Those who watch primetime TV realize that little Joey is not fully initiated into homosexuality until his elderly grandmother marches with him in the Pride parade. She says he’s the sweetest boy no matter what his father says about it; the moment she appears on screen in her “I love my gay grandson” T-shirt is a brilliantly tearful, huggy-kissy ratings-grabby occasion.
On the other hand, those who watch nighttime TV realize that little Joey is not fully initiated into homosexuality until he dons assless chaps and drunkenly staggers down a boulevard of leather men and drag queens, wrapped in a pink feather boa.
Who can say which one is more accurate? The point is that little Joey is not gay unless he’s been to Pride, and Pride is the one thing that all gay people undeniably love.
There are two reasons, then, why a gay person would hate Pride. One that he is the “don’t wanna be stereotypical” gay who decides to take a contrarian position on anything that any other gay person loves. He’ll explain that he’s not really “into it;” Facebook lists that going to pride is “not one of his hobbies.” He says this, not because he is confused and thinks thinks Pride is some sort of ongoing activity, but because he wants to make a point of distinction between himself and the rest of you nelly queens. He says Pride parades give gay people a bad name because people who wave signs like “fags to to hell” or rail against gay adoptions really just take issue with large gatherings of people or the gradual decay of proper business attire. Also, if only gay society gave our military generals the same honor and esteem that it gives meth addicts!
The other possibility is that this is the morning after Pride, at which point it’s no wonder why a gay person should hate it.
There is nothing like waking up pantsless on the hard floor of a strange hotel room with vomit all over your shoes to teach a person to re-consider flamboyant parties.