How it really feels to be a closeted straight male
So, throughout my lengthy life, I’ve unwantedly witnessed many, many cases of prejudice, subjugation and discrimination against straight people; I’ve even had the unfortunate vexation of being personally oppressed due to my heterosexuality. It got to a point where I couldn’t handle the abuse and so I had had enough, (age 10). I quit needlessly exclaiming to everyone that I was straight – and ever since then, I’ve been locked inside a closet. My sanity level was plummeting… I became insane.
“But no longer shall I be trapped within this isolated closet” I screech, planning to come out for good, and this myTake is the first step I take into coming out. Within this myTake, I shall be descriptively explaining the horrors I’ve fronted within this closet as I strongly believe that this will prove to be crucially important in regaining my sanity. So, how does it feel to be a closeted straight?
Awful.
It’s dark, cramped and increasingly unsettling in this closet. Arguably, the worst thing about this hellhole is the Goddamned creaky base. A fiery blaze of cacophonic drizzle echoes every time I prompt my leg, and thence my ears consequently bleed tears. Dizziness nauseates me. Could you even begin to comprehend such a painful concept?
The constant gleam of malice this closet callously assails me with is easily the most excruciatingly annoying altercation I’ve ever had the displeasure of being involved in. The closet’s old floorboard makes it close to impossible for me to ever be able to relax. Thankfully, patriotic music allows me to be able to luxuriate as it, to some degree, blocks out disturbing noises. This type of music, despite my insanity, has let me hold on to my most precious values: loyalty towards Australia; loyalty to David Cameron, the greatest prime minister of Australia.
Dedication to one’s country is obviously the most important thing in the world. It should totally be the purpose to everyone’s life, so it’s disgusting when I see ungrateful pigs squealing that “Donald Trump is a bad president”. How utterly unpatriotic and unscientific. Jesus bore all of our sins and you act like this? May God smite you filthy cretins down. DOWN!
Anyway, let’s get back to the original task this myTake set out to do: me failing at explaining the terrifying horrors I’ve fronted inside this closet.
*Ahem*
None of you will ever be capable of gaining the capacity to comprehend to even a miniscule amount the amount of agony that I feel surging throughout my body. Despite my best efforts to numb out the pain, it aches. Let me give you an analogy to help you better understand: imagine a German talking to you. Doesn’t that feel horrible? Now if their normal voice was enough to pierce your ear drums and rattle your bones, further imagine that this German person is yelling in your fragile, weak ears. That’s the perfect analogy of how I feel right now. Absolute anguish.
What it feels like completing normal tasks
for example finding an image on Google for a badly constructed myTake
The cumbersome immensity of difficulty I faced searching for the correct closet image to showcase in this terrible myTake is enough to make the average atheist fall to their knees and beg God reverently for forgiveness, help and redemption. Fortunately for me, I’m already a pure Catholic Islamist, so I’m already submissively on my knees. But, I’m digressively side-tracking (although technically I’m ‘Joker_’, not ‘digressively side-tracking’).
Let’s get back to talking about the hardships I suffered as I writhed struggling to obtain a suitable ‘closet.jpeg’ image – that’s what this myTake is really about. Or rather, allow me to actually show you a GIF of me extensively searching for a good closet picture.
Famous proverb: “A GIF is worth more than 10 words”
Moving on!
I didn’t know how else to forward the progression of this myTake, so I figured the best way to do so was to use a subheading stating that we were “Moving on!”
Now of course I could just open the door, it’s not actually locked, and it never was to begin with. “But @Joker_, you said in the introduction that you were specifically ‘locked inside a closet’, so what do you mean it wasn’t ‘actually locked’?” Well, obviously, I meant that metaphorically, you foolish imbeciles. [insert rick_and_morty.m3m3]
Now you may be wondering, if I could get out any time I wanted to, why didn’t I just walk out? Well there are pros to closet-living too, you know. Let me elaborate.
The best thing about living inside a closet is: I’ve mercifully been granted the power to quietly watch, from the cracks, the ricochet of their silhouettes as they deluge in sex.
“Whose ‘silhouettes’? and who is ‘their’ and ‘they’, @Joker_?”
Since this closet is located within a motel, which I know I should’ve mentioned earlier but whatever, a lot of random strangers – sometimes regulars (even the super cool and admirable alpha-male players visit here! I know them all) – come here to initiate spicy sexual activity.
I need to clarify this before you misunderstand: I’m not a cuck, but I just love to avidly watch two straight people have sex. I mean, I guess I wouldn’t really mind if it were two straight men because then it’s still straight sex. It’s just that when I see them passionately mate, I feel as though I am mating with them too. I am not a cuck. I can’t be one because I’m not some n*rd. Don’t even compare me to those dorky doofuses!
It’s also nice to be able to, sort of, asphyxiate myself auto-erotically due to the lack of oxygen and hence the difficulty to breathe in here. It’s very sexual, intimate and pleasurable.
Let's wrap this up
In conclusion, I miss @Volvagia :sad_face: -urk that was way off topic (although it did need to be said, please come back *cries*), let me try that again…
In concupiscence, I’m straight. Straight as a lemon. My heterosexuality needed to be announced and a myTake on GaG was clearly the perfect way to do it, so I did it. Relief.
Amen
- Joker_
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