What kind of gay man are you?

July 30, 2006
I found this one from About and it is sort of fun to read.

Dynasty Diva

You may call yourself confident, but others would say arrogant. You carry yourself almost too well and have the attitude to match the price tag on those Prada loafers. Coming out wasn’t a disclosure for you; it was more like an ultimatum. After all, you are the diva. Your friends call you mom and when you’re not making fun of those tacky straight people, you’re planning the perfect gay brunch at your pristine home in the gay ghetto.

Hostess Cake

You’ve found the fountain of youth and only you and the other snack cakes know the secret. You could be 30 and look like 13 or 20 and look like 12. Even babies envy your smooth skin. Your youthful spirit matches your boyish looks. Your theme song is Teairra Marí’s “No Daddy,” with its infamous line “Don’t let this cute face fool you!” You want what you want when you want it (and throw a tantrum if you don’t get it). You gain the trust of older gentlemen who are reminded of their youthful gay years. Your line of lustful suitors is long. Unfortunately, no one dates a super model for her brains. You work extra hard to prove to others that you think about more than what shade of blush will cover up your newest pimple.

Momma’s Little Man

You’re one full serving of momma’s special blend. You often refer to your mother as “gurl” or by her first name. In a juicy conversation, she refers to you are “gurl.” Both you and her could care less where your dad or your other siblings are. Her friends ask you for makeup tips and you eagerly comply. When you’re not giving your gurl a pedicure, you’re giving motherly advice to your friends. You don’t have to be in the spotlight, but you always shine. Momma did say you were special, right? You didn’t have to come out to your mom, she knew 5 minutes after you were born. The right man for you has the resilience of your caretaker, the strength of a superhero and the ability to read your mind.

Protein Princess

Who needs South Beach when you’ve found the secret? Just drink two protein shakes a day and dance all night long. You can burn calories doing anything: dancing, lifting weights, dancing, cramming into a bathroom stall with 6 other people, and then dancing some more. You are on top of the gay self-esteem pyramid with your picture perfect physique. You seize any opportunity to show off the muscles you’ve worked so hard to get; and as much as others complain about your vanity, they all want what you have (literally). Your fruit snakes come in a variety of twisted flavors. You can be a gentle jerk, a promiscuous romantic or a professional party kid. Coming out for you was a transaction. You make your own money and dare others to tell you how to spend it. When the top isn’t down in your Mercedes convertible, you’re at the gym hanging with your buds (yes, you know everyone there). Your ideal man can keep up with your busy career, your body hobbies and your wild party life.

Free Trade

Your gay life is about as complicated and mysterious as the North American Free Trade Agreement. How do you get more without sacrificing the stuff you already have? You negotiate the pros and cons of relationships while keeping your secret life under lock and key. You have no concept of the term “coming out” because you have no intention of doing so. After all, you’re not gay, dude… wink, wink. Your hetero look is quite convincing, even to the trained eye. You keep your do rag and oversized straight brimmed hat on at all times just in case you have to impress the ladies after your rendezvous. Free trade knows no size or shade, so looks can be deceiving. The perfect man for you is one that can easily fall into the role of your basketball buddy just in case your girlfriend starts to wonder why you spend so much time with him. On the outside, others think you are heartless and irresponsible. On the inside you struggle with the life you built and the lives (note plural) you want. But until you figure that out, you tilt the seat back and cruise on.

Field Hand

Your entire existence is dirt (that’s gossip for the laymen among us). You’re either dishing it out or gathering it up. In one night out you can move more dirt than those ladies on Clean House. You thrive off your wealth of knowledge, but it’s also your downfall. You have more friends than the president, but no close companions (at least ones you can trust or that trust you). Face it, you just know too much and everyone’s afraid you’ll spread the dirt on them. You do use your ability to collect information to your advantage. For instance, coming out was very satisfying since you had gossip on family members that did far worse damage than any anti-gay sentiment they spread. The ideal man for you is the lurking tourist, fresh meat in town, or basically anyone else that has no idea you’re the source.


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