I wish I was gay

It’s tough being a white heterosexual male these days


Struggling to pull without lowering your standards? Repelling women with your dismal dress sense? These are just some of the issues which seem unique to your typical ugly-average heterosexual male in modern-day Britain.

Ever since I arrived at uni in September, I’ve been struck by one recurring phenomena I’d previously not encountered – The Lesbian Couple.

One thing I’ve noticed from all these encounters is what I call “the fitter and the shitter” conundrum. Normally, there’s one girl who is very attractive (we’re talking at least eight out of 10) arm-in-arm with a girl who wouldn’t look out of place in the finals of the World’s Strongest Man competition.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against lesbians – just check my internet history – but I can’t help but find such a gulf in attractiveness deeply disquieting.

As a “mid-level munter at best”, all I can hope for is a fellow 4.5/10. If however, I had been born an ugly lesbian, I would’ve at least fingered someone who looks like Angelina Jolie by now, or even done more.

You’ve seen them around campus

As if this inability to punch above my weight wasn’t bad enough, being a heterosexual has also caused me great problems in another area.

Gay men tend to be exceedingly well-dressed. It’s not even funny. At risk of a spot of generalising, gay men appear to possess a fantastic instinct for fashion, and this can only increase their chances of getting lucky.

Equally, it’s difficult for straight folk to keep on top of the latest linguistic developments in the realm of sexuality, and this can only increase confusion.

I’m just about up-to-date with homosexual, bisexual, asexual and perhaps even transsexual, but I’m hearing word on the grapevine that tri-sexual and even pan-sexual may well be soon added to the mixer.

I can’t help but think someone might be taking the piss.

The heterosexual male: soon to be an endangered species?

As the picture above perhaps demonstrates perfectly, heterosexual just isn’t a cool look anymore.

I overheard a former pupil of Sevenoaks School claiming: “I’ve always thought it’s important to try new things and explore the fluctuation which occurs within one’s own sexuality.”

Now this is all well and good, but roughly ten months ago, when he was down The Anchor drinking lager shandies (that’s Sevenoaks for ya), lazy “gay jokes” formed the bedrock of his comedic output. But the times have changed, and he’s realised he needs to too. It’s that or die alone.

Sevenoaks’ most renowned watering hole

Yes, being born a straight, white male is meant to be the biggest lottery win you’ll ever experience, but its’ not always that simple. I will never be able to pull off a Dolce & Gabbana shirt, nor for that matter, will I ever burst onto the South London gangsta rap circuit with a grime anthem featuring Boy Better Know.

Instead, it looks like my future is already decided. I’ll marry a plain girl – probably called Jane – spend unfulfilling years as a disreputable and underpaid tabloid journalist, before dying an unremarkable death aged 74. I’ve only my genes and my environment to blame.