This Is Definitely A Case For The Hardy Boys. Well, We Can Probably Figure It Out On Our Own. But We’ve Always Wanted To Hang Out With Them.

And by “Hang Out With,” clearly we mean “Get Two-Timed By.”

Following up on the theme of last week’s post about homoconfusion, we have something to discuss. It’s very important in our daily life, and we know you will find it extremely interesting.

We think our Spanish roommate is gay.

It’s been driving us and our two female roommates crazy for months. It’s like the fucking Westing Game - there are red herrings everywhere. On the one hand, he wears skimpy, aggressively colored underpants. On the other hand, he doesn’t own deodorant. He doesn’t have a girlfriend (super rare here), but he also doesn’t like pop music. And worst of all, he has neither tried to hook up with his hot single female roommate, Ashley H, nor his hot single male roommate, Big M. And yesterday, we saw that his computer desktop is a black and white picture of a shirtless male model. Wet.

And the thing is, we really shouldn’t care. But it’s just been forever since we’ve known someone very well and still not been sure whether he was gay or not. We’re riveted. Each new clue is discussed with rapt enthusiasm by the rest of us. He grabbed a girl’s boob! He grabbed a guy’s boob!! HE BOUGHT A HAIR PRODUCT FROM AMERICAN CREW.

We can just imagine, when gay literature becomes more mainstream, the adolescent mystery novels this exact issue will spawn. We spent so much time in our early teens obsessing over it. We’re imagining Edward Gorey cover illustrations, and a John Bellairs suspense plot inside. We can see it now… “The House With The Cock In Its Walls.”

Oh, har!