No, I don’t have a fetish for hobos.
With that out of the way…
You’ve heard the term “metrosexual.” You probably have a few of them in your life. You know the type. Urbanite, yuppie, well-dressed, well-groomed, keeps the economy going with outrageous spending on brand name items. Might give off a misleading gay vibe.
Well, now there’s “hobosexual.”
And that’s me: I couldn’t care less about my appearance.
That’s not to say if you see me on the sidewalk you’ll cross the street to get away from me. I shower daily (twice if I work out that day), keep my hair neat, and my clothes are clean. But I don’t have a single hair product in my home and I only wear enough makeup to keep from scaring strangers. My favorite outfit: jeans, a tank top, a hoodie, and sneakers. For work, I swap the jeans out for cords or slacks that don’t have to be dry cleaned. (My mom still doesn’t know why I’m not fired from the Clark Kent job. I tell her it’s because I was hired for my brains and not my looks.)
And everyone’s favorite hobosexual: