Okay, I simply couldn’t let this one past without reblogging it. Pinky and I have been friends for a couple of years and he has the sharpest, funniest wit of any man I know, gay or straight. So if you are shy, homophobic or easily shocked, please look away now.
Over to you, Pinky. 😀
In my many years out, I’ve been conducting entirely non-scientific (anti-scientific, even) research to identify and inform society of the many species of gaymen they may come into contact with during their lives. My findings conclude we are divided into eight different species:
Ingenugay (pronounced engine-you-gay) has just come out of the closet wearing pink-tinted sunglasses and a tiara made of daisies. He’s radiant, he’s innocent, he’s In-gen-u-gay. He thinks all the other gays are his friends. Wake-UP!!! All they want is to get you into bed first. You’re fresh meat. They don’t want your flower tiara they just want to de-flower you. Ingenugay is more of a phase than a species. One day he ends up on youtube crying, with his mascara running down his cheeks as he realizes he’s no longer Ingenugay and has to move into one of the other categories.
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