I was just downstairs for my cheese break (Abbaye de Belloc—from the Pays Basque region of Aquitaine, its milk comes from red-nosed Manech ewes) and switched on NECN to see what's shaking in the local news. Hmm, no mention of Pride, which kicked off yesterday. And I don't recall seeing anything in The Globe, either.

I don't know if I should admit this, but I actually completely forgot to be proud starting yesterday, and only remembered just now because I happened to be browsing Universal Hub and saw a link to Take Mass Action, which had photos from the rainbow flag-raising at City Hall.

Scouring the photos I discovered the likely reason there wasn't any coverage in the press: there were no drag queens!

Alas, it seemed a very respectable affair, with your run-of-the-mill gays, lesbians, and transgendered folk. Sure there were reportedly some "radical queers" protesting that the proceedings weren't gay enough, but that's really sort of an internal debate, innit? Nothing the press would be too interested in. Bring on Fresh Fruit!

Boston Pride's always been, in my experience and estimation, compared to New York or Montreal, especially, a rather dour affair. The last Pride Parade I attended was probably five years ago, and a solemn procession through the South End it was. Participants representing every gay-friendly church in Boston passed by at a snail's pace, marchers chanting:

"What do we want?"

"Respectability!"

"When do we want it?"

"At your earliest convenience!"

When the racy float—the one from the Ramrod—finally passed, there were three octogenarians in sagging Speedos clinging to their walkers, doing their best to keep their balance and not break a hip when they hit a speed-bump.

The condoms they tossed the crowd were all way past their expiration date.

I've never been back.

While I don't attend the parade anymore, I have no objection to going to the occasional Pride party, so long as it's catered and there's plenty of free booze, shrimp and sushi. I used to go to just such a party thrown by a friend of a friend in the South End for the opening of Pride Week every year, but when he got fired from his job for cruising internet sex sites and downloading three big binders-worth of gay porn at work (the firm presented him with the evidence in hard copy before a guard escorted him out), his boyfriend dumped him, and he stopped throwing them.

The last one I went to I arrived with my friend a little on the early side. There were ten or fifteen people there tormenting the host's cat with one of those laser pointers, cackling like crazy. I parked myself next to the shrimp and had a marvelous night.

Actually met me a scruffy little number from Austin, Texas, there who I saw off and on for a couple of years. Then he kept emailing me with irritating requests to sponsor him for some charity marathon he was running. That ruined it for me.  People you sleep with like that shouldn't solicit money from you.  It's just bad form.

Anyway, it's been a couple of years since I did anything as exciting as all that for Boston Pride.


And, as you might expect, I've always been a bit ambivalent about the whole concept of "pride." I don't feel like sexuality is a point of pride, really. It's not an accomplishment, although, trust me, you do get laid a lot more when you dispense with the drama, boys.

That's where coming out comes in. That's the real accomplishment.

And while coming out might seem like a big drama—and indeed it can be—remember, you can always move far, far away and start over where nobody knows you! You get the additional perk of being the new kid in town, and the locals will be ravenous for a nibble. Once everyone's had a bite and you're looking like a used-up chew-toy, it's on to the next town, to come out all over again!

And social justice and, um, equality, and, yeah, um, rights and stuff, too.  Yay Pride!

Wanna know what I think?  Gay, straight, or whatever, ya gotta grab life by the balls!  The only difference from there is what you do with life's balls once you grab 'em! (If you want suggestions, write to Dan Savage.)