I hate straight men

The ideal man?

All my life I knew I was different. No, I’m not Spiderman; I am in fact a gay. Yes, that rare breed of man who likes other men, listens to pop music and wears bright, preferably neon, colours. Okay the last two aren’t true; I’m just fitting a stereotype. In fact I listen to very odd music, and if you take notice my wardrobe lacks bright colours. But that’s not important. What is, is the fact that growing up I was constantly teased for not fitting in and being different. I was crap at football, and when my mates asked me who I thought was fit, I could never give them an answer. Instead I played Pokémon and when I was dragged to a rugby match by my step-dad I spent most of it staring at the player’s meaty thighs and taut buttocks.

The people that made the experience of growing up as an outsider a whole lot worse were straight guys. The ones who would constantly nag at me and call me names. Heck, they’re the ones that made me the outsider to begin with. Now, those teens have grown up to be the men I hate. Strong and masculine jockish guys who get naked as soon as they’re drunk, and who ironically, often act gayer than me.

I work in a nightclub, and I see a lot of strange behaviour. Normally when I’m out, I’m the first one to get drunk so I don’t really notice what’s going on around me. Drunk straight guys though, more often than not, have really sexual tendencies. First they buy each other drinks. Then they’ll start grinding with their hands all over the place. If a smooth jam comes on, they’ll bust out the old slow-dance. Finally, it ends with an epic squeeze and a long and passionate kiss on the lips. Tongues are no exception. There might even be some face licking and crotch grabbing too. I’m pretty sure last week I saw three guys drop trousers in front of each other, right in the middle of the dance floor.

Sometimes at work, I’ll be staring over the counter, thinking to myself ‘why them and not me?’ Obviously no-one would appreciate an intimate kiss from a man more than a gay man. A bit of affection wouldn’t go amiss, because it’s simple really. I’m gay, I like men. I don’t want a queen, a stick thin guy with a blonde emo fringe, whose wardrobe is sprinkled in neons and glitter. I want a strong, masculine, confident man; tall, dark and mysterious. Something like a rugby player, or a jock, or even a rock climber. You know, what I really, really want though, is a straight man.

And that’s why I hate straight men so much. Dangled right in front of my face day after day, the one thing I really want; the one impossible thing. The exact same guys that made my life hell are the same guys who are my ideal type. The ones whose strong arms I want to be wrapped underneath. I didn’t grow up lusting over Graham Norton or Dale Winton; I wanted Jake Gyllenhaal and Ed Westwick. You know what they say though; you always want the ones you can't have!

Add Comment

You must log in to submit a comment.