I would reprint the article, but it says copyright Hestia Society, so I’d better not. This is yet another neoreaction blog. I despise reactionaries in general, but as the Cultural Left gets more and more insane, it starts making sense to not only be a social conservative (let’s stop all this change right now, enough is enough) but to be an actual social reactionary (we’ve gone way too far already – it’s time for a rollback to a saner era). That’s in part what the Alternative Left (at least my vision of it) is all about.
As far as the subject in the post, I have noticed this too, and I have been discussing it for some time now. I think I have ever written about it a bit.
Extremely out gay men have ruined all sorts of things.
I used to be a glam rocker. My favorite band was the New York Dolls, a bunch of straight men who dressed up like women for an in your face gag.
I wore silk and cotton scarves and bandanas. They drove women crazy with lust. I was told this by a few women I had sex with. Good luck wearing anything like that now. I would not do it if you paid me.
I wore velvet pants routinely. Who would dare do that now?
My favorite shirts were silk shirts. When was the last time you saw a straight man in a faggy silk shirt? I can’t even remember when.
I loved to wear platform heels, and my favorite were – get this – four inch high blue platform heels! God I loved those high heels! No straight man in his right mind would dare wearing platforms (really just another word for high heels) these days.
I used to wear very short shorts. Even back then, people were dubious about them and called them faggy. You last saw a straight guy wearing those when?
Ever see men wearing those nicely trimmed beards or very nicely trimmed mustaches? Nope, sorry. That’s for the Castro Clones now. One more thing gay men ruined.
I used to wear speedo like underwear. My brothers hated those things even back in the day. They said they were faggoty. I really didn’t care though because every time I stripped in front of a new woman, and she saw those speedo speedos, she would give out a wolf whistle or an “Awoooo!” I have a lot of those still in my drawer, but I refuse to wear them anymore. Instead I wear these boring and lame white jockey shorts. They’re dull and lame, but at least they aren’t suspect.
I also loved wearing something called a short kimono. Supposedly Japanese men like to wear these things in the house and maybe even outside the house. The short kimono is for men and the long kimono is for women. I would wear it over my shirt and pants like some sort of a robe. Even back then, this garment was very suspect, and I remember once when I met a friend wearing that, I could tell he was just barely resisting the urge to punch me in the face. But I even wore them on dates, and no one cared. I also used to wear Hugh Hefner style smoking jackets over my shirts and pants. I only wore them on one date, but the woman cooed over it. I would not wear that stuff nowadays if you paid me.
Back in the day, a lot of men wore pink. I rather like the color actually. You could wear pink on a date with a chick, and she would think nothing of it. The line back then was, “I’m secure enough to wear pink,” said with a nonchalant shrug. When was the last time you saw a straight man wearing pink? I recently met a woman originally from Colombia, and I was chatting her up. I told her I liked to wear pink, and she flipped out and started yelling at me and calling me a faggot in Spanish. I insisted that I was straight, and she modified her insult to some word that meant “wimpy, pussy, faggoty straight guy.” It was not much of a consolation.
Back in those days, the general assumption was “straight until proven otherwise,” and the barrier for proving homo- or bisexuality was quite great because few men were doing these things, and those that were acted pretty quiet about it. Arab men at my local store and even a lot of Mexican men still believe in “straight until proven otherwise.” Homosexuality is simply never discussed, and anyone who brings it up is suspect and the conversational shift is greeted with shock and open hostility, though the older Arab man my age found male homosexuality to be ridiculously hilarious.
“Straight until proven otherwise” is a great way to run a society. I love it. Nowadays it is actually homophobic to assume that men are straight until proven otherwise. In other words, what was once common sense and good manners is now regarded as hatred of gay men!
