“There needs to be, like, a professional athlete that comes out. And a movie star! It’s time…Like John Travolta? Come out! Come on. How many masseurs have to come forward? Let’s do this.”
First of all, it’s none of Rashida’s business when it comes to John Travolta making the decision to come out or not. Do I think he’s gay? Well, yes. Does Rashida? Apparently. Does the rest of the world? More than likely. However, I don’t know where there’s anything written down in the Gay Creed about “coming out” being an integral part of the homosexual experience. You know, some people are very private about who they date, what kind of person they like, how their relationships turn out … why should gay people be any different? Why is it mandatory that people “come out” if they don’t choose to? If I had a particular type, say, 6′ tall, dark hair, stubble-faced, and blue eyes, do I need to go around wearing a signboard that says so? Should I go ’round making public statements to the tune of, “Yes, my type, ladies and gentlemen, is tall, dark, and handsome?” No, because that would just be stupid. People would be all like, “Oh, OK, wow. That’s news right there, now, isn’t it?” Dumb.
I’m not a Travolta-lover by any means, because if the masseur-assaulting has any bit of truth to it, that’s just messed up, but I don’t think—at all—that someone should be forced or coaxed to come out if they don’t feel the innate need. Come on.
Go back to ironically dating Jake Gyllenhaal or whatever, Rashida, because unless you actually start doing something interesting, we’re probably not going to talk about you again for some time, OK, girl? Will that be alright with you?