#49 – Faux Lesbianism

16 12 2009

Almost everything the bogan does revolves around drawing attention to itself. Be it the highest hair, the most garish Ed Hardy t-shirt, the most fluorescent laces on its shiny new Dunlop Volleys, the biggest guns or the largest sunglasses, the bogan is living a constant audition to be a contestant on Big Brother. In particular, the bogan has a narrower focus on attracting the attention of the opposite sex.

As this sartorial and behavioural arms race continues to escalate, ambitious bogans are being forced to revert to ever-more outrageous activities in order to stand out. While the male bogan continues to embrace sheer muscular bulk and gaudy attire, his female counterpart has realised that the male couldn’t give two shits about what she was wearing. She had to stand out by emphasising her sexual availability.

This is not as easy as it once was. In the early days, it was a simple matter of wearing revealing clothes, which is harmless enough. Then came the commodification of Playboy, entrenching in the bogan mind a notion of the feminine ideal that spawned from the syphilis-ridden mind of an 83 year old lothario. But shortly thereafter, bogans discovered internet porn, and Pandora’s box was well and truly opened.

Suddenly, the male bogan’s definition of ‘sexy’ devolved to one of two definitions: “fake-tittied blonde copping a tag team from a pair of oversized bouncers/porn stars” or “chicks making out/strapping on.” In the absence of societal acceptance of breaking out sex toys in public, bogan girls began slamming their tongues down each others’ throats with an enthusiasm that their potential paramours found all the more intoxicating for its insecurity and desperation. It gets even better as it allows the bogan to promote the appearance of the acceptance of homosexuality without ever having to condone two guys, you know, doing it. Or ugly chicks.

Today, the faux-lesbian encounter tends to happen about five cruisers into a 10 cruiser and half-bottle of Jack Daniels night. The bogan male, stalking its appealingly tandem prey, waits until many more of those 10 cruisers have disappeared, before making its move. Gently, wordlessly, he guides the now-malleable faux-lesbian femme bogans to an upstairs bedroom, before attempting to perform an (albeit confusing) one-man Chinese finger trap on one or both. All too often, the evening ends with the male bogan covertly performing The Stranger on itself in a nearby carpark.