Three Ex Presidents and James Franco (10 page)

              Even though sex is the consequence of an outdated primeval urge, i
t’
s great. It may just release the right hormones around the body, it may just be a drug, but i
t’
s a great drug. And yes, I agree that sex with someone you love is wonderful, no matter how absurd and pointless it is.

              But, i
t’
s still absurd. Imagining it as anything else, something serious, is a sure-fire way of having less of it.

41.
"So do you want to complement me some more, or is that over?" After I told Eric I intended to sleep with him he became greatly curious as to how I was to go about it and what my next step might be.

              A couple of nights later, we were coming from his friends where we'd been playing poker. Eric liked sometimes to bring me out to display me as his gay friend. I had quite a novelty factor at the time. Though it did become a bit irritating when his friends would look at me as though amazed that I existed. They honestly believed it was the first time they'd hung out with a gay man.

              "I'm not going to complement you on cue. I'll do it when I mean it. I'm now going to move on to the next step."

              "Which is?" he put on an air of resignation and despair, though it was obvious he was deeply intrigued.

              I wasn't exactly sure. "I suppose when you get used to me finding you attractive the next step is to break down any sexual inhibitions."

              "I'm not entirely comfortable with you finding me attractive."

              "No. But you realise that it doesn't mean we can't be friends. I
t’
s something at the back of my head. It doesn't really effect much."

              "Well you're talking about it. So i
t’
s not really at the back of your head. How are you going to break down my sexual inhibitions? I think you're losing sight of the issue. The reason the plan exists is because you can't sleep with me."

              "I know, I know, I know. But I've been thinking. I can convince you first that sex is no big deal."

              "I believe that already."

              "But you don't act on it."

              "Just because I won't sleep with you doesn't mean I don't realise sex is no big deal. You don't need to convince me of that, you need to be thinking of how to direct me into sleeping with you specifically. I don't need to do that to treat sex as no big deal."

              "I'll settle for you just sleeping with me. You don't need to want to." That sounded too much like begging, so I continued: "I'm going to demonstrate the point. We've been hanging out now for the last couple of months and you never get a chance to get any. You need to go out there and score. Pick up. Whatever you Americans call it. And I'll go with you. We'll both go pull. You can go to forget Fiona and I'll go to show I can go along with a bit of sex just to make a friend happy."

              "If I wanted to go out and score I would. I don't need you or your help." This wasn't said in a bitter way. It was said simply as the truth.

              "But surely it will be funny to see me chatting up a girl?" I asked. He smirked, but his eyes smiled. "Come on, we're both going to get some." With that I cajoled him into a taxi.

42.
If sex is absurd, surely gay sex is the most absurd.

              Homosexual sex can't even pretend to be a procreation rehearsal. If there are no condoms, if both parties are virile, and if they have sex at every conceivable time of the month, no baby will ever result.

              There could be a reason why homosexual sex isn't completely absurd. Maybe nature just doesn't want certain humans to have kids. It means society has people who will never have kids and can dedicate themselves to helping the tribe, the community. Help everyone be a little better off. So the act of gay sex is nature's way of protecting a society by ensuring certain men never procreate and can invest their energies in things other than their immediate families. Native Americans call these people the Two Spirits. They were the shamen, the medicine men, the protectors.

              So maybe i
t’
s a little less absurd to have gay sex, because there is at least an endgame.

              Maybe this is where being gay comes from.

43.
"It was the very perfection of quiet absorption of good living, good drinking, good feeling and good talk. We were a band of brothers...you could plainly see that these easy hearted men had no wives or children to give an anxious thought..."

Eric was finding the night hilarious. I didn't know what to say or what to do. The first thing I was told was to pick the right girl. "Not just the girl you think you can have, save that till later if you luck out. Try for the girl you want first."

              We were in Duignan's. Not far from Coxx. A sports bar. Crowded. It was approaching midnight. And it was reminding me of those discos we used to have back in school at the age of sixteen. Groups of boys and girls eyeing each other over their glasses. The difference being that the glasses didn't have minerals and the intention, presumably, wasn't to meet outside for a quick kiss, the quick fumble, just to tell your mates.

              To be fair, it was just another bar, the likes of which I had been in countless times. Only this time I was looking at it through fresh eyes, with the same intention as everyone else. I can honestly say I don't find women attractive. I know, or at least think I know, the difference between a good looking woman and the not so. But apart from those broad categories I can't distinguish.

              I sought advice. Eric was entirely distracted by my eyes, glancing this way and that. Bless him, bless his boyish delight. An older brother bringing his socially reclusive sibling into the real world of men. And just like a younger brother my primary fear was I'd embarrass him. "What about her?" I asked, pointing with a glance.

              "The blonde?"

