Don't Ask, Don't Tell

It’s happened to all of us. You wake up in the morning and are completely surprised by whom you see lying next to you. For our generation this idea may have been illustrated by ‘coyote ugly,’ or waking up in bed with someone you find so repulsive you would rather gnaw your own arm off than stay in bed with them another moment. This idea is predicated on the idea that you would only be disappointed to find yourself in bed with someone if they are a stranger, a very unattractive stranger at that. But the gays are not unfamiliar with finding themselves in bed with a random, and whether we want to admit it or not sometimes that stranger is well outside what we’d consider to be attractive.

I’m sure there are plenty of hetero guys and gals that awake one morning to find themselves next to a friend they’ve known for years, or their best friend’s ex-boyfriend, I’d venture to say that for us this is much more prevalent. There are boys in our circles that may appear randomly at parties or bars whose sexual history or connection to our friends, well known to us, precludes them from being a viable option for dating or even a one-night stand. Nevertheless occasionally under a full moon, when the planets align one night, we imbibe too much, or simply make the rash decision to invite one of these ‘untouchables,’ into our bed, or we follow them into theirs.

Though we know it may be wrong to sleep with a guy our friend had his eye on, and taboo to bed the friend or roommate of an ex, it needn’t always result in drama. As humans we are fallible beings, and gays are especially vulnerable to thinking that our options are already frustratingly limited. In a city like New York, where everyone knows and has seemingly slept with everyone, it seems excusable if we slip up here and there. Whether we decide to disclose our indiscretion to the interested parties is a personal matter, generally I’d agree that one roll in a hay doesn’t warrant an invitation to a daytime talk show for a full-blown confession.

I think the problem arises when, like a married or partnered man caught up in an affair, we allow these trysts to continue, unbeknownst to our friends. As guardians of our secrets and occasional moral compasses, it is easy to understand why we would choose to keep them in the dark; but nothing stays hidden for long. And when our shady doings are finally shown the light of day, the true extent of the damage caused is revealed. We face not only the pang of a now absent convenient fuck, or excitement of an illicit affair, but also the destruction of the trust we’d fostered with our crew.

Writing a sex column makes the issue of privacy difficult for me. I never presume for another to tacitly accept my desire for non-disclosure. I have certainly prayed, wished on a shooting star, and been willing to offer my first born to Rumplestiltskin, if a regretted lover would keep the fact that we fucked a secret, but I would be a hypocrite to ask for them to do so. Those that demand their lover hide their transgressions attempts to purloin power in a situation they have little legitimacy to do so. It cheapens their connection, rather than sanctifying it as Holy, their ostensible reason for keeping it secret initially.

I do agree that we are all entitled to our privacy, but not at the whim or wish of another. If our lovers disapprove of our sharing with our friends, then it is his prerogative to find another partner more willing to be discrete. But to forge a connection with someone we know will undermine theirs and our relationship with others is not only foolish and manipulative, but also wrought with immaturity and insecurity.

We all make mistakes and go home with someone we wouldn’t have normally chosen, some more than others, and we are entitled to keeping these a secret if we want, but we have no business asking them to do the same. If the one you’re sleeping with causes momentarily pleasure followed by periods of guilt, then maybe it’s not worth it in the first place. I would keep my arm to exit a one-nighter gracefully, hoping the misguided coyote won’t come back to howl at my window, but I’d rather lose a fuck buddy, than a friend.

Posted originally on homo-neurotic.com on 4/15/09