Maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten carbs in 6 months, but it feels like the world is a pretty fucked up place. Trolls are in power, fascism is going unchecked, our rights are under attack now more than ever. I want to do everything I can. I volunteer, I organize, I’m trying to achieve lower ab vascularity by May. In times like these, it’s important to focus on what matters: shoving all 168 pounds of my boiling political rage into a bathing suit more suffocating than voting laws in Shelby County, Alabama.
Why do I tuck my righteous anger like it’s so much dick? Because I want to be so hot that people listen to me. I want to be so hot that I can tweet “calling PrEP ‘gay birth control’ is vaguely hateful and deeply irresponsible!” without someone clapping back with a drag race GIF and a string of nail emojis. I want to have so many Instagram followers that I get appointed the Grand Marshall at Gay Pride.
Yes, I have worked phone banks and flyered for progressive candidates, I volunteer as a GED tutor to LGBTQ+ youth living in shelters, but I want to do something that really matters to the gay community. So I have to be generically fuckable.
The only thing that makes me sicker than the misogyny overtaking our government is turning down a free breakfast. Most days, the shelter can only afford to pay us in bagels, but the last time I ate bread I was disinvited from a WeHo “underwear fundraiser”. Because I wasn’t there to be objectified by a pair of real estate millionaires, the donation we needed instead went to a foundation that offers massages to older dogs.
Yes, I championed gender neutral bathrooms on my college campus. And yes, the LGBTQ+ Student Task Force still elected Richard and his cum gutters to be its president. I learned early that if I want to make sweeping changes, I need access to a real platform in our community. Like a white guy who takes post-Crossfit sauna selfies, the sweat I spill only matters when someone wants to lap it up.
Imagine all the good the community would let me do if I would just keep my mouth full of protein powder instead of the truth. But I insist on both, so I’ll have to double my time on the Stairmaster. Have you ever had a SoulCycle ask you to leave because it’s “unsafe to take a third class in one day?” (If you haven’t, the trick is to go to a different location.)
So I squash it all down in a prison made of less material than most dish towels. First one leg, then the other, and then I shove my opinions right up my ass with my junk. Because, eventually, I’m going to save the world, one #gay #gayface #gayboy #gaybody #body #abs #gayabs #sexface #sexboy #gayboysexboy #gayrights at a time.