Fifty Shades of Gay
If you were an alien from some outer galaxy monitoring American life, you’d think that everyone entered a voting booth at age twelve and a half and yanked a lever marked “sexual orientation.” But those of us who are gay, and I think a hell of a lot of enlightened heteros out there, recognize that sexuality (a) is inborn, genetic, either repressed or enhanced by environment; and (b) is often, because of where and how we are raised, not black and white but myriad shades of gray.
I once had a boss who hired me, a gal, and another guy, all of us gay. He was supposedly, as they stay, straight as an arrow, with the stereotypical suburban life, kids, grandkids. Sometimes the three of us would get together to try to figure Eric out. Did he rightly reckon that gay professionals are more reliable and tend to work harder because we have less personal commitments to deal with (like mothers-in-laws and taking kids to soccer practice)? Or was he attracted to us because he had a splash of gay blood in him? Who knows?
The point I’m trying to make here is that sexuality, including homosexuality, is as open to interpretation as color swatches at Home Depot. You’ve got guys, regular guys, beefy guys, who rap one another on the ass after a sweaty football game, homoerotic as hell, then go home and fuck their wives or girl friends silly, maybe because they got turned on on the field? Then there’s the same guy type, maybe he’s a coach or a truck driver, with a male life partner or some fuck buddy who mirrors his under-spoken masculinity, and they very discreetly, or maybe not so discreetly, fuck the shit out of one another every chance they get. You’ve got openly effeminate men, many in the professions, who are as straight as a flagpole with seven kids to prove it and not a homo urge in their loins, and cross-dressers who have ten inch dongs and fuck bi-married men.
Wednesday: Shades of Gay – Why I don’t believe the “Community” BS