by Lindy West
A Note About Anti-Gay Bigots
Studies have shown that anti-gay people often turn out to have secret gay desires themselves. It shouldn’t come as a surprise, since the psychology is so simple: They hate themselves, and they don’t want this thing they hate about themselves to be discovered. If this is news to you, Google “gay sex scandal” plus “Larry Craig” or “Bob Allen” or “George Rekers” or “Ted Haggard” or “Catholic priest.”
How to Come Out of the Closet
You might want to do it while driving. After all, if you’re reading this, it probably means you haven’t come out yet, and if you haven’t come out yet, it probably means you’re having a hard time imagining looking into someone’s eyes and saying, “I’m gay,” and the great advantage of doing it while driving is that you have to keep your eyes on the road.
Or the other person does, if they’re driving.
And then it’s out there.
You’re done.
You don’t have to do anything else.
The other person’s response is their business, and it will depend entirely on them. If you are coming out to your mother and she is religious and quaint and easily fooled, she might be floored, might be hysterical, and may even start to hyperventilate. She may demand you pull the car over and let her drive, even though you’re on the freeway. Since hyperventilation and the safe stewardship of a moving vehicle are incompatible, you are fully in the right to deny her request, and by the time you are off the freeway she will have collected herself (true story).
Your friends, if they are good people, will say, “I’m so glad you told me. I just want you to be happy.”
If your friends are of the slightly annoying variety, they will say, “Why’d it take you so long?” or “I knew before you did.” Don’t be offended—this friend of yours is just trying to get over the offense of not being trusted with this information sooner. The human urge to respond to news by pretending to have known all along is as old as the hills and has nothing to do with you.
For a lot of people, especially if you were raised in a conservative environment, coming out is the process of admitting to earlier dishonesty—admitting you were dishonest with your friends in high school, possibly even admitting you were dishonest with yourself. Many people are taught in sex-ed that same-sex attraction is a phase that will pass, and they assume they’re still just in that phase and it hasn’t passed yet, and for them coming out is the self-realization that it isn’t a phase and isn’t going to pass. Other people are legitimately attracted to people of both sexes, and coming out means admitting to being bisexual.
Here’s what you don’t realize: No one worth your time actually gives a flying fuck. It seems like they do, but they don’t. They don’t care if you’re gay, they don’t care if you’re bisexual, they don’t care if you’re straight. They care if you’re being dishonest with yourself and the people around you. Telling the truth will make you feel so much better, and you’ll gain surprising insight into who your real friends and family are. There is no way of knowing how people will respond. But the good people, the morally superior people, the ones whose opinion you should care about—they’re gonna be fine with it.
Where to Go to College If You’re Gay
You’re going to want to avoid Brigham Young University, that university that Jerry Falwell started, and anything with “Christ” in the name. You’re going to want to avoid the South and a lot of the Midwest. You’ll be fine in Chicago, Illinois, or Madison, Wisconsin, but in general you want to head for the coasts. Whatever you do, avoid those schools with beautiful architecture and nothing but fields for hundreds of miles; if you’re already at one of those schools and the atmosphere is ridiculous and suffocating, transfer somewhere better as soon as possible. The bigger the city, the happier you’ll be. You need to be introduced to the full spectrum of what the world has to offer, and you need to be around other gay people so that you can figure out this side of yourself and so that you can find someone to kiss.
The History of Gay People in a Few Paragraphs
There have been gays as long as there have been people. There have also been gay bees as long as there have been bees, gay penguins as long as there have been penguins, gay dolphins, gay seagulls, gay killer whales, gay bison, gay raccoons, gay elephants, gay moths, gay lions, gay caribou, gay turtles, gay cheetahs, gay lizards, gay fruit flies (rim shot!), gay dogs, and gay cats. A disproportionate number of People Who Changed the World are believed to have been gay. (Back before being gay was okay, the gays had lots of time on their hands for changing the world.) The guy who broke the Nazi code to lead the U.S. to victory in World War II was a homo, and so was the guy who came up with Keynesian economics, and so were Plato and Socrates and Sappho and Alexander the Great, to say nothing of Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo and Gertrude Stein and Eleanor Roosevelt and the Indigo Girls.
