“None of the bars in San Francisco are as bad as the bars here,” says the new guy I just met at an intimate pool party in North Hollywood. The typical refrain from one of our brothers up north rolled easily off the early thirty-something man’s tongue. His lack of self-consciousness was so striking I withheld my usual defense.
Is it the cleaner sidewalks, the safer streets, the urban forest, the sunny weather, the real beaches, or the prettier go-go boys? Why is it that the SF gays can so easily hate on the LA gays so much?