I've worked in bars for decades, I've lived in the west end of Vancouver and in the heart of gay culture in Toronto. I supported the idea of gay marriage from the git-go Hell, I even went to theatre school, and how gay is that?
Me? Gay? No.
I like innies, not outies, but looking back at my past and directly into my present, it his hard to ignore the fact that my life experience has been influenced and enhanced by the presence of many fine people who happen to not have the same preferences
However, as I left my hotel in Damascus this morning, the role of the gay community in my life was not exactly top of mind. In fact, I was wandering around with dual purposes. I needed an internet cafe and I needed to find a coffee, not that shit I had at breakfast for the 17th day in a row.. A real coffee, not the powdered substitute called Nescafe, that elixired equivalent of a brown crayon dropped in warm water.
In an instant I am at the intersection of a vector, and I hesitate. Option one, I go to the internet cafe so I can email people to let them know that I have not been taken hostage by "Islamic Extremists", and in fact Syria is very beautiful and the people here are as decent and welcoming as any of the souls that I have met in my travels, or I can go have a coffee.
I opt for the internet cafe now and coffee later, the task and reward concept appealing to my Scottish DNA.
As I begin to proceed, I hear a voice in my ear as a man passes by. He says, "I love you, habibi", as he passes me, and dang if it doesn't sound like its right in my ear. But as he passes me, I see that he is talking on a cell phone, probably to his girlfriend, or his mom. Perhaps a beloved grandmother.
And this is why I recommend that no one should ever leave their abode without an RDA level of caffeine.
A millisecond later I elect to go to the net cafe. I take a few steps in the same direction as cell phone guy, when suddenly he turns around and says to me, "I love you, habibi, where are you from?"
I tell him, as it is a common question to my ear.
But then things take an unexpected turn in the Damascus morning.
Stranger: I want sex with you
Me: What?
Stranger: You know sex?
Me: Yes.
Stranger: You want sex with me?
Me: Ahhhhhhhh.....No...........Thank you. (Mom taught me to refuse offers politely)
The dude is gone in a heartbeat, and I am so utterly stunned that I consider summoning a redcap to get my jaw off the ground. I look around and their are police everywhere, which is not unusual in Syria. I opt out of the net cafe and head for the coffee shop. I need to wake up and regroup.
I order a coffee and mull over in my head the possibilities behind what just happened. I come up with three scenarios
-The least likely scenario is that the guy wanted to rob me. I say that this is the least likeliest because if the perpetrator was to be caught, the punishment would be severe.
-Only slightly more likely, is that the police (and make no mistake, this county is 40% police, uniformed and secret) wanted to see if I was engaging in illegal acts.
-The most likely scenario is that he was a gay man who wanted to have sex with me.
And it was this scenario that made me the most sad, the realization that many people around the world are forced to live clandestine lives.
As I sip my coffee, a stranger joins me at my table, despite the fact that their is ample seating. We sit in silence, as my mind wanders back to my life in Toronto and all the gay friends that I have, and how it was not so long ago that their community were forced to live under the same level of repression in Canada that I am witnessing in Syria.
http://www.goyestoeverything.com
