For a group of people who are trying so hard to be considered part of normal society, gays excel at class segregation amongst themselves.

We have lipstick lesbians and dykes; there are queens, twinks, chickens, leather daddies; masters; subs; boys; slaves; pigs; gym bunnies and alternatives. If you are not this, then you must be that. If not that, then surely you are this. And each group looks at the other with a certain amount of disdain, attitude or envy.

The Silverlake crowd laughs at the queens in West Hollywood; the San Francisco gay snickers at the Los Angeles homo. Adamantly pointing their finger at the attitude the other exhibits, they are convinced they are “above” all of that, “better” than that. Just as surely as old money always thought it was “above” and “better” than the nouveau riche.

So caught up in proving that they do not have an attitude, determined they are beyond all that, they fail to see that their “non-attitude” has become their own fully definable attitude.

We so define our own identity by our surroundings; our gym membership; the car we own; where we live; what magazines we read; where we work; our abundance (or lack of) of class, culture and intellect. We make it such a point to prove how uniquely different we are from “them,” we fail to see we are just like “them.” We only use different names for different labels.

It is funny to hear how somebody can read most of the 236 pages I have written these last three years and then tell me that they are not sure how familiar or understanding I am with the typical American idioms. I can have an entire dialogue about the definition of submissive and dominant, yet apparently still leave doubt as to whether or not I know what tuna casserole is.

And the attempt of wanting to appear understanding and aware of any cultural differences still comes across as condescending and belittling.

It may be a meltdown up north or a drama down south; whether you read about the fortress of Los Angeles or actually live outside the walls of it; you can write the HOPWA grant or apply for HOPWA assistance; in the end it’s all good.

Because you still put your pants on one leg at the time and you still use toilet paper to wipe your ass. Just like the rest of us. Just like me.

Then again, I am from the Old Country.

We gave birth to Art Nouveau, Nouvelle Cuisine, and Nouvelle Vague; we witnessed the Nouveau Riche of the last 150 years as they came to be in the “New World.”

It is not about attitude or being better than; it is not about you getting to feel good at my expense.

It is about us both getting to feel good at our allowance.

It is about being the same, despite our differences.

Everything else, quiet honestly, is just très gauche.