Answering the Status Updates Of A Young Gay Guy I'd Like To Save

Cameron doesn’t know who I am, but I want to save him. I want to be his gay Jesus.
Publish date:
May 2, 2012
facebook, homophobia, gays, evangelism, gay issues, twinks

It's me! Gay Jesus!

I am far from perfect. I am a deeply flawed person with issues. But, for the most part, I’m OK. I clean up fine. I am kind and respectful to all people. I try to be fair and understanding. I’m always happy to help.

I am also 28 years old, so it’s taken a while to get here, and things will very likely continue to change, because I -- like you -- am a person who evolves. I’m also gay, which has undoubtedly shaped my adult life.

While I pride myself on being a person whose personality comes first (and sexuality comes, like, fifth?), it would be a lie to say that being gay -- and being part of a very vocal minority -- hasn’t helped propel me on a very specific trajectory in life, one that straight people cannot always understand, since the persecution that still muddles a gay person’s life is staggering. Children continue to kill themselves based on this, which shows that we are nowhere near finished.

My weird contribution to “the cause” comes in the form of comedy (since that’s kind of “what I do”), in a web series called It Gets Betterish that is not only funny (I promise, it’s funny!), but that optimistically hypothesizes that we, gays and lesbians, have evolved so quickly that we can now form opinions about each other born almost exclusively from neuroses. We can detest a self-proclaimed“ fag hag,” even if she thinks she’s doing us a favor by being gratuitous. We can be scared most by the needle during a routine HIV test (they hurt!). We can openly worry about being invited to a gay orgy because, unlike what you are often told by the media, there are those of us who are not Mechanical Sex Cylons, programmed to “do porn” on command.

All I want to do is paste episodes of It Gets Betterish onto the Facebook wall of my friend’s cousin, who we’ll call, let’s go with “Cameron.”

Cameron is a 23-year-old kid from the suburbs near where I grew up. He is gay, out and proud, as he should be. He is also a drag queen when not in school for theater -- both good things for him!

But I started taking a vested interest in his Facebook updates a while ago, when they were so nasty and vulgar that he just seemed like a hilarious caricature of the "sassy twink" to which I, admittedly, have never held any cerebral connection. (And, also, he was trying out for the next season of "The Real World," which was like...oh, wow, you’re serious about broadcasting your one-note, take-no-prisoners bitchiness to the world, aren’t you?).

But, as of late, his status updates -- a synthetic, unrealistic peek into this stranger’s soul, I realize, if you, like me, choose to adamantly believe that Real Life is not on Facebook -- have depressed me.

Granted, he is still a kid (in my eyes), but it’s high time that he maybe not continue to say things that make him sound like the nasty, vicious, sex-obsessed walking id that he cultivates through social networking ...and, additionally, that he is something of a male version of Nicki Minaj, whom he consistently quotes because he is ostensibly too young to realize that she -- albeit, a very talented and entertaining pop star -- has been pored over by marketing executives, who have turned her attitude and vaguely familiar “eccentricity” into a multi-million-dollar machine that pulls directly from his pockets.

Cameron doesn’t know who I am, but I want to save him. I want to be his gay Jesus.

I want to reply to all his Facebook statuses with warm (or, OK, mildly stern) words of advice, gearing him toward a young adulthood not ruled by severity and salaciousness. I want to lead him down a road of intellectual opportunity, one that enriches his life as a young gay person by teaching him that his sexuality doesn’t have to dictate his behavior, but can, instead, enhance it. I want him to know that he is a person, first and foremost, in control of his choices, and that whomever he sleeps with doesn’t necessarily mean he has to quote Rihanna, as if she were the patron saint of self-actualization. But I cannot do that.

So, instead, here are my answers to “Cameron’s” jaw-dropping Facebook statuses, to which my own friend -- Cameron’s first cousin -- once reminded him were visible to his entire family. (Cameron swiftly and ruthlessly unfriended his cousin. She has since been re-friended.)

Umm..I feel I'm due for a hookup with someone. I've been WAY too good lately ;) #justsayin

Ah, you ol’ horndog, you! May I suggest you not tell everyone you know that you’re “due for a hookup,” like it’s some sort of reward and, instead, just be an adult and make it happen for yourself? You’re a perfectly attractive human being with physical needs, and it is so very okay by me if you choose to go about your biz’niss elsewhere, maybe on Craigslist or Grindr. Be careful and godspeed. (Also, please don’t tell me how the hookup went down over Facebook, k? It’s gross.)

That awkward moment when you're in the school library going through emails to find an assignment, and you click an email and a huge dick pic pops up on the screen -_-

Glad to hear you’re getting e-mails in which there are pictures of large penises. “You’re doing something right,” I guess a drag queen/sex-columnist/New Age parent might say? Anyway, can I suggest that you don’t look at them in the library? Libraries are meant for only a few things: for old people to feel vibrant, for cassette tapes to become most obsolete, and for you to have trouble differentiating the smells of old books and farts. Now get a Smartphone, save your dick pics to a private folder, and don’t feel it necessary to tell everyone. It’s not attractive, my man! (Also, apparently “the kids” like to say “that awkward moment,” a meme that officially ends the blasphemous overuse of the term “awkward.” No. More. Of. That. Please.) (And cut out “ginormous” while you’re at it.)

