The Secret Life of the American Gaymer
April 5, 2018
My name’s Winston. For the most part, my life is totally normal. I have a family that I actively ignore, a rash that I’m too embarrassed to tell my doctor about and then there’s my friends. We do everything friends do: we drink way too much goat blood while gorging on Tide pods. So, I’m just like you. Except I have one huge ass secret… Nobody knows I’m a gaymer.
I first came out as a gaymer when I was sixteen years old. My family was initially very surprised because I had played flag football in second grade and never brought any cute boys to the local arcade. What they didn’t know was that the Gameboy they got me for Christmas wasn’t actually a calculator, but rather the gateway drug that would change my life forever. I spent many gay nights saving Princess Peach, defeating King Dedede and catching Pokémon (my favorites were an Onix named “Elton Jonix” and a Jigglypuff named “Fuck You I’m Moving to San Francisco”).
My parents said that they accepted me for my life choices but suggested that I keep it a secret from the kids at school. No one could know that I gaymed. For years I told my fellow gays that I couldn’t join the drama club because I had to attend baking classes after school. In actuality, I was going home and pretending to be a girl on RuneScape to get free stuff from other players. But what was I supposed to do? Tell the truth? Well, after 21 long years of hiding, I’m ready to do just that. My name’s Winston, and I’m a gaymer.