Okay. I was totally tolerant of gay men before it became “Will and Grace” fashionable. I grew up in a dirt poor working class family. The enemy was the poncing Middle Classes and the Upper Class Tory fuckers. Everyone else except murderers were tolerated. Even the local burglar in my street was tolerated and not stitched up to the police… because he didn’t steal or burgle anyone locally… it was all posh people on the other side of the railways tracks. I grew up very tolerant and progressive… in a family of eight (only two females) I had to clean house, do dishes, cook and help. It was a numbers game – not “Feminism” or being a “New Man”. It was about being a member of the family, helping and growing up right.
Twenty something years later I am at University. Sharing a flat (American=apartment) with an Uber-Gay Homosexualist. I thought he was great fun, hilarious and like me… he kept the flat beautifully, cooked well, bought milk, bread and was a pleasure to live with. I wasn’t threatened by his queerness, I was happily mashing my pork sword up the lobster-trap bifurcation of a sweet English girl at the time (and she was loving it). Eventually the sweet English Rose’s attentions wandered (being a Middle Class English chick she went for a guy with money).
But no worries…Over the course of that year I managed to slide my Kidney Nudger up the fizzing fish-vents of three women who were pals/ friends of my gay flatmate. Women loved him (he was fabulously sociable, fun, colourful and extravagent). Those very horny women were like sweet spacecraft attracted to a pleasant planet, I simply formed a suitably robust meaty mooring-post and pleasant landing place for their seafoody downward-thrusters to dock upon. And boy did they love it. It was a good year. Gay guys arent a threat… they are lures… bait for the fish trapper… I shall use a fly-fishing analogy here… they are the Greenwell’s Glory, the Kate MacClarens, the Dawl Bachs which a keen fresh fisherman and fish-vent lover can use to fluff, then drag in the prize fish.
My flatmate never once offered to suck me off. I never attempted to bugger him. We were both clear, happy and enjoyed the arrangement. Happy, straight guys never really have any problem with gays… it is unhappy confused-about-their-sexuality freaks who have problems with Gay Men. Men who are comfortable in their own sexuality, their own skin have no problem with gay men at all. They might not choose to socialise with them, share a flat with them or even be friends with them, but in a dog-eats-dog world who wants to start a dog-fight anyway?
I sometimes wonder what happened to my old flatmate… “Indeed, I often wonder where Norman is now. Probably wintering with his mother in Guildford. A cat, rain, Vim under the sink… But old now, there is no true beauty without decay”