In Praise of Fag Hags


There seem to be more fag hags running around bars than ever, grasping for attention with loud voices and deafening outfits, and I’m always hiding in the corner trying to figure out why. Well, as one poster on this blog pointed out, it’s partly because the gays mostly hook up online these days and aren’t as sexually driven in boites anymore. With the nightclubbing queers not as consumed by the dick hunt, they can tolerate some fruit flies nattering around them–and the flies heed this insect-ual casting call with a vengeance, honey.

But why be a fag hag in the first place? Why be the BFF of someone who primarily uses you as a buffer, a fluffer, and a holder-upper of compact mirrors?

I know that answer too! A lot of these gals are lumpy misfits who couldn’t get a straight boyfriend if it killed them, so they instead fall in love with gays and try to get up in their lives by offering undying support and admiration. It’s a far less painful platonic scenario because they can rationalize the sexual rejection with, “After all, he doesn’t like the tang!” But that’s becoming a somewhat antiquated view of fag hags, sort of the way all lesbians were thought to be moustachioed diesel dykes until The L Word came along.

Some nouveau fag hags are actually glammy types who are simply over straight men and want to be around guys who seem to have more reason for their vanity. An even smaller contingent–but they’re definitely out there–consists of the hags who actually do want to sleep with the gays because (a) they’re super cute and (b) It’s the ultimate challenge; if a girl can nail a queen, you know she’s really got something. (Probably lots of meth.)

But whatever the reason, there’s no fighting the fact that women will always be pushing their way into my bars. So let’s send out a little respect for these gals. Let’s toast the fish!