I’m Turning Into A Heterosexual Adult Male: A Photo-Journey of My Shockingly Slow Progression Towards Masculinity
There is a ton of evidence finally being associated with me and it’s high time we acknowledge it. I’m finally being accepted as a straight twenty-something guy. In the four years since I’ve left High School, I have let H&M, my fragile bones and my love for colors allow me to appear like a homosexual. While, I don’t have anything against gay men, I think it’s important for people to realize I am not one.
Let’s take a look at my progression from “fashion forward” to “don’t touch me or I’ll have DJ knock your teeth out.”
Look at this guy! Just in some typical lounge wear, you know straightened hair, a painted American Apparel track jacket, patched jeans. I’m not trying at all! What? You want to make out and listen to some indie British bands? Well OK!
See the rest of the fellas on the runaway after the jump…
Who needs muscles when I can have skittles! Yay!! Hey boys, come over to my room, we can have a skittles party! Woo, sugar high!! I feel like Johnny Depp in Willy Wonka!! Or like Johnny Depp in Chocolat!! Let’s watch it! Giddy!
Obviously still gay, but in this picture I’m gay in an 80′s hair metal type of way. This is around Sophomore year of college. I was becoming better friends with DJ and it is clear his choice in music was effecting my sexual preferences. This is one of the first signs of my transitional period: I could walk around singing about how I loved ladies, but I was still wearing a boa and leather pants.
Here we go. In the summer of Sophomore year I got my sleeve tattoo as well as my hog (not pictured). The tattoo was a big step towards being straight and also a big step towards being cool. You’ll notice I have a motorcycle, flames and an anchor on my arm. All very cool objects.
Ohh-nooo. Spring of Junior year…a brief regression. Posing with a thumbs up in France? Doesn’t look very straight, Roy. And what is that gigantic phallic symbol behind you? I had taken one step forward, but two steps back.
At the end of fall semester of Senior year I met Andrew W.K. This guy uncaged the wild man inside me. I could suddenly channel testosterone in ways I had never imagined. I was ready to party and destroy the personal belongings of others.
Proof of my destructive habits?
Exhibit A: Before I got there, this tree was standing.
A recent picture. Clearly, I have stopped giving a fuck. I still look awesome, but my outfit is no longer finely tuned and tailored. It’s disheveled and stained, exactly like a real man’s outfit should be.