The Gay Desert


Well, hi! Hope you are all well. I guess I should get the initial getting to know you stuff through. I am a single twenty something wine merchant, I live in South Surrey (the posh suburbs) and I work in White Rock (the retired suburbs). Almost all of my local friends are hetero guys and a few girls and one likes-to-kiss-and-grope-the-token-gay ‘straight’ gay… oops sorry I meant guy, more on that later.

I like to call Surrey the gay desert. Not that there are few or no homosexualist out here from what my $5,000 matchmaker tells me there are hundreds of us per square kilometre down here; most of them are class ‘A’ gays too (they can afford her). And yeah I can’t afford a $5,000 matchmaker because I am poor, but apparently my personality is winning enough to get me on the pity list. Again, more on that later.

To recap: poor, gay, suburbanite (but we have an H&M!)

Back to the desert analogy; what I mean to say is that when the sun comes out in the desert the desert creatures scatter to their dens and shady spots.

Like the interior (where I grew up), gays outside of Vancouver seem to pursue insular activities like gardening, camping (outdoors and at cabarets), reading, watching American Idol and barebacking at manhunt/ organized flash orgies. You know, real bourgeois stuff with poppers, crystal, heavy role-play and conservative investment advice.

Also something that keeps my sex life along the lines of a repressed early sixties homo, as seen in AMC and ‘A’ Channel’s “Mad Men” (though I am out and fully proud), is the fact that I have latter-day-gaydar. My reading of subtext gets completely blinded when Mercury goes retrograde, or my other excuses such as: gas from mall sushi or the sun hitting a shiny object.

Well, I also tend to consider that most people around me are gay until they prove otherwise, it’s my default setting. Now I’m not trying to be political, it’s just that when I’m attracted to a guy, or just like the cut of a man or woman’s jib I just assume they are one of my people (gay!)

Now goodness forbid that I come off as whiny, do let me know if that is what comes across. Or, if I start to get all self pitying. That isn’t my intention here. I had a great set up in Brighton England, Britain’s gayest city, but I came back, and am out in Surrey/White Rock because my family is here and I missed them like the Dickens. I still have living grand-parents who have amusing stories, play a mean game of cribbage and foot the booze bill; a friend owns the local comic shop (yes, I am a nerd, get over it hon’) and is the best straight drinking bud I have ever had, the brother I wish I had years ago.

So I guess I’m here in the ‘burbs, and if the growing number of my wine store fans is any indication, I am the scene here…

Sorry got a little dizzy with the ego.

More later.

Things to think on this week:

Lady Gaga: What? I almost get it, I’m so almost there
Michael Buckley – “What the Buck”: see doctor for proper viewing dosage.

Submitted by: Jason C.

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  • haha cute article. i also seem to believe in the gay until otherwise proven line. and i agree its harder to be gay out in the suburbs being that we are scattered out and there arent many night gay scene spots.

  • Hahaha, as the suburb representative of Homorazzi I wanted to say thanks for the article! South Surrey may be a desert, but there’s a few oases out there… try Richmond on for size hehe 😉
    I wonder what your matchmaker would tell you about my area!
    Can’t wait to visit your scene 😉