Hollywood Hayes – Friendly or Gay?
Hard to tell in LA if most of the sound guys who I meet out happen to be gay or if gay guys are just sound to me. That’s the trouble here trying to make friends. You try to be open but never quite sure what the ulterior motive is.
Take last Saturday. I’m DJing at the SkyBar pool party in West Hollywood, a fancy, swanky hotel full of interesting clientele. Movie stars, rappers, soccer players, silicon filled models, oil tycoons and everything in between. All sorts.
After my set I stick around to hear the other DJs playing. Notice the crowd’s different than usual. Lot of gay guys in tiny thongs mixed with beautiful tattooed girls. Music was really good too, proper house as opposed to the usual EDM gibber they play in LA. Felt like an underground club in the middle of the day.
Let’s be social, I say to myself, go mingle with a few of the other DJs. All seem sound although one or two were a bit too touchy feely, like Juan who was going out with one of the other DJs.
Six foot, chiseled, Cuban model with a handle bar mustache, wearing knee high Doc Martens, yellow Speedos and a matching yellow swimming cap. Friendly chap, came up complimenting my set. Alright Juan, nice one. I’m all ears for a compliment.
This is grand, he’s dressed like a go-go dancer but he’s sound, look at you, making friends, my brain said to me.
And then the weird vibe started popping out.
“I used to be straight like you before as well, but now I’m not” Juan said, winking and staring at me.
OK? I smiled back. Here we go.
“You and me are alike, I’m from an island too. You know if you were gay you could pull any guy here,” he said to me, putting his hand on my shoulder.
OK? I said again, turning away aimlessly, nodding and talking to no one.
I think this guy is out to try and turn me, apparently something gay men take pride in doing.
Or is he, my brain wondered. Are you just flattering yourself and being paranoid?
Hmm, not sure, I said to myself. Maybe I am.
“You know, me and my boyfriend have a hotel room upstairs, would you like to come party and take a shower with us?”
My bad, my brain shrugged, You were right.
I took a shower already this week, I mumbled, laughing at a joke I pretended to overhear while walking away to go get a drink at the bar. Dodged a dodgy bullet.
In fairness you get used to this kind of thing living in WeHo, also known as Boys Town. Must be the gayest neighbourhood in the world, even more than Castro in San Francisco. Usually the safest place ever but once or twice it’s been dodge.
Streets are lined with rainbow flags, rainbow zebra crossings and naked men wearing rainbow underpants on billboards. If you’re not gay you’re a minority, by a country mile.
There’s a cluster of about ten bars that are always full to the brim with the happiest gay men alive, high disposable incomes and all. Sometimes I run by here on my way to the gym.
I remember one day waiting to cross one of the rainbow zebra crossings when I heard two guys wolf whistling and yelling, “Daaamn girl, you work those little white shorts.” Look around: I don’t see any girls. Catch my reflection in a shop window. I just see me, in my little white UCC soccer shorts. Oh right, they’re talking to me.
Glance over my shoulder at them as they’re catching up to me on the street. Oh Jesus, these guys look dodge. Two ripped, Latin looking gangsters, bandanas, white vests, baggy jeans and tattoos on their face. Are these gay thugs? They are terrifying beyond belief. These guys could beat the life out of me, and then do even worse. Come on green light, come on.
“What you got down those shorts?” one of them yells.
Christ. No. Is this what girls have to go through on a daily basis with cat calling? The overbearing feeling that rape is possible at any moment? This is horrendous. How do women leave the house with this going on?
“We’re going to destroy that little as-“
Before waiting to hear what they were out to destroy, the green man pops up and I sprint across the street for dear life. Hear them yelling that the next time they saw me they’d eff me up, so that was nice.
I have since burnt said soccer shorts, just too dangerous for my own good. On the upside, at least I know all the squats I’ve been doing are paying off. Happy days.
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