We all know that guy. He lives his life just a bit too close to our personal space. He relishes every opportunity for man-on-man contact: high-fives, chest bumps, spontaneous wrestling matches, invasive wet willies. He always checks to see if you wanna "work out," with no hint of irony. He doesn't realize it, but he's totally gay. I used to think that sexual orientation was a straight-line continuum, but it's actually more like a circle, and hyper-straight men have gone so far around their end that they've looped back to the gay side. And not the cutesy, fun-loving West Hollywood gay, but rather the no-nonsense, sock-in-your-mouth, prison cell gay. The whole teabagging phenomenon should've been a clue. What straight man would want to put his junk anywhere near another man's face? Who's degraded more in this equation? But über-butches will do anything for the approval of their "boys" -- particularly if it involves rubbing testicles on another man's person. They're so male-centric that now I realize that "Bros before hos" isn't just a philosophy; it's a mating call.
It makes sense, really, because gay men trying to act straight tend to overcompensate, like, "See, I love poon! It’s all...flappy and stuff." It’s transparent and sad. C’mon, guys, look deep inside—you know, where your boy stuck a Sharpie when you were asleep—and you’ll realize that you’re living a lie. Put down that Dane Cook CD and pick up a rainbow flag. This is 2008; you can be both macho and proudly gay. Look at Lorenzo Lamas or that construction worker from The Village People.
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