Invest in deep v-neck t-shirts. Get some in rich jewel tones, some with stripes, and some that are nearly transparent. Wear them often, but only if you have a hairless chest, or a chest with perfect hair growth patterns that you maintain. Pair with denim cut-offs that are cut a little too short.

Get a tanning membership; find a salon that has a nouveau riche interior design and cute bronzed boy who works the front desk. Tan obsessively one week a month, then forget about your membership until you find the $70 tanning lotion the cute desk boy insisted you needed rolling around in your underwear drawer and restart the cycle.

Musically, insist you worship Britney, Katy, and Gaga. You can—and should—have other, better musical tastes, but those three are the ones you need to at least pretend to die for. Always pick one of them as your absolute favorite; defend her when your friends criticize her, buy her albums in pre-sale on iTunes, go see her concerts. It’s also imperative that you have at least one Kylie Minogue album in your music library, a few singles by Christina (even though girlfriend has declined so much), and Cher because you think you’re obligated to like her.

Obsessively censor which photos of you get posted and tagged on Facebook. Do a fun photoshoot in an abandoned lot, wearing leather pants and a shredded Gucci t-shirt? Those go up. (Hell, make one of them your profile picture, because your ass looks great.) But family reunions, high school graduation photos or anything in which you can be seen eating, or even seen near food, are no-go’s. Party and drunk photos are fine, as long as you’re with your entourage of gays and you’re not the hottest mess of the group.

Insist that you’re single and you like it. Say that guys are dicks and you don’t need them. Privately confide in your hag that all you want is a guy with abs and a sweet personality to be there to cuddle with. Be excessively choosy and overly idealistic about guys you meet, or want to meet.

Fall madly in love with a new straight guy every couple weeks. Drunkenly text them from across the room at parties, casually ask them if they’ve ever fooled around with another guy, grind with them to rap songs, playfully at first (“Ha ha oh my God you’re dancing with a guy!”) then make it your goal to get them rock hard by the end of the song. Try to get them to make out with you or take you upstairs. Leave in a huff when they end up taking your girl friend upstairs instead. Don’t text her for a day, then get her to tell you how big his package is. Imagine it and bide your time until you get your own crack it at. Fall in love with a new straight boy a couple days later.

Work in a clothing store. Be catty and aloof to the other gays who work there — they’re your coworkers, not potential hook ups. Stalk them on Facebook, hang out and watch Mean Girls with one of them some Friday night, make out on their bed, don’t talk about it ever again.

Have your gaggle of fellow gays. Ideally you’d be the hottest one, but as long as you’re all equally attractive it’s fine. Never be the ugliest or worst dressed in the group. Call each other “girl,” refer to each other in feminine pronouns (“Did you see Adam? She looks a mess tonight,”) question your reasons for being friends with them often.

Party with them multiple nights a week; the one with the nicest apartment hosts. Bring Hypnotique and Ciroc to share. Drunkenly attempt to do the “Telephone” choreography. Pretend to find the fact that your host owns multiple pairs of stripper heels perfectly normal.

Let the cute new boy make your drinks extra strong for you; hold his hand as you walk to the club, ditch him to help your best friend who’s vomiting, but then find New Boy and take a cab back to his apartment, cuddling openly in the backseat; drunkenly make out in their living room, then bedroom, but fall asleep before anything else happens; wake up at 6:00 the next morning and leave before they wake up; send out mass text to group with fake details about the amazing sex you had. Don’t text New Boy back or accept his friend request on Facebook.

Secretly resent falling into the stereotypes of gay guys, but still dress like a slutty football player for Halloween at least once.

– Grant Nolan

Photo by Patrick Gage (Creative Commons)