Fag Hags, Fruit Flies, Flame Dames and Homo Honeys

December 1, 2009

Throughout the life of any gay man we are emotionally bonded to straight women. They’re the ones on the playground in grade school who play hop scotch with us, despite the fact that we’ve been diagnosed with gay germs by all the other children in our class. They’re with us during our awkward phase in junior high when we’re all ears, teeth, glasses and braces, reassuring us that we’ll make it through these tough times and come out a better person in the end. They act as our beards in high school and, for some reason, seem to be fine surviving on the occasional hand holding and hours of phone conversations dissecting all the fashion faux pauxs made by our couture-challenged peers. They hold our hands in college when we come out to them, telling us that everything will be okay and that all gay really means is that you’re happy. They help us pick up the pieces when we get your heart stamped on for the first time, reassuring us that our ex will end up fat, bald and terminally single. And finally, they’re at our side for our commitment ceremony, happy in the fact that they can take a small piece of credit for the smile on our face and the contentment in our heart. Although we fall emotionally in love with many women throughout our gay lifetimes, they all fit into one of four categories: The Fag Hag, The Fruit Fly, The Flame Dame and The Homo Honey.

There is a strict hierarchy that is followed when filing your straight girlfriends into one of these four categories. It’s a caste system with certain rules that must be followed and guidelines that are set in stone. Just as gay men, our girls are not made a certain way, they are born into their lot in our gay lives and such, once you’re in a designation, there’s no way out. Each sect has their positives and negatives, their ups and downs and their own challenges and rewards.

First, we have the ubiquitous Fag Hag. She seems to be the most recognizable of our emotional girlfriends. Fiercely loyal, she will fight to the death defending her gay boyfriends, but unfortunately for her, she does so not to further the cause of global gay rights, but because she is madly in love with us. For some reason, The Fag Hag equates emotional love with physical love and spends her life loving boys/men that simply can’t love her back. She falls into a pattern early on in life that repeats itself infinitely, until she’s run off every gay boyfriend she has and ends up settling down in her one bedroom apartment with only her fifteen cats and stacks of romantic comedy dvds to keep her company.

Although she’s a good friend and trusted ally, the Fag Hag sits at the bottom of the totem pole of straight girl friends because, no matter how hard she tries, she can’t accept the fact that we just don’t love her. Although we don’t want to, we always end up breaking her heart because we cannot reciprocate her feelings. For all the gay boys reading this, you know who you are, the next time you’re in a delicate situation with a Fag Hag, have her listen to Jay Brannan’s “Beautifully” from his sophomore album “In Living Cover.” It’s basically a love song from a gay man to his fag hag telling her that, even though he loves her he’s not in love with her. It’s beautiful.

If life was a concert venue and only gay men were the audience, the Fag Hag would be Courtney Love. Although there’s something there that’s talented and interesting, her allure isn’t enough to cover up the fact that, in the words of Christian Siriano, she’s just a “hot tranny mess.”

The next face up the totem pole belongs to The Fruit Fly. I’ve met so many girls who claim to be fruit flies, believing that they are the cute, bubbly answer to The Fag Hag. This is not true. The Fruit Flies does have her positives. Generally, she is easy on the eyes and is, most of the time, the most talked about girl at the water cooler at work. she leans toward the trendier side of life, getting away with wearing Ugg boots in the summer and still drinking Apple martinis. She shops with us, tells us we’re fabulous and gets us into all the clubs ahead of the line.

The Fruit Fly flocks to us gay men when she is bored or fed up with our hetero counterparts. Consistently desireable, she tires of straight guys endless dribble about pro football and limited knowledge of anything outside the realm of beer, pool tables and the occasional lesbian fantasy. Confident in her looks, she is able to take a sabatical from the doofy straight guys she dates and take a walk on the gay side of life.
We welcome her with open arms and live vicariously through her, coveting all the hot jocks she’s dated, used and discarded. She introduces us to all the straight guys that, in any other situation, would totally kick our asses. She talks to us about how hard is it being pretty and why being a gay man is so much easier than being a straight girl. We have fun with her, but then one day, she is gone; vanished from our gaydar and is only heard from again through Christmas cards and the occasional drunk text.

The problem with The Fruit Fly is that she is a user. She uses her powers of persuasion over us until she gets horny, then it’s back into the arms, and bed, of some dudely straight guy whose vocabulary does not extend past anything with more than two syllables. At first, we are devastated by her absence, but realize over time that her friendship was only ever about her. We wish her well, knowing that after she shoots out a couple of puppies, her moronic husband will most likely cast her aside for a younger model, much the same way she casted us aside.

