Look out straight women. Heterosexual men are starting to figure out something you have known for a very, very long time. Having a gay best friend is awesome. And they are coming to steal your man.
I have a small collection of straight boyfriends. These men kiss me, in public, every time I see them. They will hold my hand across a dinner table when we are having an intimate conversation. They will cuddle with me when watching a movie. And when they say goodbye, they also say, "I love you." These men are completely unafraid of, and even enjoy, the physical and emotional affection that comes with being close to a gay man. And it blows my mind.
Straight women have had, and bragged about, their gay best friend for decades. The ability to have a close and intimate relationship with a man, absent of sexual undertones, has been something many a heterosexual woman has enjoyed with her gay-male friends. But a new generation of straight boys, comfortable in their sexuality and raised in a time where gay is fast becoming normal, are jumping on this gay BFF train and loving it.
The thing is . . . boys do not grow up. The popularity of video games for adults and the never-ending obsession with sports is proof that men want to live, at least part of our lives, like boys. And when we were young, we had different kinds of friendships. Sleepovers and sharing a tent and wrestling and late-night secret swapping - these friendships and this intimacy of childhood living, before sexuality, are a mode of interaction toward which we men secretly (or not so secretly) desire to return. We want to go back to a time when we could play with our friends. A new crop of straight men have discovered that they can play with the boys - if those boys are gay men.
Not so long ago, I would have been gossiping with my gaggle of gays about the closeted state of these men. We would have joked about their latent homosexuality and fantasized about the day they finally came out. Under this gossiping, often, was a deep and hidden hope that said straight guy would fall in love with a man. With me. But now, I have (and many gay men have echoed this change in their relationships) some very intimate, physical, and affectionate relationships with straight men who, I know, will never swing the bat for my team. They are heterosexual men who want to be as intimate with us as possible, and our possible arousal is barely a thought beyond the flattery that it implies.
This change is astounding. It is different. It is new. And it is beautiful.
On a personal level, coming out in decades past meant there was a definitive and uncrossable chasm between myself and my straight counterparts. There were many unspoken rules about physical contact and acceptable conversation topics (gay sex was completely off-limits) that kept a cold and lonely distance between he and I. But now, these boys want to touch me. They want to hear about my sexual escapades and talk about theirs. They want to love me and know that I love them, too.
On a larger scale, this is astoundingly important. It signifies a societal shift in the perception and value of gay men. We are moving away from tolerance, past acceptance, and into being . . . people. Our value to others is beginning to lie in the quality of our friendships rather than the novelty of our lifestyle. In the past, being gay created a division. In the present, it is becoming an asset.
This shift is also a bit dangerous. A straight man, by nature, cannot fall in love with me, but I can fall in love with him. With this new mode of interaction between us and them (as us and them becomes less and less), we need to be careful. As gay men, we have learned the painful lesson many, many times about how to fall in love and evolve those feelings into "just" friendship. We have done it with our gay friends, sometimes after sex. We have done it with straight men about whom we convinced ourselves they possessed a latent and denied homosexuality, often after a drunken misreading of signals resulting in an awkward mistake. But now we have to do it with the beautiful straight guys who are, literally, kissing our lips. I, for one, am more than willing to take that risk because the rewards are astounding and the change is magnificent.
As gay marriage sweeps across America, state by state, and the upcoming Supreme Court decision looms with hope and fear in the coming year, we cannot help but know that things are changing. Our rights are being recognized, slowly, and this is a massive shift from my early gay days. But somehow, lately, the smaller seems the larger. The tiny intimate moments when a straight friend tells me he loves me indicates a shift in perception much larger than a nationwide court decision. It is important and astounding that the laws of the land are moving toward equality, but it is epic and revolutionary and gorgeous when my value, both in spite of and including my homosexuality, is recognized by a single person.
So look out straight girls. They have figured it out. I am the best best-friend a guy or girl could have. He is going to fight you for me, and he might win.
I have a small collection of straight boyfriends. These men kiss me, in public, every time I see them. They will hold my hand across a dinner table when we are having an intimate conversation. They will cuddle with me when watching a movie. And when they say goodbye, they also say, "I love you." These men are completely unafraid of, and even enjoy, the physical and emotional affection that comes with being close to a gay man. And it blows my mind.
Straight women have had, and bragged about, their gay best friend for decades. The ability to have a close and intimate relationship with a man, absent of sexual undertones, has been something many a heterosexual woman has enjoyed with her gay-male friends. But a new generation of straight boys, comfortable in their sexuality and raised in a time where gay is fast becoming normal, are jumping on this gay BFF train and loving it.
The thing is . . . boys do not grow up. The popularity of video games for adults and the never-ending obsession with sports is proof that men want to live, at least part of our lives, like boys. And when we were young, we had different kinds of friendships. Sleepovers and sharing a tent and wrestling and late-night secret swapping - these friendships and this intimacy of childhood living, before sexuality, are a mode of interaction toward which we men secretly (or not so secretly) desire to return. We want to go back to a time when we could play with our friends. A new crop of straight men have discovered that they can play with the boys - if those boys are gay men.
Not so long ago, I would have been gossiping with my gaggle of gays about the closeted state of these men. We would have joked about their latent homosexuality and fantasized about the day they finally came out. Under this gossiping, often, was a deep and hidden hope that said straight guy would fall in love with a man. With me. But now, I have (and many gay men have echoed this change in their relationships) some very intimate, physical, and affectionate relationships with straight men who, I know, will never swing the bat for my team. They are heterosexual men who want to be as intimate with us as possible, and our possible arousal is barely a thought beyond the flattery that it implies.
This change is astounding. It is different. It is new. And it is beautiful.
On a personal level, coming out in decades past meant there was a definitive and uncrossable chasm between myself and my straight counterparts. There were many unspoken rules about physical contact and acceptable conversation topics (gay sex was completely off-limits) that kept a cold and lonely distance between he and I. But now, these boys want to touch me. They want to hear about my sexual escapades and talk about theirs. They want to love me and know that I love them, too.
On a larger scale, this is astoundingly important. It signifies a societal shift in the perception and value of gay men. We are moving away from tolerance, past acceptance, and into being . . . people. Our value to others is beginning to lie in the quality of our friendships rather than the novelty of our lifestyle. In the past, being gay created a division. In the present, it is becoming an asset.
This shift is also a bit dangerous. A straight man, by nature, cannot fall in love with me, but I can fall in love with him. With this new mode of interaction between us and them (as us and them becomes less and less), we need to be careful. As gay men, we have learned the painful lesson many, many times about how to fall in love and evolve those feelings into "just" friendship. We have done it with our gay friends, sometimes after sex. We have done it with straight men about whom we convinced ourselves they possessed a latent and denied homosexuality, often after a drunken misreading of signals resulting in an awkward mistake. But now we have to do it with the beautiful straight guys who are, literally, kissing our lips. I, for one, am more than willing to take that risk because the rewards are astounding and the change is magnificent.
As gay marriage sweeps across America, state by state, and the upcoming Supreme Court decision looms with hope and fear in the coming year, we cannot help but know that things are changing. Our rights are being recognized, slowly, and this is a massive shift from my early gay days. But somehow, lately, the smaller seems the larger. The tiny intimate moments when a straight friend tells me he loves me indicates a shift in perception much larger than a nationwide court decision. It is important and astounding that the laws of the land are moving toward equality, but it is epic and revolutionary and gorgeous when my value, both in spite of and including my homosexuality, is recognized by a single person.
So look out straight girls. They have figured it out. I am the best best-friend a guy or girl could have. He is going to fight you for me, and he might win.