Hit it, boys!

"These two guys came into the office today looking for an apartment," Judy said. "They were a cute couple. One looked like Angel from Rent." My face was blank. "You have seen Rent, haven't you?"

It used to be that shame about being gay was limited to the very notion of being gay. How will I explain to the people in my life that I like being with other men? What if people won't like me? What if they hurt me, or disown me, or kill me? Gay pride is all about being comfortable with who you are. Now, it seems, not being gay enough is the thing to be ashamed of.

People I know routinely ask for advice on clothing, interior decorating, flower arranging, musical theater. "Wait. You have to tell me how I look in this shirt," a straight male friend said a few months ago. Excuse me, you metrosexual, you're talking to someone who only last year bought his first pair of Diesel jeans, and that was after considerable goading by other friends. You're talking to a guy who's had Gilligan's Island furniture and thought that a desk made of two columns of flue blocks topped by a wooden door was a stroke of genius. And no, I haven't seen Rent.

It's frustrating that as far as gay people have come we're still boxed, like a fabulous Tiffany vase, into the stereotype. Popular shows like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and Designer Guys (or Designer Gays, as Luis and I call it), while entertaining, make it seem as though all gay men are genetically bursting with impeccable fashion sense, witty quips, and hip style. Talk about raised (or, depending on how you look at it, lowered) expectations.

A boxing message board I stumbled on had a litany of opinions about why there are no gay boxers. The messages (typos included) range from ignorant ("it's not in gay's nature to fight, let alone smack one's face or get whacked in return. boxing is too brutal for their feminine side") to smug ("because they find that all the heterosexual boxers give the performance of thier careers knowing that thier against a guy who may fancy them") to macho ("if I ever saw a straight boxer getting slammed by a cakeboy I would definitely feel a little embarrassment for that fighter") to amusing ("cuz people are too scared of boxers to ask them"). No stereotyping here.

For my next fight I'll give the people what they want. I'll enter the ring to the song "One" from A Chorus Line. I'll wear slimming black and white, flat-front, Prada satin trunks and black high-top Italian leather boxing shoes (because the belt and the shoes have to match). I'll ask that the cornermen place matching mahogany stools in the corners with little parquet end tables next to them to achieve symmetry, functionality, and textural contrast. Before the fight I'll help my opponent pick out his boxing attire so that we don't clash in the ring.

People will be able to see then that boxing really is gay. After all, as the old joke goes, it's the only sport where two men fight over a purse and a belt.