Straight Men are Evil
A long time ago, there was a meeting of the Gay Man/Straight Woman Coalition. At this meeting, after discussing hairstyles and fashion choices, an edict was declared by the coalition. It is the one thing that all gay men and straight women agree upon, and it is a truth so universally accepted, so undeniably correct, that to even attempt to think otherwise would result in mass hysteria.
Straight men are evil.
Now, I’m not going to speak on this from a straight woman’s point of view, because I am not a straight woman (there is, of course, my inner sassy black woman, but that’s another post entirely). I will speak on this from the gay man’s standpoint though, because in my [unintelligble] years of living, I have encountered many straight men who are truly, truly sadistic. And I’m going to use those real-life examples to prove my point.
Case #1: Rooster
There’s this guy I call Rooster, for many reasons. One, he’s cocky (figuratively; I can’t speak to literally). Two, his last name rhymes with Rooster. Three, I just call him Rooster, so fucking deal with it. In any regard, Rooster is one of those men who flirts with everybody. He has a very flirtatious personality, whether or not he intends to flirt with people. He has a mischievous sparkle in his eye and when he actually did flirt with you, all you could do was giggle and blush. And Rooster liked to flirt with me, a lot. I would flirt back with him, naturally, because why not? This attractive man is flirting with me, so why not go for it? The only problem is, when straight men flirt with you and you flirt back? You’re just going to end up in the bathroom, jacking yourself off because you got yourself all worked up over something that’s going to have no payoff whatsoever. One drunken night while at a bar with some friends, I tried my damnedest to get Rooster to make out with me, but he wouldn’t. He did, however, walk up to me, cradle my head in his hands, and make sweet, sweet tongue love to my ear. This guy worked my ear like a 9-to-5 and by the time he was finished, I couldn’t stand up without my knees buckling. And that’s as far as I ever got with Rooster. And that shit is evil.
Case #2: Juan
There’s this guy I’m going to call Juan because that’s what he calls his penis. Well, sometimes he calls his penis that. Juan isn’t actually Latino, so let’s just clear that up first. Anyway, I’ve known Juan for awhile now, and he’s very comfortable with his sexuality. He’ll hug me, or kiss me on the neck, and it’s all fine and good. I flirt with him, he flirts with me, and that’s that. Occasionally, though, he and I will both get intoxicated and have a discussion about whether or not he’d ever let me blow him. I contest that never in his life would he let me blow him, despite the fact that I would give him the best head he’s ever had. Recently, I celebrated my [unintelligble]th birthday, and I asked Juan if he’d let me blow him for my birthday. His reply? ”I would, but you’re in a relationship.” Total fucking copout, right? So he and I went back and forth with this, to the point where I called my boyfriend, explained the situation, and he said “Yeah, go for it.” At which point, Juan started spouting bullshit about not wanting to ruin the sanctity of my relationship and some bullshit like that. What better present to give a gay guy for his birthday than a straight man’s dick? But, no. Juan is evil, just like Rooster.
Straight men, what is the deal? Why do you flirt with us gay men, knowing that you’ll never follow through with it? To quote Alanis Morisette, “How ’bout that transparent dangling carrot?” It’s that little tease of an incentive that you wave around in front of us, to keep us around. A scrap of hope that you let us cling onto, that one day we might get to venture into that forbidden territory that, let’s face it, most gay men want to stray into. What do you straight men get out of it? Satisfaction? Self-assurance that you’re the standard that everyone wants? Some sick, narcissistic pleasure? Tell me what it is, because I need to know. I need to know that more than I need to know where Jimmy Hoffa is buried, what happened to Amelia Earhardt, and who really killed JFK.
-Stephen
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