I Hate Gay Men

So I do my set at Gotham. And it goes really well. Once again, with a mostly straight crowd. And I'm feeling great, and all excited to go up to Therapy and host my first show. And I get to Therapy, and the place is not that crowded (it's a Tuesday night, after all), but all the tables in the performance area are full, and Colin Kane and Brian Balthazar are there, and they're psyched, and we're all rarin' to go.

And Scott Nevins introduces me from the DJ booth, and I go up, and it's great... for about 30 seconds.

And then these queens just turn on me. They stop listening. They begin talking amongst themselves. The noise becomes deafening. I do some crowd work, all the while thinking, "What would Ron Poole do?" And it's OK. but the noise continues. And I continue. And it's like performing in a vacuum. If anyone's laughing, I can't hear them. I can't get control of the room. Refusing to be intimidated, I press on. I do about 15 minutes of material. Then I introduce Colin.

Colin's a straight guy -- young, from Long Island, very cute. He's got balls. He makes fun of the crowd. His humor is rather homophobic and racist. (Personally, I find it hilarious.) He's got their attention, but he's also pissing a lot of them off. (One ad-lib involves an audience member shoving a Louisville Slugger up his ass.) Nevertheless, he's doing OK -- certainly better than I. He's provocative, and he's got their attention. He finishes.

I go back up. It's even worse than before. I try another bit -- nothing. I introduce Brian Balthazer. He's brilliant as always. But the crowd barely responds.

Scott Nevins begs me to finish with my 1010 WINS bit. It's a lost cause, but I have nothing to lose at this point. I do it. It rings as hollow as the rest of my set. "Thank you!," I say, "I haven't had this much fun since the time I had syphillis."

Nevins walks me home. He is very sweet and gives me a pep talk about the challenges of performing for a gay audience, especially at Therapy.

I totally appreciate it, but WHAT THE FUCK?!  Why can't I make gay men laugh? Why do they always make me feel like I'm back in high school, trying to climb that damn rope in gym class?

Frustrated does not begin to describe how I'm feeling. I had a great opportunity tonight, and I feel like I blew it. And the worst part is, I don't know what I could have done differently.

Now it's 1 a.m. and I have to be up for work tomorrow morning, and I am eating myself into oblivion. 


Postscript: As I was typing this pathetic lament, I received the following email from someone who was at Therapy tonight:

"caught your act tonight.  tough crowd.  but you're hot.
thanks for getting me out.
Pete"

Great.