Zack's Ramblings: Horny Eye for the Preppy Straight Guy
Just the other day I gave myself whiplash because a blond boy walked by with Nantucket red pants, a popped-collar polo and boat shoes. His backwards white baseball cap glinted in the May sunlight and time stopped. It doesn’t matter what these boys look like. No matter how ruddy their faces or dead their eyes, no matter how much they look like they’re gonna hit me when I check them out, they will always be a weakness.
This is because, in my experience, this breed of guy never comes homo. They just don’t. That is why untold legions of fags try to dress up in his uniform – this is probably the genesis of the gay/flip flops/cargo shorts connection — but they will never look right. It’s like a Hasidic rabbi on a sailboat. Doesn’t work. Since the real thing is straight-only, the mystery only grows deeper to me by the day. These guys exude every stereotype of fratty heterosexuality: Intolerance, mediocrity, bodies that go to shit once lacrosse season ends. It’s the most intoxicating of all straight guy vibes.
I long ago stopped lusting after most straight guys. In my closet days they were the only ones I wanted, but I quickly realized that A) it was too much work and emotional trauma and B) Many straight guys stop looking good after college. The streets of Chicago’s Wrigleyville look like someone fed Carson Daly after midnight, and then got him wet. Not attractive. But no amount of logic or resignation can stop me from being sexually fascinated by the spawn of Cape Cod.
As a pretty easily-identifiable indie kid, there is nothing that I can immediately think I would have in common with a guy like this. In every period of my life, from braces-having nerd to high school closet fag to actual, out confident gay guy, preppy guys make me feel like I’m in immediate physical danger. Which make me want to piss them off all the more with flirting. Which increases the discomfort on the other end, which just starts the whole cycle over. It’s terrible but such a great way to pass time. How subtly can you check out a preppy straight guy without them noticing? When you meet one, how affectionate can you be while still staying in the realm of friendly bro-dom?
Does anyone out there share my fascination? Understand that the second one of these guys turns out to actually be gay, the appeal is gone? The outfits seem forced, the swagger a defense and not the actual walk of entitlement. When I find out that “What the fuck do you want” glare is actually a hard cruise I die a little on the inside. The cracks show and this guy is no longer the thing I used to check out in the group showers in my college’s sports facility. He’s just another boring, disappointing person.
So I hold on to Kierkegaard’s definition of true faith, which is to believe that something will happen while also holding the unwavering conviction it won’t. So if I ever make out with one of these guys, they have to be gay enough to be interested while still retaining all the straight boy allure that makes them such a prized pig in the first place. If it happens, TNG readers, you will all be the first to know. I’ll be tweeting it from a poorly decorated bedroom in Georgetown.
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