I heard the twink before I saw him. The clickity clack of his vintage boots signified that he was on the hunt. You could tell, without even looking, just from the sound, that his hips swished in a way that would be the envy of any drag queen watching. His oversized American Apparel t-shirt fit him in a “I don’t care what I’m wearing, I’m above all of that nonsense” sort of way. And yet, as I traveled up from his boots, to his overpriced black jeans, up to his perfectly fauxed hawk, I noticed he was missing something. A friendly face. A smile. Because as I looked past his look of disdain, and into his eyes, I noticed a lonliness inside that I’ve seen often. This boy was alone, and he was looking for something.
I don’t know how his story turned out, I had customers to serve and am not about to stalk a 22 year old twink as he puruses West Hollywood in his search to find some sort of connection. Maybe he was looking for drugs, maybe he was looking for a nice bear-ish man to take care of his needs. Perhaps he was looking for his soulmate. Who the hell knows. But I’d like to think that his search, his effort, can be seen in most of us night-walkers at some point in our tumultuous lives.
I won’t speak for everyone else, but I can most definitely speak on my experience. I’ve been on the hunt before, once or twice. Getting all dolled up, listening to Britney Spears sing “Stronger” over and over again, feeling like I’m the queen of the world, on top of my game. But, in reality, for the greater part of my adult life I’ve been masquerading around town, trying on different hats, different masks, different styles of jeans, all in an effort to connect with someone. Not necessarily in a sexual way, maybe I just want to find a friend, or a drinking buddy, a confidant. The problem, unfortunately, is that after trying on all these personas, we forget who we were in the first place. And without that genuine, honest core, you can never truly connect on any sort of deep level with anyone.
And yet, even with this almost voracious desire to seek validation from the people we immerse ourselves in, the way we present ourselves leaves much to be desired. I mean honestly, how many times have you gone out on a Saturday night and seen those boys. You know the ones, the ones who walk about town with a perma-scowl on their face. The ones that are just too cool to remember your names, and far too cool to wait in lines. The ones who look like they are having an absolutely miserable time, and how dare we make their lives so hard (that was heavy sarcasm, in case you missed that). These are the “mean girls” of our community, and these are the people that so many homos aspire to be? Really? Really??
I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of disrespect and inflated egos being so cool. The people I want to admire are the ones who go out of their way to help another person, who think about how their actions affect the world around them, the people who I can stand being around when I am sober. I want to connect, I want it to be ok to be who I am, and I want it to be ok for you to be who you are too.
It doesn’t matter how much money you spent on those G star jeans.
It doesn’t matter how much botox you’ve gotten.
You are more than the top shelf vodka you order at The Abbey.
I hope that twink found what he was looking for. I know I’m still searching.
Lord, I need a drink.
Jesse
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