Curiously, Details promoted a seven-year-old post this weekend about, ahem, strays, and now my newsfeed is full of LULZ and eye rolls.
But what is a stray, exactly? We are fascinated and must know, tell us please without further delay, yes.
Gary’s what I like to call a “stray,” a straight guy who sends out gay signals like he’s shaking a tambourine even as he proclaims himself—and in fact is—100 percent heterosexual. The characteristics that define a stray as such vary widely. Maybe it’s a melodious laugh. Or a fastidious shirt-and-tie combo. Or an effusive signature salutation (“Oh my god! I’m totally psyched to see you!”). But more often the thing about a heterosexual guy that makes everyone assume he’s a homo is almost impossible to pinpoint. He may talk up his love of ladies more than Bret Michaels does, he may have a wife and kids, but people always react the same way: “Really? No, wait—really?”
Look, I enjoy Details magazine as much as the next guy on a layover in the Houston airport whose iPhone battery is down to a dangerous 12 percent and must choose between Flipboard in the United Club or a men’s magazine and Stevie Nicks* in flight. We’ve all been there. But, NO. Bad dog. Stahhhp.
Stray is not a thing. Stray didn’t jump off in 2008 when this article first appeared in the magazine, and it is certainly not due for a comeback. We don’t need this word, and we won’t be using it, thankyouverymuch.
Details, stop trying to make stray happen. It’s not going to happen.
*Actual conversation from the UB editorial office this morning:
KF: What is music that I would not be embarrassed to write that I am listening to?
LR: Oh God. Just say Stevie Nick or Mary J Blige. Or Nick Jonas. Nick Jonas might be a thing.
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