              "No, the brunette." The two girls were sitting by themselves, deep in conversation. Neither was dressed up and neither was looking around for company. The fact that they didn't seem to be part of the broader malaise was probably what drew my attention. I had the feeling that they were more my type of people.

              Eric nodded his approval. Apparently I had chosen well. Indeed, seeing as I was interested in the brunette it made life easier as he quite fancied having a closer inspection of the blonde. But what should I say? I needed to relax, I was told, I was gay, it would come naturally, talking to women. Instead of lecturing Eric on stereotypes I gave in, and asked him to lead the way.

              I wasn't nervous precisely. It was more the giddiness of a child who realises he is about to do something very wrong. Eric seemed to be picking up on it. He was filled with energy and exuberance and mischief.

              The girls were called Jess and Jennifer. I think. There was a J sound in both their names, I remember. Eric offered to buy them a drink, which they accepted, a good sign. They were actually students back in the college too. Masters students. So conversation went smoothly, both of them enthralled by my accent, and wondering how I ended up in the US. They were also aware of Eric. But in an offhand way which I think he found offensive. They'd heard about the captain of the football team getting shot. And they didn't believe it was him until he pulled his trousers down to show his fastly healing scar. He was wearing briefs, white. It was an admirable sight. We all noticed, which was probably the intention.

              Jennifer, the brunette, by some code which was communicated by some means other than words or body language seemed to realise that she should talk to me, while Jess attended to Eric. There was a confidence I felt, which I hadn't felt before. I had a sensation that this woman was attracted to me. We talked about each others courses. We talked about Ireland. Then the US. Then the differences between the two. She laughed a lot, too much. So yes, she must have been attracted to me.

              I kept Eric in the corner of my eye. He had his hand on Jess's knee. I did the same to Jennifer. He whispered something in Jess's ear. I copied him with Jennifer. I wondered if this is how things were for my straight friends at those school discos, following each others cues like that. Eric went in to kiss Jess.

              I panicked for one brief moment, centred myself almost immediately, and then lent in to kiss Jennifer. The first time I kissed a girl. While I did it I'd managed to grab Eric's hand. I squeezed it. Out of a sense of camaraderie, or panic, I don't know. To my surprise he squeezed my hand back.

"...Almost all of the were travelers,too; for bachelors alone can travel freely, and without any twinges of their consciences touching desertion of the fireside."
- Herman Melville, The Paradise of Bachelors.

44.
"How it is I know not; but there is no place like a bed for confidential disclosures between friends."
- Herman Melville, Moby Dick

A few hours later we were lying in bed in Eric's room. Eric and me. Sharing a cigarette. The light of the early morning screaming from behind the drawn curtain.

              "That was hectic," Eric smiled. It had been. Jennifer and Jess had just gone. They'd left no numbers saying they'd see us around campus. For decency's sake we had both put on our underwear. I didn't know what to say. I had the feeling that I couldn't leave after what had transpired. But I couldn't talk about it either. So I stayed there, in silence, smoking. I'd never quit. Quitting smoking meant when you did nothing you actually had to do nothing. Now, I was doing nothing and smoking.

              Eric rolled over onto his stomach. He took my hand and told me to massage his spine. I squatted at his side, beginning by rubbing his shoulders, afraid to straddle his back. "Do you hear much from your friend Brandon?"

              "No, I said." He'd never brought up that name before. "He seems to be, well...cloistered away." He was spending all of his time with Fiona.

              "Yeah, I'd say so," he smiled. "He's living a celibate life if he's with her. Not a chance she'll do anything."

              "I heard she's very religious."

              "Religious my ass. She's just frigid. One of those people who use religion as an excuse because they can't or won't do it." This wasn't said aggressively. It was said in the lugubrious tone of someone at the midway point between sleep and consciousness. A torpor was coming over him, perhaps due to the massage, perhaps due to exhaustion.

              "So did that mean you were celibate for that year? Tha
t’
s how long you went out for wasn't it? A year?"

              "As far as she was concerned, yes. I was the dutiful boyfriend. Never put a foot wrong. But a man can't live like that. And when the girlfriend spends most of her evenings doing church or college work, a man has plenty of time to pursue other options." I didn't doubt this frank reply.

              "You don't miss her?"

              "Sure I miss her. Every day. Could have been in love with her. I haven't spoken to her since. I
t’
s just so hard to explain to her that sex is an important part of the equation. If we don't do it, we're just friends. How do you explain to someone what they're missing when they refuse to even give it a try? I do want her back, as long as she can just see..."

              "I suppose I can vouch that new experiences don't always turn out as bad as you might imagine," I was trying to sound self deprecating. I was sounding arch.

