Pride was a huge dissappointment. It wasn't at all what I expected, and merely served as a reminder of my status as an outcast in the gay community.
I don't know what I expected, really. I think I was expecting to go there and be swept up off my feet by some dashing boy that I would fall in love with and live happily ever after. Or at least meet a guy I could get to know and finally not feel alone anymore. I suppose it was rather unrealistic. I set myself up for dissappointment, really. It's all my own fault.
And that's a terrible reason to go to Pride in the first place. I was reminded of this when Jade Esteban Estrada was on stage performing. He told all of us in the crowd about the meaning of pride, and that we celebrate it in June as a way of remembering the Stonewall riots in 1969. Pride is about being free, and fighting descrimination and opresssion. It's not about finding a date.
I bought his CD. Because he was a great performer, and actually reminded me of the true meaning of the event. That and it was only $10 so I could actually afford it. I got it signed and everything too.
I think I must've seen every gay guy in Omaha with a personals profile there. I saw couples left and right looking so perfectly happy with eachother. I saw people I'd talked to online in the past, hell, I even saw the Jared guy that invited me to his house only to send my back home after 6 minutes.
It made me sick with jealousy. My insides literally twisted with envy.
Entertainment consisted primaily of drag queens lip synching to music. And half of those weren't very good at all. That's just another example of the superficiality of the whole thing. Everywhere were beautiful people talking about having sex with beautiful people. Everything was so sexual. Like gay = sex and nothing else. It was disgusting now that I think about it. Hell, I was about to go to a foam party tonight simply because Alex told me of what happened to him at last year's foam party. I wanted to go just to have an excuse to be a little whore. How incredibly shallow of me. I'm ashamed I wanted to go.
So my grand scheme to join the whores of Omaha has met with dismal failure. That's not me. I'm not a whore, and not matter how hard I try, I can't be one. Because . . . well, mostly because I don't even think I' be accepted by the gay community even as a slut. I mean, let's face it: I'll give up my body to practically anyone who actually shows an interest in me, really. So I guess I already am a slut, I'm that desperate for love and affection. But you see, its hard to be a slut when no one wants you in the first place. A hooker no one wants to fuck isn't going to make much money. Thus my idea of joining the shallowness of the gay community was doomed to failure, and I was an idiot to even think it might work.
So basically, this weekend has merely reminded me that I'm never going to really belong, and that I'm never going to find another guy so I might as well just get used to that fact and learn to deal with it because there's nothing I can do to change it. Which is a really fucking depressing fact. I've tried to ignore it for some time now, but I guess the only way I'm going to be happy is to try and accept it, right?
There's a prayer my mom told me about a few weeks ago called the Serentiy Prayer, or something like that. It has something to the effect of: God, grant me the strength to change what I can, the courage to accept what I cannot, and the wisdom to know the difference.
