 |
|
|
|
|
By Zac Hall
South Florida's Winter Party this year was no exception. Oh, yes, I'd heard that the Mayor of Palm Springs had said he couldn't countenance such “activities” in his posh town. Pardon me, but the Palms Springs mayor is a major mini-mind. Hot homosexual men with money in their pockets should always be welcomed anywhere. Firstly, they add to a town's pretty scenery. Secondly, they're non-violent. Any “crimes” committed are victimless. Thirdly, they spend mountains of hard cash at local businesses: hotels, restaurants, and stores. Any mayor worth his salt should take such factors into consideration before shooting off his puny puritanical mouth.
In fact, they were the same kinds of muscles I myself have worked hard, since age 21, to maintain. Then, you see, GayToday's editor had laughed out loud when I'd told him about my desires and aspirations. I looked forward to Muscles, Money and a Mercedes, I said. “You'd be better off,” he advised, “to hope for Empathy, Energy and Ecstasy.” But here I am in 2001 at the Winter Party, wondering “Which of these muscle men has the Mercedes?”
 Being a proud redneck, I'll admit, is no great advantage at a party like this. Perhaps it is why I never quite manage to find Mr. Right. Chewing tobacco, I noticed on this occasion, has the same effect on Mr. Right that Christian crosses have on Dracula. Yes, its always problematic when its time to spit. No matter how macho the man who, at first, seems fascinated by my charm, his enthusiasm begins to wane when I start looking for the equivalent of a spittoon. There were no spittoons at this swank Winter Party and I'd been advised that spitting outright is bad manners. My photographer accused me of thwarting myself. “You hope to find Mr. Right while you munch on that damn stuff?” he shrieked as I teasingly showed him a well-chewed mouthful. “You will never find Mr. Right. Never.”
 “Keep hope alive,” I replied, quoting a well-known civil rights activist. If the Winter Party showed me anything on this round, it is that gay and lesbian lifestyles are proliferating in ever widening circles. Ft. Lauderdale and Miami both have anti-discrimination ordinances. The political establishment has finally realized how many voters vote lavender. The streets of South Beach are clogged with hand-holding muscle-men with perfect assets. Mercedes are multiple and many.
Surely somewhere, there's a stud who'll accept me as I am, who won't care if I don't have a Mercedes myself, who'll buy me my chewing tobacco at Eckerd's and who'll ride his Harley next to mine all the way to the next Winter Party.
|
I'm a party boy. Always have been and, no matter how old I get, always will be.
Circuit parties have been fashioned particularly to suit my stringent tastes. They're benefits, really,
where well-to-do socialites pay to play and where their money gets channeled into good causes.
Zac Hall 
© 1997-2002 BEI