Actually, I'm Straight

But I'm Flattered

My first time in a gay bar was by accident. I ended up there with some friends. We were just looking for a bar, a place to eat, a place to rest. Maybe we didn’t understand the language; it was overseas. We were guys and gals, and we wouldn’t have even known it was a gay bar until a bartender said so.

My second time in a gay bar was also by accident. What I didn’t know was that my good friends took me there to be nice. To help me find my people. And support me among the gay community that was allegedly mine.

Wait, what, please repeat? I’m straight.

My boys made sure I felt their love and support as they judged me, made assumptions about me, kept their distance from me, but were kind enough to give me one day.

‘You knew we were going to Claude’s.’

I knew the name of nothing in the city. None of us did. We were there for The New Teacher Project (TNTP). We were all strangers. They were mainly Spanish, science, and math teachers. I was one of two from the special education cohort.

‘But Tom invited you.’

Tom was the site director. Great guy. I never knew or asked about his preferences.

‘Yeah, okay?’

‘Tom is gay.’

‘Oh? Okay?’

‘Clearly he knew you were gay, too.’

‘Is Tom still here?’

He wasn’t.

Cut to a few days later.

I asked Tom if he thought I was gay. I told him the story. He laughed hysterically and said that was a cute question, but my heterosexuality was blatant. He asked why I didn’t know he was gay.

‘You’re Tom. You’re nice. You helped set up the program that brought us to this city. You’re so helpful. Why would I make an uneducated guess?’

He laughed and said sure you didn’t. He made a joke about gaydar.

‘Come on, do you really think I would make a guess? Gaydar? Is that one of those apps on those new phones that go on the internet?’

‘Actually, no. I don’t think you would. But straight men can be really banal. Don’t take it wrong that they did that.’

‘What’s the right way?’

‘Really, the way gay men are viewed these days compared to static straight men? Take it as a compliment.”

Back to the gay bar, second time, by accident. 

The funnier twist: it wasn’t just my boys. It was mixed company, with ladies too, Only they knew I was straight. They didn’t know it was a setup for me. I had definitely made myself known to two, Kay and Clara.

Kay came from behind, grabbed me tightly in a public bar, where everyone could see.

‘Oh, we are that kind of friendly. That’s cool.’

She told me to take my shirt off.

‘Ummmm…’

‘Take it off!’

I grabbed my shirt playfully and then did nothing. I said I needed shots for that.

Kay then grabbed me again playfully but then pulled my shirt off. I was as shocked as anyone. I looked around at smiles and laughs. Could I get angry? Was I supposed to play along? Was this being chosen? Sigh. I think I froze.

Clara yelled at me that it was socially unacceptable. She was the other special education teacher there.

‘Clara, did you not just see what happened, or is this a con? Are you two both playing me?’

The rest of the group yelled, too.

‘She has a boyfriend, dog.’

‘You can’t do that; it’s not cool.’

Did nobody else see?

‘I’m sorry everyone, did I take any of your clothing off? No? And I’m out of line?’

Silence.

I didn’t even try to understand, I just laughed and grabbed my shirt back. At that moment, I decided I would be more obviously flirty. Take off my shirt and tease me? Only a blind person doesn’t see the sign. Kidding. My blind friends would have seen it.

Only my flirting made them uncomfortable? What? So, taking my shirt off is acceptable, but presenting myself more interested and less detached after isn’t?

‘Dog, leave her alone.’

‘Yo, I just smiled and leaned in. Do you see me taking her shirt off?’

‘Bro, not cool.’

‘I agree. It’s cold here.’

At the end, my good boys left, said you can do your thing now.

‘Cool. What’s my thing?’

‘It’s cool, we get it, go ahead, we’re out.’

That wasn’t a helpful answer.

I wanted to know why I wasn’t invited to the next bar.

‘We get it, bud, and we accept it. You’re good.’

Accept what? What’s good? Why can’t I come with you?

‘Because…. You can take anyone home with you….’

‘Wait, didn’t you get mad when she took off my shirt? I crossed a line by flirting?’

I was getting upset. This was before the word gaslighting was in the common lexicon.

‘That was not cool, bud, but also funny.’

Huh?

‘Bro, they all want you.’

Record scratched.

I turned around and noticed the dance floor. It was nearly all men, up close and tight. Making out. Getting physical. Escalating.

Oh. Okay. When did that start? Where did all the ladies go? Where’s Kay? Where’s Clara? We’re so cool now. I can go and say hi. I can even take Kay’s shirt off. That’s our inside joke, I guess.

One gentleman approached me, then pointed at himself, then me. I smiled. Genuinely. I felt flattered. Is this what it’s like to be picked? I hadn’t had that before. Bad Romance was a little loud, so I whispered in his ear that I’m straight, but it really meant the world that he wanted me.

I had a tear. He gave me a sweet hug. Nothing weird about it. I hugged him back.

‘Bro, it’s cool, we’ll leave you now.’

‘Hey, I’m straight. Why are you making judgments?’

‘No, friend, it’s cool. We accept you as you are.’

‘If I were gay, I’d be so so so gay, and I wouldn’t care if you accepted it.’

Silence.

You could hear a cotton ball drop over “Like a Prayer.”

One of my guys walked out.

Another said come on, let’s check this other bar. He tried to make nice. But we weren’t cool anymore. He even winged me at the next bar. “Coached” me to get the bartender’s number. I thanked him for being such an ally.

I wasn’t even feeling it with the bartender. She was great, but I was upset. I texted her that she was really cool, but I’m in a weird place. She deserved contact after giving her number. It’s awful when you put yourself out there, and nobody catches you.

I wondered what people who really are gay feel like. I wondered what people the ‘wrong’ race, religion, gender, ethnicity, country of origin, stance… I wondered if I now had just a taste to appreciate what some see on an hourly basis.

One of my first friends in the new city was gay, call him Andy. I knew it. I didn’t care. We got pizza. Went to movies. Drank beer. Watched football. Had cookouts.

When Andy was sick, I saw him in the hospital.

Why would people make assumptions?

Was that it? Is that why I was gay? Andy was in the ESOL cohort. Was there something else? I later saw these guys hanging with Andy I wondered if they thought each other were gay now, too. Or was it just me?

I later asked Andy if he thought I was gay. He said he had a minute of uncertainty, but then it was clear I was a nice straight guy. I took that as a compliment.

I later told the special education cohort. The four guys in the cohort were angry. Why would someone do that? The women laughed uncomfortably. A few said they clearly don’t know me. One said I was nice, and some people think nice is gay.

My next time in a gay bar was not by accident. I went with Andy, Tom, and their partners. I owned the fact that I confused dim, straight men. My shirt was an old cityscape. A few fellas got a little handy pointing out the buildings that were gone and still there. A little touchy on my chest. One told them to back off, I was clearly straight.

I took it to mean they were telling me I was worth touching. I said I’ve been through much worse than getting my chest touched. The laughs stopped.

I then told them how this group from TNTP thought I was gay, and I was confused about what I gave off. They laughed. They said who knows with insecure straight men. The way I was with the women in the bar made it clear I was straight.

But If I changed my mind, I always had a place.

So, call me gay. I’m flattered. The gay people I’ve known are nice.

Make your assumptions and judgments.

The gay communities I’ve seen are next level kind and compassionate, and they left the door open for a straight guy other straight guys didn’t get.

I’d rather be perceived as gay than perceived as another insecure or banal straight dude.