Maybe she was just well raised

On Saturday night at the Opera House I had a memorable encounter with the monitor person, Chantal. Chantal joined my friend John Power and I for fries before the Hidden Cameras gig, and she was concerned about overhearing an intimate conversation. We assured her that, as the monitor person, she was already intimate, and would be the one guarantor of a smooth performance, so it was in fact best for her to know us better. Not only did Chantal do an excellent job on the monitor mix, she also helped us out with a linguistic quandary that had me stumped for at least ten years.

I was chatting with John Power about whether being a faghag is a genetic predisposition. Being a faghag isn't really a choice. Some women just adore gay men, and are equally adored by the gay men they encounter. It's only right and natural. The only bad thing about it is the word itself- 'faghag' just doesn't sound like a nice thing, even though it represents a beautiful reality.

In support of my foolish and dangerous genetic theory, I gave John and Chantal the example of one particular faghag who is the daughter of another faghag. "Maybe she was just well raised" offered Chantal.

Chantal couldn't be more right. Not only is it a terrible thing to assume that people are totally determined by their genes, and by their biology, "well raised" is also a way better term for the Liz Taylor/Madonna phenomenon. The Madonnamenon, if you will.

From now on, this blog will retire that old, dated term that has its roots in the fear of strong, single women, and the prejudice that women should confine themselves to coupledom, rather than deeply intimate nonsexual friendships. A woman who loves gays, a woman who gays love- she is just well raised.

And just to make things crystal clear, while this blog entry is fixed on the death of an exclusive, restrictive word, BB loves all LGBTQ people, and will always love all LGBTQ people, until the sun goes supernova and rains glitter on the dusty remains of the world.

Yours,
BB