Dear fan-clacking homosexual, whichever dance floor you may haunt: I know your dance game isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, but your loud accessories (in particular, your fan) are an affront to a safe space. In the age of Pulse, very anxious gays, such as myself, could go without the bang-bang-bang (so often off beat) slapping our fun night away. I leave, so you can have your fun, but there are softer versions of your prop, a nice breeze to cool the room. Or consider the tools of rhythmic gymnastics! An expressive spinning with a ribbon yells pride louder than your reminder that I could be killed because I like to suck dick.