Together forever with her gay boyfriend
Confession: I have cheated on almost every boyfriend I have ever had. No, it’s not what you think. I am definitely a monogamous person, but most often, there is a man in my life other than who I am dating. I may not always be in a relationship, but I always have a boyfriend -- a gay boyfriend, that is.
For a single woman in Los Angeles, the gay boyfriend brings something to the table that no heterosexual man can do. For me, it’s the combo platter -- the best parts of each sex. As an example, let’s take my current friend, David.
David and I have been dating for about three years. I have much more in common with him than with any of my previous gay boyfriends. For one thing, he loves sports. He’ll talk football with me (and know what he’s talking about) and have hot dogs and beer at baseball games, and when I talk about March Madness, he doesn’t think it’s just me dreading my birthday. He’s also a big strong guy, so I get to feel safe and protected without the usual testosterone temper attached.
Don’t get me wrong, the manly side of David is fantastic, but I can get that from any guy I date. It’s the feminine side that is the added bonus. This is a man who will actually give a truthful answer to, “Does this make my butt look big?” and when I’m showing some cleavage, he’ll be the first to applaud the girls on display. And not surprisingly, none of his comments ever offend me. (Although I did throw a shoe at him once when he suggested I change them.)
Straight guys can argue this point to be a double-standard. Why is it that women can hear “the truth” from a gay man but not from the guy they are actually dating or married to? I think it has something to do with the delivery. Gay men are simply wired differently -- they have that sensitivity chip -- and those who think it’s not a biological fact (Mr. President) should go on a road trip with their gay boyfriends.
David and I once took the best road trip of my entire life. We had no plan (strange for a gay guy, and even stranger for a Type A like me). We just hopped in the car one day and drove. I think what I remember most is the laughter. My hair was completely let down. I had no need to impress him, didn’t need to be anyone except who I am. We laughed, we sang, we had no agenda, no fears and no future.
Maybe that’s it. Maybe my comfort with David is that there is no possibility of any relationship other than the one we have and that I am always emotionally safe. I get to cry on his shoulder when I’m upset and not feel like he’s looking at his watch wondering how much longer he has to console me. I can try on 20 outfits before we go out, and not worry that he’s tapping his toe at the front door (that’s usually me anyway). Most of all, I have the reassurance that if he sees my lunatic side during that time of the month, he’ll still be there 28 days later when it happens again. For he’s simply my gay boyfriend David and we never have to worry about breaking up. We can stay together forever. We can be in love with other people and not get jealous. And when we’re old and gray, I’m sure he’ll criticize my orthopedic shoes.
I can’t wait.
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