The Eccentric Morbid Queen goes to Brussels..

Disillusioned with the scene in Cairo, and following a spiritual advice she heard from an eccentric expat, the eccentric morbid queen decided it was time to cross the salty water and try other fishing spots (that came out wrong, hunting spots that is).

Taking art as an excuse the eccentric morbid queen, thought that an art festival would be the perfect excuse to be among gay men, and yet look sophisticated.

Encouraged by friends and reassured that her “exoticism” would shine through the moment she crosses the border, the eccentric, morbid queen decided it was time to fly.

And fly she did.

But art is not what it used to be. And the sixties are long gone. The bohemian lifestyle is out of fashion, and a new neo-fascist approach to “Art” came out of nowhere.

The eccentric morbid queen high hopes of nights of endless shagging and sheer debauchery were crushed on the cobble stones of the old streets of Brussels on her way to the theater everyday.

Everyday she wondered, when will it happen?

And everyday when she made her way from one theater to the other, one performance to the other, one talk to the other, she asked the same question, “where the hell are all the gay men in this city??”

You see, men’s sexuality in Brussels is quite ambiguous and difficult to read. Are they gay and they act straight? Are they straight and they act gay?

And what’s the whole deal with the horrible latent homophobia?

These were the questions that ran through the mind of the eccentric morbid queen as she cycled her way through Brussels, under its dreary grey sky.

Her plight was saved thanks to cheesy social networking sites. And all of sudden Gayromeo is not so bad after all. Finally there are actually gays on Gayromeo.

But where the hell will the eccentric morbid queen get the time to shag all these hot men?

That remained a crucial question. That unfortunately remained unanswered.

The scene in Brussels (and I think most of Europe, but especially the German/Dutch leaning side) is quite strange. Men are completely hung up on straight is the new gay thing, but with a little intellect. Which makes it even worse than usual. Because they now have a decent argument (which you can always “deconstruct” in a second) to back up the muscle complex and narcissism.

There was no hope for the eccentric morbid queen. And the absence of maps, and guides, and time to “explore” and “experiment” was the overarching reality.

But thanks to preparation, the eccentric morbid queen hooked up with a few cheesy Belgians before actually going there! Thank God for cyberspace and the manipulation of identity that takes place over there.

And Brussels is divided into scenes, the Dutch-speaking, horribly eccentric and awkward, and the French, helplessly kinky and trying so hard to come across as sophisticated. However, they fail miserably in the process.

The eccentric morbid queen lot came first with a French-speaking gentleman.

What the eccentric morbid queen failed to realize, was the fact that all Europeans are uncircumcised.

(Dramatic music in the background)

Yes. All Europeans are uncircumcised. And the eccentric morbid queen is quite Semitic about this particular aspect.

This was not fun. And it did not make her life easier. At all.

You can not dislike foreskin, in the land of foreskin!

Realizing her own mental deficiency, the eccentric morbid queen was not in a happy place.

Not at all.

And the only option available is the Jews or the immigrants. Both highly problematic and only make the condition of the eccentric morbid queen more precarious.

And realizing this while a French-speaking, half-naked man was in her room, did not make it any easier.

What to do?

Fate intervened, and the fortunes smiled down upon the eccentric morbid queen. The French-speaking gentleman had to go because it was a weekday.

The eccentric morbid queen thanked her lucky stars and the good fortunes that were smiling down upon her at her in her dark, dark, hour.

But what to do still? The eccentric morbid queen did not fly for nothing! Hell no! All this art shit was already getting through her head, and she felt overwhelmed by the fascist treatment she was receiving.

The eccentric morbid queen could definitely use a shag. And for a change a good one!

Belgian men are not interesting. Its usually the men that pass through Brussels that are interesting. Not the native population.

Confused, disillusioned and desperate the eccentric morbid queen thought she should try her luck one last time. And who knows. Things might, just might, for a change take a different turn.

And different turn they did.

A Dutch gentleman from across the border offered to make the eccentric morbid queen’s last night memorable, and make her trip worth its while!

Like all Dutch he was a polygot, terribly proud of this fact. He had a dry, witty sense of humor. And a downplayed sweetness that made its way through the cynicism once in a while.

And on the last day in the hostile, grey city of Brussels the eccentric morbid queen had her share of a good time!!

And for once internet fulfilled its purpose, social networking website realized part of their potential, and eccentric morbid queens got the appreciation they deserve!!