Sunday, August 13, 2006

And The Whole Weekend, Even If No One Was There To Watch It In The Beach House, "Bring It On" Played On The Television.

We've just returned from a long weekend in Rehoboth Beach, DE.

For many New Yorkers, this beach getaway is an unknown quantity. We have Fire Island for a summer refuge, or Provincetown if you're ambitious. But for anyone south of Jersey, Rehoboth is the gay destination of choice.

It's a very cute town - beachy and fun, but family-oriented. There is a lengthy gay section of the beach, where hundreds of men (often in ill-advised boxcut trunks) frolic, gossip and sunbathe. But on the boardwalk and in the town they mingle seamlessly with thousands of families, tourists and residents. The design scheme is a mix of southern fun and rambling New England - think Kennebunkport meets Key West, except without the gin and clothing-optional resorts. Quite lovely, really.

The weekend confirmed what we feared about gay resort towns: when everybody goes to the same place for vacation, you don't get a break from your own society. By removing jobs, women, and most clothing from the equation, all the beach boys were left with was alcohol and drama.

Everyone was always buzzing about something. There was a boy who everyone called the "Fun Guy" because there was a rumor he had a highly contagious fungus. There was another boy who was very handsome but who has a very small penis, which was universally discussed in hushed tones because he had just made a new boyfriend and, really, how generous of the guy to be so understanding. Everyone was SO happy for them. And then there was the requisite gaggle of harmless pretty boys who mostly just smoked cigarettes and talked about themselves, and drifted from place to place in a big flock of fagulouness.

(Also, though no one said it, they were glad the fat one stayed home, because it brought down the median level of attraction to an undesirable level. They were only friends with him out of pity anyway - he isn't even really that nice.)

The other thing the weekend confirmed, which we were reluctant to recognize, was that gays everywhere are the same. DC gays have the same delusions of grandeur that NYC, LA and San Franciscans do. They suffer from the same high school foibles - jealousy, inexplicable resentment, promiscuity and late-night carbo loading. But they're also just as fun, smart, well-dressed, amusing and cute. They were universally friendly to a visiting Fagat, and for that we were impressed.

Wow. That's as close to a nice thing as you'll ever read on this blog. Maybe we should have vacation sex more often.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Y'all are just wrong!

GayConservativeLiberal said...

Funny, my partner and I spent a weekend in Rehoboth a few weeks ago and were bored to tears. The outlet shopping was great but the beaches and town were lame. On the flip side, Ptown is worth the trek -- most gorgeous beaches in the Northeast, hands down. Will send a report from the Pines next week ;-)

Frank said...

Despite being not that far, I've never been to Rehobath, the closest gay(-ish) resort. I really must go sometime. Unfortunately, though, I'd probably be considered the "fat" friend. *sigh*

Michael S said...

As gay resorts go the dullest for the money is Fire Island Pines. Nothing to do on a rainy day except the obvious, and you don't need to spend the big bucks to go there to do it. No movies, shopping is all one genre unlike P'town where you can find more variety. Restaurants are limited to only three, two run by one consortium. If this place allowed bicycles like P'town, they'd evolve a millenium, but they don't. Set that aside and consider for a second, it's still a paradise of nature, with skies, beach and a climate nothing can come near. Deer walk around tame and unafraid of you, wild birds are everywhere, geese and ducks breed in the waters around you, and the myth that everyone there is buff is just a myth. If you're okay with yourself you'll be okay there. If you've got a crappy self esteem, stay home.

Bring someone you love, or a spirit of adventure. Better yet find someone with a house there and skip the hotels.