Yet another "Fish" Convention..!
The foreign service in any country provides excellent candidates for the gay community. And at some point of time, I was told by our gay veterans that diplomats and attaches were the treasure vault of the gay community.
Thats in a pre-internet era, where the wonder of a porous, unregulated space was not yet an option.
But who needs diplomats when you have internet?
Sadly you still do.
In a place like Cairo, where the notion of a "gay community" is summed up in the anonymous "few" profiles on a few dating websites.
The entire physical space that goes with a community is absent in Cairo. Absent by ( or because of ?) social norms and by force as well (the famous crack downs that took place in the last decade).
So when the chance to actually socialize with few potentially interesting candidates, gentlemen callers that is, in some diplomat's house arises, you don't easily turn this down. Even if it means you go uninvited.
I didn't let it go to waste.
And I got my famous three packs of grape juice and walked in, in what seemed at first like an interesting party, uninvited and just imposed myself like any good, desperate queen.
Little did I know that this party too was turning out to be yet another "fish" convention (fish referring to the derogatory reference used for lesbianism).
Barely recovering from the last party, where we are almost turned into dykes or lady femmes depending on what you enjoyed more, we found ourselves facing another moral crisis.
Or rather a demoralizing one.
How can a queen survive in a dry land and keep her preferences intact without having to compromise and turn lesbian?
As this was a diplomat's party it was not devoid of the existence of two arch enemies, women and heterosexuals (this might sounds as bigoted and this exactly what it is).
This not only causes confusion, distraction and competition, it also hinders the development of a proper dynamics of interaction.
The queens instantly bond with the women, the other guys feel aloof, and the next thing you have is little ghettos all over the place.
Isolated space of social interaction which ultimately makes the queens (out of sheer desperation) think of "other options".
Now we are not all desperate for the same reasons.
We are desperate for a variety of different reasons. And we act out this desperation accordingly.
There are those who are involved in dysfunctional, hallucinatory relationships.
There are those whose promiscuity naturally makes them always on the look, and those are the nasty trouble makers usually.
There are those who are obsessive about relationships and will keep trying everything till they find "the one" relationship they think is fulfilling. Dating, flirting, shagging everyone on the way.
There are those who have intimacy issues, and serious moral conflicts, which eventually makes them look awkward and suppressed in a way (of course I speak of moi)
So here is a melange of queens each acting his desperation in a different way, each consequently creating a zone of interest and interest conflict with everyone else.
The party was not only a fish convention. But also "ghosts from the past" convention.
More disturbed expats show up at these parties than anywhere else.
And good heavens if you want to deal with something of this sort.
You don't.
You keep wondering how many packs of grape juice and how many parties do you have to go till you end up in the "right party"?
Its not like we did not try, we had a music connoisseur, we desperately tried to shake it like you mean it, and even did the whole routine of a proper lady at a party.
All in vain.
There were the foreign perverts (not my cup of tea)
The expats wanna bes (I would die first before I even touch one of those)
Then more foreign perverts.
Those who are into foreign perverts got the best of the day as they say.
The rest of us had to go down, cursing under our breath, for a perfectly wasted evening!
Thats in a pre-internet era, where the wonder of a porous, unregulated space was not yet an option.
But who needs diplomats when you have internet?
Sadly you still do.
In a place like Cairo, where the notion of a "gay community" is summed up in the anonymous "few" profiles on a few dating websites.
The entire physical space that goes with a community is absent in Cairo. Absent by ( or because of ?) social norms and by force as well (the famous crack downs that took place in the last decade).
So when the chance to actually socialize with few potentially interesting candidates, gentlemen callers that is, in some diplomat's house arises, you don't easily turn this down. Even if it means you go uninvited.
I didn't let it go to waste.
And I got my famous three packs of grape juice and walked in, in what seemed at first like an interesting party, uninvited and just imposed myself like any good, desperate queen.
Little did I know that this party too was turning out to be yet another "fish" convention (fish referring to the derogatory reference used for lesbianism).
Barely recovering from the last party, where we are almost turned into dykes or lady femmes depending on what you enjoyed more, we found ourselves facing another moral crisis.
Or rather a demoralizing one.
How can a queen survive in a dry land and keep her preferences intact without having to compromise and turn lesbian?
As this was a diplomat's party it was not devoid of the existence of two arch enemies, women and heterosexuals (this might sounds as bigoted and this exactly what it is).
This not only causes confusion, distraction and competition, it also hinders the development of a proper dynamics of interaction.
The queens instantly bond with the women, the other guys feel aloof, and the next thing you have is little ghettos all over the place.
Isolated space of social interaction which ultimately makes the queens (out of sheer desperation) think of "other options".
Now we are not all desperate for the same reasons.
We are desperate for a variety of different reasons. And we act out this desperation accordingly.
There are those who are involved in dysfunctional, hallucinatory relationships.
There are those whose promiscuity naturally makes them always on the look, and those are the nasty trouble makers usually.
There are those who are obsessive about relationships and will keep trying everything till they find "the one" relationship they think is fulfilling. Dating, flirting, shagging everyone on the way.
There are those who have intimacy issues, and serious moral conflicts, which eventually makes them look awkward and suppressed in a way (of course I speak of moi)
So here is a melange of queens each acting his desperation in a different way, each consequently creating a zone of interest and interest conflict with everyone else.
The party was not only a fish convention. But also "ghosts from the past" convention.
More disturbed expats show up at these parties than anywhere else.
And good heavens if you want to deal with something of this sort.
You don't.
You keep wondering how many packs of grape juice and how many parties do you have to go till you end up in the "right party"?
Its not like we did not try, we had a music connoisseur, we desperately tried to shake it like you mean it, and even did the whole routine of a proper lady at a party.
All in vain.
There were the foreign perverts (not my cup of tea)
The expats wanna bes (I would die first before I even touch one of those)
Then more foreign perverts.
Those who are into foreign perverts got the best of the day as they say.
The rest of us had to go down, cursing under our breath, for a perfectly wasted evening!
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