As a child, I never planned to grow up to become a gay recruiter. Hell, I didn't even know it was an option; my high school guidance counselor never mentioned this career possibility. Despite my efforts earlier in the year, I was also unsuccessful in finding a Gay Recruitment 101 course at the local college I attend. Disappointed but unphased, I decided to embrace this profession anyhow... and soon it all seemed to make sense. This is precisely why I have recently become a proud member of the GRC - the Gay Recruiter Coalition.
After stumbling out of bed at approximately 6 am every morning, my day begins by humbly kneeling in front of a life-size photo of K.D. Lang, revelling that anyone could be that gay! If only I could aspire to that level of gayness... oftentimes, I think that this would make my mission much easier. Nevertheless, I am just your run-of-the-mill homo, nothing flashy or spectacular to behold. I bathe and then shower to rinse off the bathwater - everyone knows how particular we are about being clean, after all. After a few quick sips of tea it's essential to 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 Make Your Yuletide Gay t-shirt. This is followed by the finishing touches of putting entirely too much product in my hair and tossing on whichever Birkenstocks match the cut-off camouflage shorts I have adorned.
Lastly, I find myself feeding the animals, hanging my huge rainbow flag from the porch, and grabbing an armload of literature to help my cause. Passing out literature to innocent bystanders has worked wonders for various religious groups; it's high time we implemented this strategy ourselves. Hopping into my pick-up truck covered in stickers decrying the perverse nature of heterosexuality, I unfold my map and target a new area. En route to the target I do usually stop for coffee as well (I mean, hey, even us gay folk like coffee now and then) and give my best effort at avoiding sickness when I see those straight people holding hands... hugging... kissing... do they not know how disturbing that is?!
After purging those horrid visions from my eyes, now declared safe to drive, I head out with Melissa Etheridge or Joan Jett blaring out of my windows and soon arrive at the target neighborhood. These neighborhoods usually tend to be more upscale in nature; obviously, we only want to recruit new gays with tons of disposable income. The reasoning for this lies in that these recruited gays can then hook up with slightly less financially well-off "pure" gays, thereby serving to balance everything out. Parked at whatever road I plan to start on, literature in hand, I step out of the truck and make my way up to the first house.
With the first little ring of the doorbell comes a little rush of excitement anticipating my first encounter of the day.
"Have you heard the good word? Gay is okay! We currently have many openings available, and we think you would be a great fit for at least one of them!" The men tend to be somewhat skeptical, perhaps confusing me with a Jehovah's Witness and running me off of their property. At least I'm pretty sure that's what's going on... I mean, why wouldn't someone want to receive the flattery of being invited into the world of the gays? Other times it works out that they will listen for a time, accept my literature, and resist setting the attack dogs on me (which, you know, is always pleasant).
When a woman answers the door, things invariably go a bit better. Honestly... there is a reason I don't start recruiting until 9 am. I find it unethical to physically recruit these women, but some would argue that it's only for the good of the movement; we always need more fresh bodies and votes so we can further our agenda of fuining family values and morality. And, in the interest of full disclosure, I get a kick out of knowing that I am the smile on a lonely housewife's face her husband will never understand.
After ruining a dozen or so marriages, I figure I can call it a day. Staying hydrated is always a problem, and you can only cure so many straight ills before your batteries must be recharged. Of course, the best way to recharge them is by hanging around in a busy public venue with fellow gay recruiters, shoving literature in the hands of people that don't want it and telling them they are sick. It is imperative that heterosexual people hear this and know that we are only saying it because we care. These mob recruiting tactics we employ seem to be popular; people are always staring at us, so it must work.
Finally, we often venture to a straight bar for its great money-saving qualities. Straight single men always seem to be easy targets to buy us drinks and dinners. All we have to do is kiss each other, smile, and the next thing you know... we're set for the night! Yeah, yeah, we pretend to make their fantasies come true, but we never do. We simply get them inebriated enough to slide into the backseat of a car with a gay drag queen so we can ease them into the homo lifestyle. Sure, they may complain the next day or deny it ever happened, but they keep coming back. It's just too easy.
I've learned a lot about grassroot efforts in the past few years. My hope is that with an increasing number of gay recruiters going door-to-door and working the clubs, we can turn this country gay one county at a time. Admittedly, it's somewhat of a thankless job, but to help so many confused people really makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Not all gay recruiters are as blessed, and officially the GRC does not condone resorting to "straight bashing"... but, you know. As long as the ends justify the means.
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