The Fag Hag, Fruit Fly, Flame Dame, Fairy Princess. She’s the guardian of the gays, the perennial plus one, the token pair of tits. Without her, life would be incomparably less fabulous. She is the moon to our earth, a reliable presence that helps illuminate our dark nights.
She likes to say that she’s a gay man in a woman’s body to underscore the fabulousness gay men represent.
Friendships begin out of necessity. Young, obviously gay men are shunned by fellow boys in school, and so they turn to the friendship and alliance of girls. These girls show early signs of latent fabulousness, an undeniable spark that sets them apart from the cheerleaders, nerds, and invisibles. She might be into musical theatre, the first girl in the grade to give a guy a blow job, or wear outré outfits cobbled together from hand-me-downs and thrift stores that no one else understands.
A tight bond forms during late adolescence. She’s the first one a gaybie comes out to, which happens in a deluge of tears and earnest embraces while both drunk off purloined liquor from their parents’ cupboard.
The fag hag is the first date boys bring to the gay bar after coming out. She gets sloppily drunk on the combination vodka sodas and gyrating, sculpted male bodies. That night, she tries to make out with her friend. She will not remember this embarrassing incident the following day, but will enthusiastically insist on going returning the next weekend.
In her early 20s, she is her GBF’s biggest supporter. She listens for hours about date, dick, and heartbreak stories. She furtively tries to set him up with another member of her gay posse, which produces disastrous results, quickly learning that gay man + gay man is not a simple recipe for success (or sex).
By the mid-20s, the paradigm shifts, and the strong girls become needy women. They’re frustrated by the lack of quality men to date, and disillusioned by straight men in general. The fag hag begins to envy her gay friends for their unabashed promiscuity, as they seem to have an endless parade of partners and escapades, through which she lives vicariously, fueling her fantasies on nights when it’s just her and Mr. Rabbit.
Once Fag Hag reaches her thirtieth birthday, she’s convinced of her fabulousness and #NoFucks[Are]Given. She discovers the confidence to wear garishly printed muumuus and vintage sequined caftans in public that only gay men appreciate, and conversely scare the shit out of straight men. Still single, she might dabble in lesbianism to enhance her solidarity with the gays.
Many of her gay friends have settled into serious relationships while she’s still out getting #smashed on martinis at upscale bars while sleuthing for eligible men. She drifts away from her gaggle of gays, who are off being domesticated in Provincetown summer rentals and shopping for antiques to fill their Chelsea condos. She tries her hand at settling down by marrying the next guy she dates because she’s bored and wants to wear a wedding dress that’s not a costume for a marriage equality parade.
Marriage is not all it’s cracked up to be and she finds out her husband is sleeping with her gay assistant. Of course she accidentally married a gay man, she thinks bitterly to herself. She has a period of contempt for gay men, whom she realizes have been at the inescapable center of her life for the past 40 years. She tries to hang out with other women her age, but misses the excitement and irreverence of her gays.
Haggy is in her prime. She’s reached the age where she can do and say pretty much whatever she damn well pleases. She is no longer pre-occupied with finding a mate; that ship has sailed like the last Fire Island Ferry of the season. She now personifies the word fabulous with the disposable income to spend on weekly highlights, blowouts and manicures, looking more and more like a drag queen. Her closet is the cave of wonders for gay men to raid on Halloween.
The fag hag’s flame still burns bright as ever. Rather than be alone in her golden years, she marries her gay best friend in fulfillment of pact made forty years prior should they both still be single. They will skip off, hand in hand, towards the rainbow horizon in matching Pucci pajama sets.