Hag Fag

A few years ago I received a parcel from one of my closest friends who’d just relocated from London to San Francisco. I’ve received many gifts over the years from dear friends but never one that stood out in this particular way. Basically it sums up the sender so uncannily and upon receiving it I was instantly reminded of why I love her so much.

A soft largish brown envelope arrived in the post and I immediately recognised the handwriting. I couldn’t wait to go home and open it but I was somewhat alarmed by the rustle inside the package. It was squishing and squalping inside. I was curious as to what was in there and rushed home to tear it open. It was sealed well, taped up real good into an inch of its life and I had to dig up a pair of scissors to gain access. Once I cut a corner I yelped in shock as water came pouring out of the bubble padded envelope.
‘Oh. My. God! What the hell???’ I exclaimed as I tore into the parcel and dug out a book that was soaked through and through. The title read; "Girls who like boys who like boys – True tales of friendship between straight women and gay men". I looked further into the envelope and nearly cut myself trying to fish out a barely readable handwritten note; ‘I found *smudge* and thought *smudge* you! Love *smudge* eternally, *smudge*’. There was actual glass at the bottom. And water. And … glitter??
“Schhhlonkkkk! “
A snow globe base fell to the floor in my room, the Golden Gate Bridge rolling off to one side. I couldn’t stop laughing. ‘Typically Mon’ I thought.

And it was. Throughout our incredible friendship I have laughed many times at Mon’s entertaining ways of doing things and solving problems. But sending a snow globe in a bubble wrapped soft envelope from America to Europe and expect it to arrive in one piece was just delightful to me. It surely brightened up my otherwise gloomy day.
I remember putting the book somewhere to dry and that was the last I saw of it, until a few weeks ago when I was clearing out an old cupboard and suddenly it reappeared. It was a little bent out of shape but still in a readable condition. That morning, instead of trying to combat my daily issue of Metro on an overcrowded District Line, I decided to bring this book. It was a hilarious read but one that reminded me that my favourite hag was on the other side of the globe. The stories brought back memories I’d somehow misplaced somewhere in my mind. Perhaps all those years dedicated to my dear friend Mary Jane took their toll, but being clearheaded and out of the smoke cloud for a few months suddenly it was all coming back to me.

In my life I’ve been fag to many a hag. It all started just before secondary school back home in Sweden. My first real friends were all girls. Even before I knew I was gay I found I didn’t have very much in common with other boys. They wanted to get dirty (no, not in that way) and play football or wrestle or any other boyish type of stuff. Gosh, I was so bad at it I can’t even think of a single thing boys do when they are kids. Instead I much preferred to hang with the girls and do girly stuff like play with dolls and talk about boys. Being a sensitive child I found girls so much easier to relate to.

In the early years there were the two polish sisters from my block, Monika and Patricia Rodziewitcz, the good catholic girls who I corrupted with my obscure interest in pagan rituals and the occult. Then there were Linda, Tina and Annie. Three neighbouring girls that found my dressing up and impersonating Madonna hilarious. Annie and I became really close. I didn’t understand it back then but both our families struggled with the presence of alcohol. I guess that created a sort of bond between us and we could comfort each other when we need it most.
And then there was my first ‘straight’ crush; a pretty girl called Nina. I used to obsess over her and not really knowing how to be a boy’s boy I tried to woo her by stripping off outside her window and shouting obscenities through her letter box. Pretty scary stuff in retrospect. Not to mention embarrassing. How she never throttled me with a bottle or maced my face is beyond me.

Once we started secondary school Annie and I sort of drifted apart. We were placed in different classes and Nina ended up in mine, so naturally we became closer. I was lucky cos Nina was one of the popular girls in school and although at times she made fun of my eccentric ways she also protected me from the perils of the popular boys. As long as I was friends with her they wouldn’t touch me, apart from the occasional slander across the school yard which I didn’t pay much attention to. I even remember one of the jocks asking me if I was a faggot in front of all his mates on my way home from school one day. To which I replied; ‘Why? You wanna piece of my ass?’ A very risqué thing to say but I saw Nina on the other side of the football field and that gave me enough confidence to be bold. In the long run it paid off. Once they realised I wasn’t bothered they stopped. Coincidentally Nina was the first person I ever came out to. It turned out her uncle was gay and once I found out, it was easy to confide in her. After all, she would never judge me. Later on, when I came out to my parents and my mother “nearly died” in an over dramaticised heart attack simulation, Nina and her mom took me in while social services tried to find me a suitable home.

