Curiosity Made The Gay Boy Really Uncomfortable: Part I
May 5, 2009, 5:53 AM
Filed under: Bi-curiosity, Binge Drinking, Sex

A college boy can be summed up in a few words and a few words only: beer, women, sports, more beer, and if at all possible, more women.  They chant, they screech, they throw things, butt heads like rams, arm wrestle, and “get pumped up” until they’re a goddamn Goodyear blimp.  This is, of course, a stereotype.  A specific one, actually.  One I have dubbed “The Doobra.”  Pronounced “doo-braaahh” (with strong emphasis on the ‘ahh’, although I’m sure you already knew that), this creature counts for about 85% of all male college students.  They are generally really attractive with horrible personalities.  They travel in packs of three to ten, and are usually the reason you wake up at night to a loud crashing noise outside your bedroom window.

So what about the other 15%?  Well, they love to drink as well, of course.  But the rest can be summed up as artistic, socially apathetic (which can be confused with artistic, but they have no actual talent), stoners (nearly the same as socially apathetic), and…my personal favorite…the confused.

We’re all confused in one way or another.  Some are confused about their social identity and wonder where they belong on the stereotype spectrum.  Others wonder about their place in life and if they’ve chosen the right path for themselves.  And then there’s the sexually confused.  The people who see a penis and a vagina on a menu, and have to consult the waiter to see which is more palatable.  The men and women of the world who have a desire to explore another body of their own kind, even if it’s just once, to see if what all the hype was about.

And me?  I’m here to help.

Beginner’s Luck

I had never, quote “popped a straight cherry”,  in my life until one fateful night at a random party in Shorewood.  In fact, even though I thought straight men were usually more attractive than gay men, I could never have the courage to make a pass at one, for fear of humiliation and wedgies.  But after that night, I decided it was much easier than it looked.

My friend Andrea and I had begun the night like we did most Friday nights: Fleischmann’s.  For the most part, I was surveying the party grounds and being a wallflower, sipping my drink casually while Andrea chatted.  Eventually, one of the guys playing beer pong in the living room caught my eye.  He was shorter than me, with blonde curly hair that poked out of his hat, a goofy smile that he wore adorably, and powerful green eyes.  I soon learned his name was Nate.  Nate.  Straight.  Straight Nate.  ‘Oh great,’ I thought, ‘Go figure.  The only guy I find attractive here is a muff diver, as usual.’

All hope was not yet lost, however.  Drinking has this wonderful ability to make you so uninhibited, that you actually regret saying things the minute they come out of your mouth.  In contrast, it also gives you the power say things you probably never would have said while you were sober.  And for me, at least, at the time, this was a good thing.  I had opened my sloppy, drunk mouth to one of the other girls at the party about Nate.  She beamed, “That’s so cute!”

I frowned.  ‘That’s so cute’ is not an answer.  ‘That’s so cute’ tells me nothing.  I decided to take the matter into my own hands.  I saw Nate sitting casually on the futon, so I casually sat down next to him to strike up conversation.  I believe the first words out of my mouth were, “I really like this song.”  Apparently, that was enough for him.  He stared hard at me for a second.  The next thing I know, we were making out on the futon at the party.  I’ll let your imagination run free as to what else happened that evening, but I’ll throw some random details in to help the process along: bathroom sink, creaky futon, pancakes in the morning.

We saw each other for about a month after that.  Nate was wonderful to me.  He was attentive, caring, and very good at the “extra-curriculars” as well.  He knew how to handle me when I was being unreasonable, and how to make me even happier when I was feeling great.  So what happened?  Another one.  A different one.  A much, much more confusing one.

Love and Real Estate

If I had to use one word to describe the relationship between Ian and I, it would be this: ridiculous.

Ian is, in a sense, perfect.  He’s smart, sophisticated, sexy, stylish, and a whole lot of other ‘s’ words.  He’s passionate and powerful and…well, you get the idea.  The one thing he’s not?  Gay.

I met Ian after my break up with Dave.  And when I say “after”, I mean almost immediately after.  In fact, as awful as this sounds, I was seeing Ian while I was still in the process of moving out of Dave’s apartment and finding my own.  In retrospect?  A horrible thing to do.  But worth it?  Abso-fucking-lutely.

When Ian and I would meet, it would be strictly for sex.  He would always tell me how hot I was and how he only wanted to fuck me.  There’s only a certain amount of crap I can believe after someone’s had one too many gin and tonics, but it’s nice to hear, just the same.  We were rendez-vousing almost weekly for about three months, and then the visits became more sparing.  Eventually by December of 2007, we were almost completely out of contact.

In February, I saw him again.  We had sex, but afterwards, I discussed a possibly relationship with him.  He laughed, “You know how hot you are?”  He answered a question with a question.  Wonderful.  I smirked, “Yes, but I never tire of hearing it.”  I kissed him, and then changed course, “I just think that maybe it would be something to try out.  I think we have really good chemistry, and you aren’t seeing any girls right now…so why not?”

He sighed heavily, “Chris, look…I don’t have time for a relationship.  You know I would if I could but…I just can’t.  I really hope you understand.”  It sounded like I was being let go from a job rather than a relationship, but that’s exactly what happened.  After that, Ian went on hiatus for another month.

During this month, I was seeing Nate.  While Nate was a welcome distraction from my feelings for Ian, I had to end it with Nate BECAUSE of my feelings for Ian.  After I broke up with him, I called Erin immediately and told her everything.  “Wow…it sounds like you’re problems are just getting worse and worse…all these boys all over you.  Whatever will you do?”  I told her I’d call her when her PMS forecast wasn’t calling for so much sarcasm.

The next day, I did the last thing you should do to a random straight guy you’ve been sleeping with for almost a year.  I called him and told him I thought I was in love with him.  Ian, the slippery devil, knew exactly what to say to me, which made him sound incredibly insincere.  Still, overall, he said he had still wanted to see me.  Just not right now.  I hung up and sat on my front steps.  I had lost the magic, and I was worried it was never coming back.