Here’s a present from yo’ faggot boyfriend!
If you live in SF, you’ve seen it, too: some poor clueless straight girl walking along hand-in-hand with her suspiciously tweezed and exfoliated "boyfriend."
At first glance, one mistakes the pair for a highly friendly, Jack-and-Jill type fag with hag. But the moment the purported fag picks up a fellow homo on his radar, he clings to his chick even closer under the guise of affection, instead of making one of the Three Standard Reactions of Initial Gay Male Interaction:
1. The Smile (interested)
2. The Two Ships Passing in the Night Blank Stare (interested, but chickenshit; sizing up the competition; or neutral acknowledgment of kindred queer)
…and my personal favorite:
3. The Contrived Icy Optic Aversion (haughty, jealous, or just in a hurry)
Nope, our man is off the charts with such closet case shenanigans in public. And what kind of girl living in the San Francisco/Bay Area can’t make a connection between the homo beside her and the homos omnipresent herein?
Answer: The young ones raised in the red states who’ve only recently relocated here. FYI, ladies–a "metrosexual" is a "homosexual".
I feel badly for them, especially since closeted guys are twice as likely to engage in unprotected sex on the sly. I don’t understand why people can’t see what’s right in front of them, whether it’s a boyfriend dressed in colors unfathomable to a real straight man, or the path to happiness we must follow to keep from getting lost in the woods.
