Exploring Your Inner Shelf – Why Every Straight Man Harbours A Secret Gay Refugee And How To Harness His Awesome Secret Powers

Exploring Your Inner Shelf – Why Every Straight Man Harbours A Secret Gay Refugee And How To Harness His Awesome Secret Powers

There is an increasing amount of credence given to the idea that a man can improve himself by getting in touch with his inner child, or worse still, his feminine side. Some may think this is misguided. It is not misguided, it is actually just plain wrong. A man’s inner child is a sulky and impetuous little devil who has not yet forgiven him for breaking ranks and starting to play with girls.

The realm of the inner child is one of  self-destructive spite and malice. As for a man exploring his feminine side, that is a treacherous area and the exploration of treacherous areas is best left to the likes of Ranulph Fiennes. It may only be cautiously touched upon at funerals, crushing sporting defeats and any of the other rare occasions where crying is a socially acceptable thing for a man to do.

Have any truck with the inner child and you will be doomed to wearing football shirts, drinking Alco pops and hanging around in groups of twenty or more like minded fools. Your testicles will grow to the size of watermelons due to lack of sex, and you will have to drop your standards considerably to alleviate the situation. A hand job in the Co-Op doorway from a heavily made up forty year old with premature grandchildren will become a joyous event, rather than an episode of shame.

Venture into your feminine side and an even worse fate awaits. Men who do this go beyond the point of good grooming and out the other side. Follow this ever growing army and you will start to have manicures, pedicures and Indian head massage. The shape of your eyebrows will begin to be a major concern. You will wear tanga briefs, ditch your barber for a hair stylist and start shaving your chest. In short, you will become a Metrosexual.

 

 

This will work for you for some time until the inevitable process of the testicles shrinking and retracting into the body begins. Persist and you will become, without the benefit of hormone pills or surgery, an actual woman. I mean, good grief gentlemen, back sack and crack wax, what on earth are you thinking of?

The back part, fair enough. It’s a well accepted fact that the next evolutionary step for the human male will be the shedding of superfluous and unsightly dorsal hair. But the sack and the crack part? I think it’s time to dash to the Storecupboard of Life. When you get there, grab that discarded and dusty bottle of dignity. Twist off the top and down it in one.

Think about what you are doing. You are paying some poor young girl to smear hot sugar syrup on your most intimate flaps and crevices, then tear your hairs out by the root. Does that not strike you as a bit pointless, with the only thing exchanged at the end of the procedure being cash rather than bodily fluids? There’s only one excuse to have such treatment done and that’s if you are heavily into rimming and teabagging, where excess foliage can obstruct proceedings.

That is fair enough of course, and entirely your own business. It would make far more sense, in that case, to use the old loaf and ask the lady of your choice to do it for you as part of the foreplay. You might as well, she’s obviously a game girl in the first place and everything will still be delightfully tingly. I’m guessing.

 

Women themselves are falling foul of a similar, insidious trap. They go to pubs in feral packs, ape the football shirt wearing and sink vast quantities of ale – pints no less! Their evenings out seem to be incomplete without copious vomiting and  a fight with the bouncers. This too is unspeakably wrong and evidently started as an attempt to make themselves more accessible to “Lads”.

Women should be warm and fragrant. They should be soft and yielding and not smell of puke. Shutting your eyes in their presence should not induce internal visions of donkey jacketed navvies amusing themselves by the squeaky, screechy effect of inhaling the contents of helium balloons.

The only time a young lady should wear a replica away top is when it belongs to her latest beau. Even in this case she should be entirely naked apart from said garment and in the process of preparing him a Full English Breakfast after the previous night’s sexual athletics. But that is a topic for another day.

 

Clearly all this previous nonsense is no way to get ahead. For a man to truly improve his lot, an entirely different approach is needed. Recent research, published in all the most respected medical journals, has revealed an unpalatable but sadly undeniable fact. The only part of the average human male which is entirely heterosexual is his teeth. They apparently retract when in close proximity to an erect penis. This is why homosexuals are never heard to complain about crap blowjobs and why oral pleasure from a Thai lady boy is the most exquisite experience available to the well moneyed sexual adventurer.

Don’t panic or worry about this revelation. The research goes on to assure us that this paradoxical dental non gayness is entirely vestigial for most of us, a bit like the appendix. Also like the appendix it only becomes inflamed in certain unlucky individuals, so surreptitious nocturnal visits to men only sauna rooms or public toilets are highly unlikely.

