Wednesday, November 25, 2009 at 03:40AM | 9 Comments death of a fabulous man
Mar. 2/2009
“I was in love. Until I got left. Now I’m just left.”
- Sean Robert’s Journal
I’ve always attested to the fact that Winnipeg’s greatest export is not wheat, but fabulous gay men. Coming of age in the prairie town, it seemed that, without fail, whenever I’d fall in love with a boy, before I could make it to one month they’d be on the next flight to Toronto or Vancouver. (That is of course not to say that I, Rugged Fox, was the reason behind their departure; I mean bitch please, they still don’t know they’re missing.) For years I cursed the major Canadian cities, which attract gays like drink specials, for bleeding my heart dry. By the time I left Winnipeg, every Friday night at the gay bar felt like another going away party while every first date, a countdown to the last.
In the Gay Canadian dream, small town boys with a penchant for accessorizing are meant to break free from the rural chains that bind them. Unlike their male heterosexual counterparts, who are expected to find full-time work out of high school, buy a house in the ‘burbs and then settle down with a wife just dying procreate; gay boys are anticipated to hop the next train with a one-way ticket out. After surviving years of adolescent adversity hiding in the deep ends of their closets, these young fairies are destined to do what so many other gay men have done before them, and leave.
Well, after living the “Gay Canadian Dream” for the last six months now, I can honestly tell you that is an absolute sham. I mean, talk about behind schedule. At this point I should be: falling in love with an endless number of boys knocking on my door, finding myself in the rainbow-flagged blocks lining Davie Street, and luxuriating in the life that is the modern urban homosexual. Instead, I am more single than ever: working six nights a week in a soaking-wet mess to make rent each month, while trying not to spend all my grocery money for the week in one failed night at the bar (that I can’t even remember anyways!)
If small towns are the birthplace of dreams, then big cities are the places in which they go to die.
Dear Little Redheaded Boy...
So, had I the opportunity to write that little redheaded boy, who sat in his bed so many frozen nights dreaming of the big city life to come, I would say:
Dear little redheaded boy,
You are the treasure that lies at the end of the rainbow, so stop burning yourself out trying to seek it. And if you must book that plane ticket, then save up another three grand so you can afford the good stuff once you land.
Sincerely,
You in six month’s time.
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Reader Comments (9)
This is the biggest reason I haven't moved back to England. David & I have talked about it and obviously there's a huge attraction to going there but I have to keep reminding myself we'd be pretty much destitute if we went back, have to work 2 or 3 jobs just to pay rent on a place attached at the seams to your neighbours (honestly, the house we moved out of back there was attached to our neighbour's living room, and at dinner time we could hear the music/conversation perfectly!)
I'm sorry it's not the dream right now - but you can always come back to Winnipeg and save up for a while, not kill yourself working overtime, and go back later?
Dear Handsome Redheaded Boy,
Remember that you are exactly where you're supposed to be. Chin up, lover. The time will come soon to fall in love and buy a loft; to laugh and to cry and eat and breathe love. The dream isn't dead, it's just blinking it's great big eyes.
Thinking of you
Wow I never knew that Em had a dream to move to England because all the gay men were doing it! lol =p
I think it's easy to think that the answer to why things are hard is simple: the guys are all going to other cities is definitely a convincing argument, but I'm glad that you've started burning through the hype of Vancouver and are seeing it from the ground up.
Because when you stop working 6 nights a week? ( I hear this is when Gay Men tend to congregate) And go to the bar and get semi-trashed instead of fully-trashed, I promise you will be knee deep in men. Besides, your dream guy wouldn't take advantage of a poor drunk red head at the bar would he? He'd just hope to see him again when they could get to know each other better.
What fabulous comments!
Em - It is true. Here it seems you have to be making a six figure salary to afford the lifestyle and home you could have on the prairies for much less. To think of the marvelous red wine I could afford whilst living on River. Now I am barely scraping by with boxed wine each night on West 12th.
Chef - Thank you for the positive support and words of wisdom! I might have to take you up on that open-door policy you have down South!
Kyla - What gorgeous female wouldn't want to herd with the gays? ;) I am still working on this 'semi-trashed' state you speak of! Maybe that is my problem - I keep running into my dreamlover but am too drunk to ever remember them.
Sometimes dreams are just that, dreams. We are the ones who make the reality and maybe yours is in another place/space. Just waffling as usual but I really did love the post.
This is the reality check that reminds me why I'm still living with my mother. I hope things start to pick up for you soon - and just a thought, perhaps don't concentrate so much on 'luurrve' and maybe look at the other awesomness that I'm sure is lurking in Vancouver.
Emily Jane - Although the plus side of semi-detached English houses is that at least it provides plenty of material for the aspiring writer! ;)
Better dead and fabulous in Vancouver, than alive and married in the burbs.
What is this? Just what I told you circa six months ago? Thought so... You're welcome.
Home is where the heart is. And your heart is with me. in the small town.
Just a small town girl, living in a lonely world.
Took the midnight train going anywhere.
It was a pleasure to meet you today, although you are quite the man of mystery leaving so quick - you could've stayed for lunch, although I wasn't living up to my title of being fabulous today with kid in tow, I could see that not being your scene...
Also, please don't leave, just drink less, but if you wanna go on a vaca, I recommend Montreal - I used to work at Holt's in Toronto and my bff's were all gentlemen who liked other gentlemen (okay, they were all whores, but whatevs) and Montreal was like their playground.