The Gay Bubble Just Outside My Window

Last Saturday was my birthday. Not just any birthday, but my 30th. Yes, that's right. I've left my twenties behind.... finally. Unlike most people I know, I have been looking forward to my thirties. My twenties have been fun, but that was a long decade. By the time I hit 28/29 I was long ready to see the big 3-0.

However, this is not going to be a post about me turning thirty, but the occasion of my birthday did make me realize something now that I'm living in the "Gay District" of Dallas, as it's called; though, of course, I've also heard it called the "Gay Ghetto." Both are appropriate, I believe.

Anyway, Tim and I moved down here because we wanted to live closer to downtown, and because we wanted to be more involved in social activities. You know, bars, clubs, drinking, friends. All of that good stuff we felt we'd been lacking since moving here to Dallas nearly three years ago. Now that we're here, we've been getting more of all, and it has been fun. Especially this past weekend.

My family came into town: parents, sister and her boyfriend. We walked around an art street fair, which provided a cool opportunity to introduce my parents to the gay-strip. They were great. They received even better introductions later, but I'll get to that in a bit.

After the walk, after we all went to the Nasher Sculpture Museum (where this picture was the highlight of the visit; there's an image of a person in all that mess when viewed in the right light), and after a bit of shopping, we came back to the apartment to wait until the time of our dinner reservations approached. In the mean time, we drank a bit and people watched (one of my favorite activities), and from our living room there's plenty of opportunities to watch people.

Really, we had a blast. The funniest part was giving my family a crash-course in Gay Lingo. Things like twinks, daddies, bears, cubs, and one Tim made up on the spot: "Paid for." Yes, it was inappropriate, but most gay humor is essentially inappropriate.

Those couple of hours delivered a slew of fun memories, but one seemed to linger on in my mind as the week as progressed. Someone, either my Dad or my sister, mentioned that couples tended to clasp hands at the same point: the parking lot of the Bank of America across the street. Couple after couple would be walking along, a safe distance from each other until they crossed an invisible barrier in the middle of the parking lot. Once the barrier had been crossed, they moved closer and held hands.

It was both a sweet and sad moment. I explained that because this is the gay district, couples felt more comfortable expressing their love to one another once they slipped inside it's protective sphere. Outside of that sphere, most would not have dared hold hands or show the slightest bit of affection for each other. Some do, but not many.

Sure, if you're walking through a store, or eating at a restaurant, most people who pay attention will notice the two gays who seem too engaged in each other's conversation, or the woman shopping whose hand lightly touches her girlfriend's lower back only to be pulled away a moment later (can't have it stay there too long!).

People notice when a couple is a couple. I've seen people glance at Tim and me when we're out shopping. We barely touch each other when out, but our mannerisms and conversations clearly reveal our relationship status, and our sexual orientation.

Yes, it's always sweet seeing two men or two women holding hands, but it's also sad that I can't see that anywhere outside of the "Gay District," or gay-friendly areas. In most stores, I wouldn't dare kiss Tim, nor would he dare. We don't feel safe enough outside of that bubble that exists around our Gay Ghetto. Outside of that bubble there are lots of people who, seeing the two of us kiss, would glare, pull their children away, talk to the store manager about how they were offended by our blatant display of sex, or worse: follow us out to our car and beat the shit out of us.

For a gay couple, there's a certain amount of fear and terror out there in the straight world, and believe me when I say that; it's a straight world out there. People may be okay with gays as long as they don't "see it" or as long as it's not "thrown in their faces," but we are constantly bombarded by straight couples kissing, holding hands, cuddling, and more. Every time I seen a couple lovingly sitting on a bench, the guy's arm wrapped around his girlfriend's shoulders, I'm sad because so many gay couples can't do the same outside of our "ghetto."

Funny, people tend to forget the history of that one word, "ghetto." And just outside my window, it's used appropriately.

I guess this post is both an appreciation and a hopeful look to the future. I appreciate at least having a place where I can hold Tim's hand, hug him, kiss him, or rest my hand on his lower back, but I hope for a time when I can do it without thinking about where I am. Am I in a safe zone? Will someone see and want to kill me simply for holding my boyfriend? Or kissing him?

I hope the younger generation won't have to think about those questions. I hope where they live won't matter. I hope a future gay couple can walk down the street anywhere and hold hands.

All in all, last weekend was a wonderful experience. Indeed, the photo below is most definitely my favorite moment. Yes, that's my mom. Yes, that's a busty drag queen waving her "paid for" melons all up in my mom's face. And yes, that's my mom laughing, having the time of her life.