gement | Gally, and awkward gement is awkward

Gally is fantastic, I am tired, I have knitted a snood and worn a very large costume and I will do my level best to actually provide photographic evidence this time.

So what finally drove me to post? My one crappy stressful moment last night. :P

My perspective: It's Saturday night. I haven't heard about any particularly interesting parties and none of the programming appeals to me. I wander down the hall from Hospitality to see if any of the other big suites have public parties that I just didn't hear about.

Aha! Same suite as the giant Titanic-themed bash last year. There's a large sign on the door, in a homey font, reading "Cozy Corner." The door is three inches ajar. No door guard, not a lot of noise, but I hear happy conversation. Hmm.

It might be private, but the door is left conspicuously ajar and there's a sign and it's the same site. Maybe it's a deliberately mellow space. Possibly even a sober space, which I'd find pretty welcome. I stick my head in but don't step across the threshold.

Someone's tending bar in the corner and looks startled to see me. I smile at him, and then at the guy who walks up with the somewhat imposing can I help you, because you're not getting in unless you give the right answer body language. I say, "Just how cozy is this party?"

He looms, says, "Buh-bye," and barely gives me time to jump back before pushing the door shut.

Through my adrenaline, I register a couple of things. He's wearing a white tee with black studded suspenders. All the voices I heard were male. Oh. I stuck my head into the gay male space. I surfed twitter for a bit until I found a brief mention that confirmed my theory.

My imagination of his perspective: This is the one place in the con where the gay guys can have some breathing space from the inappropriately objectifying slash fans. They've only been spreading word of the party through whisper network.

Here's the tenth female crossplayer trying to gain entry tonight. She probably heard through the whisper network and hoped that tourists / fag hags / slash "admirers" could waltz on in. Either that or she's clueless and wondering if this is a cuddle party. Either way, gross, get out.

I'd been braced for a cold, "Private party." Braced enough that at "Buh-bye," I instantly stepped back and said okay, trying to look friendly and apologetic. Without any other connotations, I'd have walked away a little shaken, but been fine in 15 minutes. A little irritated that they hadn't made the sign clearer. (I do think they would have fewer misunderstandings if they added an If you have to ask, you're not invited sign.)

But no, I unwittingly contributed to social pressure on gay men at a convention flooded with slash fans. I also stumbled across a lot of my fears of not being accepted in male spaces when I'm trying hard to fit in and have more legitimate context, even though I know the situations are entirely different. I felt sick for an hour, had trouble sleeping, and couldn't stop obsessing this morning, hence the post.

Bleh. I'll try to go write a more cheerful and informative post now.