Please, Please Don't Talk to Me!

If you're closeted, partially out (e.g. not at work), or have a rainbow shirt for each day of the week, there's gotta be someone you simply do not want to run into when you're away from the anonymity of the gayborhood, and instead, smack dab in the middle of Straightland. 

It could be a one-night stand.  Perhaps it's that boy you flirted with on the Internet while you had a boyfriend.  Maybe it's just that annoying guy who bugs you while you're drinking coffee and reading the Sunday paper at your favorite coffee shop. 

If possible, you'll probably avoid this person.  But what if you're at a lunch meeting with clients or at a birthday dinner for your sister, and it's too inconvenient to leave?  Or what if you're just walking down the street on a warm Saturday afternoon. . . if he sees you, you know you're stuck.  When he walks towards you, what do you do?  Do you greet him like you would anyone else, with a big smile and a firm handshake?  Are you standoffish and unwelcoming?  Or do you completely blow him off? 

Regardless of how you react, if you don't treat him kindly, it's possible that you'll regret it down the road.  But when, if ever, will you change your ways?  Will you ever get to that point in personal development where you are fully comfortable with yourself and with everyone you stumble into?

Just last night at the gym, I was in the midst of my typical Tuesday workout - biceps and shoulders. 

I was absorbed in a set of curls almost too heavy for me to keep good form, so I didn't notice when a man sat down on the bench to my right. 

"Matt?"  A high voice with a slight lisp belts out.

My eyes are still focused on my arms, but I awaken from my concentration and think, Shit!

The gym is very conservative.  I'm not "out" there, mainly because there's no reason to be, but partially because I have coworkers who go there, and partially because I love it that the young, straight, college gym rats bullshit with me everyday. 

I set my dumbbells on the ground and slowly raise my eyes, discreetly scanning the room for any coworkers or frat boys.

Phew!  Safe! 

But my heart still races at a thoroughbred's pace.

A full five seconds after he said my name, I look at him, and have absolutely no idea how he knows me.

"Hi," I say quietly.

"How's it going?" 

"O.k., thanks."  I want to say, I'm sorry, but I'm a complete ass who doesn't want to talk to you.

"I'm sorry, but how do I know you again?"

"I met you on Saturday," he says as he juggles a pair of ten pound weights, "I'm Tom's friend." 

Oh, that's right.  I'd only spoken with him for a few seconds Saturday night.

"Oh, yeah."

In the mirror, I see two coworkers walk into the weight room.  They're coming in my direction.

Shit!  Shit!  Shit! 

Despite my recent exertion, the blood drains from my face.  To my embarrassment, the mirror reflects my ghastly profile. 

"It's Richard," he lisps.

My mind is racing. 

They're coming.

It's only been about thirty seconds, not enough time to really recover before my next set, but I grab the weights and dive into a third set of grueling hammer curls. 

They're really close now.

One of the coworkers gives me that straight-guy nod via the mirror.  I nod back.   

But I totally ignore Richard until I see that both coworkers have their IPODs on and head to opposite ends of the room.

Thank God.  I breath easier. 

"It's nice to see you again," I finally respond, barely over my breath. 

He wants to keep talking. 

He's just sitting here?!  He needs to do some abs, I think, and instantly scold myself for being so shallow. 

Great idea!

I get up from my bench and walk over to a mat across the room, hoping that he'll will be gone when I get back. 

After fifty crunches, I'm tired.  Back to the bench, even if he's still there. 

He is. 

For the next four exercises, I barely take breaks between sets. 

Just please don't talk to me, I think.  I keep a close eye on my coworkers and the cute gym rat who just walked in. 

Richard gets the hint, finally. 

He doesn't speak another word.  He just nods and walks to the front desk to meet the gym's sexiest personal trainer. 

Of course the 'hot one' has to be his trainer, I think, suddenly jealous.

I relax, thrilled that I can take a break before the next set.  I doubt that anyone saw me talking to him, and I'm positive that I wasn't outed. 

I finish, but only after a gym rat struts over in his revealing gym shorts and chats to me about college basketball for a few minutes. 

I don't avert my gaze or attention from him for a second.

After I drove home, I got to thinking about my behavior towards Richard.  I didn't feel terrible about being so standoffish, perhaps because I didn't think I owed him all that much.  I mean, we're not friends, and we're barely acquaintances.

