So I swore I mentioned there was a curse side to being a homie. You also have to hold in your gay side and let it out 'appropriately.' It was so frustrating trying to joke with their 'gay' bro humor and say something like "I'd Glock Glock that glizzy all day," and clearly joking but then later get the "talk" about how I take things too far. I desperately yearned for this type of brotherhood, but at the cost of particularly staying in and out the closet. Everyone knew what I was about, but holding it back became so frustrating until I found my only commonality that flowed between heteronormativity and homoerotic attraction; the power of wedgies. For some reason I loved giving guys wedgies even in grade school so bringing it to college felt so childish until it became so normal. At least twice a day the homies and I would wedgie each other for no damn reason. To my knowledge, back then I never was a big sagger, not even til this day, being 28 now, but my homies all sagged. Seeing those brieflines and underwear brands would just get my gears going. Polo, Puma, Calvin Klein, Hanes, those lovely Fruity Looms just seeing those waistbands would drive me in a frenzy. Now no one had ever heard of a wedgie fetish, however I knew I had a kink for underwear, just didn't think pulling them was such a turn on for me. College was my golden peak of my sexual fluidity and discovering my most vulnerable and intimate bedroom moments really molded the underwear slut I am today. Again, graduating now 7 years ago, I'm sadly still the gay homie who has to limit himself but I'm grateful the bros I have are roughly 90% comfortable around me, that 10% is only when I feel like I overdue my gayness or give too many wedgies that make things a bit awkward after.
