This guy is different. I squeezed the thought out of
my head before it could marinate in my mind; I had a
habit of becoming starry-eyed whenever I began feeling
comfortable with someone. Be cool, I ordered
myself, as a Spanish waiter walked us to our table at
the tapas restaurant. It was one of those wonderful nights
early on in a relationship--we were about eight
or nine dates in--where affection is the most
thrilling thing in the world and you imagine this is what it
feels like for straight sweethearts in high school.
As we sipped our
wine silently, I couldn't help but betray my own
orders to myself, and I blessed my good luck. Finally,
something real.
When the silence
broke, so did my illusions.
"So, Neal,
what are you expecting out of this?"
I can't
remember how I responded, but whatever it was, it
didn't matter. When you hear those words,
it's clear where your relationship is
headed---nowhere. I've been through this so
many times that my eyes glaze over when they lay it on
me: "I'm not ready for a relationship";
"This is moving too fast"; "I met
someone else."
As this
soon-to-be-ex broke it down (I was one of three boyfriends
in his North American harem), I couldn't focus,
instead thinking only of the curse. The Gay Curse. The
affliction that attacks gay men in their 20s, robbing
most of any hope for a monogamous, committed relationship
and ensuring some serious rings of fire for those
lucky few who pull it off.
Queer boys in
their 20s like myself came of age in the gay '90s,
when a media explosion of representation turned the
word gay from a filthy pejorative into simply a
word. Suddenly, anything felt possible. Being gay
wasn't a disease that would infect the rest of our
sad, lonely days but was just one aspect of our
complex identities. Who could stop us from having
everything our straight peers had? We saw our life paths
follow a familiar trajectory: Graduate college, rock your
career, meet a great guy, settle down, and have a baby
before 30. So all those who dreamed those dreams
ventured out into the world, emboldened and empowered.
But before long, we realized we were a minority in the young
gay world, and soon we were rejected and demoralized, dumped
for not having the ideal body fat ratio or because we
refused to have a boyfriend who already had one.
"The Gay
Curse is having all the things that should matter, like
loyalty, patience, intelligence, the desire to be part
of a couple, and yet you're constantly passed
over," says "Alex," a 27-year-old gay
man who chose not to give his real name for fear of
sounding bitter and further diminishing his chances
for a boyfriend. "As a gay man in his 20s
who's willing to put in the time and effort
needed to sustain a relationship, I certainly feel
I'm in the minority."
For Alex, meeting
men is not the problem; keeping them is. When comparing
the attention spans of his former boyfriends with those of
the men his straight female friends have dated, the
difference is staggering. But to some, Alex's
comparison of his love life with those of straight women is
what's dooming him in the first place.
"Straight
women have a completely different agenda on dating,"
says Jeremy Lucido, a single gay 28-year-old. Jeremy
doesn't buy into the Gay Curse but feels
straight men have more incentive to get serious with
women because of the ticking of their biological clocks.
"I think
[the difference between gay and straight dating] is a gender
thing. Men and women are chemically different,"
Lucido says. "Women want babies and the family
and the big wedding."
Young gay men
can't want babies and the family and the big wedding?
"It feels
at times that wanting to be in a couple might be an
alternative lifestyle," says Alex.
"I'm told, 'Wanting to start a life
with someone at 27 is too soon' and that I
should 'enjoy life,' like something is lost
by being in a relationship."
I've met
looks of befuddlement when I tell fellow gays--not
potential boyfriends, mind you--that I want a
life not unlike that of my straight girlfriends
(partner, kids, career, condo). But Alex could be right;
maybe it's not fair to compare myself--and
other men--with women.
"Of course
the rules are different; we're dealing with two
men," says Jim Sullivan, author of Boyfriend
101: A Gay Guys' Guide to Dating, Romance,
and Finding True Love. While Sullivan acknowledges
that young single gay men face special
challenges--like dealing with the exorbitant
amount of gay serial daters--he implores the
discouraged not to become defeatist.
"I think
younger gay men are much more open to monogamy than the
older generation," Sullivan tells doubters.
But what about
the dating proclivities of queer men compared to those of
hetero males? My 32-year-old straight brother has been
married for five years and was with his wife for
another half decade before his wedding.
"I think
the woman keeps the man in check," says Lucido, who
also has a married straight brother.
It doesn't
escape Lucido that even if he found his Prince Charming, the
only place where he could marry him is Massachusetts, and he
doesn't care much for the Red Sox.
"Marriage
adds an extra incentive to stay together," Lucido
says. "I wouldn't say [the inability for
gays to marry] gives you permission to stay single,
but it is easier to move on."
So while my
brother planned his wedding, started a college fund, and
tackled a mortgage in his 20s, his gay sibling instead hits
the bars, trolls singles Web sites, and endures speed
dating in the vain attempt to find Mr. Right. Like
others in my situation, I am stuck in a suspended
adolescence, while our straight brothers can act like adults
and receive the respect that goes along with that.
Lucido,
who's had long-term relationships in his past, thinks
gay men like me are just thinking about it too hard.
"I
don't think being single is a good enough reason to
get a boyfriend," he says. "That may be
a reason and may be the start of it, but I don't
want someone coming after me just because they're
lonely."
Touche.
Nonetheless, Lucido can't convince me we're
not at a disadvantage compared to both straight men
and women, since society reinforces their pairing. And
what about lesbians? My 28-year-old sapphic friend Leslie is
convinced my gender and orientation won't foil my
hopes of finding someone as wonderful as her partner,
who she's been with for six years. She also
doesn't think I'll have to wait until
I'm 40 to meet my betrothed. Unlike Lucido,
she's a huge Red Sox fan, so clearly she knows
every curse can be broken.
