Iused to hate fraternities. As a closeted queer man , I didn’t feel particularly safe or welcomed at frat houses. Then, of course, there was the issue of—I’m not sure how to put this delicately—me wanting to lick their abs. Only I didn’t admit that I wanted to lick their abs. That latent desire existed right below the threshold of consciousness.

It definitely didn’t help that frat bros were always working out shirtless, grabbing each other’s asses, or engaging in other homoerotic behaviors (that have now become a staple of my porn viewing). That added a somewhat confusing element to my burgeoning sexuality and ambivalence toward hot frat boys.

All of which is to say, I typically avoided frat houses like the plague. Brothers often threw around homophobic slurs like hotcakes and any de

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