              "Well at least you gave it a shot." With that Eric turned around back on his back. With one hand he pulled down his briefs, with the other he directed my head towards his groin. I took him in my mouth, all the time looking up at his face. But his eyes were closed. They stayed closed, though his hand stroked the back of my head, until he was done. I remained down there with my head between his legs, affectionately kissing and touching his scar until I heard him snore.

              With that I left. It was probably time to see Brandon. I knew, in a way that the word intuition was invented to describe, that tha
t’
s what Eric had intended I do. He knew that because he wanted me to do it, I would. It seemed that in fulfilling my own plan, I had got caught up in an entirely different one.

Brandon- The Fourth Part

45.
Truth was I'd been invested, obsessed with Brandon for a very long time. At 16 we were best friends. We have all had a someone like him, though maybe you've had it for a girl. Maybe to you, he is a movie or sports star, a friend, an acquaintance, the girl who works in the local bar. Whoever it is, imagine that person, and that is Brandon.

We'd had sex. In its rough and tumble we took roles which were revelatory. Beyond a dim heartache that he wasn't gaining as much pleasure from our intimacy as I was, I remained blissfully unaware of the dangerous game I was playing.

When it finally did end it left me with the wretched realisation that I was in love with him.

We were having an argument in his car as he drove us through the dark and rain to a party arranged by one of those homogenous looking girls who fawned over him. The fact we were arguing was ominous in itself. I was bemoaning his tolerance of these girls, a tolerance I naively didn't comprehend. The argument ended with me storming out of the car shouting obscenities at him as I went.

My head reeled from his words. He'd said we were over. My head continued to sway all the way home as I began to realise that this just might be the truth.

46.
And so school, one of the formative chapters of life ended, and college, the chapter where we meet and learn more about the major characters in life’s story, began.

By no conscious process on either of our parts, both Brandon and myself ended up going to the same university. As did most of our friends. There was no reason not to.

I am quite practical. It was important to let my friends know I was gay. However, practicality bears little in common with braveness, so I didn't actually tell them. Making new friends, as people do, I started these new relationships on a more honest footing. Telling strangers was far easier.

So it was that the guys I arrived in college with learnt through rumour, speculation and conversation that I was gay. I have never told any of them directly. The words 'I am gay' have never crossed my lips in their presence.

Like I said, I’m practical, not brave.

47.
I find that period of adjustment difficult to re-visit. Even now, trapped back in a closet, two years later with nothing to do but reminisce, its something I'd rather avoid discussing. It wasn't the same for everyone. Some students took to the gay life as though, well, born to it.

There was Graham, who within a week of arriving had transformed from a shy and awkward kid, into a scarf tossing, screaming, squealing, sarcastic queen. The sight of him made me sick, I’m ashamed to admit.

Following him in order of my resentment was Frank, whose lisp had somehow worsened to the point of hilariousness in the space of two months. There was Ed, who kissed everyone hello and called men bitches, in what he believed to be an endearingly effete manner.

I could say the list went on and on. But there weren't really enough of the gays to justify such a remark. Rather, these guys were surrounded by fawning girls, who hung on their every word. So as a group they seemed more numerous than the reality. None of these girls were lesbians, as far as I could tell. They were just a group of girls who had in common the curse of finding gay men the most attractive gender.

I had never understood that point of view.

48.
I sometimes wonder if we each have a quota of prejudice in us, that’s roughly the same in everyone. It just expresses itself in different ways, from person to person. White Americans are more racist than black Americans. While black Americans are more homophobic than white Americans. And gays are more likely to judge someone by how they look than most any other types of people. Broad strokes. But potentially true.

I'm a liberal. I say I like everyone equally. But like all liberals I’m lying when I say it.

If you get me started on politics or religion I become quite nasty. I am prejudiced against conservatives, not that they care. I don't trust them, I think they are inferior, and I believe the world is better off without them.

That having been said, on a scale of prejudice I'd probably hit minus figures. I have all the correct boxes ticked. My views on the environment and the poor and all that lefty stuff, my liberal viewpoints, are impeccably progressive.

But on the prejudice scale there is no box for the bigot, the fiscal conservative, the socially right-wing. With my hand on my heart I can say I'm not prejudiced because I'm not prejudiced against the groups that usually suffer prejudice. And with my hand on my heart I can tell you I have nothing but contempt for vast numbers.

I say all of this because at the time I came out I had some residue hatred for homosexuality that I hadn't yet managed to direct somewhere else. It was a while before I learnt to hate the establishment more and hate gays less. The amount of hatred in me didn't reduce, I just redirected it

A psychologist would tell you it was transference, my distaste for other gay students. I found it difficult to handle being gay so I took out my frustration on people who were more confident and open about it than I was.

