Michael Musto, one of my favorite columnists for the Village Voice, has a great posting on his blog about Fag Hags. Luckily I have never had a fag hag in my life, mainly because the only women I can stand for long periods of time are my mother and sisters and my married women friends who strangely enough don’t think spending time in a gay bar would be good for their marriage. But I’ve had friends and have even dated guys before who had fag hags leeching into their lives, and it doesn’t seem like fun. I went on a first date with a guy once who talked about his female friend that he performed some sort of bootleg music with. He showed me a picture of a mousy little thing that probably had trouble getting dates with straight guys. In the middle of the date she calls him on the phone and he’s like, “I’m having dinner…I’m on my date.” Like the bitch didn’t know everything that was going on in his life. It was a clear attempt to control him. I knew right then that I would never want to date him again (that and the fact that he drove a PT Cruiser). If I talk to a guy and he mentions a special girlfriend, I run. If I wanted a woman to be all up in my business, I would have stayed straight.