Someone, after recently seeing my photo*, just referred to me as a “gaywad.” Adorable. I haven’t been called gaywad in 15 years. I remember a flurry of use around 3rd grade, especially in Cub Scouts. That was until the Den Leader stopped the proceedings after he heard the term fly and grilled us about how it was impolite to use. And my best friend, good old Ross A. who would go on to marry the model/lawyer/reality TV star, said “We thought it was a happy piece of chewing gum.” Our unmalicious faces did not give us away.
If memory serves “gaywad” falls toward the less severe on our list of known male insulting adjectives at the time. As determined at camp that year…
- Mother Fucker
- Douche bag
I wish I knew where that shitty polaroid was.
*I currently look nothing like that picture. A severe case of poison ivy has rendered me looking like those before and after meth addict photos the cops use to scare kids in the Midwest. How one gets this much on the BOTTOM of his feets, I don’t know.