The sight of two men kissing in public repulsed me. The overly effeminate irked me. And what’s wrong with that? Isn't it possible that the psychologists have it wrong and the biologists have it right? It could be that we're all born with a natural aversion to gay intimacy. It would explain a lot.

It’s taken for granted that boys will beat each other up. They'll play sports. They'll be ambitious and aggressive. All for the evolutionary edge, the progression of the species. It’s not too big a leap to assume we are all born with an impulse to wipe out gayness. Afterall, it threatens the reproduction of our species, it threatens our very survival.

Yet we learn when we are growing up that some of our primeval urges need to be curbed and some are plain wrong. We can't attack, fuck and take indiscriminately. Controlling and suppressing these urges is what growing up is all about. It was just that I hadn't learnt that my dislike of public homosexuality was one of my bad impulses. Nobody had told me.

Though, I was aware, that to have a shot at a happy life it was a feeling I needed to overcome fairly quickly.

49.
Jack, writer, womaniser and sometime jock, was the type of guy I could only have ended up being friends with because we had ended up living together through school. One night, arising from one of his days of being a jock, I ended up going out with him and his team mates. It was a long night, which ended with me half-lying, half falling down on his floor in preparation for passing out.

I would have slept immediately, only Jack interrupted me with a question. Lying on his bed, he was smoking his fortieth of the night, the sugar in his blood being too high to get directly to sleep. He asked: "Did you come back here to have a wank? Just to be near me?"

I didn't respond and feigned sleep. Shocked as I was, sleep didn't come. Jack was letting me know he'd heard I was gay, that was obvious. But I couldn't figure out if he was saying it to let me know he knew. Or if he was saying it to make me feel uncomfortable. It was also possible that it was a come on. I’m fairly sure Jack would sleep with anything.

It wasn't long until my drunken mood happened upon rage. I waited until he was asleep. I then got up, pulled back his covers and wrote the following on his naked chest, using the blue felt marker he used to draw spider diagrams of essay plans on a white plastic board: 'Are you sure I didn't go further than having a wank last night?' I then pulled his boxer shorts off and took them with me, so he'd never find them.

This incident was never spoken about again between the two of us. We even went out together again two nights later.

50.
Coming out is tough, for whatever reason. If everyone is on a scale of sexuality, it’s easier for some. The guys who score a full 10, who have always known what they are, might find it easier, a release. It probably doesn't come as a surprise to those around them.

Coming out is the process of telling those whom we wish to know, or feel should know, we are gay. There's an implication that the past was a lie. That interactions in the past ring hollow, as there was no trust there. The gay guy had been lying up until this point.

The truth of how much lying was going on can vary. Some guys don't even know themselves until they are in their twenties. In the end, all have in common the realisation of the fact that they are not the person who their peers thought they were.

And this is the irony. For whatever reason, coming out is difficult. It’s one of those things that friends are supposed to be around for. It’s overdramatic, camp, to compare it to a death in the family, but certainly it has the hallmarks of a life altering event. But, in telling people you are gay, you are also telling them there has been a lie. That the friendship that existed was not as strong or honest as previously thought.

You kill a little bit of the friendship you are relying on.

We all know that when trust is thrown into question, it’s very difficult to totally regain it. And noone is really to blame, which is the self pitying sting in the tail.
 

The Fifth Part-Fiona

51.
Good looking people have it easy. We all know that. And the good looking are confident. Beautiful men get girl's attention, they attract men who want some of the attraction to rub off on them, or at least pick at his scraps. From this they learn that there is no social situation which should intimidate them.

              Now, the good looking will tell you that they don't have it as easy as you think. They have problems too. Sure, we all do. But Brandon's problems tended to be which girl to choose, or which friend to sacrifice, because he simply did
n’
t have the time.

              The next time one of the good looking tells you they are having a rough day, tell them its scientific fact that their life is easy. From the moment they were born they had it easy. When they came out of the womb they were the pretty babies, the ones everyone dotes on, picks up and cuddles. That happens to all babies, but it happens to the good looking ones more so than the rest. From this they learn that people will treat them well, they learn to get what they want, they come to know that people enjoy their company. Those around them enjoy doing things for them to make them happy.

              Psychologists refer to this as 'a baby constructing its own environment'. By the way a baby looks the little tot elicits responses from day one. The better looking, the cuddlier baby, elicits better and friendlier responses. And on and on ad infinitum, until they are the alpha dog who has never really been treated badly by anyone in their whole lives.

              I was thinking about this as I was having coffee with Fiona and Brandon. They must have been beautiful and friendly babies. Certainly, looking at them now, they had the glow of the uber-couple. So attractive that I couldn't help but think that a nuclear missile would rebound off their smiles and charm.