A few years ago, I became fast friends with a guy after collaborating on a project at work. I was thrilled with the prospect of this new friend. I was recently single after my somewhat hurtful break up, and this guy was the perfect thing to get me out of the house, meeting new people and feeling social again. Most thrilling to me was, the idea of a male friend that was "safe," because he was gay.
Or, so I thought.
After spending numerous hours over dinner and drinks, talking about everything you can imagine (aside from his love life, which I realize now should've been my tipoff), he confessed that he was interested in me. I was shocked. Flattered, but shocked. He's very cute, smart, worldly, an all-round great catch ... for one of my other gay guy friends, I thought. His effeminate speech and great sense of style, as stereotypical as they are, threw me.
We'd had "sleepovers" if that's a kosher term after the age of 10, but nothing had ever happened aside from sleep. One thing led to another and we ended up hooking up one night. It was great. Inevitable, I guess. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, I began to realize how unconvinced I was that he was indeed straight.
I'm not the type to judge when it comes to sexuality. I believe that homosexuality is not a choice and I really don't care if a woman loves a woman or a man loves a man -- if someone can find another person to love, who cares about their orientation? Real love is rare.
I wondered how long this relationship could last with this question constantly on my mind. That, and I didn't want to be the crutch that my wonderful new gay boyfriend used to deny who he really was. Don't get me wrong, I can play the role of the beard better than most, but I felt awful feeling as though he was cheating himself out of real happiness based on what I only could imagine was fear.
We didn't talk about it and continued on that way for a while. But there was an undeniable distance growing between us and I could no longer stand the thought of waiting until our friendship died along with our relationship. I felt as though if he hadn't come out yet he probably had a damn good reason and that when he was ready he'd know and I'd be there as a friend to support him.
In the end, I lost a potentially great boyfriend but gained an incredible friend that I talk to nearly every day and who's finally found happiness in himself and his life. We should all be so lucky.
No, the OnMilwaukee.com sex columnist's real name is not Sarah Foster. (Foster is the model/actress that played an ex-lover of Vincent Chase in the first season of "Entourage.") In reality, our sex columnist is a Wisconsin native with a degree in journalism and a knack for getting people to talk to her.
Sarah never considered herself an "above average" listener. Others, however, seem to think differently. Perhaps she has a sympathetic tone or expression that compels people to share their lives and secrets with her despite how little they know her. Everyone from the girl that does her hair to people in line at the grocery store routinely spill the details of their lives and relationships to Sarah, unprompted but typically not unwanted. It’s strange to her that people would do this, but she doesn’t mind. Sarah likes that she can give advice even if it is to complete strangers.
So why the pseudonym? Simple. People tell Sarah these things because for some reason they trust her. They believe she cares and therefore will keep their secrets in a locked vault the same way a best friend or therapist would. Sarah won't name names, but that vault is now unlocked.
