Growing up, I was an absolute amalgam of every gay stereotype possible. If you’re a gay man, think of all the flamboyant hints that perjured you as a fairy princess before you knew better. If you are not a gay man, recall the distant memory of Rainbow Brite, and then light that on fire. That’s about as flaming as I was. Reviewing my younger self, it’s hard to believe that I didn’t have a literal Gay Agenda that told me, in graphic detail, exactly how to spite Catholicism. Mostly this meant I wore an increasing amount of scarfs, the more gossamer the better, but it also meant that I played the flute.
Read moreHow To Grow Up Gay and Outdo Your Competition: The Magic Flute