It was a date like any other. A Grindr interaction that had more promise than merely a greeting in the doorway before falling into a stranger’s embrace.
There was personality, humour and common ground on which a couple of drinks could stand.
He was cute. He was pleasant. He was cultured, but with an edge over me. He had more money and seemingly unbounded time to attend to glitz and glam.
He had no knowledge of the Netflix release schedule and deemed the couch an enemy.
He was aghast I was unfamiliar with the Circuit and kept a jockstrap purely to the confines of the bedroom.
The glimmer of interest in his eye dimmed as he wrote me off as uninteresting.
A Boring Queer.
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You are allowed to be boring.
I have felt such pressure to be a fun-hungry, sexed-up on dance floors, rave-comforted, popper-guzzling gay and I believe it is finally time to accept and champion the “Boring Queer”.
You can only spend so much money on a social life and these unattainably wealthy queer influencers are ruining it for everyone.
As it has been said time and time again, there are many ways to be queer.
One of those ‘ways’ may have more of a splash and thrum in the throng of large crowds.
But the other ‘way’ that happens alone in a lamp-lit home is just as rich.
What makes us a Boring Queer?
I would say it is mostly a love for the quieter life.
It is the difference between a Gayns queer and a Reading is Gay queer.
We appreciate the value of quiet wines and early nights.
We appreciate the stillness as we contemplate the end of our book.
We appreciate the silence as an episode ends in the midst of a binge.
Brand the ‘Other’
My cancellable vote is Popper-Guzzling Gay.
They are fabulous, chaotic, and somehow always have free tickets to Berghain. We love them. We are not them.
We love them being the centre of attention in their dazzling speedo.
We love their racy Twitter/X accounts, their tasteful “not” nudes, their encyclopaedic knowledge of what a ‘chill’ entails in Amsterdam.
What’s not to want ?
The comedowns. The tinnitus. The chafing. The sweat-slick press of bodies hundreds-strong.
Cement Yourselves in Queer Culture
We are seeing it more in the popularity of communities like the aforementioned Reading is Gay book club in London.
Though one might argue they are on the cusp of revoking true Boring Queer status, as their events appear as socially intense as some pride pool parties.
Or in the popularised quiet habits like crocheting by the likes of Tom Daley and cooking scene in the planning of dinner parties rather than the going to hyper-fuelled party.
Creating visible communities around these quieter habits stamps our place in the zeitgeist.
Standing unashamed, modestly clothed in defiance showing our culture is desirable.
What is the Life Beyond the Party Scene?
In a Carrie Bradshaw fashion, I couldn’t help but wonder what were other Boring Queers getting up to and did they feel the same division and pressure I did?
Or was I just feeling insecure about my own lifestyle choices? Feeling the ultimate queer fear of missing out?
The thrill of a kink and the embrace of a slutty undergarment rouse me but not when paired with drug-dazzled wuthering bodies.
Losing my reserve to revelry still tickles me pink. But only in the warmth of a house party, not in a drunken, Muppet-like saunter through city streets.
My personal value of the party tax runs in the negative. I don’t feel the worth of my money splashing on venue entry or party tickets.
I can’t connect to people I can’t hear, but does that come from the difference of value in connection? Do the Popper Guzzlers feel connected from the roll of a body and the holding of a gaze?
Waken, O Quiet Ones
The time is now.
As I champion Boring Queers, I call for you to join me and enrich our ranks.
We don’t have to be the best twerkers or suck cock on dance floors.
We don’t have to enjoy adorning bare skin and powdering our noses.
We can meet, flirt, fuck, and fall in love quietly.
We can be just as aspirational and have our lifestyle coveted and envied.
Rise, Boring Queers.