Not so long ago Bill and I caught up with a good friend of ours. He has moved to another city with his boyfriend and we don’t see one another all that much anymore. I knew he has been experiencing some depression and so a little way into the meal I drifted off to do some window-shopping and left he and Bill to talk. Surprisingly, for someone so pathetic at maintaining friendships, Bill is actually a pretty solid friend and someone you can bear your soul to when required. Afterwards I asked Bill if he and our friend had had a chance to talk properly, because I’m interfering, and Bill was vague, the way straight men can be about anything serious and emotional. It is just that I think our friend could do with a bit of ‘man to man’ I said, and Bill rolled his eyes and said if anyone was getting enough ‘man time’ it was our friend. But I think I am on to something, for Bill and our friend, I think it is different having a friendship with someone who shares your gender but who is entirely separate to your sexual sphere, don’t you?
My straight boyfriend and I say things like “I love you” to each other. It’s serious. But in a no homo/go homo way, you know? It’s 2011, so I hope we’ve all realized that straight men are not the enemy – stupidity is. Meet my straight boyfriend D, who is: wicked smart, handsome, queer friendly, a good poet (his day job is publishing, since I know “poet” means about as much as “tooth fairy” to most of you) and well, my straight boyfriend. Clearly I have high standards. Look at all those adjectives.
So what exactly does a contemporary relationship between a gay man and a straight man look like? I don’t know. This is a love affair and it looks like this. Every day we email and text back and forth about who we’re sleeping with, how we’re sleeping with them, and if we should continue to do so (in his case it’s just one girl in Paris who he’s in love with). We email poems to one another (this is less gay than it sounds since we’re both poets, which is more gay than it sounds), we have event nights, non-event nights, and date nights where we get together for really expensive drinks we can’t afford and remix Chrissie Hynde with Camus and (oh my god) our feelings.
I found this wonderful essay, “Why I Love My Straight Boyfriend” by Alex Dimitrov via the very interesting Modus Dopens. Go read, it has so many wonderful points in it and who doesn’t love the story of a friendship?
And here’s the thing. I want to put this word out there right now because it’s like when James Franco makes a movie. We all hate it but we’re interested. Metrosexual. D is not Metro (but together we do go to that fag bar in Brooklyn sometimes). He’s not Metro because I’m saying he’s not. Metrosexual is some irrelevant term that erases politics, sexuality, and creative autonomy. It positions gay and straight men in a false cultural give and take. Straight men are not indebted to us for showing them what kind of jeans to wear and get laid in, okay? And gay men aren’t some flimsy accessories that can only participate in a dominant straight culture by throwing glitter everywhere and giving makeovers. That’s dumb. And a real elementary way of understanding one another.
As always, great post. Thanks for the link.
–IP
This is a great post. My husband’s best friend J is gay and I really dislike the stereotyping that goes along with our cultural conceptions of what it means to be straight and have a “gay friend.” J was the best man at our wedding and he and his partner are a central part of our life.
It irks me that our conservative relatives can’t understand that, and consistently approach J as an accessory, or treat his sexuality as a novelty. My husband identifies as straight, but he plays soccer in a queer-friendly league because he wants to play soccer with his best friend. This routinely blows the minds of our relatives–so frustrating. Why shouldn’t my husband play sports with his best friend?
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