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      Today we're gonna talk about
fag hags
   Those straight women who just can't survive without being surrounded by gays, who continuously and without being asked mess around in your life under the guise of being your best friend and without whom most of us apparently just can't manage. It's all about those women who prefer to hang out with gay men, who go out with gay men to their gay bars and who tend to rather get on the nerves of any bar tender and the guests in them.

   Some queen or other appears at the door with his very own hag and asks, "Can Tina come in too? my bestest bestest friend....!", and whines on and on till the guy from the bar gives in and says "spose so." Once in the gay bar, Tina's get-up is trying its hardest to outdo the sadest of any of the leather freaks' there: black high heeled patent shoes, leather from top to toe, dyed black shoulder length hair. A half inch layer of makeup and a bright red trout pout lips vying to cover up the fact that the face behind it all is simply plain Jane.


   Fag hags are never just feminine, they are always femme fatale, always dominatrix, a mixture of Alexis Carrington and Madonna. That's their intention anyway. It mostly ends up looking like some version of Liza Minelli gone haywire. And her career can be summed up in one word: dead.

   It seems to me that fag hags reckon gays only have their mum and a few shrill drag queens as their role models and really don't know what's what. Fag hags reckon that being "conspicuous" is another way of being "extravagant".

   So here's our Tina trying her best, not just for herself but for the audience, making a meal of it every time those glasses filled with cheap sparkling wine are clinked together, 15 foot away her dumb screeching is still unavoidably loud.

   Then suddenly Tina appears in front of me and my best mate Rolf. Rolf is young, is handsome, dark eyes, thin moustache, more or less the latin lover type.

   Ignoring me totally she goes off on Rolf, "Hey you, what' up?"

   "What d'you reckon should be up?", Rolf smiles and ooks at her with one of his winning looks. Oh, how I hate him for his ability to make small talk out of the thinnest of verbal diarrhoea.

   "Real cool place here, eh, you're not just here to dance ya legs off, are ya?"

   "Piss off! Piss off! Piss off!" I think, but Rolf stays composed, uses his tongue to move his gum from one corner of his mouth to the other and says to her, "We'll see, I'm off for a slash first!". Saying that he disappears off towards the bogs leaving me behind with Tina.

   Somewhat thrown we look at each other, normally the usual would now begin: I am supposed to politly ask, "What's such a nice girl doing in a gay bar?", whereupon she'll answer that many of her friends are gay and she feels more at ease in gay bars because she doesn't get pestered, despite her fabulous attractiveness.

   Something must have clicked within me though, 'cause I blurt out: "You won't get him!".

   She realises at once what I'm on about and quips: "Why? Is he too gay for a woman?".

   "No", I say, grinning to myself inside 'cos of my answer: "You're way too ugly for him".

   But that wasn't the end of it. She looks around just as Rolf comes out of the toilets and goes off towards the darkroom. With a look of hostility flashing in her eyes as she looks at me, "In less than 5 minutes he's mine!"

   Having said that she disappears in the direction of the darkroom leaving me standing there with my mouth open and staring at my beer glass for ages.

   "I shoved something up her behind!" Rolf is standing before me grinning broadly. "She wanted it that way".

   "Aha", I retort pertly, "you great big machoman!"

   A cheeky grin spreads over his face: "It's good to know you can if you need to."

   "Oh, is it really?" in the background I spot the bar owner leading one Tina with a bright red face towards the toilets.

   "Looks like I'm gonna have to only lie on my belly in future....", I spout venomously. "Who knows - times change!", Rolf says and seems so pleased with himself he could burst.

   The owner stands before us. "Rolf, Tina insists we call for a doctor. What have you just shoved inside her?"

   Rolf grins, "nothing serious. just a peppermint wrigley's. Biodegradable".

   In the background I can hear something about "being barred", but actually I don't listen to anything and just look deep into Rolf's laughing eyes.

   That was to be the longest relationship I ever had.

(translation by Mark Cole)

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