The New Guy

Oh, I’m pretty sure he’s gay, but at least he’s not too gay.

He’s really manly, unlike most of them. He’s not one of those screamers that go to pride parades and rub it in your face. And he’s not one of those pigs that wear leather and flaunt their disgusting bodies and make you feel uncomfortable. I mean, what they do in the bedroom aside, they’re fine. As long as they keep it there and I don’t have to think about it. At least he’s not a mincing little nancy boy like that guy in the mail room. I don’t talk to him. I mean, I don’t have a problem with him, but he’s just too much.

I loved Queer Eye and I’ve got gay friends, but they complain about everything these days. Marriage is between a man and a woman, right? Sure, they can do whatever they want in the privacy of their own home but why do they have to tell everyone? It’s not like I have to come out as straight. It’s not like I walk into a room and announce it. Some little homo told me off at the Christmas party because I said the decorations were gay. I didn’t mean him, I meant they were stupid. It’s totally different. They just take everything too seriously and they can’t take a joke.

They’re stealing our liberties, and now we’re the ones who are discriminated against. They might be good fashion designers but they should just keep their high heels in the closet and stop ramming everything down people’s throats. I mean, it’s disgusting and they’re all going to die of AIDS anyway but as long as they keep it to themselves I don’t have a problem with it.

But anyway, this guy. At least he’s not a faggot.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.