Chris Spent A Lot Of Time Perfecting A Hands-free Mind-nipple Connection.

Chris spent a lot of time perfecting a hands-free mind-nipple connection.

It never occurred to Brad 'yey high' reffered to how tall the grass was. It was always just something he said when it kicked in.

The ‘fake it until you make it' thing in America never sat right with Chris as there was always the chance that the people who said you made it were doing the same thing.

Chris spotted gold. It would be solid in about 20 seconds as his bf Brad was wearing the exact same design but in a thong and on his first set of squats.

Brad knew there was no more clear or better place to be free to express yourself, to be who you are without judgement, and to promote positive self image of men who like men, than a fiercely competitive nationally televised drag competition that culminated in a paraded showdown of its self-proclaimed losers deemed so via unquestioned, ambiguous, and unwritten rules.

Did you get all of that? Read it again if you need to. The library will be open for a minute.

It was true. Just in the last ten minutes of that show viewers were forced to jump through more flossy hoops than in Fergie’s earring collection just to justify their own sanity and get hooked for another episode. It was hardly surprising straight women could relate. When it came to meeting the many sets of expectations and double standards put forth by society, were we not all consumed in various orders of intricate dance?

Brad knew he could make anything WERK in part because as a gay man he had to from the get go. He could make whatever was thrown at him WERK in the very same sense slapping the word irony on anything instantly made it ironic. The difference of course being irony didn’t actually take any work. What presented itself on the show was WERK, a hole different level (yes, hole is spelled correctly), and according to gay legend that made drag OK.

Anyone could make something ironic, and it’s usually by accident. Where it gets tricky is doing it with any thread of intention. You sure better make like Madonna and make it an art or you are that person wearing the printed t-shirt and the embroidered hat that does speak truth as proclaimed but don’t realize it’s actually about them.

Eeek. That’s always painful to come across for many reasons. For one, it’s a good guess the poorly threaded failed to friend any gay men or black women because neither have the time for something like that. Each would save the other a step at the register and likely ask for the money since they’re just throwing it away anyway.

Slap a WERK on instead, and what you already knew to be nothing is suddenly something because the gays navigate more than a google of hoops just to walk out that front door. Yes. That was worth repeating.

That’s right. No need to ask ladies, the ‘Amens!’ are are all up in here already. It is just how it is right now. At least that’s what it felt like to Brad.

As many in the erotic dancer and male model industries, Brad held no doubt that show went mainstream via the same well mirrored thread as the flick Pretty Woman just with the reverse set of players. Not everyone was on board, but it was enough sassy razzle dazzle in the right place at the right time with just enough tattered frames of attention to get through.

Both earned enough money to let ruffled feathers go, and it remain tolerated by the others as it’s understood as a one time deal. Once deemed ironic something can’t be made more ironic. The same notion apparently applied here.

Brad also knew if you make the impossible WERK the first time, you’re not going to go through it again. It’s far too exhausting and who wants to live by the skin of their teeth where they already do? You’ve been there. You are there. You made it happen, and any decent queen knows how to make her peace…

‘Did everyone not see the mf rain just now?!? Sky. Water. Fell. You’re welcome. Ok then. I gots to go!’

The door slams and that’s what happened.

WERK!

The show goes on because it must.

It was here Brad heard the snap of his own finger.

Pulled out of his own thoughts and still leaning against the palm tree in his shiny new speedo, Brad realized he was really gay. Like really really REALLY gay.

Brad let out a sigh and took note of his bulge.

Well, that certainly explained having a boyfriend.

It explained quite a bit actually.

Looking at things a little closer, Brad could say this much as to his newly realized gayness…

As long as he put out, Brad felt confident his boyfriend Chris would be ok with everything.

And that he was.

Chris couldn't possibly have one more mimosa... but since his boyfriend Brad was offering, he liked the first one the best. It had that cute little sliced strawberry thingy on top. Maybe it was spiked w/vodka... Just maybe. Ask Becky if she's still standing.

She wasn’t.