But still, there was a lingering regret.  I realized that I'd been embarrassed by him, probably because he was so feminine.  I wouldn't have thought twice about chatting with him in the gayborhood, but here, on the comfortable turf where I play it straight everday, I didn't want anything to do with him.

I knew I'd been snobby, rude, and worst of all, a traitor to my own kind.  If you've ever been around a group of straight buddies when they think you're straight, and they're telling really mean gay jokes, you'll know what I felt like last night. 

Like I should've been a bigger person and spoken up for "my people," or in this case, been friendly to my own kind. 

Still, I don't know if I'm ready to face my own "gay" image in every part of my personal and professional life. 

Sometimes it just seems easier to stare at the pale reflection in the mirror.   

Comments

[Kevin]

I remember after one of the first times Chris and I met you, we were talking about how much harder it must be for guys like you to come out of the closet. That is, guys who can completely pass for straight in any environment (gym, strip joint, hunting trip, etc.). You are in complete control of how people perceive you, since they will only know you are gay if you tell them. (For the rest of us, who give off unconscious signals of queerness like radio waves, coming out is more of an acknowledgment of the obvious than a shocking revelation). It must be very difficult to give up that control, and you're obviously struggling with it. Let me say for the record, as I have many times, that you will be relieved when you're all the way out of the closet. Being who you actually are, regardless of where you are or who you are with, is an enormous relief. In addition to being degrading, the closet is EXHAUSTING.

[Glenn]

I agree with Kevin. There is nothing so liberating as being fully out in all aspects of your life.

Thanks for your post on my blog about the Easter Egg Cake photo. Always like to learn about a new reader to my site and to discover new blogs.

[DavidSeeksJonathan]

At age 26 when I came out, I had to make the same conscious decision to include the most feminine of friends without reaction or apology. The values I had been taught growing up compelled me to treat people with kindness and respect because of their value and worth as a human being. I appreciate you for both the style and content of your writing.

[Christopher Waugh]

Hey,

I'm a stranger and I've suddenly thrust myself into your private world in this strange public/private inter-magic thingy that has people from the isolated Alps of New Zealand respond to a too-handsome Texan who he doesn't actually know.

I just thought. I know your other respondents are being generous and I know we all have our own personal journey and that. But I'd like you all to briefly meditate on one thing.

What is a 'good man'? Forget what makes a 'good gay man' or whatever else. Just a good man, who is he.

To me a good man is a man who makes everything he can of himself and is proud of who he is. Who has the courage of his convictions. Who doesn't wait for others or for circumstance to determine his position on a matter, but who knows his ground and who stands on it. And, of course, who has the generousity to share his privileges with those less fortunate.

New Zealand has a famous writer, Katherine Mansfield, of whom we are most proud. She stood up for herself in the world. She said this:

"Risk! Risk anything. Do the hardest thing on earth for you. Act for yourself. Face the truth!

By the way, I'm mistaken for straight all the time as well - something that still mystifies me, as I've never pretended to be anything I am not, but it would mainly be due to the fact I live in a place (an outdoors place, mountains, lakes and the like) where there are no other gay men. I've often asked myself "Why do I keep making sure people know I'm gay when no-one here cares and it's irrelevant anyway?". Being out in a 100% straight world is interesting. Guess what. My straight mates, in my running squad and the like, admire ME.. who'd have thought?

You're gonna be a good man. I can tell.

Chris

[Brian]

Your blog pieces remind us that issues of sexual orientation and gender roles can be just as troublesome for masculine gay men as for flamboyant gay men. My experience compounds this by noting an equal measure of difficulty for the many gay men who are neither fashionistas nor football quarterbacks.

One of my challenges has been functioning in a society which views my mannerisms and interests as gender normal, while at the same time possessing a gaydar which points out the many clues that I might be gay.

[Shaney]

Welcome to the blogosphere friend...And Thankyou for sharing your wonderful insight/views on such topics that really matter to us...xox

[johnmichael]

I think I may have reacted the same way you did.
I'm not out anywhere--except here in blogland. And I'm very careful about anything I do or say.
It's hard to say what I would do exactly to wriggle myself out of that situation. I know that I would though. I've been there when my straight friends and my own family have said negative things. What's worse is I will laugh or agree with them.
I'm a terrible gay.