Why I Choose Brutal Honesty, or How I Stopped Being a “Good Gay Guy”

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Why I Stopped Censoring My Words—and Why It’s Time for You to Do the Same. I started getting the same comments over and over: “Why are you so mean? Why all the swearing? Where are the rays of kindness and the kittens?”

My “anger” is just an allergy.

My anger isn't a personality trait. It's an allergy. A severe, chronic allergy to the endless stream of refined bullshit that permeates our community. We’ve gotten so caught up in “mindfulness,” “awareness,” and “safe spaces” that instead of faces, we now wear identical plastic masks. We’re afraid of hitting the wrong note, afraid of hurting someone’s feelings, afraid of being our true selves. But not me. I don’t want to weigh every word, God forbid I trigger someone’s delicate sensibilities. I call shit—shit. Stupidity—stupidity. If you’ve slept with thirty guys in a week—don’t act like a wounded virgin. If you live in a run-down rental shack and eat instant noodles—don’t post reels about “successful success” and “vibes of abundance.” I won’t smile when I feel like telling you to fuck off. My freedom lies in this brutal honesty.

Here are some specific examples so you don't think I'm just grumbling

You show up at Pride—and instead of music and sex, there are three hours of lectures about how you, a white gay man, “center your experience” and take up too much space. One wrong flag—and you’re already a problem. Half the normal guys have just stopped going. Everyone’s shouting, “My body, my business.” And then that same person writes to someone else: “You slept with twenty people in a month? Yuck.” It's okay to be a slut, but only if you repent properly. As a result, all the normal people end up in private chat rooms where they can just have sex without having to go through an ideological screening.

Heteroflexible—a whole new level of negativity.

Now that's a true masterpiece the latest trend in orientation—heteroflexibles. It’s when a guy mostly jerks off to chicks, but sometimes really wants to get fucked hard. Back in the day, we used to call guys like that something else and make fun of them for generations: “straight in real life, but a queen up the ass.” A classic. Nowadays? Nowadays it’s a new sacred identity. They’re treated like a minority. They need their own space, recognition, and for everyone to walk on eggshells: “Oh, he’s heteroflexible—he has a complicated sexual orientation.” Fuck, what complicated sexual orientation? It’s just fear of telling Mom the truth. Instead, they’ve come up with a fancy word so they can stay “almost normal” and get the added bonus of being seen as oppressed. We swallow this whole under the guise of “inclusivity,” but in reality, we’re helping people continue to hide from themselves.

How We're Scaring Off Sponsors Ourselves.

And here’s the result of this whole circus: the story has become so toxic that sponsors have started quietly pulling out. Brands that used to happily paint their logos in rainbow colors and shell out money are now backing away. Because they know: if they give any money, a week later they’ll be accused of something, forced to make statements about everything under the sun, and if they don’t comply—public execution on Twitter. It’s easier not to get involved at all. The money is going to more neutral projects or to other countries where people still remember that a gay pride parade is a celebration, not a test of ideological purity. We’ve made ourselves unattractive.

I'm not saying there aren't any problems. There are. But when, instead of solving them, we engage in endless divisions between the "more oppressed" and turn on our own—the result is predictable.