Know How I Know You're Gay? Cuz Your Dick Tastes Like Shit!

I have a friend that I grew up with that is gay now. Or, probably more realistically, he's always been gay and is just letting everyone else in on his secret. Let's call him "Ken" because that's his real name.

So I run into "Ken" in Manhattan on Tuesday morning for the first time in around 6 years. It was around 10:30 or so so I already had a good buzz on, but it seemed very apparent to me that "Ken" was trying to outgay everyone else. With the eye rolling, the head movements, the hand gestures and pleated skirt it was just a little too much to take in all at once. When he tried to hug me I heard myself yell out "Back up, faggot!"

The fact that I haven't seen him in 6 years has nothing to do with the fact that he craves dick nowadays as much as the fact that he finds Alphonso Mourning attractive. How the fuck can you grow up a New York Knicks fan and find Alphonso Mourning attractive?

In my silent moments, when I'm being totally introspective, I wonder what it says about me that I grew up with him and didn't see the signs of his gayness? Should the Diana Ross listening parties have signaled a bell or two? Maybe the fact that he'd smear globs of vaseline on his face before a fight? Perhaps the shirtless pictures of me he'd have all around his bedroom? I find myself fearing silent, introspective moments.

So here I am, on a bustling midtown Manhattan street in the company of a 6 foot, gay, invisible rabbit. Only everyone can see him and he's only about 5'7". And here's a total misconception about gay people: they all don't dress well. I was so put off by his choice of hand bag with the shoes he was wearing I just wanted to scream!

"So where are you headed" he inquired in his butt-pirated, sing-songy tone.
"Somewhere else" I responded.

There was this comic in the late '80s that once said, when asked about homosexual vs. bisexual vs. transgender: Look, either you suck dick or you don't suck dick.

So, after a few drinks I look at my watch and it's almost 10 pm. My father once told me that God punishes homosexuals by killing them off in one generation because they don't have children. Perhaps, but they have money and I didn't spend a dime. I couldn't tell you what we spoke about for 8 hours but I do recall telling the bartender "yes, I'll have another one".

I do miss my friend's company. Playing ball in High School, bagging Catholic School girls together and confirming our alibi's before we faced our moms. And it's really too bad that time and prejudice have eroded our once strong as steel childhood bond. Maybe when I run into him again and I'm broke and thirsty we'll talk about it.