This week’s column on the SFGate/Chron is Ten Ways to Get Lubed in San Francisco, which is a very grownup Pride visitor’s guide, but is also a handy resource for seeing the sexy sights whenever you visit. The Gate turned on comments for this column, and I just made the mistake of reading them. People can really be mean, even over such a fluffy column. Can I go through one week without people being cruel to me? Nope. Though, I did get a very complimentary private email from the Board President of the SF LGBT Pride Celebration Committee — and a friend emailed, “Come on, the hate of uncool people is frequently more satisfying than
the love of the cool. Girl, you know it’s true.”
Still, it’s nice to discover in the comments that I’m a tool of the revolutionaries, just as you’ve all suspected. I’m leaving the house now to go get some tough(er) love from Thomas. He likes to poke my thick skin until I giggle, or slap him, whichever comes first. It’s how we show affection in the revolution. Snip:
San Francisco is a sexual wrinkle in the space-time continuum. There are many theories on why we seem to be the epicenter of all things bawdy, naughty, dirty and just plain sexy. Some cite history: the famed Barbary Coast days, when the streets boasted ladies in breeches and inexpensive company of all flavors, and sailors were, um, sailors. We had the biggest red-light district in the world for at least a decade. The term “mack” even originated here: French pimps brought girls here by the literal boatload, and the French word for pimp (or “broker”) — maquereau — became shortened on our fine shores to “mack.” As in, San Francisco is your Mack Daddy this weekend.
Theories also abound on why we’re a sexual vortex: those good ol’ maritime ways, how sweaty we all get walking up and down those hills, the weather (fog’s ability to make the Castro into a continual, hard-nipped wet T-shirt contest), the infestation of sex educators, those damn beatniks, those damn hippies, liberal mayors, conservative papers, too much fresh air … oh, and those damn homos. Definitely related to the homos.
Well, at least it is this lovely Pride Weekend, and we’re all better off for it. Because we may not be able to nail down exactly why San Francisco is so sexually encouraging, tolerant, smart and hot all over, but we certainly know how to throw a few parties in celebration of self-determined sexuality as a very normal human birthright. So if you’re in town this weekend for our beloved Pride Parade or Pink Saturday, or just to hang out and marinate in our cherished rainbow stew — and you’re curious about seeing more than the plentiful queergasmic family fare on hand, your only quandary is narrowing down your choices. Get your official Pride events here (hotel and visitor guide is here), but do consider a few well-lubed, quite adult picks from your native sex columnist (…)
Link.
