Chazz recently offered his take on the brutality of the gay Atlanta social scene. In particular, the all too familiar feeling of seeing someone you know in a bar, only to have them ignore you because their friends are around. It sparked controversy and heated denials (and lots of amens). I have had this happen to me, many times over the years. Usually, it was in high school, back when multiple people per week told me to my face that my brother was “the pretty one.” Damn, high school sucks! Anyway, apparently the same mysterious force that ravaged the faces of the pretty footballers in high school (for some of them it was just meth) can work in the opposite direction, and I matured into a physical form such that people would, one day, communicate with me in a sexually intentioned way. Although they’re still mean to me on Grindr. Except for the bots, who are always very nice (and very horny after working out!). Despite losing the acne and emaciated theater kid physique of high school, sometimes I’m still in a bar, and I still walk up to someone I know, and they still ignore me because their friends are around. And various things go through my mind--did he forget meeting me? Do the friends think I’m lame? Is it because I trashed half of Atlanta in previous blog posts? Are my clothes last season? Do my clothes have a season? Am I a moped? I’m a moped. I must be a moped. But reason takes the day, as this scenario has played out among groups of people where all of them have hit on me independently of the other, and nothing ever came of it, usually because they aren’t down for groups (at least not without getting them drunk enough in the right place and time). In fact, maybe this particular bar-approach is just the beginning of an attempt to get them drunk enough in the right place and time! But then I walk up to talk, and… nothing. Stone face. No one looks in my direction or acknowledges that I’m there. And I have to do the “oooohhhh kaaaay” walk of shame where I do a 180 degree turn and try to pretend someone just walked in the door who’s totes my friend and I’ve just been waiting for them to show up and I’m so glad they just arrived!
The Looking Glass Self
I have a theory for why this happens, one which doesn’t involve me being a moped, because I’ve had my turn in high school as a moped, and I think people generally grow out of that form of cliquishness. What they don’t grow out of is something different, and which my friend Kevin refers to as “the looking glass self.” It’s a pretty well established psychological concept that you could examine any number of ways, founded on the basis that we shape our self-concept based on how we think other individuals perceive us. In the homo-clique context, it’s probably the most relevant, in that the concept explains why people have different social identities that they switch in and out of, for different groups of friends. Among some friends, they’re the fun drunk. Among others, the esteemed intellectual. Online, the healer in World of Warcraft. At the kink club, the one with the gas mask and suspenders who likes to hang upside down. And for a lot of people, who act really, really differently depending on which group they’re around at the time, encountering multiple people from different places at the same time is intensely uncomfortable. You’ve just caused a collision of their social worlds, and often they respond by shutting down. What are they supposed to talk to you about with their friends around? Gas masks? DPS rotations? Football? The whole ignoring you thing is sometimes actually a sign that you know them better than anyone else there, although the nagging temptation in your head is to tell yourself that they’re all better dressed than you and they have tans and muscles and you’re a moped and you’re almost 30 and Farah Fawcett is going to try to kill you and these hot stud muffins are way too young to catch an allusion to "Logan’s Run" and OH GOD OH GOD THE SHAME!
But what if you really are a moped?
There is, of course, still the teensy tiny possibility that you just really are a moped. Maybe you really are so unpopular that admitting to being your friend will cause their social ranking to plummet. In such a subjective social world, how does one gauge their own popularity in gay Atlanta? Is it all in your head, OR IS THERE SOMETHING REALLY TOTALLY WRONG WITH YOU? Well, friends, I am here to help. I created the following, Cosmopolitan/Teen Vogue inspired quiz, “Just How Popular Are You Really?” to objectively determine your social stature inside the gay perimeter. Add the points to determine your score, and consult the analysis below. • You actually live inside the perimeter (1 point) • You live in Midtown (an extra 1 point) • A drag queen knows you by name and can remember it when seeing you in a bar under who knows what kind of mental condition she may be in (2 points per drag queen) • More points for stilts. (top photo) • You’ve appeared as a model in one of the weekly gay rags (4 points) • …but you were just a hair model (in that case, you only get 1 point ) • Your car has been keyed (1 point per panel keyed) • Alex Wan’s zoning plans have threatened your sex life (2 points) • Alex Wan’s zoning plans have threatened your income stream (8 points) • Julio has cut your hair (2 points) • Someone has started a rumor that you have AIDS (4 points) • People hit on you after you reveal that you’re a bottom (3 points) • You’re a top (8 points) • Regardless of whether or not it’s true, you describe yourself as “vers” (Minus 3 points)