On Being "Questionable"

Your feet, put them further apart. That’s better.
Now look pissed off, but also look bored. Take your hand off your hip. And maybe you shouldn’t iron. You know what they say about guys who iron.

~My head: 8:40am, The One Train.

“Wait what? Oh that’s rich.”

“I’m getting sick of this Dave.”

“Sick of what?”

“So many people have asked me if you were gay! I’m getting sick of defending you!”

“Seriously? Who?”

“Tucker, Caitlyn, Rachel, Anita…!”

“Wait…Anita?!”

“Rachel’s pretty much convinced. We’ve gotten in, like, arguments about it! This one time I remember Rachel made Dan look at your facebook pictures and he saw that one with you and Rod and the potato and his eyebrow, like, shot up—I didn’t even know an eyebrow could move like that; it was like a, like a gun—”

“Okay, continue.”

“So then Dan met you and after like two minutes he was like ‘No, what are you talking about? He’s definitely not gay,’ and Rachel just like threw her hands up and walked out of the room going ‘Whatever, he’s gay,” and Dan was like ‘Wait, no. I’m gay. I can tell!’ But I still don’t think Rachel was even, like, swayed. I mean, it’s been awhile since we talked about it, so maybe she’s changed her mind or something, I don’t know.”

“Oh my god, that’s hilarious. Whatever. I don’t give a fuck what they think. But, I guess, objectively, they have a pretty good case…with the dancing, and I have a tendency to dress nice. Did you ever think that?”

“No. I guess it never really even crossed my mind, the possibility.”

“Fuck. What the fuck? I hope she’s not like spreading this around.”

“Doubt it.”

“But then I guess it’s nothing to be ashamed of even if it were true, so I guess I shouldn’t even be upset that people think that. But what if some gir—Am I really that feminine?”

“No! I mean, you’re not the most masculine guy in the world, but I’ve never, like, questioned your sexuality.”

“I guess I really never stopped to think about it. What kind of signals I’ve been putting off…Shit…What should I do?”

And that’s about where I am now: what should I do? Or maybe it’s more like: What should I not do?

I must admit that these people have a pretty solid-looking case. The first thing I did after the above conversation was examine my own facebook profile.

Things in my profile that make me look really gay:

· Audrey Hepburn movie, Charade, listed in my favorite movies.

· Tender Is the Night listed in favorite books (gay title).

· Paula Abdul refrain listed in favorite quotes.

· The eighty-six females in a row who have posted on my wall.

· “Anal sex” as a noun-phrase in favorite quotes.

· The picture where I’m trying to lick Harpreet.

· The picture where I’m dressed as a gay pirate.

· The picture where I am dressed up as Death with a bare midriff.

· The picture where half a potato is in my mouth and half of the same potato is in Rods’ mouth.

· The picture where Harpreet appears to be sweatily giving it to me in the ass at a dance club in DC.

· The picture where I have the shimmering purple shirt on under my blazer at the techno party and I’m posing with Nick and we’re both wearing sunglasses indoors and it’s dark.

· The picture where I’m posing as a DePauw Alpha Phi sister.

· The other picture where I’m posing as a DePauw Alpha Phi sister.

· The pictures where it’s my birthday and I’m wearing a really gay outfit.

Some facts about me that may make me seem really gay:

· I move my arms and change my voice a lot when I talk.

· I own two sweater vests, one with gray buttons.

· I like to dance.

· I’m really fucking good at it.

· I cringe at Bell’s Stout but love Woodchuck Cider.

· I would rather drink a cup of swan-blood than a cup of black coffee.

· I drive safely and avoid using my horn excessively.

· I don’t fold my pizza.

· I have many platonic female friends.

· I listen to Justin Timberlake regularly and have done so for years.

· I work in publishing and I’m still single.

· I went to a publishing institute with 88 girls and 8 dudes over summer and didn’t get any even once.

· I don’t know very much about automotive mechanisms.

· I feel weird holding a skateboard.

· I own a scarf.

Now that I’ve exhausted all the stereotypes into which I’ve so unwittingly sashayed, it’s time to search for a remedy. Is it a blunder of my own, this unintentional rainbow-masquerade? Have I deliberately led people to buy into a falsehood by placing these ambiguous pictures online, attending the Necto on Pride Night, unofficially rushing a sorority, publicly lionizing Usher’s abdominals in the collegiate newspaper, etc.? Is it malicious? Vindictive? Manipulative?

I would be lying if I said it hadn’t occurred to me that perhaps I should play up these little traits “just to fuck with people and their prejudices” as Sharon puts it, so maybe there is a little element of that fuck-with-people roguishness in me, but not that much. I mean, I didn’t act on it.

What I did catch myself doing was trying to walk differently, grabbing my crotch more, yelling at the television with more vigor, chugging beer, objectifying women, and burping with yet more amplitude. Some of these adjustments were simply enhancements of already-in-place practices. Some were new to me entirely.

But all, I realized soon thereafter, were superfluous. Two reasons:

First, the logic: If I hold true to my belief that there’s nothing wrong with being gay, then I shouldn’t be afraid of being mistaken for gay. Otherwise, I contradict my own belief system, and that’s when you know you’re really fucked in a cosmic fucking way.

Second, the fact that the manipulation isn’t coming from me. The filter is on the other side. As I realized after speaking with Sharon, people naturally see what they see and make judgments based on the available input. Because of my specific set of qualities, some find themselves at a loss. I don’t really fit so nicely in the cock-shaped John Wayne Box or the tastefully wallpapered Gay Box, so they just kind of drop me on down on the crest between the two. For some I fall in one box; for some I fall in the other.

Should I have to change shape so that people can classify me more easily?

Probably not.

I guess they’re just going to have to get to know me a little first. And I guess they’re going to have to learn that people aren’t yellow plastic blocks on a walker. You’re not going to find a perfect hole for every shape you get, you know? At least from what I’ve seen. I’ll openly admit that I’ve made snap judgments on sexuality and have been wrong. It’s only natural. So I’m trying to hold no grudges. As Seinfeld said:

"Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"No, people's personal sexual preferences are nobody's business but their own."