I have no gaydar, this is a known fact.
Gaydar is an innate sense, like having a keen sense of smell, that allows you to sniff out when someone is hiding their sexuality.
And why bother these days?
Unless of course you are planning on climbing the executive ladder at Chik Fil A.
Awesome chicken, by the way, had them for lunch the other day.
But, and I have it on authority from a certified gay man, that I have no gaydar.
Further, I have also been told that I fall into a classification of heterosexual that is referred to as “Tragically hetero.”
And when I asked if that was an insult, he replied-
“Only if your gay.”
All right then.
I am giving you all of this background info because I am watching a woman THROW herself at this guy, and even I can tell that he isn’t straight.
Not that theres anything wrong with that. (One of my favorite episodes of Seinfeld)
Its not like he was wearing a fur coat or walking a peacock on a leash, but I can tell.
His movements are almost prissy.
I know heteros that are prissy, and thats not all I am going on.
He was impeccably neat.
His Mac Airbook is pristine.
All of these are simply ingredients.
But the item that puts it all in the bowl, mixes it and puts it in the oven for an hour on 400?
He looked across the room, smiled and me and flared his eyes.
Yes, I am basing my whole accusation on a millisecond of extra whites of the eyes.
So here we are.
Not only is he gay, but he has sloppy taste in men.
Because, trust me on this, I am the last thing a gay nation is looking for.
Honesty being the best policy and all that.
But, before you begin shaking your head and tsk tsk me dismissively, ask yourself this.
What the hell is the matter with this woman?
My gaydar may be shit, but I know the signs for moist panites on the prowl.
She has done the hair flip with the giggle three, count em, three times.
She has repeatedly reached across to touch his forearm as she laughs a little bit much at something he has said.
She keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs.
Argue that one all you like, scratching an itch you can’t touch in public is a fairly obvious thing.
From just a few minutes of rudely listening in, I found out that she just started working with his company today.
He is the project manager for a project that she has been assigned to.
And she is trying her best to let him know that he is more than welcome to dip his pen in the newest company ink.
I am not sure how she is missing it, but, unless I am really wrong…
This guy LOVES the cock.
Now that I have pissed off more than a few of you, let me say a little something about why you are pissed.
No matter which side of the whole Chik Fil A argument, it comes down to this.
Everyone has a right to be who they are, and believe what they want.
I am allowed to be an asshole and spout outlandish shit.
You are allowed to love and be whoever you want, as long as you don’t hurt anybody.
(And I do consider the shit that the Westborough Baptist church does to be the worst kind of fucked up. There is a video of protestors dressed as zombies attacking their protest. Its awesome.)
You are also, allowed to believe something that is considered to be politically correct.
The Godfather of Chicago, also known as the mayor, is every bit as wrong for blocking Chik Fil A for the CEO’s religious beliefs as he would be for blocking them if they were pro gay.
Bigotry is bigotry, no matter if everybody agrees with it or not.
Plus, I like Chik Fil A, the nuggets are delicious.
IN THE RIGHT HAND COLUMN, THERE ARE LINKS TO BUY THE BOOK, USE THEM.