Dr. Darling and I used to have occasional pangs of guilt over the fact that we aren’t more actively involved in the local gay community. Not often, but once in awhile. We do have some gay friends (all men, for some reason) but they aren’t plugged into the LGBT scene either.
Don’t get me wrong, we both care deeply about gay issues…especially those pertaining to civil rights. But since virtually all of our straight friends care about these things as well, we haven’t had to look too far for people who share our views…though possibly not our actual experiences. The only “gay thing” we ever do on a regular basis is attend the annual Pride Parade in Copenhagen and even that can be hit and miss.
This past weekend we attempted to “be better gays” by going to the kick-off party for Malmö’s version of Pride Week, more commonly known as the Rainbow Festival. And since Weird Freida was coming into town and most likely hoping to make up for the big strike-out of her last visit, we figured we could kill a couple of birds with one stone by taking her along.
Sounds like a good plan, right? Well it would have been, had this not been one of the lamest parties I’ve ever been to in my life.
I suppose we should have known something was up when we arrived and there were more staff members than patrons in the bar. But it was still pretty early and the program promised live music, a drag show and “lots of surprises”, so we endured the Schlager music being blasted on the sound system and waited for the fun to begin. Unfortunately, it never did.
When the live music finally started (almost two hours after we arrived), it wasn’t a cover band ready to rock the place out, but a folk quintet doing original songs that never should have been written in English. The band was followed by the “drag show”, which was essentially a one-person act, and not an especially good one.
At this point all we could do was laugh at ourselves for wasting our evening on i t… which must have appeared to one of the organizers as though we were having a rolicking good time because she came up to our table an asked if she could take our picture for the Rainbow Festival’s website. I politely declined. Not because I was worried about my picture appearing on a gay website…but because I didn’t want anyone to know I was at this incredibly boring party.
The article in the paper about it the next day estimated that 60 people were there, but I think the reporter was being generous. And even though the crowd (such as it was) was mostly female, the pickin’s were WAY too slim for Weird Freida to score
As the evening wore on (we stayed because we were sure it HAD to get better) I actually felt sorry for her because she was driving and therefore couldn’t even have a drink. (The only thing worse than being at this party would have been being at this party SOBER, though Weird Freida’s sobriety was probably only thing that kept her from putting the moves on my girlfriend, who was by far the hottest number in the club.) It was so sad that at one point Dr. Darling turned to me and said, “Promise that you’ll never leave me. Seriously. Promise.”
So we don’t feel guilty about our lack of involvement in the gay community anymore, mostly because its leadership is completely clueless about event planning. During one of the night’s many dull moments we thumbed through the program of Rainbow Festival events for the week and discovered that there was a Men Only party going on at the local leather bar at the same time. Who was the wizard who came up with that idea?!
Because if there’s one universal truth I know about the LGBT community, it’s that when you take the gay men out of the party, your kick-off event is guaranteed to be a dud.