SF vs LA wtf?

“None of the bars in San Francisco are as bad as the bars here,” says the new guy I just met at an intimate pool party in North Hollywood. The typical refrain from one of our brothers up north rolled easily off the early thirty-something man’s tongue. His lack of self-consciousness was so striking I withheld my usual defense.

Is it the cleaner sidewalks, the safer streets, the urban forest, the sunny weather, the real beaches, or the prettier go-go boys? Why is it that the SF gays can so easily hate on the LA gays so much?

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Loving LA

Hello international airport, and sunshine, and flip flops, and gay boys in tank tops, smoking men speaking Farsi, and black girls with cornrowed hair – hello over botoxed housewives, over blinged out black guys with loud bass booming cars, and girls stroking tiny dogs with rhinestone collars – hello dodge ball, and go-go boys, and yogurt stop conversations – hello hiking on Runyon, biking to the beach, and yoga on the roof of Palihouse – hello traffic, and homeless, and people who look through you who don’t want to know your name – hello gay two stepping, leather events, drag bingo, rainbow crosswalks, and naked brunch – hello gurl, and bitches, and cum on over – hello Oscars, and industry, and wanna be dreamers who refuse to give it up – hello kisses from my boy, grass-fed beef for dinner, and juice cleanses, and cuddling with the window open in February.

MikelGerle.com