There was this guy in my circle of friends, he used to hang out at the bars, get lucky with the ladies every now and then, until one day up and told everybody he was moving in with some older man. He declared himself gay, packed his few material goods, and moved into this swank palace of a place where he still watches all his sports, drinks his beer, doesn't seem to work much, and, yeah, once a week or so he probably doinks this guy in the rectum and calls him by some effeminate version of his real name. I've read enough Anderson Cooper articles to know that being gay isn't a choice. But what I also know is that if you've got to make a choice, choose somebody with a nice fat bank roll who can support your lifestyle. Like Portia de Rossi. Yeah, she has to snarfle Ellen's mannish wet spot on occasion to keep the high life rolling, but check out this new $25 million pad Ellen just bought the pair of them in Montecito. We're all whores, the only question is what do we get in the bargain.