For the most part, only gay “men” can appreciate the value of kitsch. That’s why finding a straight one who does is like finding a penis at a Sam Smith concert (damn near impossible). Or finding a penis in Taylor Swift’s bed. You get the drift: I like to make dick references. It’s difficult to discern why the straight male brain has so little room to understand the importance and hilarity of camp. Maybe his mind is too preoccupied with other dickless endeavors like watching the Super Bowl or making money (a “man” should just have money, not be obsessed with getting his hands on it).

Bucket hats and judgmental faces: what’s not to understand?

Whatever the reason for a “man’s” lack of understanding of pop culture and humor that’s, shall we say, clinquant, it can really detract from a relationship–particularly when a “man” is overly literal. How is a woman supposed to be with someone who doesn’t see the importance in watching a Glitter/Crossroads double feature? While Williamsburg “men” are gay bitches in so many ways, they aren’t in the one way that counts: comprehending the irony of the garish.