Gay fraternity stories

The deep drawl of this one told me it was Hugh. In the early s, I tried to join a frat at Georgia State University. He stayed quiet and out of their way as long as they kept their shenanigans out of the public eye. No, I won’t say which one.

A frat boy’s “gay experience” I always considered myself straight. Jeffy kept flicking my kneecap, hard. What happened with Tom left me questioning everything about my sexuality. We rode in silence for a long time. I spent those warm September days in constant fear, never sure when someone might strike.

A car door opened and I was thrown inside. I prayed that my junk stayed put. I only knew we were outside when I could hear the chirping of crickets and felt the thick Atlanta heat sweep over me. I knew what was happening.

I felt two hands lift me under the arms gay I was swung out of the car. Especially Jews. Whoever had their hand over my fraternity grunted a reply and I was carried out of my dorm in total darkness. I tasted the sweaty cloth of the pillowcase. He is also a board member of the Gay and Lesbian Athletics Foundation.

That’s not the point of this story. What’s more, I hope telling my story might also open the minds of people who think it’s impossible for a gay guy to thrive in a fraternity. I heard more car doors slam shut and then the engine roared to life.

My hazing was upon me. While I was simply looking for a place to belong and a brotherhood to share my life with, I’m confident that my participation in this fraternity changed and opened some minds. Someone obeyed him and I was lifted out of bed.

I heard rumors they made one guy drink a beer mug full of piss. His biography, The David Kopay Story, written with Perry Deane Young, became a best-seller. Hugh, a lanky blonde majoring in Psychology oh ironystepped up to the plate and no one batted an eye.

Kept mentioning how they were gonna get me good, saving the best for last. In the early s, I tried to join a frat at Georgia State University. Everyone knows that. They strung me along most of the week. Hugh seemed to be driving; I could hear him occasionally whisper something to someone in the passenger seat.

My roommate's frat parties became gaybro heaven and his brothers were those self-confident kind of straight guys that have no issues seriously blurring the lines between gay and straight. Two brothers filed in on either side of me, boxing me in. It was the whole reason I tried to join up: I wanted to fit in.

I knew better than to bolt or fight back; this was part of it. This is the worst outcome I could have expected from being hazed by a fraternity. It sounded like Jeffy. It was the story before pledges get initiated – popularly known as “Hell Week” – and I was nervous.

And Hell Week was… well, it was exactly what it sounded like.