Confessions of a gay recruiter – yeah, it’s a satire piece

25 Mar

I never planned to grow up to be a gay recruiter when I was little. I didn’t even know it was a career option, my guidance counselor in high school never mentioned it as a possibility. I never saw it offered when I was in college either, there just isn’t a Gay Recruiter 101 course. I didn’t even find the job on the web or in newspaper. I simply became a gay recruiter because it is my mission. I never realized this until i reached my thirties, but by then it made sense.That was when I joined the Gay Recruiter Coalition, or GRC.

I wake up and begin my day by kneeling in front of a life sized photo of K.D. Lang and revel that anyone could be so gay! If only I could be that gay my mission would be much easier I often think. Sadly, I’m just a run of the mill homo, nothing flashy or spectacular, just a queer. I bathe, and then shower to rinse off the bathwater because everyone knows how we are about being clean. I drink my tea and get myself all butched up for the day sporting my wrist cuff, man wallet, black leather studded belt, and just to be clear about things my rainbow hued tee-shirt that says “Gay Recruiter.” With that done I put too much product in my hair, and toss on some Birkenstocks, whichever ones match the cut-off camouflage shorts I have adorned.

I feed the cat, hang the big rainbow flag from the porch, and grab an armload of literature to help my cause. If passing out literature to get recruits works for the religious, why not us? I hop in my pickup truck with is covered with various stickers decrying the perverse nature of heterosexuality, unfold my map, and target a new area to work in. Along the way there I do usually stop for a coffee, even gay people like coffee now and then, and try my hardest not to get sick when I see those straight people hlding hands…hugging…kissing… Do they not know how disturbing that is?

After purging those visions from eyes and declaring myself safe to drive I head out with Melissa Ethridge or Joan Jett blaring from my truck. Finally I reach my target neighborhood, usually somewhere upscale because we only want to recruit new gays with tons of disposable income. The reasoning is that recruited gays can then hook up with slightly less financially well off pure gays and balance everything out. I park at the end of whatever road I plan to start on and literature in hand make my way to my first house.

After ringing the doorbell I usually get a little rush anticipating my first encounter of the day. the good word? Gay is okay! We have many openings available and we think you would be a great fit for at least one of them!”

Usually the men are a little skeptical. Sometimes they confuse me with a Jehovah’s Witness and try to run me off their property. I’m pretty sure that’s what it is at least, after all, why wouldn’t someone want to be gay and flattered that we want them too? Sometimes it works out that they will listen for awhile, take my literature, and not set the attack dogs on me. That is always pleasant. When a woman answers the door it usually goes a bit better.

Although I’m not terribly proud of it, I have on far too many occasions demonstrated how great being gay is in a physical sense for those lonely ladies who have sent their husbands to work already. There is a reason I wait to start recruiting until 9am. I don’t always want to physically recruit these women, but I do it for the good of the movement, we always need more fresh bodies and votes so we can further our agenda of ruining family values and morality. Plus to be honest, I get a kick out of knowing I am the smile on a lonely housewife’s face her husband will never understand.

After ruing a dozen or so marriages I usually call it a day. Staying hydrated is always a problem, and you can only lay hands on so many people in a day to cure their ills before you need to recharge those batteries. Of course the best way to recharge those batteries is by hanging around in busy public places with other gay recruiters shoving literature in the hands of people that don’t want it and telling them they are sick. Heterosexual people really do need to hear that and know we are only saying it because we care. These mob recruiting tactics we use seem to be popular, people are always staring at us so it must work.

Finally we usually head to a straight bar because it is a great money saver. Straight single men are easy targets to buy us drinks and dinners. All we have to do is kiss our girlfriend and smile at them and the next thing you know we are set for the night. We pretend we’ll make their fantasy come true, but we never do. We just try to get them inebriated enough to slide into the back seat of a car with a gay drag queen maybe or a transsexual so we can ease them into the gay lifestyle. Sure they complain the next day or pretend it never happened, but they keep coming back. In reflection it is almost too easy.

Hopefully with more gay recruiters going door to door and working the clubs we can turn the country gay one county at a time. It’s sometimes a thankless job, but to help so many confused people really makes you feel warm inside. Not all gay recruiters have it so good, and we officially don’t condone the ones that turn to straight bashing, but to each their own so long as the ends justify the means.

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