny chihuahua running over to me at the park for some pats
X