Marcus probably doesn't know much about Lady Gaga. He doesn't use herbal scrub. He has never been to a Broadway musical. He likely only wears deodorant for special occasions. He's not afraid to rearrange his junk in public if it gets out of line. He probably has burped more than once in mixed company. He may have shut down a few bars in his day. He was likely being a bad boy when he got that bloodshot eye, perhaps in a fistfight.
He's my kind of man. I love manly men. They're the sort who always tempt me the most. I don't know Marcus's sexual orientation -- he could be a straight bloke just picking up a few bucks posing for gay porn. Or he could be a gay stud who is into being a regular Joe masculine man.
My boyfriend is that way, and I'd like to think I'm pretty much that way, too. I do wear deodorant nearly every day, but I only shave my face twice a week. I've been to a lumberyard more than a few times but never to an opera. I don't own any designer clothes. I usually can fix my car if it breaks down, and I'm pretty handy with power tools around the house. If a rat or a scorpion or a snake gets inside somehow, I won't have a stroke.
The great thing about being gay is that you can be absolutely who you are, because it's not about having secrets or acting a way that isn't true to your heart. I don't know if Marcus is gay, but if he is, I'll bet he'd agree with me. Gay men come in all shapes, sizes, and varieties, just like straight men do.
This topic came to mind because one of my boyfriend's female coworkers was overheard lamenting about how his being gay "was such a waste" and how "he didn't seem at all gay." She's fairly new to the employer and seemingly was trying to make a play for him, not realizing she was barking up the proverbial wrong tree. He's all mine, madam, and he's all man and absolutely nothing about him is going to waste, you can be certain of that.