The Year of the Gay Guy

Sometimes, you just need to queen out with a gay guy to know it’s all going to be okay.

Lately, I’m just obsessed with gay guys.¹ Even now, when I am managing a punishing hangover, who would I be okay with seeing in my crusty, dehydrated, decrepit state? A gay guy. And you know what? He would bring his dab pen and pick up a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel for me on the way, too. Like a real gentleman.

I’ve been thinking about my infatuation with gay guys since New Year’s. As the clock counted down to midnight, my friends and I ritualistically chanted, “GAY GUYS! GAY GUYS! GAY GUYS!” on a dock in Shelby, North Carolina, a rural conservative town. It’s a miracle we didn’t get shot. In that moment, we weren’t just drunk; we were prophets. 2025 would be The Year of the Gay Guy — their infectious lust for life is a salve for an unforgiving world.

Nonbinary queens had our moment throughout the pandemic. Everyone was trans and competing for who could have the most abstract and inaccessible identity: “I’m a xe/xer demiromantic polyamorous genderfluid asexual.” What happened to hi, hello, my name is?

Now it's time to return to our roots: good old-fashioned gay guys. Sometimes, you don’t need aioli when mayo works great.

My love for the gays is multifaceted, but on the most superficial layer, they know how to have a fierce ki. If I’m not in the mood to talk, I can listen to them go off about Lady Gaga’s 2009 VMAs performance of Paparazzi or the Survivor season they are rewatching. That’s how I know we are kindred sisters in spirit. You can become besties with a gay guy in the bathroom line at the club. As he opens the door, he will give you a suggestive wink and say, “wanna do a bump?”

At a bar with friends a few weeks ago, we sat next to two gay guys on a first date. When one of them left to get another drink, the other turned to us and said, “Y’all, what do I do?” We froze — unsure of who he was and what he was referring to. “Do you think he likes me?” That was all it took to understand the situation.

My friend, in her sage wisdom, said, “The more important question is, do you like him?” Her question prompted him to divulge all his misgivings — how the guy didn’t make eye contact; the conversation was a little boring. Mind you, we literally don’t know this man, and his date is walking back now. We had to make crazy eyes for our new friend to stop shit-talking before his date was in earshot. He gave us his Instagram and wished us well before floating off to the next bar. That is the type of chaotic energy that keeps me young.

On a deeper level, I love how much reverence gay guys have for a queen, like how everyone on Sasha Colby’s season of Drag Race knew she was going to win and accepted it. The bond between gays and dolls is made out of titanium. Maybe because we were once the same, maybe because they understand how difficult it is to come out again as the one thing homophobes hate more than gay people.

None of my gay guys batted an eye at my transition. Not that I expected them to, but I secretly wondered whether our new gender difference would make them see me differently. On a night out, rambling about my insecurity over how people perceive me, my friend Gage told me, “You transcend gender. I just see you as Chrissy.”

Putting aside platonic love, it seems like everyone wants a gay boyfriend, too. If you are on a particular part of the internet, you may have heard that last summer was “Gay Guy Summer” — kicked off by Brat and closed with Eusexua. My roommate and I joked about how we were restarting Gay Guy Summer in 2025 because we failed to fuck a gay guy last summer. And before y’all make me feel weird, I’m not alone. All the dolls want to fuck on a twink!

Because, let’s be so fucking real, trade is not going to provide. Trade doesn’t even have 2-ply toilet paper. At least gay guys shower regularly and make me laugh. When I found out

Kay Poyer

has a gay boyfriend, I knew I was on the right side of herstory. The doll x gay joint slay is something so sacred it defies the laws of physics and is incomprehensible to the mortal mind.

As the philosopher @cool_artsy_chick said:

Every doll deserves a little curly-haired twink to carry in your purse like a chihuahua, especially the masc-fishing twinks in baggy pants and trucker hats. The dichotomy is so rich. Girl, your favorite artist is Celine Dion, and you screamed so loudly when you saw a cockroach that the neighbors called the police. Take off the Harley Davidson muscle tee. But actually, don’t; I live for it.

My cisters can’t even resist the temptation. They’re awestruck at the concept of a man who shares your interests and world views, who remembers the last time he cried. A man who won’t tell you to change your outfit because it is too slutty. In fact, when you walk downstairs in full-glam, his jaw drops. “YESS BITCH WORK.” That’s how you know you did what you came to do.

Don’t get me started on twunks. Some gay guys look like they took Captain America’s Super-Soldier Serum — all bulging biceps and ripped abs. Why is the softest soul I know built like a Roman gladiator? And why is a Calvin Klein model dancing next to me at Nowadays? As he inches over, I get excited, only to realize he’s snuggling behind my gay bestie next to me. Bruh.

I used to feel kinda weird about it. I thought hooking up with a gay guy would invalidate my transition. That it would make me a gay guy, too. But, honestly, Trump is president, and nobody believes trans people are real anyway, so might as well fuck a gay guy. Do some poppers before RFK bans them, too.

Gay guys haven’t always had it easy. For a while, they were the punching bag of the LGBT: the cheap jockstraps. The brunch obsession. The friends who all look the same. The boyfriends who look like brothers. The music tastes straight out of an Old Navy store playlist. Y’all should have been jailed for wearing RompHims. It was uncanny how committed they (we? given I was a gay guy during this era) were to the bit. Like, among white gays, this was the vibe for a decade (and still is in Hells Kitchen):

Funny enough, even the cringe and campy parts of gay men are endearing, especially in our current zeitgeist, a drought of earnestness desiccated by pessimism and irony. As much as I love the dolls, I’m tired of a queen who goes to the club to smolder in VIP like she has the bold glamour filter on IRL.² Bring back sincerity! Kindness! Loosen the corset a bit!

Everything feels so heavy right now — our political, cultural, and social lives are calloused. As

Rachel Janfaza

observed in The Washington Post, a pandemic-forged generation of Gen Z is emerging who have never known a world without social media. They are characterized by “distrust, cynicism, and a glib view of the future.” It’s easy to be sucked into the abyss of hopelessness. But then, on a crowded dance floor, a gay guy reminds me that you can still laugh, dance, and smile ear-to-ear. Not to get all existence is resistance on y’all, but sometimes, you just need to queen out with a gay guy to know it’s all going to be okay.

1. Not all gay guys, TRUST. Another essay is coming on the demon twinks & MAGA gays…

2. You absolutely should smolder as is your God-given right, but be friendly too.