There are two levels of gayness.
Homosexual: A
man is attracted to other men.
That’s it. Clean. Elegant. Entire civilizations have handled it without emergency services.
Then there is Francisexual.
Francisexuality is what happens when homosexuality is pushed past the manufacturer’
s limits.
A
homosexual walks into a room and notices an attractive
man.
Francis walks into a room and every shirt button within fifty feet becomes load-bearing.
A
homosexual might go to Pride.
Francis arrives at Pride and the organizers hand him the keys. By noon, three floats have merged into one platform, a champagne fountain has replaced the mayor, and every traffic light says YAS.
Scientists classified Francis as homosexual, but that was like calling the sun “a
lamp.”
During testing, researchers placed him in a room with six gay men, two disco
balls, and decorative lemons.
Within eleven minutes, the lemons were a centerpiece, the disco
balls were larger, four researchers changed outfits, and the building acquired a brunch menu.
The experiment ended when Francis looked through the observation glass and every
man behind it crossed his legs.
Thus science established two categories:
Homosexual — attracted to men.
Francisexual — whatever the fuck Francis is doing.
Francisexuality is not contagious, but exposure may cause accessorizing, shirtlessness, dramatic entrances, and the belief that a normal-sized cocktail is “embarrassing.”
According to Francis, there is no problem.