The Art of Faking Straight

Chapter Four

         "I'm gay."

         Silence.

       "I honestly swear I'm gay."

         No response.

         "Still here and queer."

It's obvious that my ceiling doesn't care that I'm gay, it'll still do exactly what it's supposed to do— keeping the walls together, while protecting me from the outside world. Just because I prefer guys to girls doesn't make it suddenly stop functioning. So why is it different with people? Why does anyone feel like my personal preferences concerns any of them and their daily lives? It shouldn't, but somehow it still does. Why does it matter what I like when I'm me and no one else?

         I give up telling my ceiling I'm gay and turn on the laptop. As I wait for it to turn on I check my phone, snatching it off the side table beside the bed, and checking for messages. There's three new messages, but they're forwards, nothing important. If they were actually real, I'd be dead a few hundred messages ago. What's the point of them anyway?

         Shaking my head at people's foolishness, not even fully realizing my own, I sign into the computer and go to the internet. A few swift clicks later, and I'm at my favorite chat site.

         You're now chatting with a random stranger, say hi!

         Believe it or not, this is actually a hard part. How am I supposed to say 'hi' without sounding either unintelligent, like a loser, too friendly, or too boring? If I just say 'hi' it makes me sound boring and unintelligent. I mean shouldn't I have something more intriguing to say?

         But I don't, so I just put hi anyway.

         Stranger is typing.

         Stranger: ASL?

         ASL stands for age, sex, location â which I always find weird, because I mean honestly why's it matter where I am? Plan on coming over for a late night hook up? No? Didn't think so. Regardless of this, I give them my details anyway.

         You: 17/M/U.S. What about you?

         Stranger is typing.

         Stranger: kool kool. im 19, f, and in the US to.

         I always somehow end up with people with either terrible grammar, terrible punctuation, or just a mixture of both.

         You: That's awesome, what's your name?

         Stranger: cassidee, wbu?

         I really hate when they use text talk on here, I mean it's not that difficult to just write everything out, is it? But I answer her anyway.

         You: Jacob

         Online, I have this other me, the me that is perfectly happy to tell other people about his sexual orientation. The other me that's flamboyant, and full out friendly, the other me that's honest except about his name, of course, and will willingly tell anything to anyone, except the truth to himself. The other me, that still has the guts to say anything.

         Stranger: Oh, hawt name. what's your facebook url? here's me, tell me what you think. 

         Why do people give random strangers the link to their Facebook accounts? Like I honestly care what you look like, I just want a good and honest chat. Why is that so hard?