“This is my gay friend Ryan — he’s fabulous!”

“This is my friend Ryan! Don’t worry, he’s gay!”

My entire life I’ve found it easier to be friends with girls as opposed to guys. As I grew up and realized how my sexuality affected how people not on the LGBTQ+ spectrum treated me, having a friend who identified as straight who supported me (regardless of whether I knew why or not) felt and still feels beyond amazing. I was able to safely express myself sans fear of judgment, for the most part at least.

Men within the patriarchal society we live in marginalize women, and gay men offer women the companionship they seek from those who identify as male. Gay men (and all members of the LGBTQ+ community) are marginalized mostly by straight people, and women who support gay men offer a kind of companionship from people on the other side of the spectrum. There is nothing inherently wrong with this relationship between gay men and straight women, but there are many issues with the stereotype of the “gay best friend.”

Tagging me as your GBF paints me as one-dimensional.

I chose to come out to a select group of close friends spring semester of my freshman year. Each interaction was met with overwhelming love and support, which I am forever grateful for. The first words out of many of my friends’ mouths included “finally,” “I always knew,” and “well duh!” These responses were followed with “now we can go shopping/clubbing/get manis and pedis” together.

Though I personally do love a good shopping trip to Easton Town Center when I’m visiting family and friends back in Columbus, Ohio, my entire existence is not destined to be an accessory to a chick-flick montage. I know that every single one of these conversations weren’t meant to hurt me, and at the time I was just happy to have positive responses to coming out, but as the pattern of being someone’s GBF continued, I realized that, at some level, my friends were viewing my coming out as a benefit to themselves. Accepting of my sexuality had very little to do with placing myself into tropes that may or may not have proven true with my identity, yet I found myself being influenced to fulfill this predetermined role. Though my sexuality is a part of my identity, it is not my entire identity. Every day I strive to live my life as Ryan who happens to be gay, not gay Ryan. Though I cannot speak for every member of the LGBTQ+ community, I urge people to consider that not every gay man is a carbon copy of one another.

Introducing all gay men as “the gay friend” puts pressure on all gay men to be something they’re not.

Not every gay man is perfectly in shape, nor do they know every detail about musical theater, fashion, and interior design. Not every straight man knows every detail about sports, cars, nor do they have the utmost appreciation for roughhousing and violence. Gay men come in all shapes, sizes, races, and creeds, and hail from very diverse backgrounds. The LGBTQ+ community at large is full of people with diverse personalities and interests. The term “gay best friend” diminishes all of these diversities by completely disregarding our differences and shoves us into one sequined, Lady Gaga-loving box.

There is nothing wrong with straight women and gay men enjoying similar interests. There is nothing wrong with gay men and straight women being friends. There is something wrong with straight women seeking companionship with a gay man under the presumptions that we are all the same flamboyant, fabulous person. I urge everyone to eliminate the term “gay best friend” from their vernacular. Next time you're introducing a friend who happens to identify somewhere on the LGBTQ+ spectrum to someone else, introduce them without tagging their sexuality in their title. We’re not trinkets, prizes to show off, nor your personal shoppers. We are normal people, with personalities as colorful and varied as the rainbow itself.