Tag Archives: Gay Best Friends

The Gay Man’s Clique: Five Other Friends You Need!


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Gay men are collectors.

They collect right swipes on Tinder, they collect V-necks from clearance sales, they collect loyalty points at the bar, and sometimes, they even collect friends.

You’ve already had a sleepover with the Fag Hag, downed shots with the Diva and made small talk with the Husband here, but who’s to say you can’t have more?

There’s always place for more in your posse of close-knit pals. Move over, OG group, because here are the five other kinds of friends you’ll be playing Cards Against Humanity with over the weekend:

The Breadcrumb

The Breadcrumb is the sappy second lead in every rom-com, the boy who’s never chosen in the end — which explains why he’s always striking out like every other contestant on the Bachelorette.

The Breadcrumb has been waiting on the bench for you for so long; it’s got a special wing named after him. The two of you have history (obviously), but although it wasn’t all fireworks (like your history with your Brozoned Buddy), you still hold a feeble sparkler for him in your heart.

Why don’t you take the leap and act on it then? Maybe he’s the one that got away?

It’s simple. He’s not as smart as Ryan, not as good looking as Ravi, not as charming as Bilal, not as enigmatic as Ishaan, not as athletic as Krish, not as funny as Kabir, not as breathtaking as Ranbir, not as witty as Farhad.

And yet, he’s not as unavailable as the rest of them. Which only makes him that much less desirable. One day, you hope to find your way back to the boy, through your breadcrumb trail of broken hearts that will surely follow this article.

Just make sure that someone else doesn’t get there first.

The Pile On

Eager, simpering and dedicated — the Pile On is the perfect minion for every gang of gay friends — the Gretchen Wiener to your Regina George in this post-millennial Mean Girls world.

He snakes his way to movies scenes, worms his way to lunch soirees, crawls into cocktail plans and squeezes into the booth while the rest of you enjoy burgers at the diner. But that’s the thing about the Pile On — he’ll do anything to be a part of your coveted inner circle — swipe through your Tinder to find you your perfect match (while dissing the Breadcrumb), hate on the same people you do (excluding him), pick you up when you have errands to run (and he’ll run those as well), and sometimes, if you ask politely, he’ll even do your laundry (but no underwear).

Friendship bracelets, memes on WhatsApp groups, invites to house parties and secret codes to speakeasies, the Pile On doesn’t get a lot of things in life.

Including heavy hints not to hang out with your crew.

The Wild Child

The Wild Child is the alpha to your beta, the Yin to your Yang, the ketchup to your fries, the ‘We-should-do-this!’ to your ‘What-will-people-think?’

With the sole purpose in life to make sure you have a great time every night, he eats, sleeps and sometimes, even snorts party invitations till his eyes end up with the same glaze as your breakfast doughnut — but beware, he’s just as nourishing.

The Wild Child channels a ‘more season two, less season six-esque Samantha Jones’ from Sex And The City (not counting the movie and its sequel), but only with tighter clothes and looser morals. When he’s not running to clearance sales for wardrobe checks, he’s bustling over to the STD clinic for health check ups — the Wild Child knows it’s better to be safe than sorry, but he’ll still want to push his limits, just like he pushes his snooze button every morning. The guy counts his minutes in vodka shots, credit card bills and lines of cocaine (that he’ll do while waiting in the lines outside the restroom) and he feels that every moment he’s not ‘raging and having the time of his life’, is a moment wasted (on Instagram.)

Everything said and done, each encounter with our resident renegade is laced with three questions:
Is it spiked?
Is it safe?
Is it a good decision?

As you can tell, the Child (first name, Wild) will most definitely be the poster boy for all the bad decisions of your life — including that one time you threw up the contents of your vodka-lined stomach on your neighbour’s front door.

In broad daylight.
When the door was open.

But he’ll also hold your head and make sure you don’t ruin your Italian loafers while you are at it.

The Dude

The Dude is a straight A douchebag — he makes sexist (and often misogynistic) jokes, generalises all gay men and jocularly tells you not to hit on him, if you as much as tap him on his shoulder in front of other people. Wait, he might not ask you questions like ‘who plays the man and who plays the woman?’ but he’ll still get you a flamingo pink phone case for your birthday.

But then again, he’s still your douchebag.

The Dude and you have a great story of how the two of you met, which you tell everyone (and anyone) over multiple pints of beer at the bar. He calls himself your ‘straight best friend’, your ‘perennial wingman’, your ‘go-to straight bud’ and other such bro-like things — after which you grimace like a depressed clown from the circus. He then guffaws and punches you, while you wince in mock pain. Everyone has fun, and laughs.

It’s a routine you’ve both enjoyed; it’s a routine you’ve both perfected over the years. As you clean up the pints of beer, and wipe off the hypothetical clown makeup, you never understand why you are friends with the Dude.

And then you realise he keeps all the other douchebags away.

The Flake

Word of caution: the Flake is always away — five minutes away, a traffic light away, a meeting away, a weekend away, until he’s not.

And then sometimes, he’s really away.

The Flake ghosts on your gang more often than the hot model that lives 800 metres away, but never replies to any of your texts on Grindr. Only, he’s more appealing and you don’t want to get inside his pants.

It’s not that the Flake doesn’t love you, he does — irrevocably so — it’s just that he loves cancelling plans more. He’s used every excuse in the book to get out of a plan — hemorrhoids, his dog’s funeral, the flu, an important exam, a boring deadline, head lice, a broken kettle, thunderstorms in the other part of town and even his mother’s birthday.

