If you weren’t aware, I am obnoxious and often act flamboyantly (see My 2018 News Years Kiss With Kyle). Also, I swing and miss often with jokes, often.
Take us back to junior year of high school in chemistry class. I attempted some weird joke, I don’t know, it wasn’t a gay joke though. By the way, it’s jargon to inform you that it did not land. Anyways, when I finished making the whole classroom cringe, I looked over to a classmate, a gay classmate. Like openly gay amidst a horribly judgmental microcosm of small-dicked adolescents. He was staring into my soul as we made eye contact. Keep in mind at the time, my ego was so over-inflated that John Jastremski would be pissed. We locked eyes for a few seconds.
And now we have a place in Manhattan and plan to marry in the fall.
Just kidding, even though I wish I was gay, I’m not*.
So we locked eyes for a few seconds. I knew the joke was worse than spotty internet while jerking off. You know. And he utters – and I quote – “fag”. Nothing more, just three simple letters.
How does one react? A gay man, calling a straight man, a fag, a word that gay men condemn. Keep in mind this was five years ago (referencing the social changes of the country).
After a few seconds of awe, I responded with: “did you just call me a… fag?” How did I let my poor comedic skills get here? Immediately, he responded with: “yes”.
And ever since then, I have come to terms with who I truly am.
An English public-school boy who acts as servant to an older schoolmate. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fag