I love being gay. I love spending twenty minutes moisturizing. I love carrying my phone in my hand like a little coin purse. I love poppers. I love incense. I love drama. I love starting phone calls with GIRL and biiiiiiiitch. I love songs that are just one command, like DANCE, spoken over and over again by a mean Australian lady with cunty bangs. I love crossing my legs, tequila sunrises, and when the bartender calls me “baby.”
I love when you can tell an animal is gay. I love misting my plants with a spritzer. I love drizzling syrup over dessert. I love fresh flowers on a sunny windowsill. I love dead flowers in a dusty corner. I love the underwear section at Target. I love wigs. I love having a gold-plated Starbucks rewards card but no dentist. I love becoming best friends with girls in line for the bathroom at the club. I love making out in the street after a date. I love when my boxer briefs are longer than my shorts. I love the boots with the fur. I love animal print Speedos. I love a waist cinched to the Gods, wet gel curls. I love dips and stunts and twirls. I love when straight people don’t know what I’m talking about.
I love Janet Mock. I love Sylvia Rivera. I love The Golden Girls. I love Patti Labelle and Mariah Carey’s live performance of Got to be Real. I love old straight women who hang out at gay bars. I love Miss Mary in Orlando, who kissed me on the lips on the dancefloor to Cher’s Believe. I love Doña Marina in Queens, who whips her boobs out after three whiskey-waters. I love all the gay cartoon characters I’m probably supposed to hate, like Mr. Burns, Big Gay Al, Roger, HIM, Velma, and Pleakley. I love Disney villains. I love playing video games as the girl character.
I LOVE CHARLIE’S ANGELS: FULL THROTTLE! I liiiiiive for a pregnant pause.
I love Kevin Fret. I love Lil Nas X. I love when RuPaul stands at the head of the catwalk with one hand delicately resting over the other. I love everyone who works at Mac and Sephora. I love that crazy bitch Jonathan, even though he’s fucking crazy. I love the way straight people play us in movies, even though they make us seem fucking crazy. I love watching gay people fighting.
I love dick. I love the man sitting across from me on the train and would let him spit on my contact lenses before putting them on if he wanted. I love the apps and knowing there’s a 5’9” vers bottom 250 feet away. I love DL Dominican trade. I love the pissed off Puerto Rican receptionist at the STD clinic. I love the free condom bucket next to the bathroom at every gay bar. I love bathhouses. I love cruising.
I love not having to hang out with certain relatives who, aside from being homophobic, are just boring. I love my mom. I love my gay friends.
I want all this on a T-shirt, under a big I and a heart, so I can wear it around like loving being gay is a place I’ve been, that way I can remember it when I’m not there.
Edgar Gomez is a Florida-born writer with roots in Nicaragua and Puerto Rico. A graduate of University of California, Riverside’s MFA program, he has written for POPSUGAR, Narratively, Longreads, Catapult, Ploughshares, The Rumpus, Lamda Literary, and elsewhere online and in print. His first book, a memoir titled High-Risk Homosexual, is forthcoming in January 2022 with Soft Skull Press and available to preorder now. He lives in Queens, New York and Santurce, Puerto Rico. For more, visit EdgarGomez.net.