Ode to the Gay Man

Something has recently occurred to me. I realize it's taken me a long time to get here, but now that the conclusion has finally arrived, I'm oddly comfortable with it. The truth about life in Hollywood is that at least 65% of the men I meet are gay. But they're not gay like, "Ohh... duh, of course he's gay," they're gay like, "Holy fucking shit. I've never tried to convert one before, but now I think I want to." I'm not joking, these are some gorgeous men.

I was at an event last week and I met a slue of great and interesting people. Amongst that group, I met a whole ton of supremely attractive men, all very kind and sweet, all untouchably gay. Great sense of fashion, fitted jeans, well groomed hair, loving smiles and boyfriends. Not even the small hint of bisexuality. Not the smallest shred of a possibility. It was torture. 

But this is the way of life in West Hollywood and beyond. Devastatingly attractive men who can only be your best friend. And they make amazing friends. They call you to come take a walk to the red carpet of the Oscars, they ask you how your interviews go, they promise you that you'll both be successful in the year 2010. They even steal clothes for you because they know that you like men's clothes better than women's. They're the best. 

I have to say, if I were a gay man orbiting planet Hollywood, I would be in heaven. It's a mecca for the attractive and same-sex minded. I think that constant taunting of what's off-limits is what has turned me into a romantic-less person. The last sad truth of Hollywood is that I haven't had a romantic impulse since arriving here. It's probably because I spend all of my time flirting with hot gay men.