Friday, November 17, 2006
Harper's Promise and Another Dead Gay Guy
I see that the latest vote on gay marriage may be delayed again. Despite Stephen Harper's promise to hold the vote this fall, it look as if he may give in to the demands of his wingnut base.
They know they'd lose a vote if it was held today. So they want Harper to delay it until after the next election. Hoping he'll get a majority. And use it to crush our rights.
Normally I'd be really angry. How dare this sinister neocon pose as a champion of human rights? When he's fucking with the equality rights of more than a million gay and lesbian Canadians.
But tonight I'm not angry just sad....
It started two nights ago when Farm Boy got a call from his oldest and best friend Michael, who lives in one of those huge towers in the gay village. He had just arrived home from work, to find the police in his apartment. Who told him his roommate of three years had thrown himself off their 24th floor balcony.
I never met the roommate, but I sure heard about him every time Michael was here. How he was from New Brunswick. How he liked to sing loudly in his room. But mostly about what a pig he was. How his room and washroom were filthy. How he was always bringing one sleazy trick after the other back to the place. How he left condoms and even cock rings lying around. How he had twelve bottles of poppers in the fucking fridge.
Which, as Michael knew, would always shock me because I'm a bit of a prude. I'm not into that kind of gay lifestyle. As in how you live as opposed to who you are. Not because I'm morally superior or a better person or anything like that. But because I need to know and like someone more than just a bit before I can sleep with them.
And also because I guess I'm a hopeless romantic and never wanted a sexual athlete...just a boy next door. Who was a sexual athlete! But only with me.... Then I never found him. Sebastien, the sexy French boy from planet Quebec, found me in the middle of a bar fight. All covered in blood. So who the fuck am I to judge anyone?
Besides I know that a lot of gay boys from stinky homophobic small towns can go wild and crazy when they arrive in a big city like Toronto or Montreal. And try to make up for lost time. The way I see it, if that's what it takes to fill their human need for love, and make up for all that suffering, that's all that counts.
Anyway.....so much for the bullshit morality, and another example of how gay people can be their own worst enemies.....the worst part of this story came when Michael informed us that he had no intention of returning to the apartment for a while. That he just couldn't. That he was staying with a friend. And after that he was moving. That he didn't want to meet the parents who were driving all the way from New Brunswick to pick up their son's body. And that he wouldn't even clean up the guy's room. Because he said "that's their problem."
Which made it my problem. Because I expect gay men to take care of each other. Even if they're just roommates. And to have more courage and class. I just couldn't bear the thought of his poor parents coming all the way to Toronto to come face to face with that. There were angry words. Were we proud gay brothers or animals just like the homophobes say we are? To make a long story short Farm Boy and I ended up going over to Michael's apartment and doing what we could to clean it up.
Farm Boy (who is also known as Howard as in Howard Hughes) insisted we put on big yellow gloves. He scrubbed the washroom. And vomited twice. I tried to tidy up the room. It wasn't as bad as Michael made out. But the police had been through it. There were piles of clothing on the floor. Tons of CD tapes ......opera ones. Turns out that was what he used to sing in his room alone. And little bits of paper everywhere with scrawled numbers on them he would never call again.
I trashed the sex stuff, as well as some muscle clone magazines and videotapes. I straightened the dirty sheets. I found a picture of people I assumed were his parents in the closet. And a little portrait of Jesus with a big red heart.
Just like this one.
And placed them on the bedside table. It was such a weird feeling tidying up the room of a dead person I'd never met. Putting a Jesus picture up. Wearing a pair of yellow gloves. I couldn't believe I'd been forced into such a situation. If Michael had dared show his face I probably would have killed him.
Anyway....when I finished the place was half decent , and there were no signs that he had been gay. Just in case his parents didn't know. But then I felt bad about that. Why should he not be remembered for who he really was? So I took off a rainbow coloured rubber bracelet I was wearing and placed it on the bedside table. Right next to the Jesus with the big red heart. So maybe his parents will know their son was gay. And if they believe in Jesus will be able to fool themselves into thinking that their poor dead gay boy is asleep in his arms.
I didn't shed a tear until I got back to the Bunker. And Farm Boy had me strip in the doorway so he could pitch all my clothing into the washing machine. And sent me straight to the showers. And then I wept for one more Canadian gay guy who never lived to see the day the hatred stopped. It's been a brutal and morbid week. First there were those two dead boys staring out from the past. With their mannequin faces. And now this.
But the water washed my tears away. And I didn't cry for long. Because the next thing I knew Farm Boy was in the shower with me. Probably to make sure that I really scrubbed myself....the little bitch...so I had to laugh. Normally a sight like that would also move the other gay boys in the bunker to much hilarity ....and vulgarity. But tonight they were deathly quiet. Nobody said a thing.
I guess every one of them knew that had things turned out differently that dead gay guy could have been one of them. Although because Sebastien is away, and they know how much I miss him, and how I wish he was here right now, they did give me some really big hugs.
I hope that poor brother, whoever he was, found the peace that eluded him in life. As the picture of the AIDS quilt I used tonight says....no fear, no pain, no broken heart...
I hope his poor family comes to terms with who he was and how he died. I hope that at least one of the men who frolicked with him remembers him for the rest of his life.
I hope Stephen Harper does the right and decent thing. And holds that gay marriage vote when he said he would.
I hope the evil wingnut freak homophobes stop persecuting gay people and making them think that they are wicked and bad. And that their lives aren't worth anything. How much gay blood do these bastards want?
But if they don't, and I'm sure they won't..... maybe I'll get angry tomorrow. Or maybe the day after that.
Tonight I'm just so sad...