Gayest Person Ever? Author Joel Derfner wants the title

"I would cover it in glitter," Joel Derfner exclaims as he examines a hot-pink hard-shell suitcase in the Sanrio store in Times Square. "Well, I'd probably want to cover it in glitter, but I'm too lazy. I'd totally use it, though. But probably not in Egypt." It's not too hard to picture Derfner, with his rainbow-bead necklace, tan sweater, and nervous gestures, dragging the girly piece of luggage behind him. Derfner is, after all, the author of Swish: My Quest to Become the Gayest Person Ever (Broadway Books, May 2008), a memoir in which he recounts his adventures in knitting, cheerleading, musical theater (of course), GLBT summer camp, and step aerobics. Oh, and casual sex—lots of it. The book includes a soap opera–worthy interlude in which Derfner's boyfriend finds his blog, the formerly anonymous Search for Love in Manhattan, and confronts him about his secret screwing. Their drama, however, has a happy ending: Derfner was forgiven, and the pair, who've been together for five years, recently got engaged.

A native of a Charleston, South Carolina, suburb, Derfner hated New York when he first visited, but now the Crown Heights resident says the city's laissez-faire attitude toward sexuality is one of its great appeals. One of his favorite gay Gotham locales is the Church of St. Mary the Virgin, where he sang while learning to knit, and whose congregation "has historically been composed almost exclusively of men who know the difference between beige and taupe." That's just one of the oddly charming tidbits Derfner—who is Jewish—reveals in Swish. The book is peppered with more than a bit of religion along with the campiness its title suggests.

Of all the stereotypes he mockingly (and sometimes seriously) grapples with, one is by far the gayest: step aerobics. "It's the sissiest thing you can do. Getting fucked in the ass is less sissy than doing step aerobics," declares Derfner, who laments that not enough attendees of the classes he still teaches appreciate the camp factor. "It's so ridiculous; you're dancing around a plastic platform and Britney Spears or Donna Summer is playing. Most people just come to exercise and it can be kind of grim." In person, it's hard to think of Derfner as ever being grim, even though his cheerleading chapter devolves into a traumatic tale of OCD and depression. As he chomps McDonald's fries and chicken tenders, shaking slightly while he talks, Derfner seems fragile but upbeat as he insists we leave the $1,450 Hello Kitty necklaces and giant dolls behind and check out nearby Cold Stone Creamery, where we continue chatting over oozing cups of ice cream and candy.

Despite his book's provocative title, Derfner in fact doesn't necessarily want to be the poster boy for the gays, or at least, he doesn't have the stamina. "I basically don't have a social life. It's really sad. I don't go to bars, I don't go to parties, I don't like events. I'm too old to stay up that late; I've never gotten home at five. I like going to the movies and eating at cheap chain restaurants." So, while his shyness may mean that he'll have to concede the gay throne to Ryan Seacrest (hold your lawsuits—it's just the name he mentions when asked who could possibly succeed him), Derfner isn't too upset. More than being the gayest, Derfner is obsessed with people liking him.

When a man shoves cash into his underwear, he's no longer the boy who was "asked to leave the floor during the fast skate at the roller rink at Randy Cohen's tenth birthday party," but a horny, sweaty man who is desired by other horny, sweaty men. In many ways, the book is about his search for acceptance, often of the physical variety (even though he's in a relationship, he can't help giving the fish eye to any guy taking away his crushes). A typical Derfnerism: "I just wanted to reinvent myself again, but with anal sex instead of Snickers."

His main concern about the book is that it dates him. "I'm worried that so many of the references are specific to my pop culture chronology. Like Jennifer Grey's old nose; I know what that means, but I can imagine some 18-year-old kid having no idea what the fuck I'm talking about."

Once there are socialites drunk and barfing in bars and chairing benefits the next day, that's just gay, whether anybody involved is actually homosexual or notSome of the rejected ideas on Derfner's quest were doing drag (a day at Miss Vera's Finishing School for Boys Who Want to Be Girls cured him of that), becoming a fireman (he's too old), infiltrating a conservative politician's campaign à la Dan Savage, and joining the mile high club (well, working as a flight attendant). When he found out he'd have to leave New York for at least six weeks of training, that option was out. But when his editor pressed him for something more "subversive" than joining Cheer New York, he decided to attend the 30th annual Freedom Conference put on by ex-gay organization Exodus International, where he encounters men who hit on him, and, stranger still, Anne Heche's mom.

This chapter, the final one in the book, is the one he feels has changed him the most, and in ways you might not expect. "It showed me that the run-of-the-mill evangelist Christian is actually really nice and altruistic. Not the leaders of the Religious Right. The guy or girl next door, though, they really want us not to burn in hell. In their opinion, laws that make it easier to be gay make it easier for Satan to take our souls and so they don't want that to happen. From their perspective, they're trying to do something good. It's compassionate." These are surprising words to hear from someone who has staked his public career on his homosexuality.

Yet he hasn't become fully enamored of their beliefs; namely, that one can simply will away one's homosexuality. "I think it's immutable. To try to get rid of these feelings, it's like saying, 'I'm gonna grow two inches, and then I'll be happy. I'll just try really hard and pray and Jesus will let me grow two inches.' They think of it differently, but they're wrong."

Derner is grateful to live in a time when gay authors such as Augusten Burroughs, David Rakoff, and David Sedaris can find mainstream success. "That wouldn't have happened in the '80s," he says. Derfner contends that we're living in a time when gayness is inherent in pop culture, making his quest perhaps that much more challenging. "Once there are socialites drunk and barfing in bars and chairing benefits the next day, that's just gay, whether anybody involved is actually homosexual or not. Like on Desperate Housewives, you have a woman in a ball gown mowing her lawn in secret at night. That's gay."