Above: a mosaic of ‘Coexist' stickers on the back of various cars.
The leftists in this country honestly—honestly—deeply amuse and bemuse me. Jonas Hill drops the word ‘faggot’ and Donald Sterling is, well, Donald Sterling and someone refers to Chaz Bono with the wrong pronoun and people absolutely lose their shit like a broken colostomy bag that just got splattered all over the Twittersphere.
And yet, when ISIS rages on undeterred minus a few Western furrowed brows and the vast majority of Middle Eastern countries prevent women from being anything but glorified baby-male-makers and a guy giving another guy head will get you stoned to death in certain parts of the world, the ‘liberals’ of this country remain inanely silent in the good ol’ name of multiculturalism and coexistence.
Why thank you, Mr… Always Super Horny. You’re frank. Always appreciated.
Every gay guy has The Friend.
The Friend’s behavior is what some call abandoned, others call whatever, and what too many misidentify as careless—but this is what makes this friend The Friend.
We’ve all been there, accusatory eyes, cocked heads, furrowing brows directed toward him as he interacts with [insert random guy here]. We all know—or at least think we know—that he’ll be sleeping with that stranger. Bareback. That night. Or day. Begin the group gasp. Then the traitor-like smile we all return when The Friend comes back and asks, ‘He’s cute, isn’t he?’
And yet, it’s nothing but a deeply disgusting, unhealthy thing. And not what The Friend does but what we do. The Clean. Or the presumption of cleanliness (as godliness always is: presumed). Sitting there, putting on this facade that somehow advertises that we have never—never—engaged in what The Friend does and therefore judging his character silently in his head: ‘He could be cute but of course he isn’t cute because of… You. What I think I know you will do.’