A Public Service
Left Hook, Inspector Corset, and I can’t be the only ones who’ve picked up on the odd phenomenon that is sweeping the nation, or at least Williamsburg. When did straight boys get so gay? This isn’t an isolated thing. This affects roughly 65% of dudes I see! And I speak not only of the skinny jeans and the little white sneakers. And those fucking scarves. I speak of a pervasive, systemic swishiness–in voice, in gesture, in soul.
We all have our pet examples. Like: a few weeks ago on an unseasonably warm day I saw a guy in a suspiciously skin-tight cowboy shirt, lapping away at an ice cream cone, hand-in-hand with–you guessed it!–his “girlfriend.” Where did dude even get an ice cream cone in February? Oh, right: the Tasti-D-Lite on Bedford.
And: this summer on the L platform I saw this tall skinny guy wearing short-shorts, a white v-necked undershirt, and suspenders. Like a lost member of the Village People. And, yep: g.f. on his arm! She was pretty, too.
Then there was that twilight-zone day in McCarren Park. Lefty, the Inspector, and I were on a bench checking out the stock (I can look, sheesh!), and it didn’t take long for us to realize that the only truly straight guys in the vicinity were the schizophrenic riding his bike around and around the loop, and the long and lean olive-complected jailbait highschool piece of ass sitting next to us. (DAMN!) Other than that it was a whole lot of fajays with girlfriends. It was spooky.
Upon close inspection, I have determined that these girls are almost always of the pants-in-boots fresh-off-the-boat 22-year-old variety. I’m going to give them the benefit of the doubt: they don’t know any better! They think their boyfriends are cool! Poor kids.
Go ahead print out a stack of those. Use high-quality stationary! Cotton resume paper, cardstock… Something that matches the gravity of the message, please.
Because somebody needs to break the news to them. And why shouldn’t it be you and me?
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