In the concert of life, she would definitely be the Madonna of the group. You’ll stand in line for days to buy a ticket, even though you know she’s a bitch and you’ll regret the $900 you spent on your ticket five minutes after the concert ends.

And then we come to the often misunderstood Flame Dame. The Flame Dame is a straight women that is obsessed with everything gay. From John Waters films to mid-century furniture, she speaks the language as if she had been born carrying a rainbow flag. For this reason, many disregard Flame Dame as a closeted lesbian. Though this may be the case in some instances, nine times out of ten she is simply a gay man trapped in a straight women’s body.

The Flame Dame is the first straight women that we can really be gay men around. Fag Hags won’t accept it and Fruit Flies really don’t care, but the Flame Dame wants to know everything. No subject is taboo. From online dating to felching, she consumes gay culture like a sponge. Omnipositive, she convinces us that the straight boy we have a crush on secretly wants to sleep with us and that, despite what we might think, being gay is a blessing that will manifest itself as we get older. But, as quick as she becomes a permanent fixture in our lives, Flame Dame wears out her welcome.

We tire of her “all gay all the time” attitude and her insistence of homosexual undertones in everything from The Smurfs to Nascar racing. We stop accepting her phone calls and dream that one day she’ll give birth to a gay son.

Flame Dame would be the Bette Midler of show business. You’re always excited to see the show, but five minutes after it starts you’re totally over it.

Now, if you’re stars are aligned properly and your moon is in its correct rising house, you may be lucky enough to meet the coveted Homo Honey. Unlike her sisters, Homo Honey is a straight women that gay men pursue. She is everything right about being female. She is beautiful inside and out and the only straight person that can utter the word “fagot” without apologizing to Joe Solmonese. She treats homosexuality the same as any other genetic trait and only judges people who judge her first. Always calm, she draws us to her bosom with her casual outlook on life and her non-stop humor. She’s the first person we call with good news and the shoulder we cry on when it’s bad. A trusted confidant; you know you can tell Homo Honey anything and it will only stay between the two of you.

Also, unlike her less fortunate sisters, there is no negative to having Homo Honey in your life. The only thing that may happen is that she finds a husband and you slide from the number one slot to number two. If this happens, do not panic. Even though it seems like your life may be over, it’s going to be okay. First of all, Homo Honey will never, ever marry a homophobe. Her husband will assuredly be gay-friendly. Also, even though, on paper you may not be her top pick anymore, she’ll need someone to talk to when she gets her period and can’t deal with her husband’s emotional inadequacies. Also, when she has children you can be the fun gay uncle that buys them the coolest clothes and gets them drunk for the first time.

On the stage of life, Homo Honey would most certainly be Cher because, no matter how many times she goes on tour, you always buy a ticket. And you always have a good time.

My advice to Fag Hags:

Even though I love all of you to death, you need to stop the cycle. If you don’t, you’ll never get laid. If you never get laid you’ll become inconsolably bitter. And although we gays love a bitter straight girlfriend, we have our limits.

My advice to Fruit Flies:

Just because you’re a slut with your straight boyfriends, doesn’t mean to need to be the same with your fancy boyfriends. When you find a gay boyfriend, invest in his needs as well. You never know, when your husband/boyfriend dumps you (and he will one day) you’ll need someone to console you.

My advice to Flame Dames:

Give it up. God made you a straight woman. Deal with it.

My advice to Homo Honeys:

Keep up the good work. I thank the gay Gods for mine. You know who you are.

My advice to gay boyfriends/husbands:

Appreciate your straight girlfriends, be they Fag Hag, Fruit Fly, Flame Dame or Homo Honey. They each fill a specific need in our progression as gay men.

My advice to straight guys:

Respect your girlfriends, sisters, mothers, etc… For every one of you, there’s a potential gay boyfriend waiting in the wings who will, I assure you, treat them better than you ever could. Recognize.


6 Responses to “Fag Hags, Fruit Flies, Flame Dames and Homo Honeys”

  1. Michael's Homo Honey Says:

    I am proud to be your Homo Honey and honored that you are my gay husband, Pook:) XOXOXOXOX and you had best not get Zoe drunk!

  2. […] my post “Fag Hags, Fruit Flies, Flame Dames and Homo Honeys” I introduced you to the social and emotional hierarchy that all straight women are classified by […]

  3. Ginger Sky Says:

    Many thanks for this deep observation and sharing… I’m sharing it with friends 🙂

  4. […] men worth their time. As a gay man, I surround myself with fabulous women (I hang out only with Homo Honeys and a Fruit Fly every now and then to keep things interesting) who, for reasons that seem to escape […]

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