Queer By Choice
by Lynsey

Hank was bored. Work wasn't inspiring, same old shit. There had to be more to life than this, didn't there? Ever since he'd lost interest in the campaign to outlaw . . . now what was it they were trying to outlaw? Hank wasn't sure anymore, but damn, that had been a good cause.

He, of course, had been the leader, the mastermind behind all the group's best intimidation strategies. A rebel, an outlaw, looked up to by mill . . . well, lots of people.

Hated by the rest. Despised even. As Hank knew, all the most important and influential people were hated and misunderstood. Yes, that was who he was. Different than the rest, standing up to ridicule courageously, daring to be . . . Hank scratched his scruffy two-day beard, a dull _expression on his face. Then his beady blue eyes lit up. Yes. That was it. Different, hated, misunderstood, daring. He would be QUEER goddammit. From today on, he would be as queer as a three dollar bill.

Wicked smile on his face, Hank turned to his trusty old Gateway and revved it up. I will be queer. It's my choice in fact. Queer by choice, that's what I'll be. And won't everyone just fucking LOATHE me for that! The smile turned absolutely maniacal when the results of his Google search landed him in a whole posse of like minded people. Hank was no longer bored. In fact, within a few hours Hank had a whole new group of friends to support him in his quest to be queer. You can do it Hank, good for you Hank, you're so brave and daring Hank, email me if you want to talk about it Hank . . .

Armed with the well wishes, cyber hugs and kisses of his newfound social circle, Hank ventured out into the real world that evening. He sauntered into the local TLA video store, the one he'd never given a thought to before due to its strange selection of films, and dared to pick up a copy of the Gay News. Grinning at anyone who glanced his way, turning the title page outwards so all could properly raise their eyebrows at him. A bit disappointed when nobody did.

Flipping through the pages, Hank quickly found the perfect scenario for his conversion. The 12th Aero Squadron, advertising good music and hot guys. Hank changed into what he thought might pass for hip and drove off in his immaculate Chevy Lumina.

How hard could this be anyway? The guy in the advert was nice looking. Sure, that's what he'd do, he'd find a guy who looked like one of those movie stars, that Jonathan Rhys Meyers guy perhaps. Man, that guy was prettier than most of the chicks he'd dated. Actually, make that ALL of the chicks he'd dated. All four of them. Yeah, this would be a walk in the park.

Now it hadn't occurred to Hank that the boys who DID look like Jonathan Rhys Meyers weren't exactly looking for someone like Hank. Alas. Truth be told, it hadn't really occurred to Hank that even boys who looked like Jonathan Rhys Meyers had dicks. But he was nothing if not deluded. After too many drinks and a dose of desperation, Hank found himself dancing with a potential Mr. Right. Flirting with Potential Mr. Right. Being groped by Potential Mr. Right. Groping Potential Mr. Right back.

And that's where Hank decided he'd been queer enough for one night. Mr. P. Right most definitely had a dick, not to mention a chest full of thick hair when he pulled off his shirt. Chest. Hair. Dick. Yep, queer enough for one night. Hopping back into his Chevy Lumina, and feeling very satisfied with himself for his daring and bravery and scandalous behavior, Hank drove straight home to his Gateway, where all his new QBC friends were waiting with baited breath for news of his foray into queerdom. With loving supportiveness, pats on the back, plenty of hugs and kisses. Hmm. Plenty of hugs and kisses.

The maniacal smile spread once more over Hank's face. Damn, but this was a good place to pick up chicks.

The End