A metrosexual is simply a gay man five years before he’s ready to come out.
Yeah, you think I’m kidding.
Before such a term existed, I knew several metros. Always so stylish, always so fashionable, quick with the sarcasm, quick with the hugging, best friends with most of the popular girls, no threat to any of their boyfriends. Maybe the stereotype leads to the lifestyle, or it’s preparation for it, or it’s a form of denial; I have no idea. But within five years since the time I met all of them, all the metros in high school, in my church’s youth group, at work, at Bethany College, etc., came out.
There was one holdout. I got an email from him this afternoon. He’s no longer a holdout. He’s moving in with his partner, they’re having a housewarming party, and they’re registered at Target. (I had no idea you could have a housewarming registry. I find the whole idea of registering gifts to be tasteless and impersonal, but that’s another rant.) So, say what you will about my statement being too general—I don’t personally know any exceptions to the rule. Not anymore.
…Well, there’s the metrosexuals I know now. But wait five years.