boys who dress like girls who dress like boys

dear marc,

i was standing in line at the bank to deposit some funds (so that check i wrote to my mom doesn’t bounce my account into overdraftville), when something happened to me that hasn’t happened since…last week?  if it were a short film about mistaken identity and the malaise of being poor and 25, the screenplay would read like this:

INT. BANK—EARLY AFTERNOON

MATT stands in line behind OLD LADY, who is talking to BANKTELLER.  he is disheveled, but the kind of disheveled that says, “i’m too knowledgeable about fashion to care what i look like right now.  or ever.”

OLD LADY AT THE COUNTER

blah blah blah my son’s girlfriend didn’t even send me a thank-you note for the gifts blah blah blah.

BANKTELLER

the NERVE.  let me just take care of her and then i’ll let you finish talk at me.

matt roles his eyes and trudges up to the counter.  the transaction is awkward.

FADE TO BLACK

did you see that?  the bankteller said HER.  let me just take care of HER.   normally i would make a giant deal out of the whole thing, but I’ve finally realized that i will forever be a “her” in some peoples’ eyes. i can’t help that I naturally dress like mary-kate olsen and that I’m CURSED with these pouting lips and long lashes.  i also can’t change the fact that girls dress in boys clothes all the time, so now anyone on the street in a long button-up flannel and skinny jeans could be Vanessa Hudgens or whatever piece of jailbait is cool these days. anyway, i know i’m a boy, my friends know i’m a boy (i think), and that’s all that really matters, i guess.

so for every boy that’s been mistakenly called “miss,” “her,” or “that chick with the glasses,” i salute you.  to every guy that’s been dancing with his friend when he suddenly feels someone grinding on his assbone and turns around to discover that it’s a lipstick lesbo who thinks you could be the Ellen to her Portia, i say, pop the booty.  don’t feel bad for liking your shirts long and your pants skintight.  boys who dress like girls who dress like boys are PEOPLE, too.

dance on, my brothers.  dance on.

Spread the love, marc.

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