Tuesday, February 03, 2004

SuperBowl of Love

I really don't like sports--there aren’t enough sequins in the uniforms. Someday, somebody will make a killing if they invent Viagra for limp wrists, the gay sports handicap. I really wish that there was a sport for making catty comments, and then American Idol would be like our SuperBowl. I would join that. The only sport I was any good at was the 50 yard dash from a gay basher.

huddle upI figured that since I am now an American, I should learn how to play football. So, I went to see a podiatrist*…and he told me to register at the Chicago MSA, the local gay sports league. Learning was easier than I thought. I already knew the "Bump and Run", the "handoff", the "sack". I guess you can learn about football from a porn video.

It was fun learning a new sport, but eventually I got tired of it. The quarterback was getting too needy. So, I decided to check out 12" softball; after all, I already had the dildo. However, it didn’t really work out. I decided I liked the balls to fit snugly in my hand.

balls in playWhen Brian suggested that we head over to the local gay bar, Roscoe's, to see "the Cats and the Pats", I thought he meant Patrick Swayze in an Andrew Lloyd Webber show. The bar already had quite a crowd when we got there. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one who was confused. The bar has video screens installed throughout the bar. For the SuperBowl party, they had a VJ play music videos in alternate screens while the game was on and then turn the music off so that we could watch the commercials. And FYI, they had a projection TV in the back for the hardcore sports fans. It was packed with lesbians. Even in our community, it is gender that separates us.

We had a good time. There were cheap drinks, cheap eats, some really cheap behavior. What more could you ask for in a Sunday afternoon? As I look around me, I see men meeting men, women meeting women, I realized that there is another sport going on here, where tight shirts are the uniform; the shy grin and eye contact, the strategy; and finding love, the goal.

I look over at Brian. He's cheering at the screen.

*yeah, ok, that was a groaner.