(1964-) American author, media pundit, and journalist, best know for his internationally syndicated sex advice and relationship column Savage Love: I totally want to spoon with Dan Savage.
My full-blown love affair (entirely one-sided) with Dan Savage is pretty recent. I’ve enjoyed Savage Love in the Georgia Straight for years, admired his strength of purpose when he founded the “It Gets Better” project, and have always respected his opinions. It is only in the past several months that I have fallen completely head-over-heels.
I am fairly certain that it’s this new, more aggressive Dan we’ve witnessed lately that has transformed my dull roar into a raging howl. His increasingly public clashes with FRC fuck-tard Tony Perkins and NOM Nazi Brian Brown have really got my juices flowing. So, this week, when I was invited to attend a live taping of Slate’s Political Gabfest at Town Hall in Seattle with special guest Dan Savage I jumped at the chance.
My adventure began with a very sick friend who was lending me her car. I have never witnessed anyone leaking from so many orifices at the same time – kind of like when that guy’s face melts in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Before leaving I drove to the Drug Store to stock up on “sick person” supplies: orange juice (no pulp), Kleenex (with built-in moisturizer, 2 boxes), Nyquil (night-time formula only, it’s pills not liquid), Cup-o-Soup (chicken flavor), Half & Half, sugar and a chocolate cream pie – all the things you need when you have the plague. After thoroughly disinfecting the steering wheel with Lysol and hand sanitizer I began my journey.
In New West, 10 km from the border crossing, I realized I did not have my passport.
After the long drive home to get it, I stopped for gas and proceeded back to the Peace Arch. In line (the point of no return) I reached for my driver’s license and discovered that I had misplaced my wallet, I had left it on the gas pump or on top of the car. Luckily the US customs agent did not ask to see anything other than my passport.
In Seattle, where my brother-in-law was fast asleep and did not answer the door for 20 minutes, I called the gas station to learn my wallet was safely tucked away in a drawer, turned in by a good Samaritan. If I could survive the trek home without a speeding ticket, an accident or an over zealous cop sexually profiling me (Carly Rae Jepsen was playing full blast on the I-pod) the trip would be worth it – I was going to see Dan Savage!
We arrived at Town Hall to discover the venue was packed (apparently my new crush has a lot of fans) and only found a seat close to the back. I could see Dan – at least I think it was Dan – and hear him just fine; I was close enough to my homosexual hero to keep me sated for the time being. A rather impassioned young lady was seated directly behind us and her erratic “WHOOPING” and cheers were disconcerting at best. It was impossible to predict which topics would instigate her sudden outbursts and on more than one occasion she startled the shit out of me. I was determined to remain focused and bide my time. When the podcast was over I would make my way to the stage and say hello.
Oh no you don’t…
As fate would have it, he was up and out of his chair in mere seconds, disappearing back stage, never to be seen again.
So, Dan, all I really wanted to say was thank you. There is seemingly only one voice rising above the disgusting diatribe of right-wing nut-jobs and that voice belongs to you. I am sick and tired of these hate-filled extremists spreading their dangerous dogma and lies without repercussions. I applaud your forthrightness and your courage when confronting their ignorance and intolerance. I am also thrilled that you’ve gotten mad! I believe, that for change to happen, more of us need to get angry and not back down when vicious people attempt to deny us our basic human rights.
I am so proud of you for not “giving up your seat in the colored section” and refusing to remain silent and be bullied.
Oh, and, I will be back in Seattle in November if you want to grab a coffee…