The Asexual Double Standard

As far back as I can remember, I have always played the role of the "Gay Best-Friend."  Even in Elementary School, I played the part of the non-boyfriend-material, supportive one, surrounded by a gaggle of friends, all of whom felt "comfortable with me."

"I feel like I can tell you anything," my mostly female friends inevitably confide in me.  "It's like we just click!"

And they were (and largely still are) correct - we do click.

What most of straight people (and several gay ones, as well) fail to recognize is the Asexual Double-Standard that comes into play whenever relationships and sex are concerned.

As the "Gay Best-Friend," I am expected to be well-versed in several topics: 

For my female best-friends, I should be conversant in male anatomy, the male physical form, male sexuality, how to please a man sexually, masculine personality traits, masculine approaches to problem solving, women's health (read: menstruation and pregnancy), decorating, various domestic skills, fashion, personal grooming, and, of course, how best to convince another man to do what they what him to do without him knowing it.

For my male best-friends, I am expected to know about women's health, feminine personality traits, how women communicate with one another, how best to approach uncomfortable conversations, how to say the right thing to get women to stop nagging them, appreciate the female physical form ("I mean...you can't tell me you don't find her hot!" *rolls eyes*  "Objectively...I guess..."), dating tips, problem solving, and, of course, how best to end an argument in a way that makes women feel as if they've won without actually agreeing with them.

There is a delicate balancing act at play in these relationships, and oftentimes, despite the fact that I am not a heterosexual, I am expected to participate in conversations about heterosexual intercourse; and not just to participate, but to identify with either or both sexual partners in coitus.  

However, the true test of friendship comes when I, in my role as the "Gay Best-Friend" put my "Straight Best-Friend" to the test in terms of my own sexual experiences.

The very closest of my best-friends are entirely comfortable discussing my sexuality, sexual proclivities, behaviors, and of course, the ins and outs of it all.  They know that they can get as graphic with me as they want, just so long as they're cool with being on the other end of that conversation.

But, it isn't just within the context of Gay/Straight Best-Friendship that the Asexual Double Standard exists - it is present in all of society.

Straight men and women, and to some extent, lesbians (so long as they're hot) are always free to discuss their sexual exploits with impunity in almost any venue - work, school, home; in the media, on the news, in films, and on television.  For the heterosexual population, sexuality is something to be celebrated, and they regale each other with bawdy stories of tawdry liaisons.  No one complains, safe for the prudish few who get offended by everything, anyway.

Gay men, however, are held to the Asexual Double Standard.  Your "best-friends" are fully supporting of your relationships, will advocate for your equal rights, and will attend your weddings, throwing you both a Bachelor Party and a Male Bridal Shower.  The moment, however, that you begin to talk about your own sexuality, they start to get twitchy.  They may support you in the streets, so long as you keep it beneath the sheets, behind closed doors, and hidden from view.

Gay sex, for most people, is just "icky."  I honestly believe that most people oppose gay marriage not because of some firmly held religious belief, but because the thought of two guys rutting creeps them out.  They don't want to think about  it; out of sight, out of mind.

After listening to fifteen minutes about his favorite porn stars and their prurience, when I responded in kind about my favorite athletes (or male porn stars) responded, "Dude...I don't need to hear about that."

Really?  So, it's okay for me to sit there and listen to you talk about someone's tits, and ass, and pussy lips, but at the first mention of the pleasure I take in seeing Wes Welker's jockstrap through his wet, white spandex football pants, suddenly, I've crossed a line?  Mine didn't even involve nudity!

With women, it's often the same...but worse.  My good female friends feel wholly comfortable telling me the most sordid details of their sexual habits, menstrual goings on, and bathroom moments, but at the first mention of my predilection for anilingus, and it's all, "EWWWWWW!!!  That's GROSS!!!  HOW CAN YOU DO THAT???"

Right.  Because your body experiencing its monthly dead egg miscarriage is so appealing to picture, because I'm a visual thinker; and I always love to hear about you "flow," and how size really does matter to you, and how you want guys to be more aggressive with you, until they are, and they you complain that they were too rough.  But, don't worry...that's cool.

In the workplace, heterosexuals of both sexes are cool to approach me with their sex stories, but I cannot respond in kind, because it makes them uncomfortable, and they complain to the HR department about my inappropriate sexual conversations.  Awesome.  

Equality, for me, doesn't just mean that I have the right to get married, or the right to file joint tax returns, or visit my loved ones in the hospital; it means that my relationships and sexuality are no longer taboo - that I can discuss these topics without fear of reprisal; that I will be able see my kind of sex in movies, on TV shows (not on HBO or Showtime...is Cinemax still a thing?), and not just on the awful LOGO channel, or at the Gay and Lesbian Film Festival - I want to see these things in major motion pictures, not as an oddity, or as a statement, or to teach a lesson, but because that's just the way he is.

I want to go to an action film and have the hyper-masculine, yet dashing, leading man come home to find that his husband has been abducted, and that he must go on a killing rampage to get them back, no matter what the cost; to a romantic comedy where the romantic lead goes out on a date with his boyfriend, only to have everything go tragically wrong; to a drama where the main character's lover of fifty years is the one with Alzheimer's in the nursing home (NOT dying of AIDS - because we're always dying of AIDS in those films), and he spends his days telling him all about how they met, their courtship, and their marriage.

I want to turn on the CW and see a show about a ripped superhero, or a couple of handsome monster-fighting lovers, or werewolves who live with their male mates and have to fend off vampire attacks, without their sexuality being mere tokenism - the one gay character on the show, so they can feel like they're "reaching out."

For me, equality means that I will live in a world where a JCPenny's catalog can show every type of family without some tribe of withered old white bitches in Florida kicking up a fuss about it.  It means that it won't be awkward when, after scoring the winning touchdown, we see the quarterback hoisting his son on his hip with his other arm pulling his husband in for a quick congratulatory kiss.

I will be your equal when I don't have to worry about what bar we go to depending on the company; when I can just as comfortably cruise a guy in a sports bar as I can a gay bar in Soho/WeHo.  When, during the course of hitting on a guy, he can say to me, "I'm really flattered, but I'm into girls, only.  No hard feelings?  Let's grab a beer, and keep talking."

That is when I will have equality.