If you ever feel like risking your immortal soul, it is my suggestion that you peruse Craigslist’s casual encounters. The activity is quite enjoyable, especially if you are as demented as me and my close friend and turn the experience into a party game, as it provides the opportunity to see just how twisted the psychosexual realm of this particular, somewhat troubling outlet of the gay population is. You will learn new terminology — Craigslist is like a crash course in gay code — as well as notice a very curious trend about the state of at least 80 percent of the under-24 population who has resorted to posting and posing their lust on the Internet.

People are often shocked when I tell them I’ve hooked up with frat boys. They would probably be more shocked if I listed their actual names. There is a phenomenon in the gay community known as “turning,” in which a homosexual seduces a heterosexual. It’s not an uncommon thing, yet people never fail to be surprised, and often ask me how I do it. The truth is I exploit a weakness in our cultural logic. I exploit sexual fluidity, gender role malleability and our environment’s gluttonous fondness for casual, meaningless sex to expand the hidden desires of the “straight.”

And, of course, I choose my targets well. I don’t (typically) choose the men who I know prefer women and “women only.” I’ve been in the game and was in the closet long enough to recognize people who have flirted with their own sexual confusion. Sure, I’ll occasionally hook up with someone I know will die the husband of some lady. But I would say that for the most part, I’m with someone who could just as easily marry a man and even maybe be happier for it.

And yet, people still think I turn straight guys. So I will say it now: I am only turning closeted bisexuals and closeted gay men. I cannot speak about lesbians and I would rather be silent than wrong. But let us acknowledge this particular phenomenon, and examine the reasons, the means and the tools involved in maintaining the Closet Case.

In 2012 California, one does not expect to be attacked by a governor’s son if they come out as gay. Still that decision often has great consequences. Coming out of the closet involves surrendering the following: claims to what has been culturally instilled in us as the fundamental masculine trait, virtually all available prototypes of ideal relationships, the culturally ideal relationship and what has been framed as a fundamental part of identity — one’s sexual preference.

In shifting from “straight” to “gay,” one sacrifices an unspeakably large amount. For those gay men who prefer the shooting range to Forever 21, this sacrifice can be too great. Our gendered society has coupled the preference to have sex with women with strength, stoicism and the multitude of traits associated with masculinity. The coupling is so strong that I have heard “I don’t care if they’re gay, as long as they aren’t those faggy gays” in my own home, and variations of this sentiment throughout my interactions with “masculine” men.

This implication is of course that being gay carries with it “faggy” traits. Neglecting these traits then is the only way to make your homosexuality palatable to the masculine hierarchs. I’ve known those whose friend groups consist exclusively of hyper-masculine, gym-obsessed men (behavior that is in itself a red flag for sexual conflict), and they would not compromise their entire social standing by coming out. Indeed, even people I know to be accepting of gays are horrified when I casually suggest that maybe the reason their bro doesn’t get with women very often is because he doesn’t actually want to.

But even assuming that someone can define one’s masculinity intrinsically and not by an external code, there is still immeasurable loss involved in the coming out process. Those considering coming out must consciously acknowledge that they will never have access to the picture-perfect, Disney-portrayed relationships that pop culture views as perfect. You will never have nor be the prince and princess according to that cultural narrative. One of the most painful experiences, however, involves realizing that a woman who may already be in your life isn’t the one, despite how gorgeous and down-to-earth she is — no matter how goddamn perfect she may seem.

So instead you face the unknown of constructing a relationship — a balanced, happy relationship — from imagination, trial-and-error and prayer. For masculine gays who are attracted to masculinity, they have no reference. In coming out they must admit to themselves that they cannot use basic relationship models to help them in their life. It’s a frightening revelation.

And because our society is obsessed with sexual orientation classes, this choice is typically irreversible. Once you’ve admitted you’re attracted to men, you are gay or bisexual. My own sister admitted she wouldn’t feel comfortable in a relationship with a bisexual because she’d be insecure about his interests. My sister, for reference, is one of the most compassionate and liberal people I know. The corruption is deep — many do not have the prejudice, but many more do — and our strict system of sexuality forces those who want access to their same-sex desires to take on all the prejudices in their simple choice to be honest.

So that’s the why, and now the how. The casual sex dominant in I.V. and the massive amounts of drug use allow closeted gays to remain hidden indefinitely. I have a fond memory of one of my straight friends talking about how his friend only hooks up with women when he’s “drunk enough” because his standards are so high. Yes, right, your heterosexual friend must get drunk to lower his standards, to make kissing the notoriously gorgeous women of Santa Barbara stomachable. The ones who are closeted can produce convincing illusions because they can simply drug their souls into oblivion and then play the part. After 19 beers, most people would have sex with a curvaceous oak tree, and yet since drunken sex is normalized in I.V. and emotional considerations aren’t even conscious thoughts, the illusion is perfect.

By exploiting sexual fluidity and neglecting emotional desires entirely, the closet cases are in an ideal position to continue positioning themselves above women. And in 10 years, when partying can’t be their whole life anymore, they will have to face the truth and join the legions of late-in-life masculine gay men this country boasts.

But, you know what? Fuck that. I’ve watched enough people suffer at the hands of our society’s weird sexual hang-ups. I’ve had friendships decay, relationships wither and potential flames flicker out because of the poisonous Puritanism injected into the sexual culture of this country hundreds of years ago. Every day, I reflect on the people I’ve known who still struggle to find that inner peace that will let them be as they are. Every day, I wonder if I could have done something different — crafted the right words to uplift the fearful — and become their shelter, and they mine. And every day, I maintain this vague hope that I can do better the next time I meet someone who is so deeply alone.

But I know that I really can’t do anything to help the closet cases. The forces caging them are bigger than me. They are greater than any queer activist group. They are more obvious than Pride parades and more subtle than the difference between being happy and being at peace. Change of the magnitude required for true liberation won’t happen overnight, just like one night with a closet case won’t assuage his inner turmoil.

Straight people: Be allies. Do not pretend to truly understand the challenges of coming out, but know your support can mean the difference between someone finding love in high school, and ripping apart a family in 20 years because Dad finally couldn’t do it anymore.

Open gays: If anything in this article was new to you, please take it into consideration when you frame your activism. The depth of this issue won’t be touched by tactics of glitter bombs and giant floats. Those are necessary for certain issues, but a sledgehammer will not always be able to replace a scalpel.

And to the closet cases: I’m sorry that this is where you are. But by that promised land of equality I hope to see in my lifetime, I hope that you will let yourself be openly loved by that guy who you’ve secretly wanted since the day you found him at freshman orientation.

Views expressed on the Opinion page do not necessarily reflect those of the Daily Nexus. We welcome all submissions; please include name & major and keep columns under 550 words.