Yesterday kicked off the "big weekend" as a lot of the gays call it. It is Indy's Pride weekend. You might compare this to a Mardi Gras of sorts, because it seems to be the perfect excuse to go and make the biggest ass of yourself as possible. Pride? Really? I'm not sure if I could run around claiming that I'm this so-called "proud" to be gay. I mean, I'm comfortable with myself, but I live a different life compared to a lot of the other queers. Since it's pride, everyone seems to believe that they must pull out their most ridiculous outfits accesorized by rainbow bracelets, shirts saying, "I love cock" and so on. I don't know about you, but I definitely want to go celebrate with a bunch of ass-less chaps, leather suspender wearin, whip carrying, make-up wearing, shirtless fags running around saying "Heyyyy gurrrrrl." Pride, to the gays, apparently means "the loss of dignity for oneself." I'm gay, sure, but I'd like to think that I fit in a little bit more in the world. I look for a long-term relationship, hopefully some day turning into a family. I wear decent clothing, nothing TOO gay. I don't run around with shirts on saying, "Ew, vagina!" So tell me, why would I want to go "celebrate" being gay, with a bunch of guys that make me ashamed of what I am. THIS is the shit that gets televised, and those god-loving, difference haters see on tv, and just solidify their hatred for the homosexual community. Who wouldn't? Hell, I'm gay, and when I see a bunch of half naked fags running around in super shiny silver speedos, waving rainbow flags and humping everything within a 5-foot proximity, I'm embarassed. Embarassed for them, and embarassed for me, because that's the community I "represent."
Unless you haven't guessed, I will not be attending Pride this year, or any year near in the future.