How did I, a straight middle-aged white woman, end up at a gay club during arguably the busiest season of all time — Vancouver Pride? Well, to tackle that question, you’ll have to understand the last few months of my life.
Ever since Heated Rivalry started streaming, I’ve been eating, sleeping, and breathing that steamy show. I like how relevant it is to contemporary Canadian culture. Since the ‘90s, many gays have been popping up everywhere. Maybe something’s in the air? I also found the show to be a way better reflection than them deciding to put lesbians in Bridgerton — that on the other hand is not historically accurate. Lesbians didn’t exist before Brittney Spears kissed Madonna.
I think I understand more about gay culture than they do. So much so that I learned something particularly interesting that not a lot of my friends in the Heated Rivalry Facebook group know. All of my friendly gays (you ice-skating queens!!) are professional hockey players. Yes, you heard that right.
I felt so ignorant. So blatantly out of touch with the realities of 21st century Canada. When my gay neighbour told me that he was seeing someone, I thought he was going on a date — not being forbidden lovers on the ice. When I heard someone say they were together for six years, I had no clue they meant six seasons. When I read an article on the best dildos to use in bed from Queerty, I didn’t know they were all hockey sticks.
I told myself: Linda, you are such a bad gal. How could I have been so ignorant? So fervently discriminatory? To make up for my clear transgressions, I decided to act in the only way possible. Celebrating gay culture by participating in their most sacred tradition. Clubbing.
I pulled up to Celebrities Nightclub on Davie Street, my son’s hockey stick in tow so I could fit in with the rest of the gang. I paid my cover, walked past the bouncer, and pranced onto the dancefloor.
“Hey, hockey players! My name is Linda. I’m a huge fan and ally,” I said, waving my hockey stick in the air.
Around them, I could see other people dressed in their hockey apparel. I waved to get their attention over the loud EDM music . . . we had a good time dancing.
“And the winner of the Heated Rivalry lookalike contest is Jack and Ralph!” an announcer proclaimed. What? Lookalike? Surely these people couldn’t be dressing up for a contest . . . how rude of them to appropriate gay culture. Suddenly, everyone on the club floor ripped off their hockey jerseys and began dancing. And why were there lesbians at a gay club?? I was so confused.
I thought for a split second that perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps not all gay people are hockey players. You see, that’s what your average loser would say. I am enlightened.
I climbed up onto the DJ’s stage and took the mic from one of those fake gay who lacked their signature hockey stick. “HOW DARE YOU APPROPRIATE THE CULTURE OF MY GAY FRIENDS!” I screamed, recording all these bigots on Facebook live. “GRAB A HOCKEY STICK —”
Then, I tripped and fell over my own hockey stick. Really on theme, huh? When I woke up in the hospital, I made a vow to continue fighting against these frauds. Justice for Shane and Ilya!
