How to stop being self-conscious about being g@y?
Dude! Isn't it obvious? Just provoke every single person, object and abstract concept in the entire universe into becoming even gayer than you.
Here's what you do. First, you know those abhorrent Pray The Gay Away programmes championed by assorted squeamish religious nutjobs? Yeah. Those. Sign up to them. The whole lot. All at once.
The idea is not to actually comply with these programmes in good faith. That would be laughable. Goodness no. See, these things are operated by lunatics. They foam at the mouth to orchestrate a worldwide cleanse of the homoghey, as I believe today's wokesters phrase it. They're not exactly operating from a headspace of diligent reasoning. They thrash and squirm at the teensiest glimpse of their fabulous bugbear. They're nuts.
Your goal is to harness their headless lunacy. Provoke them. Really rile them up. Get super-DUPER-gay on their sweet sweet candy-asses. After signing up to each's Programme, inform every last one of them that you just love what they've done with their priest outfits, and you simply can't handle being apart. And it's entirely friggin' obvious to all concerned, you tell them, that their Praying The Gay Away makes each of them sprout a raging, frothing hatred-boner you can spy from friggin' space. That makes them incredibly happy, and that makes you incredibly happy. So bring on the Praying, baby. First thing Tuesday.
Great, done. A frothing, shambling horde of heinous preachers now stampedes from around the globe in your direction. All going to plan. Now, while you're waiting for them, amplify your personality to eleven.
You'll need to fashion yourself into one of those friggin' earsplitting hyper-extrovert social tornadoes. One of those pricks that sucks the social air out of even the raddest and magnificent-est par-tay through sheer force of abrasive personality. Someone who leaves your audience emotionally pulverised within seconds, and thus pliant putty for some fragrant and gnarly personality imprinting.
How? Easy peasy. Inhale five cubic metres of Colombian Riverdance powder, then publicly challenge Alex Jones and BRIAN BLESSED to a three-way shouty shoutfest. Loser gets bummed. You three will be at it for yonks. You'll transform into the loudest and most charismatic object in the universe and in fine fettle to transmit your formerly bog-standard individual poofness into the faces of billions, like a magnificent halogen spotlight against a succession of wanker jellyfish.
By now, your heinous preacher horde should have assembled like dickhead Avengers. Time to put your plans into action. Ever jammed your thumb onto a garden hose? Its water pressure goes haywire. Its squirt range triples. It's awesome.
Your hyper-extrovert-powered Gay is a Garden Hose. The heinous preacher horde is a Thumb. Let 'er rip, baby.
You may now commence your fabulous homoghey provocations. At everyone and everything. Your relatively heterosexual surroundings just can't not comply. The Gay blasts from you, radiates from you, flees from you, squirted to hyper-focused precision by the surrounding Heinous-Preacher-Thumb. You're becoming the bastard offspring of Pepe Le Pew and Robocop. You're raising the gayness of entire continents. You're a one-man MAN machine.
Finally, relent in your social-super-nova-ness. At long last, allow the Heinous-Preacher-Thumb to stroke its ruined ego a smidgeon, and allow its frazzled members to genuinely squelch your own gayness. Persist in their rotten handiworks until random townsfolk start accusing you of being unconscionably straight. Trust me, girlfriend, I've been on both sides of that fence.
You are now the least gay object in the entire universe. It is therefore physically impossible to be self-conscious about being gay. Problem solved, baby π