Everyone Thinks I'm Gay

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One day, everyone started calling me gay. Uno problemo: I'm not. But what can an introvert do when a society (which we live in) batters him with its expectations. Short story short, I have to find some way to navigate life as something I'm not. And hope to God this doesn't ruin my chances of getting lucky with a member of the opposite sex.

Humor / Romance
Logan Drive
Age Rating:

The Rumor

Let me start this little scribble off by saying that I, the main character, am not gay. I do not have any lust for other men. Not a single part of my body is interested in acting sexually towards a human male the same way as with a human female.

I’m straight.

Now that we got that out of the way, how is it that I earned the title of “Raging Homo” in both my school and my home life? This phenomenon can be attributed to several factors...

One: I’m not very expressive - even in the most testing of situations - so when I’m met with a perverted scenario, the proper thing for me to do (according to all of Japanese media) would be to have an instantaneous nosebleed and blush profusely while apologizing. My usual reaction to seeing a naked woman is to stare for two seconds before quietly saying “sorry”, bowing my head and closing the door behind me. Sure, I’m doing all those things inside my head, but I guess it doesn’t register so well on the outside.

Two: I don’t have a girlfriend. Now, given my physical appearance and social status, it should be a given why a man like me wouldn’t have a girlfriend in our post-post-modern 1st world society. But it seems that most people will call you a terrible human being if you’re a man without a significant other, and if you happen to not be such a bad guy (i.e., me), then they default to, “Oh, he’s gay.”

Three: Never underestimate the perpetual rumor mill that is high school. You cram a bunch of horny adolescents into one tiny space and what you get is a mountain of horny adolescent gossip.

The fourth and final reason...

“Mom. Dad. I have a confession to make...”

I squeezed the report card, tacitly hidden behind my back, tightly. I’ve never received an F before in my life - not even on a test (which, come to think of it, is quite odd considering I flunked this class where, I assume, tests determine the majority of the grade, and...oh, you know what, let’s just not think about it).

Dad gulped, and Mom placed her hands on her mouth.

“So the rumors are true then...”

Rumors? Had someone caught wind of this F? Impossible. Even when I received the grade, my expression was the exact same as it was now. And how it’s always been.

Suddenly, my dad got up and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Son, I just want you to know that no matter what kind of path you walk in life, you’ll always be my boy. You are my pride and joy, and I will love you, regardless.”


Wow, I didn’t think he’d take it so well. Now I felt like I had to show him my F, just to cement the feelings he exposed to me. All of a sudden, Mom started jumping for joy, like an elementary school kid finding a $100 bill on the ground.

“I can’t believe it! I always noticed the signs, but to think that my son would turn out to be a homosexual!”

Clutching the paper one more time, I took a deep breath and...wait, what?

“Oh, wait. Is it offensive to say ‘homosexual’ now? I’m sorry. I meant to say that you like other men instead of women. Sexually. Which is totally okay, sweetie!”

At this point, my mind was racing around in circles trying to find a finish line where none existed.

Squeezing my shoulder rather tightly, Dad stared up and pondered, “Truth be told, before I met your mother, I always questioned whether or not I was interested in the opposite sex. But after meeting each other in a conversion therapy camp, I knew that those were just silly teenage feelings and that we were both fated to be with each other.”

Mom nodded her head (rather forcefully).

I wanted the words to come out. I wanted to say, “No, father, I’m not gay,” and then shove a different kind of F in his face. I wanted to...

“I mean, I’m not totally stoked about the whole never having a daughter-in-law thing.” He pulled me in closer and whispered, “Unless your sister also happens to be...you know.” He pushed me away and continued. “But I’d much rather have a son who plays for the same team than one who, oh, I don’t know,...brings an F to my household. If I found out my son flunked one of his classes, well, I’d just straight up disown him on the spot!”

“And I’d pack his bags and forget he ever existed,” added Mom.

“Now, son, what is it that you wanted to say?”

I faked the most massive smile I could muster and said, “I’m so happy to have such an understanding and loving family. I thought you wouldn’t be able to look past my faults and differences, but you are my mother and father for a reason.”

I never said I was or wasn’t what they thought of me. It was a tactical maneuver meant to avoid a future of living on the streets while also technically not lying so it could be held against me later on.

Naturally, I took the report card and shredded it. Then I took the shredded bits and threw it into a fire. Then I took the ashes and spread it across a lake. Then I bought the land rights to the lake and began a 50 year-long project which culminated in a propulsion system that was able to launch the entire lake into outer space.

Okay, I made that last one up, but I just wanted to give you an idea of just how much I wanted to prevent my parents from knowing that I failed. I even began monitoring the mailbox every morning and evening in case the school would see fit to send a copy of my report card somewhere down the line. Thankfully, they didn’t.


Speaking of which, my home life wasn’t the only thing irrevocably affected by this salacious rumor. The moment I arrived at school the very next day, I was greeted with fanfare and a large rainbow banner with the words, “We welcome you,” written on it. Everyone gave me nods of approval and pats on the back for “being so brave” and “proudly wearing my sexuality on my sleeve”.

And that’s how I went from a nobody creepy kid that all the girls would run away from once they noticed my presence to being one of the most popular guys in school. The moment I entered my classroom, everyone crowded around me. They all had expressions of awe on their face, like they had just witnessed the second coming of Christ (not actually an apt metaphor, I know).

“Do you know other gay people in school?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Is the nightlife as crazy as I hear?”

