The advantages of being a fag hag

The funniest text message circulated last week saying, had the President been a fag hag, the country would not be in so much turmoil now, for the wiretapped conversation between her and former Election Commissioner Virgilio Garcillano would be something like this:

PGMA: Halloo Gracia?

Garci: Mother, nachukchak ko na po yung mga chuva.

PGMA: Bongga! Yung mga tienes tienes, carry na ba?

Garci: Winnie Santos, mother. Wa na worry sa Mindanaoitch, chinorva ko na.

PGMA: Ganda ever!

Since "chukchak", "chuva", "tienes" and "chorva" could mean anything in local gayspeak, nothing could be pinned on the President.

Look around, some of the most fabulous women are surrounded by gay men (including some writers of this broadsheet!). Remember Kris Aquino before Bambbi Fuentes came along? When Kris started out in showbiz she didn’t know what to wear and dressed like a young matron. Her makeup was flat, she mistook blush for contour, said one stylist. Now, I don’t want to suck up to Kris because there are too many billboards and TV shows, I just can’t get away from her. But she’s had honestly one of the best makeovers in town.

A fag hag can be described two ways: One is a woman who loves gay men who love her back (Madonna is, hands down, the most famous example); the other is someone who actually falls in love with one, thinking she can convert them (Liza Minnelli).

* * *

I can still remember the first gay man I ever friended. It was a high school "soiree," you know those cheesy afternoon parties where members of exclusive girls schools meet up with members of boys schools to play flirty parlor games like "Musical Guys" instead of chairs.

I was probably 14 years old and didn’t join the games anyway. I scanned the room for someone to talk to and picked out the best-dressed, cutest guy and saw George. I can still remember his jelly shoes and glitter socks. He was gayer than springtime, and I wonder what became of him…

In my senior year, I started to outgrow my high school friends when I met these New Wavers from an exclusive boys’ school. I ended up hanging out with them at UP Fine Arts.

I was about 20 years old, sitting at a round table in Malate with a whole bunch of guys when I had an epiphany: I was the only girl, the rest were gay. They were older than me – bankers, architects, doctors, people from advertising and retail, an art collector, a florist. I realized this was happening every week. Every dinner I went to, I was the only girl.

I liked that every time I walked into a room, they would say I looked "gorgeous." Never mind if they were putting me on, they were such an ego boost. I liked hearing the latest gossip and hearing who was gay, until I developed my own gaydar.

It was really hard growing up like this, trying to explain to my folks why my best friends were gay. First of all, I was a misfit. None of my girl friends was into art and fashion as much as I was. No one was into my music. I never felt like I belonged with the girls in my school who, it seemed to me, were into, well, boys.

I was not into Filipino guys. Ha ha. I was into British guys, namely some members of Duran Duran and Kajagoogoo.

I avoided sexual tension. I was uncomfortable with straight guys who, when they were ordinary, I was afraid they had a crush on me, and when they were cute, I couldn’t speak to or look at them.

* * *

It’s a myth though that you won’t meet guys if you’re a fag hag. "You have to go through the fags first, which turns the guys off," explained my friend Jude. Well, I always had a boyfriend who got along with the screening committee. OK, I’ll admit a couple of them did turn out to be gay, it’s a miracle I ever got married. (Well, my Dutch husband thinks they’re funnier than straight men.)

When I got married, there was no need to hire a wedding planner, for my networking included the best makeup artist, florist, graphic designer, caterer, stylists, and designer in town.

When I got pregnant, the first persons I informed, after my husband and parents, were the gay friends, one of whom said, "Ate, babae ka pala?" (Yes, I have a uterus.)

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always had girl friends, but it’s hard to connect with them on the same wavelength as my gay friends. Most of my girl friends are fag hags anyway with a strong opinion and similar sense of humor.

When I had my baby, I started to seek more and more the company of women and make friends with those who have kids. None of my gay friends could relate to the feedings, the pediatricians, and the yaya nightmares. None of them were impressed with a freezer stash of breast milk.

Still, I count them as some of my best friends ever, for long phone conversations to the wee hours of the morning, material for the next column, and just the latest on gossip, fashion, food, cinema, and everything under the sun.

* * *

How boring it would be if there were no gay men in the world!

I asked some girl friends the advantages of hanging out with gay men.

"Real answers to your questions like, does this outfit make me look fat?" said Ria.

"When a girl tells you they like your blouse, you don’t know if they’re telling the truth," said Rachel. "When my gay friend goes to my house he’ll say, ‘take off that hideous top’, and I do."

"I never liked Balenciaga until my gay friends picked out bondage pants and a cardigan for me – only fags would know your body type better than you do," said Kathleen. "Also, they are always quick and funny."

Gay friends can boost your wardrobe, such as my Swedish frienemy who worked at IF, New York, who gave discounts and introduced me to the brilliance of Martin Margiela.

"I like the honest male company that appreciates your efforts at beautification of self and home," said Chelo, a confessed fag hag.

Had the President been one, no doubt she would look so much better, with a chicer hairstyle, wardrobe, and makeup. And some honest gay friend can give home improvement advice, like not to use Orocan plastic drawers.

Some of the special things my gay friends can do are:

• Whip up a gourmet dinner in my house (well, my husband can do it too).

• Share best-kept secrets, such as where to get the best food.

• Have the patience to comb Divisoria or Bambang if I have to.

• Appreciate a homemade skirt, bag or hat I whipped up downstairs.

• Listen to my crap at one in the morning while my dear husband is sleeping.

• Talk about the latest LV offering we can’t afford.

• Be a stylist and clown rolled into one.

• Have a memory for reminiscing about the ‘70s: They can remember artistas formerly known as Jingle and Beth Manlongat. They can recite Pia Moran’s Technofantastic TV commercial way back where the electric fan had among its features, an AM-FM shortwave radio "na nakakapick up ng broadcast buhat sa ibang bansa," a mood light and adjustable legs.

Disadvantages:

"Some of them are hotter than your straight friends," said Ria. "Straight boys don’t like fag hags."

"Very difficult to find enjoyment," said Kathleen. "I find I cannot enjoy parties or any sort of gathering where the fag quotient is low. And this cannot be explained to people hosting children’s parties, prayer meetings, PG-13 dinner conversation in Forbes Park/IS PTA groups, etc…"

"Since most of my gay friends are super-smart, successful, interesting, well-read, well-traveled, cultured, I tend to expect that there are straight men like them, too," said Grace. "So when I go out with straight guys, I realize they’re boring or they pale in comparison to my gay friends. My gay friends are the reason why I’m single!"