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Gay? Who? and How?
BG's Never-Too-Late Mini-Pride Guide
Call me lame: not only am I pegging this column on New York Gay Pride a week
late, but I also -- shame! -- didn't even go. Truth be told, I was compelled to
take advantage of a rare free day to clean -- and I mean clean -- my
closet. (...an all-day project, as the BG closet is roughly the size of most
Manhattan apartments; Betsy called it The Black Hole.) Come to think of it,
column-theme-wise, I've missed all of Pride month.
Then again, if you think about it, shouldn't Pride last all year long?
Okay, so I'm neither late nor lame; I'm making a point.
But since I can't actually go on and on about everything I missed at the
parade itself -- the Patsy Cline homages, the witty signage, the inevitable
running into that person from college whom you always wondered/had no idea
about -- I will instead rave/chuckle briefly about George Gurley's recent cover
story in the New York
Observer: "What's Your Gay Quotient?"
We've all heard/made that earnest pronouncement about how "we're all on
a sexual continuum...". But Gurley gets [mostly] straight men and women to
get over themselves and, like, do the math. As in:where on that
continuum? How much gay? As in: "Three percent gay," says one male
respondent. "Three percent means that when I was 12 years old, I had a
crush on Phil Blantan for three months, who was this kid in my dorm."
How fun is that!? Oh, how I wish I could invite Gurley & Co. and
you all (and the folks right below) to just chill and talk about this -- and,
uh, come out -- in my nice big clean closet.
In the meantime:
Dear Breakup Girl,
I have a severe problem and I can't figure out why I can't resolve it. I
kind of cheated on my girlfriend but not really. I messed around with a guy
that she knows and now she knows, but she still wants to work things out ...
but something just doesn't feel right. What do you think it is? I feel
partially that I can't trust her, but she said that she still trusts me and it
hurts to know after that that she can still trust me. It feels good to know
that, but something is wrong with me. I don't know what it is. I wish I did,
because it is driving me crazy. Please respond if you can think of
Can't trust whom? Oh, Jer, this isn't about
your sweet understanding girlfriend; it's about you and your Phil Blantan.
That's what freaking you out, I think: the hookup that dare not speak
its name. I mean, you dare not even call it cheating -- which it totally is, by
the way, I don't care whom it's with; but I point that out more in the interest
of interpreting your reaction (um: denial) than condemning your action (which
you're doing fine all by yourself). Looks to me like you're writing your own
emotions over in your girlfriend's thought balloon because they're a little too
much for you to bear. You're wigged either because you didn't know you had
these pro-boy feelings, or because you did. If you are still sincerely
attracted and devoted to your girlfriend, regardless, then chalk it up to
curiosity and experimentation. If there's something you're going to have to
admit or explore further, well hey, good start. Thing to remember is that if
the last person who should be okay with it is okay with it, then you should be
the first person to be okay with it.
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