The Straight Art of Manliness

Okay, let's get it out there. I'm a going-on-19 year old who writes a blog daily with the idea in mind that when September comes round again I may be able to continue to speak and articulate myself in a coherent fashion for the duration of my second year at University. I also like musicals, the arts and cheesy pop, while at the same time detest the idea of watching a game of football, could count on two fingers how many beers I've had and actually enjoyed and don't see anything wrong with having hair which moves in the wind. According to some (read: many), I am not the straight man I believe I am, but in fact a slew of rather funny words that mostly seem to end in '-ter': a chufter, a poofter, or my personal favourite, a Harry Hoofter.

My sexuality seemingly is no longer in my hands if I outright refuse to watch 22 overpaid grown men run around a grassy field chasing a ball for 90 minutes. Frankly, I could not care less and can find much better things to do with half my day, and yet it seems to be a prerequisite for the straight British man, on top of some obscene obsession with vehicles which I am also yet to discover.

There are also many things which you are just simply downright not allowed to enjoy if you wish to be a straight man. Are you one of the millions of children who read and enjoyed the Harry Potter series when growing up, and still look back on with somewhat fond memories? Gay boy! Does the idea of a comic-movie adaptation secretly fill you with hope that they will hopefully get it right this time? Bender! ..And don't get me started on JRR Tolkien or Tim Burton.

But believe it or not I am indeed a straight male, with the girlfriend to prove it, despite the terrible hardships faced throughout my life which would seemingly cement my utter homosexuality - picking drama over karate, skiving PE to go to Music, reading books instead of knocking up 13 year old peers, playing badminton over football, choosing Smirnoff over Tennants. I think the majority of the group of males for which this entry seems directed would have had me down as been a lost cause from the word go -- mais, c'est incroyable!

Although this entry has tried to convey that there are two sides to every story and that you should not judge a book by it's cover, one can't help but think that the idea of watching 22 men gradually get sweatier over a period of 90 minutes in a situation where balls and tackles are involved just seems downright gay.

Benders.