Mardi Gras
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I’ve never been to Mardi Gras, therefore I’m a disgrace to gay culture

4 minutes to read

As a gay man living in Sydney it should be one of my devotions to go out every weekend to the Beresford, at least two trips a week to Stonewall, and make sure that I can’t walk the next morning after ‘dropping it low’ the night before. The biggest sin in the gay community would be not attending our biggest day of the year, Mardi Gras; the worst part is I’ve never been and didn’t even attend this year.

 

Mardi Gras
Source: Sydney Life

 

I’m a disgrace to my own culture but I’ve just never been fully invested in the nightlife of the gay community, and I can pin it down to a few main things in my life; the first being that I have very few LGBT+ friends and I live in bogan-central, the Sutherland Shire. With only very few friends to go out with on a Saturday night, I haven’t really immersed myself in Sydney’s nightlife and I’m just really not bothered to travel an hour to the city and then have to work a 8-5 retail job the next day in a grumpier and hungover. It’s a trek to get out there and kind of scary to go to such a big event for the first time by myself; I actually asked my mum and dad to go with me, but both turned me down which is how it usually goes when I ask people to go out with me unfortunately.

 

I have considered going to Mardi Gras by myself but honestly I don’t have the confidence up against these guys with great faces and bodies and it’s a tad intimidating for me with my flabs and obvious lack of facial hair and muscle. I would rather stay at home with a tub of ice-cream and watch Mulan on repeat; I’m hoping that it will eventually make a man out of me so I can go to this fucking event one day. Okay, but let’s get down to business; I just don’t feel secure enough with my sexuality and myself to go out and embrace it in a public area; I’m scared of someone calling me a faggot still (even though in the context of Mardi Gras it shouldn’t really matter at all because we’re all fags, but you know, fear). Usually after a few wines (and by wines I mean bottles) it helps me become my alter ego ‘Krystal’ who loves a good slut-drop and game tonsil hockey, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I have the urge to go, but it isn’t strong enough to action anything.

 

Simpsons Mardi Gras

 

It feels as though I’m in the closet again when it comes to going out, and I actually feel uncomfortable going to gay bars sometimes just because I feel so far behind everyone else. I would equate the feeling to a 14-year-old boy sneaking into an adult store and buying a purple dildo; it’s exhilarating but kind of uncomfortable as the person behind the counter wonders what your intensions are with this large purple penis while you’re just wondering how to utilise this behemoth. Disclaimer: No gay bars that I have been to have large purple dildo’s, but if anyone knows of a club with one the please slip me a DM. Thank you.

 

It’s not that I don’t want to go or haven’t had the thought about embracing my big gay, but I just haven’t found the need or passion to go out and do it, which does kind of upset me. How dare I not want to dress up shirtless with shit tonnes of glitter that doesn’t get out of my hair for at least 3 weeks and ends up in various places including my ass that I can’t clean easily. Dressing up embarrassingly in public is one of my biggest fears, so this day of festivity, ridiculousness and celebration may be exactly what I need to become more confident in my own skin instead of just sitting at home with my parents watching MAFS and wondering why I’m still single.

 

MAFS

 

In conclusion, I probably should go to Mardi Gras one year just to figure out if I even like it or not, and to find a potential boyfriend who will put up with me. Here’s to another tub of vanilla ice-cream and red wine!