The fanny pack I wear is almost never used by anyone, though they were popular with men in the 1990’s. Now that gays are so much more out though, I suppose most men will not be caught dead with one. Women I am trying to seduce openly mock me for wearing a fanny pack, and they are my age! I like to play along and jokingly call it my “fag pack.” Nevertheless, I will not leave the door without it, and I am convinced that all men should carry some sort of a handbag. Purses are not just for women, you know. We men need purses too, call them whatever you want – handbag, fanny pack, etc. European men have been carrying them forever now. But here in the US with all these wildly out gay men, good luck with that.
I still like to wear my girlfriends’ clothes sometimes (assuming they fit). Sweaters, fur coats, socks and shirts work best. Pajamas are a tough call, but I do wear their pajamas, especially the silk ones. My girlfriends think it is hilarious, and they love to give me their clothes to wear. A recent girlfriend offered to put some eyeliner on me. I was going to do it. A gay man on my site heard that I wore my girlfriends’ clothes, and his assumption was that obviously I must be gay or bi. He simply could not comprehend a straight man doing such a thing. That did not compute.
Friendships among straight men, especially very close ones, have also been sort of weird, uncomfortable and somewhat hazardous, but nowadays it seems like they are getting rarer.
When I first moved to Los Angeles, I had another man for a roommate. He was pretty damn weird, and he was not completely straight, but he was predominantly straight. He was just weird and hard-up. One night while I was watching TV the door to his room opened very slowly. The crack slowly widened. Soon there was my roommate standing the barely opened doorway, naked as the day he was born. He had a bizarre thousand yard stare in his eyes like some alien force or pod people had colonized his brain. I turned quickly away with a “I didn’t see that!” notion, and later on, his weird behavior that night was never discussed. What was I supposed to say about it? But he never did it again.
Anyway, I went to visit my grandma once, and she looked at me with a grave look and talked in sheer seriousness, “Yes, that was when you were living with that other man…” I didn’t say anything. What can you say to a comment like that?
But inside, I flipped. My own grandma thought I was a faggot! She should have known better. Did she have any idea of how I had lived my life? Me!? The guy who, at age 24, had already dated ~50-75 females and was a legend in my neighborhood? The guy who won Player of the Year two years straight and one year won Most Valuable Player? Apparently it was all a fraud and a cover-up. I was actually a closeted faggot the whole time! Who knew?
Ever since then, I have never roomed with another man. For guess what reason? I’ve lived alone and had to move back to my parents house a few times when it was either that or homelessness. The Hell if I will have another male roommate as long as I live. So there’s one more thing gay men ruined. Straight male roommates.
I had a friend who was in a sort of a glam rock band. Most of the other guys were these tough, half-Mexican guys, so tough they almost seemed like street gang members. They all had seriously hot girlfriends. But for some bizarre reason, they were into kissing the other guys in the band. I don’t know what it meant, but I think it was some New York Dolls type thing where they weren’t gay at all but they kissed each other as some gag. My friend hated that.
One time my friend was at a party in a bathroom, and the other band member kissed him. A young woman was entering the bathroom at the same time, and she jumped for joy and insisted that they were both gay. “I love gay men! I love gay men!” she gushed, plunking herself down on the toilet. They tried to explain to her that they weren’t gay, but she would have none of it.
I have told people about my friend’s band and they insisted that the band members were gay. I told a gay man once, and he stated that if they kissed each other, they were obviously gay. They simply not be otherwise. It made no sense.
One guy in the band was actually wimpy in some ways. He had a girlish face, very long dark hair, and loved to wear a bit of makeup (all the guys in the band were way into makeup, and my friend had to go along). He was so femmy in some ways that he would actually scream and jump up on a chair if he saw a mouse or if there was an insect in the house. On the other hand, he was this tough half-Mexican who gave off a street gang member vibe and he had a seriously hot girlfriend, so he was clearly a pure androgyne. I told the same gay man about this, and he absolutely insisted that the guy was gay due to his reactions to rodents and bugs. It simply had to be the case. There could be no other explanation for his behavior.
The mental and physical spaces we straight men can move around in without suspicion have progressively constricted as homosexuality has become more and more open.
Thanks a lot, gays!