Thrice in the past year.

He’s inconspicuously absent at your birthday party, missing at that weekend trip to the beach three months ago, and nowhere to be found as you challenge your liver to a drink-off every Friday night. He’s the missing piece in the jigsaw puzzle of your friend circle.

But don’t stress — because when you do meet him (and you obviously will) he’ll pretend like nothing happened and pick up right where you left off last time.

And so will you.

The Gay Man’s Clique: Five Friends You Need!

5 friends

Every guy needs friends, and every gay guy?

More so.

As we live our short, but fabulous lives, we collect friends like we collect discount coupons from the newspaper — greedily. You have friends that you unwind with, friend that wind you up, and some friends that even flake out on you like the wind (that would be me).

People come and people go, but some stay till the very end, or till last call, whichever comes first. These are the ones that matter; these are the ones that you make unfulfilled plans to vacation with.

Whether you are an out-and-about social butterfly, or a Netflix-binger of the most asocial kind, start those tabs, guys — because you’ll be doing shots all night with these five friends every other weekend:

The Fag Hag

The Fag Hag is the crown jewel of the crew that the average gay man calls his own — she’s vivacious, brilliant, and woefully brash — but you only cherish her for every bit of it. Your relationship with the Fag Hag is one of extremes — extreme joy and debauchery — which is built on a string of bad exes, internet memes and free shots at the bar.

Have you dissed each other’s exes as you downed glasses of Ciroc? Check.

Made fun of someone you mutually hate over scrolls-worth of WhatsApp conversations? Check.

Proclaimed your undying love for each other every alternate date? Check and check.

The Fag Hag takes your love life seriously, and scrutinises all your romantic prospects down to the last detail, automatically loving or hating them based on 1) what they think of her outfit for the night, and 2) what your future artificially-inseminated kids will look like when they grow up.

The fact that she’ll always be dismissive of your long list of conquests aside, remember one thing, boys. You’ll be a great friend to a lot of people, but for her, you’ll always be her every-day guy. Her 4 am friend. Her little pet. Her therapist. Her punching bag. Her shopping cart. Her grocery list. And occasionally, even her prescription reminder.

It won’t be a problem, because she’ll most certainly be yours as well.

The Diva

The Diva is a strong mix of Kim Kardashian quotes, gin-based cocktails and bottled-up sass that would put the entire cast of Real Housewives Of New Jersey to shame — which means you also need to go through a few bottles of wine to go through a sitting with him.

In his bespoke shirts and Italian loafers, the Diva feels terribly out of place in your motley crew of misfits, and he makes it a point to tell you (repeatedly) so. He has an important-sounding job in an important-sounding organisation — which lets him eat at ‘all the right restaurants’, shop at ‘all the right places’, and date ‘all the right boys’. He’ll tell you all about it over expensive drinks (and repeatedly so), but never introduce you to any of them.

But that’s the thing about the Diva — apart from his raucous jokes, his self-worth and his complete disregard for anyone’s (or more importantly, your) feelings; he’s a really nice guy. Plus, he is friends with ‘all the right people in the world’.

Including you.

The Brozoned Buddy

Hidden behind deleted cookies, incognito windows and emptied caches; the brozoned buddy and you have a history that neither likes to bring up at the dinner table (or the bar). You’ve probably hooked up with him in the past, but decide to stay friends because of two reasons: The sex was bad, but the fallout that followed probably wasn’t.

Now, months later, you bond over your (thankfully) similar taste in alcohol and (fortunately) different taste in men.  You overcompensate your (un)resolved feelings by slurring out compliments to each other every time you hit the bar, because you don’t want to make the mistake of hitting the bed ever again.

Have you ever called him your ‘guuuurlfriend’? Yep.

Is he a ‘Damn! You are a goddess’ kind of boy? Oh yes.

Would he #SLAAAY? Most definitely.

Does that mean you are still attracted to him? Certainly not.

When you are not talking about each other’s boy problems, you are sorting out each other’s boy problems. You still look at each other’s romantic pursuits with mild interest and milder jealously, but support the other wholeheartedly, because that’s what friends do.

References to the past will never be made and if they do ever spring up, they are drowned over vodka shots and bad decisions you’ll probably regret when you wake up the morning after.

Hopefully, separately.

The Husband

Let’s get it straight. The Husband is only here because his wife/girlfriend/lover wants him to ‘try a bit harder and get to know her friends as well’.  You both show a mild interest in each other’s lives because of that one thing you have in common: his significant other. He’ll ask you questions about your boys, you’ll ask him questions about his work, all peppered with ‘hellos!’, ‘how do you do’s’ and ‘it’s been so long’s’.

You finally give up trying to get to know each other because it’s going to be a losing battle — and now, you stick to politely nodding your heads at each other every time you hang out, chuckling over sports jokes that you don’t get, chugging beer that you don’t like.

The Lovebug

We might all be looking for love, but some of us look for love harder than others. The Lovebug is the ditzy lead character from every feel good rom-com — he falls in love so often (every week, if you want to keep a count) — he’s a walking ad for Tinder. All it takes is a gorgeous, Rumi-spouting man to send him a charming hello on Grindr, and he’s already planning out the wedding. Bonus points if it doesn’t include a dick pic.

He’s spoken about so many boys over quarters of cheap rum and soda, you’ve reached a point now where you just nod and smile every time he starts a new story because you’ve no idea who ‘Sam from Santa Cruz’ is.