Regular readers of this blog know we have no love for herds of heterosexual ladies who storm gay bars and try to turn them into episodes of Sex and the City.
It’s not so much that we don’t like straight girls—it’s just that there’s a certain subsection of them that think because they’re usually the center of attention on their own turf, they can jump the line to the bar, shake spastically on the dance floor, ask strangers about their sexual habits and generally act like a diva.
However, that doesn’t give gay men the right to insult any woman who dares set foot on homo-hallowed ground.
We’ve seen some downright uncivil behavior directed at ladies whose only crime was not having a penis—from the tacky “fish” jokes to name calling and shoving, and even a thrown drink or two.
One straight-female Queerty reader found herself on the receiving end of this kind of shade, and shared her story:
I am a straight woman who has a gay male friend that I hold near and dear to my heart, but by no means am I a “fag hag” or whatever term is…
I was in Atlanta over the Easter holiday visiting my friend (let’s call him Steve) as I have been doing for years ever since he moved there. We go out to bars and parties—normal weekend stuff with your best mate. One night we went out to a particular gay bar and we started drinking and socializing (something gay and straight people do). Mind you, I am not an obnoxious straight girl that goes into a gay social space, and tries to be BFFs with all the guys. I don’t tell gay couples that they are “cute together,” I don’t call gay guys “my gays,” I don’t make out with gay guys or ask them if they have ever been with women.
And I don’t roll with female friends into gays bars for birthdays or bachelorette parties. (I personally think that is weird, and borderline disrespectful).
Back to my story: I left to use the bathroom, and I clearly saw the sign said “women.” I went it and saw a guy and girl arguing about why he was in the female bathroom. I didn’t really pay too much attention to what he was saying, but as he was leaving I overheard him say “By the way, I peed all over the seat,” which I thought was quite barbaric.
I went into the second open stall, did my business and, as I opened the stall door, another guy was bulldozing through two females to get into the bathroom. As they struggled the guy pushed the women on me, and then he started pushing me as well. I put my hand around his throat and held him against the wall to subdue him. (What can I say— it’s the Army in me.)
His friend then jumped me from behind, which gave him the opportunity to grab my hair (a wig) and throw it into the toilet.
The funny thing is that I was not really embarrassed about having my hair snatched: I am in the Army, I like to wear my hair short, but it is a real pain in the buns to have extensions and wear you PC cap. I was really just upset that this wig was custom-made 100% Indian Remy hair (the really good kind), and he ruined it!
What really took the biscuit for me was that, when we left the bathroom with my poor hair in tow, I went out to look for the guys that jumped me. I was met with a barrage of insults by my attacker’s friends—”This is a gay bar, you don’t belong here!”, “You fucking c***t!” and “Go back to England!” (On account of my accent, they assumed I was a foreigner.)
I ended up walking up to them, we talked and squashed the situation amicably without further incident.