“Is it a lot like pooping, but in reverse?”

Left and right, I was assailed by questions regarding everything to what I ate from what ate me. A homosexual was really alien to these kinds of people, huh...

“Alright, alright, settle down,” my homeroom teacher commanded. “You can save your questions for after class.”

And I really looked forward to that.

Before class was finished, I quietly sneaked out. Very few people know this about me, but I always hated being the center of attention, and, as you can guess, this wasn’t exactly the best place for an introvert with a sudden boost in popularity to hang around.

To be honest, I kind of just wanted to disappear from existence. (More so than usual.) I never asked to be this town’s token gay guy. If only I knew who spread the rumor in the first plac-

Oof. I fell down. The person I bumped into also fell down, it seemed. Before I could give them a piece of my mind, I noticed who it was exactly I bumped into.

“Oh, forgive me. I didn’t pay any attention to where I was going?”

She got up and even extended a hand to lowly subhuman like myself. This was, without a doubt, the prettiest and (consequently) most popular girl in the whole school.

Immediately, my body shot up straight. “No, it’s my fault. I apologize!” I said, bowing my head like we were in feudal Japan.

Looking up, I saw my head exactly at level with hers.

“No, I’m the one at fault. Allow me to apologize.”

I didn’t know what was going on, but I wasn’t going to lose face by allowing the prettiest girl in school to one-up me in apologetics. If there was anything us lowly commoners had over the pillars of humanity, it was our ability to feign shame and disgrace for even the most trivial of slights.

Taking a step back, I did a somersault and smacked my head to the ground. Though one would consider it a rookie mistake to injure oneself, it was actually an integral part of my technique.

“No, it’s truthfully all my fault! For the harm I caused you today, I deeply and sincerely apologize with every molecule of my soul!”

Take that. No one can best my “~Triple Star Galaxy Apology of the Ancients~“.

For a moment, I thought she was going to back down and admit that I was the scumbag in this situation. That was until she started breakdancing...

Ah, yellow-striped panties...

Finishing her dancing routine with a few more leg spins, she smoothly - like a river’s flow - transitioned to a full beggar’s bow.

“Words cannot describe the gravity of my actions here today, and how much I deeply regret them. Please accept my heartfelt apology! Every inch of my existence in this world and the next bears full responsibility for the transgression committed here today!”

...I...didn’t know what to say. I knew that I would have to step down as King of Apologizing, so a part of me felt sad, but another felt glad that I would no longer be burdened by the hefty responsibilities such a duty entails.

No, but seriously, why was she apologizing?

Lifting her head, she smiled and said, “With that out of the way, do you want to join me after school?”



What? What? What?

Nani? 何?



Che cosa?

If I had to describe the circuitry in my brain at that moment, I’d say that “pulled apart” and “tangled” would be accurate descriptors. Of course, being who I am, I gave my answer with a straight face that bore no resemblance of excitement whatsoever.


“Then it’s a date.”

A date!? Does this mean she has feelings for me? But if everyone thinks I’m gay, including her, how could she know that I have feelings right back?

Questions like these kept buzzing in my head throughout the day; to the point where I was in a semi-lucid state. I only half-noticed that almost everyone was crowding around me in the lunchroom as I daydreamed about my date with the most popular girl in school.

“Protagonist, do you want my fried shrimp?”

“Protagonist, Protagonist, here, have a slice of my pizza.”

You know, at first, I was reluctant to accept this new lifestyle, but if everyone thinking that I like men means I’ll get to live a pampered lifestyle like this, then I don’t mind having the label of “School Homo” thrust upon me for all of eternity.

After school, it was time for my date. Date. D-a-t-e. I think I found a new favorite word.

There she was in her casual clothes. We agreed to meet up at the shopping mall. There she was in her casual clothes. We agreed to meet up at the shopping mall. There she was in her casual clothes. We agreed to meet-

“Hello, earth to Protagonist?”

“Ah wuh?”

“What do you think of my casual clothes?”

“They’re pretty...okay.” Kill me.

“Thaaaanks. Your shirt looks cute too. Is that Clothesline X?”

It is whatever my mom bought me.

“Yes,” I plainly answered.

I never really cared much for fashion.

We spent the rest of our date shopping around and trying different clothes. After meeting up with her boyfriend, we split up and met back at 9:00 PM. After having a quick meal, we went our separate ways, and that was our date.

Sitting at home, I couldn’t help but recount the particulars of my first-ever date. Popular girl was really cute and I really felt like I was making headways into her heart. A few more of these dates, and it might even turn serious. My heart skipped a beat at the thought of that.

I sensed nothing but a bright and romantic future with the popular girl.

...wait a minute.

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After meeting up with her boyfriend...

“’sup, slut. My name’s Chad. I hear you’re the fag my girlfriend’s been talking about all night.”

“Oh, Chad, you’re such a kidder.”

“Suck my dick, slut!”

The popular girl gave the tall, muscular, blonde-haired man with a noticeably large bulge a tight hug.

“Protagonist, this is Chad. Chad, my token gay friend, who is a homosexual, and therefore, nothing more than a platonic relationship would work out between us but even if he was straight, he still wouldn’t meet my obscenely high standards for a romantic partner like you do.”

Curses! If only I wasn’t gay, I would have a chance with popular girl!

Ah, but I’m not gay. But if everyone finds out that I’m not, then I’ll not only lose my popularity but I’ll also be branded a liar and everyone will hate me. What a conundrum! But more importantly...


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