Just as ‘out’ gay men have a duty to protect themselves from others forcing their will upon them, men refusing to conform to the label should acknowledge their sacrifice
What does it mean to put a label on your sexuality, to assign a category to your own existence? And where does it come from? Does it result from your actions, or how you feel inside?
There’s no denying labels can be very important, to help people forge a sense of identity in a world where they may feel more marginalised – every letter in the growing LGBTQIA alphabet has fought for and earned its place. But just as labels can reassure, they can also confine or confuse, or seem like a restriction to those terrified of being defined by it for ever.
You can’t blame some for not feeling any desperate need to “belong” – with reported crimes against LGTBQ+ people on the up and a political atmosphere that feels increasingly likely to push back on the community’s hard-won freedoms. Although coming out is a huge part of your life as an LGBTQ+ person and can be a liberating experience, it’s not for everyone, and some men are rejecting this what you might call traditional journey to forge their own path when it comes to exploring their sexuality.
If you’re a man who has sex with men on occasion, but identify as straight, who’s to stop you? You are who you are. But what does it mean for those guys who do embrace their label but have sex with guys who don’t? Does it mean their lovers are any less available to them because they won’t pick a side? Of course, nobody needs a label, but for gay and bi guys who worked hard to establish their identity, how does it feel when the man they’re sleeping with won’t do the same?
It depends how things play out, whether it’s out in the open or “our little secret”. Clandestine relationships or regular hookups with one straight and one gay/bi guy sometimes exist in a mutual state of insecurity and fear. The straight guy is worried his “secret” will be uncovered while the gay or bi guy fears he’s being used or unworthy of a relationship in public view. It also depends why the guy doesn’t want to label himself – there’s a big difference between eschewing norms as a form of self-expression and hiding who you are to manipulate the advantages available to you as a straight person.
James identifies as gay, but his first proper relationship was with a man who did not. “It’s crushing during the relationship and after,” he says. “Being with someone who doesn’t want to accept the possibility they’re bisexual is difficult on a relationship, especially if they’re still happy at the time to pursue one.”
Coming out can be a euphoric experience in a way, and make formerly closeted people feel they’re finally moving forward after years of stagnation. But if you’re in a down-low relationship with a straight guy, you can find yourself going backwards. James continues: “When we spent time together, generally indoors, everything was happy. Outside, there’d be moments: going to LGBT spaces and not feeling comfortable at contact; him being hit on by a group of girls on the Tube, and not acknowledging me; not even introducing you to their friends.” James was plagued by insecurity. “[He set] the boundaries enough to let me think, hope, there’s a chance, it just needs time; but there was always that nagging feeling, the dread it could end.”
Out guys are likely to feel sympathy for the straight guy in these situations – they’ve been there – and it’s common for gay or bi men to believe those who don’t come out are not living a full life, even if the straight guy feels that’s not the case.
As a fresher at university, Robin, then 18, fell into a relationship with Dom, 24. “The first year was strictly a bedroom thing,” he tells me. “The whole time he wasn’t comfortable holding hands or kissing outside.” Even though PDAs were kept to a minimum, it didn’t take long for word to get out. “Friends said they saw the way he was with me, and started assuming he was gay so adjusted their behaviour accordingly.” When Dom found out, things regressed further. Says Robin: “I thought he was going to have a heart attack. He absolutely had 100% control over things; the code of conduct imposed on us was coming from him, not me.” Robin admits that while Dom’s behaviour made him feel lousy he still felt a responsibility to him. “He always said he wasn’t gay, but he didn’t believe in bisexuality, either, and he said it so many times over the years.”
https://www.facebook.com/125422357055070