Ode to the Gay Boy

Spending time in West Hollywood is a reminder that I would be so happy as a gay male.

My recent trips to the area have involved lots of the following:

Big False Lashes

Lots of Dramatic Makeup

Absolut Mandarin and Tonics

....and....
....drum roll please....


10 Million+ Excrutiatingly Attractive Gay Men


What torture.

Don't get me wrong, boys and girls. I'm not really complaining.

I love love LOVE going out. I'm extremely social. I love getting dressed up. I love introducing myself to strangers, and making new friends. I love drinking. I love being with my friends.

But part of going out for me a lot of the time is meeting new dating prospects. And obviously, that's not an option in a sea of knock-out gay hotties. I end up getting tipsy, and after scoping out the scene, brutally crushing on 90% of the surrounding eye candy... but not a single one is into my species. It's so sad!

I've come to terms with it. I totally love gay guys. As it is, I've always gotten along the best with guys, and have about 4 guy friends to every 1 girl friend. I have always had a large number of gay guys in my friend arsenal. Why? They're the best. Here, an ode to the gay boys.

Here's to you, gay boys!
For your stylish fashion sense
and your snarky wit,
that I am never on the losing end of.
For more great and honest advice
than even my girlfriends can give.
You are always there-
as a shoulder to whine on,
to trash the bitches with,
to be the hottest eye candy I'll see all night,
to borrow lip gloss from,
and to give the most heartfelt compliments when I'm looking fly,
and also when I most need them.
(No one can be a 10 EVERY night,
but you know best when to pretend.)

We both know we'll never be romantic,
but you're the Will to my Grace,
the Ken Paves to my Jessica,
the Chris McMillan to my Jennifer,
my own personal queer eyes
when I'm in need of advice,
and for that I am forever greatful.

Thank you, gay boys-
For being beautiful, entertaining,
sexy, fierce,
and altogether
absolutely fabulous.

Hot cookie!

So tired…. I went out again last night with Nick D. (my favorite Adam Brody impersonator) He wanted to go dancing, which is of course one of my top three favorite activities of all time (second only to flirting and sleeping) so I was more than happy to go.

The interesting thing, though, was that of all the clubs we could have chosen, he happened to choose the one that just so happened to be hosting gay night last night. And although I am a big fan of the gay boys (many, many of them are my good friends), it was a bit of a surprise that a guy, who I so happened to be on a date with, would want to go dance with a bunch of them.

I couldn’t help myself and had to ask why he would choose this club out of all the choices, and was even more surprised when he had known ahead of time it was gay night. What?? He said that he likes it the best because everyone actually dances, and there aren’t just a bunch of awkward wallflowers nursing their drinks all over the place. And that he likes the energy. And the music.

I guess I can settle with that answer… right? He’s so hot. And he loves to dance. Although his dancing style is sort of… hard to vibe with (doing the robot, the moodwalk, and the worm don’t exactly leave a lot of room for a partner) he’s a lot of fun and always willing to go out.

So we danced into the wee hours of the night, during which he got hit on more than a few times by sexy gay boys, and the girls who “go to gay night to get away from the pressure of going out to meet someone,” (why you hitting on my date then, ladies?) but at the same time was a good reminder of the fact that I was out with a definite Hottie McFly. After working up quite a sweat (him more than myself, since a lowcut tank isn’t quite as hot as layered T’s) we stopped at this awesome 24-hour diner on the way home and shared cheese fries.

I had a really good time. I’m not going to lie. But it did feel more like two friends hanging out than being on a second date with someone I’m really attracted to, physically at least. So I was kind of shocked when we got back to my house around 3am and he wanted to stay over. Hey, I wasn’t gonna argue! The weird part was when we undressed (down to underwear… don’t get any ideas), got in bed, and got all snuggled up… but somehow our first kiss never came.

Is it just me, or is it kind of bizarre when a good-looking 24 year old guy can sleep within inches of the face of a 23 year old cute girl, wearing nothing but underwear all night, arms and legs wrapped completely around each other, and never kisses her??

Huh.