So I was talking to one of my young ’09 thugs the other day, and we were discussing one of her Now and Later buddies. And by Now and Later, I mean fruity. And by fruity I mean likes Bette Midler and pastels (Though oddly enough, I too like Bette Midler and have been know to Easter egg it every now and again. Nullus). I mean, I kind of admire homie for being who he is, but I sometimes get worried that other people are cracking on him for getting his Toucan Sam on (Froot Loops, ya dig?). I mean, fuck what you heard, people still take exception with that lifestyle, even if this is the Elm City and even if you’re one of these scholar types.

I mean, Elton John I ain’t, but I do feel the need to set the record straight. Or gay. Whatever the case, some people need to be let on to a little secret.

Since my discovery is sure to shake the foundations of homophobia everywhere, allow me to extend a warm blanket of personal nullus on this article. I can’t say I’ve ever been attracted to another man, but that probably stems from my proclivity for putting my genitalia in the ‘homo sapiens with vaginas’ basket. That’s just how I get down. However, if muff don’t convince ya, it don’t convince ya, and that’s that. Frankly, I say more for me and thanks for looking all clean-shaven and groomed for the attentions of people with penises.

Still, I’ve noticed a lot of anxiety among the fellas because of the fear that dudes with man bags are checking them out all the time, especially if they’re talking to you about chemistry homework or the lunch menu. Fear not my brethren. You can rest assured that it is very, very, very likely the hardness of the chem homework, rather than that of your manhood, that is their primary concern. Yes, it is the New England and not your clam chowder that they most probably wish to wipe away from their mouths after sating their appetites.

But that’s no revelation. The secret lies in this: Gay dudes are some of the world’s most vicious haters.

Seriously, you can breathe easier because it is very likely you don’t have that type of cross-over appeal. In fact, it is more than likely that, IF these gentlemen are even halfway giving you the once-over, it’s to comment on your lack of a line-up, ill fitting shirt, poor trouser selection and your shoes, which, more often that not, are not the proper selection.

Author’s Note: Again, recall my nullus on this whole thing, but these cats are absolutely correct on the shoe front. You can say you don’t care, it’s just school, blah, blah, blah. But if it’s going to be part of your outer appearance, do yourself and anyone with eyes that function beyond the detection of light a favor and lace up. If you wanna slack off, wear tacky draws. Yeah. I said it.

You know how saucy women have, along with discriminating — and often bitchy — taste, that biting wit and sarcasm that always manages to strike you to the quick? Well, they like guys too, so the carry-over seems relevant here.

Gay men are not attraction Samaritans. When a gay dude offers up a critique, he will show little to no quarter in the matter. And for whatever reason, it’s effective. If you’ve been the recipient, you feel insulted. Why? Because they’re probably not far from the truth. Do they embellish? Sure, but if you’re shoe game is horrific and you look like you got your hair cut with a hot spoon, you know it and they know it.

In fact, everyone knows it, but a gay dude will say it. What does he care? He’s probably been harassed all his life, and thus, didn’t have time to read the Critique/Insult Code of Ethics handbook, particularly the section on crossing the line. These mufuckas don’t even know where the line is. They just go there. And it burns more coming from a gay dude. Why? Because if you’re a straight man, there’s nothing you can do about it. When a girl dresses you down, there’s still at least the outside chance you can have vindication sex with said girl somewhere down the line. With a gay dude, you’re basically stuck unless you don’t wish to continue being heterosexual, which is fine if you’re into that sort of thing.

Maybe I’m just trapped in the closet here, but I don’t understand why so many straight dudes get bent out of shape in the presence of some ancient Greeks anyway. It’s such funny logic to me. Just think: If gay men are like girls (in that they like guys), it would stand to reason that they have the brain stem enough to discriminate between that which pleases and displeases them. Why would you think every gay dude is into you? I mean, most guys outside of my boy He Hate Me don’t think every girl is checking them out in an approving fashion, but when it comes to our “alternative lifestyle” colleagues, we’re suddenly all a bunch of George Clooneys. Don’t flatter yourselves. In fact, you’re probably more likely to get the benefit of the doubt from females.

Now don’t take this revelation to mean that you should let someone get all Tom Cruise on you and give you a reach around. I stand by my general rule of thumb: Respect my personal space, i.e. it’s all gravy ’til you touch me. And I’m not talkin’ about daps or whatever. I’m saying, you get a hold of rump real estate or do something equally inappropriate, I will assume the role of a girl in a heterosexual situation (semper nullus), snap and possibly slap the shit out of said perpetrator.

And, for the record, it’s not about it being done by a man; in fact, I don’t really dig it when girls try to get too cute either. The difference is, the reaction to what a man does as compared to what a woman does is going to be markedly different. Honestly, you really shouldn’t touch people if they don’t want you to (unless you throw a party and serve them drinks for free). I didn’t make the rules.

To my friends still hung up on whether Big Gay Al is going to try and tag team you with Johnny Gill the next time Johnny or Al says hi or strikes up a conversation with you at dinner, run this quick checklist:

– Am I short?

– Do I look physically fit?

– Have I recently gotten a haircut or line-up / do I have hair that naturally looks nice?

– Do I have hands and nails that are not ugly?

– Do I smell nice?

– Can I actually carry on a conversation?

– Are my shoes ugly and un-hip?

– Do my shirt and pants match/ flatter me?

– Am I groomed/ do I look clean?

– Do several girls find me attractive?

Gents, there are right and wrong answers to these questions, and it’s rare that we get them all right. Relax and be thankful that you dress badly. Peace to the dudes who help keep me in business.

Penultimate Thought: The Charlie Brown Christmas musical score is tight.

Final Thought: I figure this is a good week for starting senior essays.

Jon Pitts-Wiley is never eating New England clam chowder again.