Happily, most of us keep this part of ourselves, entirely without effort, on a small and dusty internal shelf. Explore your inner shelf and all kinds of unexpected rewards will become available to you. These are listed below.

Better Presentation

Gay men dress far better than we do, that is an incontrovertible fact. Every time you have worn trainers as evening wear, your inner gay has wept inconsolably on his draughty shelf. Each time you try to pull with the top three of your shirt buttons undone he has buried his head in his hands, despair his only companion. Get your guilty conscience to hand him a skinny mocha latte, wipe away his tears and beg his forgiveness. And his help. He has observed every trend and fashion tip while you were busy looking at other things. His counsel will transform you into a sartorial colossus.

He will happily construct a grooming regime which won’t leave your bathroom cabinet looking like the cosmetics counter at Boots. He will never lead you down the path of the Metro sexual. He hates Metro sexuals even more than you do. They confuse his gaydar in the same way clouds of aluminium chaff confuse missile guidance systems.

Attractive ladies of taste and discretion will be powerless to do anything other than flash you admiring glances as you enter the room. He will also advise you to start frequenting places where such ladies might be, rather than the slapper infested dives you usually haunt.

Unleashing Some Religion

Gays and lesbians have little truck with religion. Hardly surprising given that most religious bodies tell them that the way God made them is an abomination in His eyes, which doesn’t make much sense if you actually stop to think about it for more than a couple of seconds. The exception to this is the Church of England, which is the five dollar crack whore of the ecclesiastical world and will probably take practicing Satanists if it gets bums on seats. That said, everyone needs a place of worship, or at least some kind of substitute.

Lesbians have therapy and endless whining about society and their emotional problems. Gay men have the gym. Don’t become an exercise junkie, but do heed some of your inner gay’s evangelizing about his spiritual placebo. He will become particularly insistent when your natural place of worship, the pub, has led your love handles to grow beyond the point when even the most charitable female considers them an endearing physical quirk. He will be positively screaming at you when the spectre of man boobs looms on the horizon.

Earl Grey and Sympathy

Women at times of personal crisis are emotionally vulnerable. In terms of the sexual hunt they are the injured baby caribou at the back of the herd. With the help of your Inner Gay you are well dressed and the cross-trainer has carved the worst of the flab from your body. You have invested in skin care products beyond carbolic soap, bay rum and little scraps of blood soaked toilet roll. Still, you may be in possession of the kind of face which normally relegates you to carrion rather than prime cuts in nature’s feeding order. Despite this, you may baulk at the idea of taking advantage of a girl who is, in effect, suffering from a temporary mental illness. This is when you must listen very carefully to your inner gay.

Your inner gay has no such qualms. He secretly shares what is, for you, the happy delusion that all women are closet lesbians. Now while gays and lesbians don’t actually hate each other, a sort of uncomfortable truce exists between them. Any chance to get one over on one of the fifth columnists who sleep with men will be snapped up by him.

He will encourage you to offer that shoulder to cry on. He’ll convince you that deep down she wants you to worship her body as a stop gap boost to her self esteem. As the spiky barriers drop and she begins to soften and melt, he will nod in silent approval. He will smile the smile of the contented teacher as his star pupil goes in for the kill.

Coping with Rejection

Good as they are, these tried and tested techniques cannot entirely save you from rejection. Some women simply have no taste. For others, rejecting men is a kind of hobby. The worst will entertain and beguile you over the course of two or three dates before finally sticking the boot in. They do this partly so they never have to pay for meals or drinks when they’re out on the town, but mostly it’s to do with empathy. Women are more empathic than men, and the truly nasty ones like to make a more meaningful connection to truly enjoy the benefit of your pain.

This is where your inner gay truly comes into his own. He has filed, indexed and catalogued every pithy remark and epigram which went over your head. When rejection comes he will feed you a casual reply which will have this harpy weeping into her Haagen Dasz for days to come.

Admittedly it will probably be just a sophisticated variation on your dissatisfaction with her tits or her arse, but it will be none the less devastating for it. She expects bitchy remarks only from other girls and will be thrown wildly off kilter.

A final word of caution, however. When your inner gay has fulfilled this function, listen to him no further for a while. Allow a manly handshake to ensue and bid him farewell until your wounds are fully licked. Further conversation with him may result in him persuading you to watch a Judy Garland film together. Christ alone knows where that might lead.

© Copyright Michael Grimes 2013

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About thedailygrime

At that awkward age - too young to be a grumpy old man, but just acerbic and downtrodden enough to have an opinion. Read it here.

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