Apparently, I need a new Gay BFF…

Unlike me who tries to sugar coat everything, my sister is very blunt and says exactly what she thinks. She also likes to dole out what I like to think of as her unique brand of self help.

(My favorite being last year’s zinger, “You used be cool Simone…..what happened?”)

In August while she was here visiting, we were walking along College Street, when she turns and says to me:

Sister: “You know what’s wrong with your life?”
Me: “No, what?”

(wait, there is something wrong?!)

Sister: “You don’t have a Gay BFF anymore!”
Me: “Hey, you’re right”
Sister: “You totally need to find a Gay BFF. Your life would be fun again!”
Me: “Yeah!”
Sister: “You need to have more fun Simone. Hey, maybe he could help you dress better too!”

I love my sister.

It’s not that I don’t have a Gay BFF – I DO – I just don’t really consider my friend Trevor my “GAY bff” – he’s always just been my FRIEND who is awesome & who I adore, and who just happens to be Gay. We went to high school and university together. A few years ago he fell in love, got married to a wonderful man (who I also adore) and moved overseas. I know we’re always going to be friends – I just miss him.

My life now just seems very….straight.

This wasn’t always the case. When I was in university I went through a total fag hag phase. I worked part-time at a makeup counter downtown. Aside from a few girls that I worked with, I was surrounded by gay guys (heavily bronzed and well-plucked gay guys). One night my co-workers invited me to go out with them. I remember after that first night, my friend said to me: “You’re coming out with us again. You seem to attract attention. When you get attention, it filters down to us. We like attention. This works for us”. It wasn’t long before we were hitting up the gay clubs together a couple times a week. Suddenly, I was one of the girls…err, boys – and I loved it. I loved dressing up outrageously. I loved dancing. I loved the gay clubs because it meant I got to do both of these things while surrounded by something else I love (HOT MEN EVERYWHERE) without having to worry about being sexually harassed. Except of course when it came to BOOBS. I discovered that regardless of whether they are gay or straight, guys who aren’t terrified of breasts are totally fascinated by them. There were many nights during my fag hag career where I found myself confronted by pair of very well manicured man-hands, reaching out towards my chest asking the inevitable question:

“CAN I TOUCH THEM?”

Me: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

And yes, that’s me – happily in the middle of a GAY-MANWICH. I barely remember this photo being taken and I have no idea who the shirtless guy is but, it looks like I’m enjoying myself!

gay002bmanwich


Boob grabbing aside, I loved my friends. They were funny and sweet and snarky and the perfect drinking buddies. Some of my favorite memories from my 20’s come from this fun (boozy) era of my life.

Then, something happened. We started to grow up. We got jobs. We became travel agents and lawyers and nurses and hairdressers. Other people got involved in internet porn, became coke addicts and skipped town because they could no longer pay their dealer/landlord (no really, my friend’s dealer WAS his landlord). Other people got mortgages. Staying out dancing until 5am on a Wednesday no longer seemed feasible. Without the common excuse of drinking together, our group drifted. We started to only see each other on birthdays and special occasions. Some friendships disintegrated entirely.

Then one day, it was like all the gay….just went away.

Although I’m not exactly dying to stay out until 5am on a weekday or wear black patent leather fuck me boots in public (re: boots – wait, who am I kidding?), I sometimes miss those days. I miss my friends.

Two weeks ago I was out at a bar with a bunch of friends, celebrating the Toronto portion of my birthday. The cocktails were flowing and I was feeling all warm & fuzzy. At one point, I cornered my friend’s very own Gay bff & said to him:

So, umm, if you have any Gay friends who are looking to meet someone…can you please tell them that I’m back on the market and looking for a new Gay BFF? Its been a few years now and I think I’m ready to put myself out there again and meet new gays”

He gave me a big hug and a sympathetic look that said “Don’t worry Simone. You’ll meet someone. I’m sure he’s out there”

(Nostalgia + $6 Martini specials = this conversation)

I truly believe in meeting people organically but, in the age where stuff like Ashley Madison exists there should be some kind of straight girl-gay guy dating service. I imagine it would be like online dating for straight people minus the fashion faux-pas, bad spelling, badly lit photos and unsightly facial hair. On my walk home from work today, I decided what my profile would say:

“30 year old, curly haired, freckled “Grace” seeks “Will”. Tired of the bar scene and looking to make meaningful connection with cute gay for long walks through Holt Renfrew, nights out dancing and afternoons spent sipping lattes in Chapters while giving judge-y side-glances to the people in the self help section. No drama queens or Twinkies please. A little bit of snark to match my own is OK. Must like martinis, wine and not look down at the occasional “desperation cocktail” (bottled vodka beverage). But, please – no druggies! Oh yeah, and if you say stuff like “I just don’t understand why people find shows like Arrested Development or 30 Rock funny”, this isn’t going to work. What you get from me: a pint-sized sidekick with lots if witty one-liners. I may even let you touch my boobs if you promise to occasionally step in and pretend you’re my boyfriend whenever there are perverts around who legitimately want to touch my boobs. Wait, that sounds weird. I’m not a weirdo! I swear. I’m cute and I give good hugs. Lets do brunch”

My sister suggested, I hold a “Be My New Gay BFF!” contest on the blog – Paris Hilton style.

Me: But, didn’t that show totally suck?
Sister: BIG TIME.
Me: Not helpful.

So, if you were (are) a Gay Guy, would YOU go on a friend date with me?

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