We hope that one day romance will find us. True romance. Real romance. Honest romance. We're not looking for sex. We're looking for love. For the one. For a kiss. For a touch. For a lifetime ♥

Buddy, listen, I know you’re only five years younger than me, but even at your age, I would not get a boner from this schlocky, baiting copy from an unaired commercial for JARED Jewelers.

You now face the challenge of both wanting to find true love for yourself, and chiding a media that oversaturates you with very specific ideas about institutions that should dictate how, where, and with whom you find love. Wanna get married? Great! Wanna be polyamorous? Sure, go for it. But you might as well figure it out, sooner than later, that “love” isn’t as simplistic as it seems when printed in Papyrus on a picture frame found in the bottom of a pile of stuff at TJ Maxx.

Also, you literally just posted about being caught looking at porn in the library. You just did that.

Mother fuckers on my dick [SUCK IT] ♥

Rough day, huh? Wanna talk about it? ...In private?

Uncut is uncute... #justsayin

So here’s the thing: People are made differently. We all have different bodies. Some look better to you than others, because that is #howthingswork. But, considering you spend so much time vilifying “haters” (that reality-show-approved buzzword meant to specify people who aren’t, like, on board with you all the time, I guess?), you might want to step back and ask yourself, “Is it worth me telling strangers that I think uncircumsized penises are gross?” Because some people might be offended.

And I know you pride yourself on being brash, but to openly pine for “true romance” when you single-handedly trash strangers based on how their parents felt about their son’s hood 20 years ago is kind of unfair.

And, also, your star-crossed lover from that JARED Jewelers commercial might be wearing a helmet, so don’t go crazy, OK?

I'm sorry but if you're a guy, and you're wearing sweatpants, my eyes will automatically go to your crotch... #justsayin

I’m sorry, too, because you have control issues. Let’s work on them together. First step: stop telling people you like looking at penises through sweat pants. Keep something sacred, right? You see where I’m going with this?

"People used to say I was too thin. But I love my body and it's transformations. Love me or hate me, I am who I am."-Christina Aguilera on her weight gain♥ #thickisIN

If you think Christina Aguilera is an empowering speaker, just you wait until I introduce you to Maya Angelou! Give her a chance, OK?

As far as I'm concerned, you're [DEAD] to me #deucesbitch

Ah, the old cryptic letter of hate to an unspecified party. I get it. I did it, too, back in the days of LiveJournal (LiveJournal? Oh, it was kind of like Tumblr, but you could tell people you felt melancholy just by playing Dashboard Confessional. Dashboard Confessional? Another time, little guy, another time...)

Now I realize that times have changed, but I will bet you $20 that if you speak directly to person who is “dead to you” about whatever happened, you’ll feel a little bit better. I promise! I’m putting money on it, guy! But let’s find whomever wronged you, and before we call, uh, #deucesbitch (I’m not familiar?), let’s just talk. A little bit of talking! With our mouths! Will you try it? For me? Pretty please?

Everyone thinks I'm a [WHORE] from my Facebook statuses and sexual personality....when in reality, this month marks 6 years since I've had [SEX] ♥

Yes, people may think you’re a [WHORE] (did I do that right?) based on your extremely graphic status updates, most of which are about how horny you are. But apparently you haven’t had sex in half a year -- and that is okay! You can do whatever you want to do.

One thing, though: if you don’t like being thought of as a [whore], you are allowed to make the change so that we stop thinking it! Literally, you can update about anything else -- even just a series of numbers and emoticons (we won’t mind!) -- and that will immediately subtract from the quotient of your Projected Whoreness. It will work! It’s like science!

Attention: We are now in the year [2012], and if you still believe that [GAY] people [CHOOSE] to be Gay and weren't [BORN] this way then you deserve to be [DROWNED] or set on [FIRE] ♥

I can see you’re angry (:

JK, dude, this is great. You have deeply-rooted fury, directed against the right enemy: someone who thinks your intrinsic feelings are “wrong” or, worse yet, “nonexistant.” We are at a point in history when you should be out and proud and happy to live your life in open with no qualms about who says that you don’t deserve to live that way, no less be ashamed of it.

One suggestion: Let’s not try and set naysayers ...on fire, perhaps? One of my best friend’s grandmas doesn’t think gay marriage should be signed into law. She believes in civil unions, which is not the same thing, but I’m willing to let it go, since she mostly responds to things now by nodding because she can’t hear us. I don’t want to set her on fire. I would set Fred Phelps on fire. I would maybe set Pat Robertson on fire. Maggie Gallagher? Mmm, probably not. I, personally, don’t want people to die, but it would be nice to put those three people in a hot air balloon with one turkey drum, and just, y’know, see how it all rolls out. But that’s just me!

Sleeping pills and watching Swimfan♥

Thank you. Now I know exactly where our generation gap begins and ends.

MANICURE: Paying $20 to get made fun of in a different language.

Plan your escape. Who needs that shit? Not you, kid. ESCAPE THE SUBURBS! And if you need help, you know where to find me. Oh, no, wait, you don’t, because I stalk you on Facebook.