Let’s talk about a different breed of betch.
Blake is a dichotomy. Frat boy allstar. Asian American 6-packed stud. But also the silliest betch I know.
We went to college together but while I rolled my eyes at the thought of joining a frat, Blake fully embraced the idea. He’s not disingenuous, he’s multi-faceted. It’s quite intriguing for me to see how close he is with his frat brahs. Surely a testament that gay is not a one-size-fits-all connotation.
The silly betch side? Blake loves love, second only to loving a hot man. I must lack his sexual libido because he is always on. While I frolic around, blithely unaware of the men around me, Blake is seemingly always on the prowl. He’s a master at eye-fucking. In this way he represents the quintessential gay. However, his dramatic, school girl obsessing makes me laugh as it’s both endearing and so out of touch from his masculine exterior. The juxtaposition is notable. To me he evokes teddy bear with too many feelings. Emotional, gay teddy bear?
Blake is one of my only gay friends (a personal life problem – possibly a musing for another post). We work because we both can assess that the other is attractive yet arrive at the same conclusion that we have different types and embody distinctly different gays. We markedly diverge on how we interact with men. He has pushed me to loosen up and I have pushed him to reign in the crazy, urging him to enjoy being single.
He blows up my phone inducing me to laugh out loud at work due to his antics, boy-pining or flat-out bitching. My favorite texts are his late night whiny gems saying only Briannnnn. I can envisage the drunken, sex-crazed angst so clearly. Regardless, as Ivanka says, he’s good people, thus why he’s an established facet of my life. Bitchy to the max, driven to succeed, and assuredly a good friend. Pretty much a criteria to fill the betch pages of my life.