We’ve all been there. You're standing at the cashier of your local sex shop/smoke shop/bodega with a queue of impatient gays lined up behind you while beads of sweat race down your temple. Paralyzed with the gravity of which poppers to choose, the pressure’s on. With so many poppers to choose from, it can be a daunting decision as to which bottle is right for you. Move over, astrology. A bottle of poppers can say a thousand words. What do your poppers say about you?
Amsterdam
Your friends and colleagues might know you as a strait-laced agreeable gay who is the last person to bring up the most recent time you took a dick to your guts so hard your ancestors felt it. Little do they know you are the first person to leave your hotel door ajar when visiting Puerta Vallarta, Palm Springs, Mykonos, whichever gay slut destination is in season this week. Your Instagram might say "live, laugh, love," but your alt-Twitter says "gag me, breed me, spit down my throat." Live that double life, friend. Live that double life.
Liquid Gold
You're such a total Scorpio, bro. You spend your weekend face down/ass up in a DNA-stained motel room going for the Guinness Book of World Records taking anon load after anon load. Come Sunday you’re nothing more than a nameless gallon of Cosco Brogurt, and you couldn’t be more satisfied, and I support that. That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.
Double Scorpio
You’re not one of those other gays. You’re a cool gay. Whether you’re lounging poolside at the Soho House with your hetero friends or day drinking at the P-Town Tea Dance, you’re holding up a fresh bottle under the noses of literally anyone in arm’s reach. Party on, Wayne. Party on, Garth.
Jungle Juice
You’re in it to win it. Whether it’s a dom daddy with a dong that digs deeper than your therapist does into your father issues or some impromptu head on the dance floor, you are going for that dick with zero hesitation. You’re no stranger to a tear-inducing skull f*cking. I love that journey for you, and anyone who doesn't is a jealous cock-starved self-loathing (and likely self-righteous) Cleveland Browns Mascot look-alike. Pay them trolls no mind and get that dick, homie. You’re a champion.
Rush
You are Troye Sivan. So that's cool.
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