Date #40: Straight Up

I know, who doesn't love a good Paula Abdul reference?

I was really hoping to avoid the issue of "straight-acting" gay guys, since I feel it's pretty much been done to death.

After reading Ragan Fox's poem about "straight-acting" guys, I decided that I was no longer going to refer to myself or anyone else using that term.

(It was a semi-"Richard Pryor comes back from Africa and won't use the 'N' word anymore" kind of thing.)

Of course, I realize that while it's possible to change the world--

--It's almost impossible to change gay men.

So I figured there was no point in dedicating a whole entry to the problem of gay men using the term "straight-acting" and since I hadn't experienced that particular problem up until this current date, the issue was never even pressing.

But now--it's pressing.

When you go out on a second date with a closet case, certain things can be expected:

1) Having to duck down in the passenger seat because he thinks he might have passed his mother's Focus.

2) Eating at a buffet style restaurant because neither one of you knows anyone tacky enough to actually go to one of those places--ergo, the risk of being seen is incredibly low.

3) You're going to be asked to "tone it down."

ME: Did you seriously just tell me to 'tone it down?'

After a lovely buffet style meal, Shawn and I headed to the mall where I--of course--had to make a pit stop at Borders to see if they had the new Alice Munro book.

(Yeah, whatever, I know I'm a nerd.)

Of course, I ended up in front of the showtunes section, and when I saw they had Pipe Dream (a rare musicalization of John Steinbeck's Cannery Row) I practically squealed.

PREFACE: I would not say that I'm a "loud" person. I can be exciteable, yes. Enthusiastic, you bet. And at times, when I'm pissed, I'm even bitchy with a twist of cut somebody. I am not, however, "loud." This has nothing to do with me not wanting people to know I'm gay, by the way. I just don't like drawing attention to myself in any way, for any reason, and especially not by being one of those annoying people who look like they never stopped caring about whether or not Hanson was better than the Spice Girls.

Yet, there I was, holding an almost-impossible-to-find copy of a never-heard-of-by-most-people Broadway musical, and being a tad loud.

Shawn was noticeably uncomfortable.

SHAWN: Kevin, just chill out a little.
ME: I'm sorry. I know I must seem a little crazy right now, but we're talking obscure Rodgers and Hammerstein's here.
SHAWN: Okay, that's great, but that guy over there is staring at us.
ME: He's probably hoping I drop it so he can come in and snatch it away from me.
SHAWN: Are you serious?
ME: Shawn, this is a big deal for me. It combines two of my favorite things: The work of John Steinbeck plus the music of Rammerstein.
SHAWN: You gave Rodgers and Hammerstein's a nickname?

This is the point in the date where I realize that I'm the crazy one who needs to be blogged about so that people can make fun of me, and I chill out a little bit. But as we were walking out of the store, Shawn said:

SHAWN: Look, I don't want this to be a big thing, but when we're hanging out, can you try to be a little more "straight-acting?"

This is where bitchy-don't-get-cut comes into play.

ME: Did you just actually use the term "straight-acting?"
SHAWN: Come on, Kevin--
ME: Because apparently I'm Priscilla Queen of the Desert, right?
SHAWN: I didn't say that.
ME: You know, instead of getting on my case about how I act, why don't you thank me for putting up with having to duck behind cars in parking lots and not saying anything while you're talking on the phone because someone might want to know why a boy is in the car with you.
SHAWN: Kevin--
ME: By the way, if someone's concerned just because there's a boy in the car with you, they may be trying to tell you something.
SHAWN: Look, you knew what you were getting into here.
ME: You're right, except now I don't think I'm into it anymore.

With that, I started walking back towards the parking lot, and I didn't check to see if he was following me until we had both gotten to the car.

ME: Then I drove him home and that was that.

I was over Turner and Brian's watching television and eating microwave popcorn.

BRIAN: What an ass.
TURNER: Really though, Kev, it's just a term.
BRIAN: It's a fucked-up term. Don't try perverting his mind just because you're dating the brother of said ass.
TURNER: It's excusable to want to be discreet.
ME: Did you ever think that the only people who are ever discreet are people who are hiding things and that someone whose good at being discreet may also be good at things like lying, cheating--
TURNER: Where is this going?
ME: I don't know. I'm too pissed to argue coherently.
BRIAN: All I know is, I'm going to act how I want to act and if any guy has a problem with that, then he can kiss my glittered, tight-pants wearing, Bette-loving, Joan Crawford-imitating, Will and Grace quoting--
ME: --Showtune loving--
TURNER: --Limp wristed--
BRIAN: --Sports hating, confrontational, I'm-here-I'm-queer-get-used-to-it--ass.

Whooping ensued--in which even Turner was involved.

BRIAN: Great now I feel like Whitney in Waiting to Exhale.
TURNER: Aren't we kind of discriminating though ourselves?
ME: Against who?
TURNER: Against guys who are just generally straight-acting?
BRIAN: I'm sorry, but find me a guy who doesn't like Trick and I'll show you a man who needs to reconsider his homosexuality.
TURNER: You make it sound like we're all flaming queens. We would probably all be considered 'straight-acting.'
ME: Consider yourself whatever you want, Turner. I consider myself gay. Just gay.

Brian held up a glass of soda.

BRIAN: Here's to just gay.

And we toasted...like true men do.

Later on that night, Shawn called me to apologize for getting me so angry. I didn't exactly let him off the hook, but I told him that dating a closet case probably just wasn't for me. I did, howeer, let him know that should he ever decide to come out of the closet, or should I ever decide to take up the accordion, I'd give him a call.

Whichever comes first.

FRIEND: The boy needs to have sex in a public restroom. That'll cure his fear of getting found out and open him up to the glorious world of exhibitionism.
ME: Perhaps. More likely, he just needs time.
FRIEND: Now did you ask him if he spells 'straight-acting' with an '8'?
ME: I didn't bother.
FRIEND: I have to admit, I do love a masculine boy.
ME: At this point in this little challenge, I'm just shooting for 'nice.'
FRIEND: Honey, nice you can pick up at a bar on Tuesday--you should be shooting for hot.
ME: Let me rephrase. As long as someone's comfortable with who they are, I'll be comfortable with them as well.
FRIEND: Aww, look at my little public service announcement. So you aren't going to tell me to stop queening out in the movie theater every time the Dreamgirls trailer comes on?
ME: Please, I still need an oxygen tank every time they show that thing.

So as we go into the forties, that is my goal.

Find someone comfortable in who they are.

Oh, and comfortable with me as well.