A year later my close circle had also come to include Lindsay, Danielle and Marie. The three Mouseketeers. They were called that cos they always wore the same outfits, just different colours and they all had Mickey Mouse bags. Lindsay was another girl I’d developed a crush on in my confused teen age. Something that in latter days developed into a much deeper friendship. Then of course there was Diane. Diane was a girl with the same background as me. Our parents were from former Yugoslavia and although naturally we should have bonded we actually despised each other to begin with. At least I think she despised me. Personally I found her hilarious. She was outspoken and confident and most of all she was insanely funny. As time progressed we eventually accepted each other and to this day we are still good friends. She inspired me to take up acting in college. We always used to go a bit crazy during class, especially when we had a substitute teacher. We’d pretend we were other people and I vividly remember one time when we actually ‘gave birth’ to a football in the middle of the classroom while the substitute teacher ran off terrified, screaming in tears. Ahhh, hose were the days..

The college years were not that much different. By this time I was fully aware of my sexual orientation but even though there were quite a few gays in college I still stuck to the girls. The thing in our college was that there wasn’t much segregation between popular and unpopular students. It was more about who was the most visible. Everyone was trying to outshine the other, me with fire engine red hair and green eyebrows. Don’t judge. I was still trying to find my inner artiste. After all, it was drama school and that’s what we were there for.
My immediate attention went to a tough but beautiful looking rocker chick named Cat. She donned the Pulp Fiction Uma Thurman look and being a massive Tarantino fan I was automatically drawn to her. It turned out she too had the same heritage as me and we bonded over coffee and cigarettes, skipping only the boring classes. Cat was a year older than everyone else in class. She’d repeated a year and as such seemingly had more authority amongst her peers. Hanging out with her I sought that status too.
By this time I was placed in an open juvenile home. I was too young to live on my own and too old to be placed in a foster home. Maybe not the smartest of moves considering that up until this point I’d been a ‘good girl’ and suddenly I was sharing a home with troubled kids of which some even had drug related problems. Here I befriended Becky, a street smart pretty girl with a tough exterior. I openly confessed my status during our first meeting and she looked me in the eye, deep and serious, and said; ‘One day I’ll fuck your brains out!’ A year later, she did. It was a drunken summer night while we were out camping. We were both lying by the log fire, missing our respective boyfriends when suddenly one thing led to another. It was my first time with a girl, but not my last.
Needless to say our relationship was never the same after that moment even though we tried to pretend it was. I cared deeply for her but she spiralled out of control and after a few months moved away to a more secure institution.

Her replacement, Johnny, happened to become my closest and best friend, ‘sister’ and partner in many of the crimes our lives would influence us to commit. We entered a life shaping period together and shared a few hags between us. Enter Michaela, Jessie and Jen. These girls were fun loving and up for ANYTHING. Although harbouring, what we thought at the time, unhealthy feelings towards my ex boyfriend Jessie was the ‘mother’ of the group. Easily persuaded to partake in the most ludicrous of things she still maintained a sense of right and wrong and at times acted as our collective conscience. Like having a guardian angel on your shoulder. The devil in this instance would have to be Jen. She always came up with the craziest ideas and wasn’t afraid of anything. The ironic thing is that her overconfidence made sure she also got away with just about everything.

These relationships proved vital for my future survival and taught me how to get what I want simply by batting my eye lashes. Essentially it worked a hell of a lot better for the girls, but whoever was on the receiving end of my batting lashes was generally so freaked out that they gave in without much of a fight.

At the age of 17 I was hungry for more. I decided to leave Gothenburg and, with Madonna as my inspiration, try my luck in a metropolitan city. I ended up in London. On the way here I met Chanelle, a girl I recognised from college, and we instantly clicked. My first 3 months was spent with her and her five sisters in a one bedroom apartment. Although it was somewhat cramped it was also a lot of fun. It was like living in a doll house. Being Caribbean Chanelle, Meeryam, Neemah, L’Wonda, LaKesha and Star taught me everything I ever wanted to know about hair extensions, fake nails and black men. It was an important chapter in my life. One that would have huge significance when I finally met my No 1 fag hag; Mon.

:)

To be continued...


Dan K.