Loves, I’m so excited to post this brilliant guest post by Gay Chemist that I don’t want to steal your attention with a fancy introduction. I’ve been Gay Chemist’s fruitfly since high school; he’s funnier, sexier and smarter than any five people you can imagine. Put together. He’s also a kickass writer, when he’s not juggling coffee mugs full of Benzene.
(Also, still missing me, guys? Feel free to get a dose of TKOG from my SSoLA list of things everyone in the world apparently adores that totally nauseate me.)
NKOTG (where G = gay): The kind of gay guy who, for one night, trades in his lab coat and social awkwardness for a skirt, stockings, and a pair of sensible heels.
I am: exceedingly lazy in terms of my own fashion. I have barely enough social graces to not buy 10 sets of the same clothing a la many a cartoon character.
I am not: going to shave my legs for anyone or anything.
The Scene: A party one Saturday two towns over night hosted by friends of some friends I have — a gay couple, higher-ups in one of the bigger companies in town. I am told by my friends that their parties are simultaneously fabulous and totally relaxed, and I accept the invitation with enthusiasm.
But there’s a twist. It’s a theme party, which immediately made me roll my eyes. As Kathy Griffin put it best, I don’t want to have to work to go to a party, I just want to, like, eat chips and dip.
The theme: “dress as an emotion.”
Okay. Despite my predilection for staying at home on Saturday nights, I was definitely up for attending what I was hoping to be a real trainwreck of a gay costume party. That it was being hosted by social butterflies two towns over meant that I could safely participate in said trainwreck without having to deal with the aftermath of socially inept scientists constantly bringing up my sporadic attempts at homo-fabulous faux pas. For once, I could do something really outrageous and get away with it.
I wracked my brain the week prior trying to come up with a suitable costume idea. After discussing it with my friends, I finally decided on the following: high heels, fishnet stockings, a cute short skirt, and a football jersey with eyeblack.
The emotion: Confused. Who doesn’t love some good gender-bending humor every now and then? (besides transgendered people and overly sensitive liberal types. Apologies to the former; the latter can go fuck themselves.)
Now, as I don’t have the luxury of having a year’s worth of blog’s posts to describe my personality and why this is significantly different from my usual antics, I’ll quickly bring you up to speed: I’m a grad student in science and I’m a total workaholic. I don’t even go to parties, much less go to parties in drag. I’m also gay, which just adds to the absurd realities of my life. So going to a mostly gay party in drag, for me, amounted to taking a huge step forward in reclaiming my social life in the most obnoxiously flagrant way possible. Six inches forward and five inches back. If you will.
I don’t own any women’s clothes, so I had to go buy some. With the assistance of one of my fabulous friends and some very confused, but helpful, associates at Payless Shoe Source, I picked out some chunky-heeled shoes, a MUST for any cross-dressing neophyte planning on drinking heavily. I also picked out a cute black and white polka dot skirt and (the coup de grace) a pair of fishnet stockings.
Check those lethal legs. How jealous are you?
I thought I looked ridiculous. Ridiculously HOT. I was set. I drive Two Towns Over to my friend’s house and we walk to the party. The party was at the end of January, there was still snow and ice on the ground, but somehow, I managed to make it there without falling despite my costume. Excellent planning, me. When we got to the party, we had to wear nametags that said what our emotions were.
You guys. I was the most OVERDRESSED person there. The friends I went with, another gay couple, went as “codependent” and wore t-shirts with pics of each other on them, which was cute. Most everyone else’s was just lame- like one guy wore a periodic t-shirt and was “periodic.” Like, seriously? He wasn’t even a chemist. I was sorely disappointed. Even the gaggle of cougar lesbians there didn’t dress up- they went as “on the prowl!” and “Sassy!” and other things they were the night before.
Actually, the cougar lesbians LOVED me. They were insanely jealous of my legs, which I was not expecting at all. After receiving platitudes from the cougar’s den, I felt a lot more comfortable and opened up to a lot of people. My seriously hot legs became a conversation piece. Plus, most everyone else said I had the best costume of the night, but when some of the cuter guys there said that, I immediately translated it as “You seem nice but I’m not going home with you. If I undress you with my eyes I’m afraid I’ll find, like, a vagina or something equally hideous.”
The Verdict: I did end up going home with a hot guy that night. So there. Plus, thanks to some sassy lesbian forty-somethings, I got to learn something about myself: I have hot-ass legs. So if this whole science thing doesn’t work out, at least I have some other career options. Should I get invited to a party there again, I don’t plan on going in drag again- I’d hate to be a one-trick party, but if I am expected to be ridiculous again, they can certainly count on me.
{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }
Good for you for going – and for going all out! I fear parties, especially theme parties. And the comfortable couch and Buffy on DVD would have been too tempting for me to pass up on a Saturday night.
Similar feelings to Nikki (qv). Particularly if I had a bottle or 2 of wine and a friend of appropriate sex and orientation, and interests, to share the evening with.
Parties (and clubs) tend to be too much about “Ve haff vays ov making you hav fun” and bad “dance” music played at brain-liquidising volumes for me to really enjoy them!
Sounds like a blast. But most of those people don’t even know what an emotion is…which is sad.
Foxium – that’s killing me.
And way to be brave – everytime I’m invited to some sort of costume party a part of me panics prematurely like, “What if it’s like in Mean Girls, and I really dress up and no one else does?!” Clearly I will survive, but sometimes I like to be dramatic.
And PS – Yes, you do have killer legs!
Very impressed. That was a Wicked great emotion translation!! Way to get your party on and come out of your shell! Great guest post.
Kids, I’m proud to say that Gay Chemist was my junior prom date!!
True damn story! Good times were had.
Dear, thanks for the clarification. I couldn’t guess who he was. Dear, we still have your Trivial Pursuit DVD from two Christmases ago.
Oh wow, major props for you for even going! I love dressing up, but lately I’ve become a hermit, and the thought of going to a costume party where it’s unknown the level of dress.. that’s enough to send anyone packing and running.
Also, several jewels that totally made my day:
-Six inches forward and five inches back. If you will.
-the gaggle of cougar lesbians
-If I undress you with my eyes I’m afraid I’ll find, like, a vagina or something equally hideous.
Love it! And you didn’t even have to shave your legs (and deal with annoying stubble afterwards. seriously, i’m a girl and i don’t even shave my legs that often for that very reason).
I tried dressing up as a drag queen once and let me tell you: drag queen make up is so much harder than it seems!
I love theme parties though. One of my goals is to throw a successful Rubik’s cube party one day: Everyone comes dressed in a variety of solid colors and the goal is to trade clothes with other guests until your outfit is just one color.
P.S. High-five on that hot guy.
I still shudder when I think about the last Halloween party I went. Thankfully, my mind has blanked out the reason why I went as a woman. The worst part of the evening wasn’t when I showed up the next morning to ride dirt bikes with red nail polish still gleaming. It was earlier in the evening when, after applying the last of the make-up, GF says, “I thought you would be pretty as a woman……but, you’re not.”
thanks.
As a lesbian that misses the cougar cateogory by about 15 years, I must say, you do have some gams. :) Great story.
Ok, I’m confused now. I thought a “cougar” was a woman who was sleeping with a regular partner at least 10 years younger than she was, so any woman over 28 could be a cougar in principle?
Thiw was a great guest post. I thought that I was going to have serious TKOG withdrawal but this was awesome…
I appreciate people who go ALL out in costume parties. I work in an event organizer and when people don’t dress up when we tell them to, it’s kind of annoying :p
The party sounds fun!
Was that an Angry Inch reference? Awesome.