Friday, October 15, 2010
Having Sex with Straight Blokes
I've had my share of sex with straight blokes. What's interesting (because it throws so much light on the way men, straight or gay, think about sex and intimacy) is that they mostly had no hangups at all about the sex. Most wouldn't reciprocate -- I'd suck them off or let them fuck me, and I had to bring myself to orgasm afterwards -- but, once they'd agreed to sex, they always enjoyed it. So far as I could tell. Groaning oh fuck that's good is a sort of hint.
The difficulty they all had (apart from the obligatory I'm not a homo you know, or I'm not gay or I have a girlfriend) wasn't with the sex. It was with the cuddle after sex. I was looking for affection, I was looking for love (not in love) I wanted hugs and kisses. The sex was nice, but not essential. They were to a man profoundly uncomfortable with this. I realised why so many women go on at men: they need the affection which men are brought up (or is it innate?) not to show and perhaps not even to feel. When their bloke forgets their birthday or their anniversary it proves what they deep down suspected: he doesn't really love them. I did a post about the different perceptions of gay and straight men of gay-straight friendships which was also the very first post to this blog, way back in 2006. I guess you might say that it's a bit of an idée fixe with me.
Straight men can be as bitchy and cruel as any gay man -- after they've had their sex. When I lived in shared house, I was forever fielding phone calls from Trisha or Charlotte or Patty asking for Bruce or Jimmy or Kevin. When told who was on the line, the men would shake their heads emphatically and urge me to say they were out, in hospital or had emigrated. This was a day or two after I'd heard the bed squeaking fit to bust when Trisha or Charlotte or Patty came home from the pub with one of the blokes. I hate lying. I can't lie. So it was always awkward. It was no different, though, to the way my tricks would treat me. It was obviously a male thing and I was equally obviously the odd man out. My experiences were that I could get sex anywhere, as often as I liked. But I couldn't get affection from men, straight or gay.
In recent years, that's changed. Maybe I'm getting to know a better kind of bloke. Maybe as I and my mates get older, the hormonal fires are dying down. In some ways, over the last few years (though not often) I have had some intimate moments with straight guys, and have been given emotional support when I needed it. It's touched me and moved me when that's happened. When my son was very ill and I was beside myself with worry, three friends (who are straight and know I'm not) spontaneously hugged me close. Nice.
I'm going to write a novel based on my experiences in shared houses with straight guys. I will use things that happened to me or which I observed in different houses, and use my author's prerogative to bring them all together to make a story, about three straight guys and one gay gay and how they all end up having their minds (and their arseholes) broadened (to paraphrase George Melly in his book Rum, Bum and Concertina*) I'm sure there are guys out there who will never feel even the slightest attraction to another guy, and there are some who will never feel that for a woman, but there are far more than I ever realised in the middle. The hardest thing for so many of them is not to be fond of another man (they can do that) or to fuck another man (they can do that too) but to combine both. My story will explore that paradox.
By the way, I'm writing up a storm: for the first time in three years I'm really enjoying my writing. I'll talk about that later.
*from the British Navy saying: ashore, it's wine women and song; at sea, rum, bum and concertina.