On Homophobia

by guest columnist and resident crazy person

It seems that those on the pro side of the gay marriage debate are sticking to an unfortunate refrain when they refer to their opposition:

“Repressed jerks are really just afraid of gays.”

“Just a bunch of homophobic assholes.”

“The only reason they oppose gay marriage is because those homophobes shit their unfucked ass when they hear of same-sex couples!”

Well, I, for one, happened to be born this way.

No, really. Ever since I can remember, I’ve been afraid of gays. Three members of my immediate family are gay and, yet, I persist in deep fear, unable to talk to my grandfather and two sisters. It’s genetically improbable. I wish it wasn’t so.

No. Not because I hate gays! I am literally afraid of gays.

At the age of 6, a psychiatrist diagnosed me with the medical condition homophobia. It affects every aspect of life. When I see gays, I suffer from terrible panic attacks that rattle me to my core. I live in fear. I am a liberal. But when a friend finishes her empowering documentary, I can’t attend the celebratory potluck. My phobia is real. I have to drive three towns over to even find an independent bookstore that I can shop at! I avoid homosexuality at all costs. When I see male bikers, I pray they are Hell’s Angels.

Needless to say, lately, this has been rather inconvenient. In the good old days, someone could invite you to an Elton John concert, and you would simply decline. “My God!,” you’d say. “No, I will not attend a homosexual concert! That’s immoral!” Or, for the less intense cultural warrior, a simple “Naw, dude. When I realized ‘Blue Eyes’ was about a guy, it kind of ruined it for me.”

Now things have changed. Everywhere I look, there are gay people. I’m being oppressed, I tell ya. I can’t even turn on the news without Andrew Sullivan and Anderson Cooper causing me to curl up into a fetal position, and hurl violently for hours.  And television comedies? Forget about it. I tried to watch an episode of Modern Family once. My appendix burst. The only place I can turn is mainstream Hollywood movies. The movie industry still has the gall to pretend that its stars are all straight! Seriously. God bless those liberal hypocrites!

The other day, a friend invited me over to watch How I Met Your Mother with our shirts off. Just an innocent bro outing, but I had to decline because of my condition.

“Why not?” he persisted.

“I just don’t want to,” I said.

“Dude, why not? The characters on this show are hilarious, I swear. And I know you’re not busy.”

“I just don’t like Neil Patrick Harris,” I finally muttered, ashamed.


Eventually, I confessed. “I’m a homophobe,” I told him. I attempted to explain the condition, and the complex and confusing way that it has affected my life. But he wouldn’t hear it. ‘Homophobia is choice!’ he insisted.

He’s told everyone and, now, I’m a social outcast. Unable to be my homophobic self, pushed to the margins by those damn gays.

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