The Queen Gene

There's a funny little thing that happens to every gay man to remind him of what he evolved from. It happens to some guys when they're flipping channels and their hearts skip a beat when they see a figure skater complete a triple axel. It happens when they're at a restaurant and they're taking a sip from a glass and their pinkies lift instinctively. I've also seen it happen to the butchest of men as they're waiting impatiently for something and their hand goes straight to their hip so they look like a teapot waiting to spout bitchiness by the cupful. This behavior is caused by something I like to call "The Queen Gene."

My Queen Gene makes me susceptible to feminine moments that come out in times of extreme terror. I have very fragile nerves and the fastest way my body expresses fear is to have one hand on my chest and the other hand out in front of me as I let out a high-pitched shriek. It usually happens when I turn a corner and someone is walking that way towards me. It also happens when elevator doors open. I'm not a paranoid person and I don't walk around fearful of getting assaulted in the bushes by a gang of college boys, so I really can't explain why I react like a horror movie victim all the time. I'm like those guys you see on America's Funniest Home Videos when their friends scare them on Halloween.

I believe that there's always a latent feminine anima lurking within each gay man on this earth. It's just a matter of finding the right trigger. Is your football-loving, beer-drinking, rough and tumble gay friend vehemently denying that he has the potential for nelliness? Try finding his G spot. I've done extensive independent studies that prove that when you find and work boy's G spot the right way, his voice will reach new octaves like he's auditioning for American Idol.