Queen Of Queens: 7 Signs You're Just A Girl In A Gay Boys' World

Any person who has ever set foot in the illustrious blue light of a dazzling gay club has borne witness to the fierce force of a girl at the very center of it all.

It's as if a soft yellow glow is beaming down upon her, highlighting her gorgeous presence amidst the smoky haze of glittering drag stars and pretty, exfoliated boys with bare abdominal muscles cut from stone.

While there’s no doubt boys are most definitely seeking boys at the boy bar, it's always a GIRL holding court as the reigning queen in the sea of queens.

I’m not talking about the insecure gay-boy groupie, the recently f*cked over divorcee who has developed a pressing phobia of heterosexual men or the bachelorette searching for one last thrill before she submits to the banalities of married life.

We’re talking about the real QUEEN B of the queer boy world. Fashion magazines have taken to calling her a “fruit fly”— while back in the non-PC days, she held a far more controversial title (rhymes with the word “BAG” with “HAG” tagged onto the end).

She doesn't wish to offend her people with a derogatory term and is certainly not reminiscent of a f*cking fly, so let’s call this girl a QOQ – aka QUEEN OF QUEENS – because that’s exactly what this fabulous creature is.

She’s a wildly authentic character.

The QOQ is hands down the most adored specimen in the gay-boy community.

She’s a rare breed, and contrary to popular belief, she’s not your stereotypically flawless, airbrush-tanned, straight girl in the overeager bodycon dress, devoid of a personality.

A QOQ is so much more than that (and not always straight, mind you). See, it's only the authentic wild characters of the world who are truly accepted into the elusive gay underworld, and QOQ'S are often opinionated eccentrics, bonafide fashion freaks, avant-garde performance artists and groundbreaking sexual “deviants” who are tremendously FUN and tough as NAILS.

Like sexuality, it wasn't her CHOICE.

Like all things pertaining to sexuality, a QOQ didn’t choose her fate; the higher power up above hand-selected her to be the exclusive QOQ of her district.

Unfortunately, there's no master’s degree program that will make a qualified professional QOQ (although cosmetology school/beauty school is probably the closest possible thing).

Regardless of how earnestly you study to become accepted into this prestigious royalty, a crown so ornate just can't be bought.

As poor Duchess Kate learned the hard way, marrying a prince doesn’t exactly make you a princess (sorry girl). A life as a QOQ is a predestined destiny.

The signs were apparent at a tender age.

If most gays were to dig deep and investigate the origin of their sexual awakening, they would come to discover the homosexual signs were blazingly apparent from a young, tender age. This is no different for a QOQ.

She was that sassy, foul-mouthed girl in the fourth grade who was instant best friends with the effeminate boy who couldn’t help but wear blue nail polish to school even though he knew he would be teased.

Some people just can't help but be themselves, and that is a trait deeply rooted into the souls of both girl queens and boy queens.

It’s almost as if they had their own isolated school experience, existing as two fabulous misfits who traded in homecoming dances for late-night, haphazard DIY hair highlighting sessions and preferred to sh*t talk about the closet cases on the football team to attending an actual game.

She’s respected for her lifetime of kinship.

A QOQ served as the gay boy's knight in shining armor throughout the burning hell of high school and dutifully held his well-manicured hand through the delicate process of coming out.

She was his heroic sole protectant throughout his vulnerable adolescence, kicking the sh*t out of the meathead bullies and housing him when he got kicked out of the house for getting caught wearing eyeliner to church by his repressive Republican parents.

Karma is a beautiful thing, and every adult QOQ is rewarded for her good deeds by receiving endless compliments from every gay male who enters her orbit.

Queer boys attain an innate sixth sense of who their defenders were before they were the hot trendy media moguls they are now.

They simply KNOW, in the depths of their hearts, who was there for them before it was cool too have a #gayBESTIE.

She’s made peace with being ditched for hookups.

Being a QOQ is not an occupation for the frail of heart. Fragile girls need not apply because in order to survive as a QOQ, one must be a fiercely independent woman.

While she practically has an artistic residency at the local gay club, she's made peace with the reality that she will be ditched as soon as hook-up hour arrives.

She doesn’t take this personally and is entirely self-sufficient in regards to getting home, regardless of how dangerous of a location the club is in.

Autonomy is the middle name of the QOQ, and she's really quite pleased her #1 boy is going home with someone (so long as he's SAFE). She will send him off with only fairy godmother good wishes and a handful of latex condoms.

Plus, she’s probably got a scandalous hookup of her very own to tend to (it's not only the boys having all the fun).

She hails a taxi and looks forward to brunch the next morning, when they will break down the dirty details of the evening over bottomless mimosas and eggs Benedict.

She’s no shrinking violet.

A QOQ oozes an intoxicating air of irrepressible individuality and iconic personal style out of every single one of her perfectly primed pores. She doesn't take herself seriously, and living a life bound by the shackles of self-consciousness isn't an option for her.

She prefers to live free and die pretty. She's the type of fearless fashionista who dives headfirst into style risks, just to enhance the amusement of the colorful boys who surround her.

She’s the bold woman who attains the wherewithal to sport a shockingly purple wig to a posh uptown lunch (and pulls it off).

Regardless of skill level, she’s one to jump up on a bar table and sing her soul out to karaoke, making up for her lack of talent with beautiful spirit and divine commitment.

She not only keeps up with the outrageous gay nightlife culture – she sets the precedent for the reckless glamor and flamboyant behavior for the next generation of gay boys. Every boy has a girl muse.

She’s the moral police officer, clad in fabulous clothes.

A QOQ is tough as nails and knows when to tell the boys to rein it the f*ck in. While she's a thriving free spirit, her core is built on the solid foundation of integrity.

She's the only one who seems to know when ENOUGH is ENOUGH.

She's the strong woman who comes storming into a genderless bathroom at 3 am, firmly telling the boys to lay off the drugs, pull up their pants and get their sh*t together!

Like all Queens, she has a natural air of authority. She's like a royal, only clad in scandalous attire, sporting a heart of pure GOLD.