I’m Just As Gay As You Are

Many of you might have clicked on this link hoping it would be a 600-word coming out party, finally confirming your suspicions that a 28-year old single man who is thin, neat, and clean, living in the state of Utah has closet attractions to members of the same sex. Part of your suspicions may have evolved from the fact that my earliest childhood best friend was named Courtney. Granted, Courtney was a boy. Don’t hate his parents. They were probably hippies.  

For full effect, download “Applause” by Lady Gaga and play at maximum volume throughout the duration of this post.

M: “So…I’m thinking of getting my hair colored, but I’m not quite sure if I should go completely dark. Or should I add highlights, or what? I am so confused.”

Me: “And why are you asking me?”

M: “Oh quit with your bearded-face front. You and I both know you understand how a woman’s hair should look.”

This is the part where I tuned her out, stroked a few of my no-shave November whiskers and threw up my automatic response of manliness that I didn’t know the intricate details of how she should fine-tune her hair for the upcoming season, just so she could keep everything in order with her Winter wardrobe. This in fact is what the majority of all members of the male gender will do in times of sexual-preference questioning. Followed by a burping session, a crotch-scratching, and a download of highlights from the most recent episode of Monday Night Football. Hey, I need to keep my reputation as a manly man, don’t I?

Cue Drew McIntyre, an extremely hetero-sexual married man who can comb his chest hair and strangle a lion with his bare hands, walking in mid-conversation and being asked the same question.

Drew: “If it were me, I would go with something that accentuates your facial tones and really brings out the color. I’ve seen your hair dark, and I think a chocolate feel would be good on you.”

M: “Thank you Drew. At least someone here is comfortable enough to give me an honest answer.”

Cue me imitating Ken Jeong from “Community” with my hands cupped around my mouth in a mocking fashion: “GAYYYYYY!!!”

M: “Shutup Brock! You are just as gay as he is. You in fact were raised by a bunch of sisters and probably know all about what warm and cold colors are. If anything, you are more gay than Drew is, ADMIT IT!”

In the back of my mind it clicked that I actually do know the difference between warm and cold colors. Curse those damn women who raised me and secretly gave me Estrogen shots while I slept.

It was at this point where the Freddy Mercury fairy who floats around Project Runway conventions demoted my man ticket to someone who wears berets and performs gymnastic routines to Aladdin’s “A Whole New World”. She’s right. I am just as gay as he is. I have watched the “Rocky Horror Picture Show” on multiple occasions out of preference, not obligation. I understand and follow the rules of never wearing brown shoes with black pants. I know every single line of every single song from “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat”. Those may sound like a bunch of incorrect flaming stereotypes to trademark my now burnt-to-a-crisp character, but M is right. Although I may not have a single ounce of sexual attraction for another man, in reality I’m probably just as queer as Elton John.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.