The gay civil rights movement started in 1969 in New York City, shortly after Judy Garland died, when a bunch of homos harassed by the cops at a gay bar called the Stonewall Inn decided they weren’t going to take shit from the cops anymore. They chanted funny slogans and did chorus-line kicks. “I remember thinking this was going to be the first funny revolution,” says Edmund White, who was there. Sometimes it wasn’t that funny. The first openly gay politician elected to public office in the United States was San Francisco’s Harvey Milk; he was shot and killed shortly thereafter. Then came AIDS, a word Ronald Reagan refused to say or do anything about, leading to tens of thousands of deaths in the ’80s and ’90s, and nearly wiping out a generation. HIV, which causes AIDS, is still a serious disease, but with expensive treatment it can usually be managed. Still, not worth it. (Wear a condom, okay?) The discovery of treatments to keep people with HIV alive are largely thanks to activism in the lesbian community—the men were so busy dying that if it weren’t for the women, gay acceptance and gay health wouldn’t be where it is today.
Politically, liberals/progressives/Democrats are generally friendly to gay people and gay equality; Republicans, not so much (see also How to Know If You’re a Republican or a Democrat.) Some Republicans with mainstream support continue to describe gays and lesbians as fundamentally immoral. Feel free to mercilessly hate these people for their fundamentally un-American stance on your rights. The Constitution clearly says that everyone shall be treated equally.
On Gay People Sleeping With Straight People
Actually falling in love (or even strongly in like) with, say, a straight person if you’re a gay one is stupid, but sleeping with them is awesome—you get to see them adorably nervous, you get to be part of a big secret, you get to brag to your gay friends that you slept with a straight one. But again, it’s stupid and you shouldn’t make a practice of it. If the stars align and you somehow get the right straight person drunk on the right night, you might feel like you’re conquering that which you were most frightened of in high school (the straight person), but the truth is you’re just setting yourself up to be conquered by them in a whole new way—defeated by their inevitable disinterest. Sexuality being a spectrum, almost every person is a little bit interested in those of their same sex, but making too much of that, assuming a little experimentation is more than just a little experimentation, puts you in the path of embarrassment and rejection. Sleeping with a straight person can be flattering, leading you to think you’re special, that the rules don’t apply to you, but rules always have their way in the end: Straight people want to be with straight people. Bisexual people who seem straight usually want to continue to seem straight.
How to Have Sex With a Man If You’re a Man
A man puts his penis in another man and gay sex is born. But seriously: Unlike the exaggerated depictions would have you believe, many gay people never have anal sex, preferring instead to stick to making out, stroking each other’s dicks, and oral sex. You should do likewise at first with any new partner you have. Making out with someone while stroking each other’s dicks is safe and intimate and fun. S
ome STIs can be transmitted simply through contact, so you want to make sure you know and trust someone before you go there. Once you feel like you can trust someone, you’ve asked about their sexual history, and you’ve asked if they have any STIs (if anything looks iffy, don’t go there), you can graduate to doing more.
HOW TO HAVE ORAL SEX
What feels good to a man varies from man to man, but the general idea is to put your hand around the dick, cover the head with your mouth, and move your hand and mouth up and down together. Tell him to let you know before he comes or you might get a mouthful. If you want a mouthful, tell him that, too, but keep in mind that HIV is transmitted through semen, so if you have any cuts or canker sores, you’re putting yourself at risk (if a low risk).
HOW TO HAVE ANAL SEX
When you’re ready for anal sex—never have anal sex on a first date—you’re going to need a condom, a lot of lube, and a lot of time. You don’t want to rush it. Terminology lesson: The guy doing the fucking is the “top,” and the guy getting fucked is the “bottom,” no matter what position you do it in. The top will need to use his fingers to get the bottom excited and warmed up. One finger at first, then two fingers … then check in with the bottom and see if he’s ready for your dick. Then roll on a condom, cover it in lube, cover the hole in still more lube, and go slowly. The bottom will be in pain until his muscles learn to relax and accept the sensation. It will take time. And still more lube.
How to Have Sex With a Woman If You’re a Woman
Masturbate. A lot. Try different positions, different toys, different orifices (and beyond). Try for different types of orgasms—don’t just go for a direct hit (unless you only have five minutes in a public bathroom). Indulge yourself; foreplay isn’t just for when other people are around. Play with your fantasies, kinks, and desires. Read up on female sexuality and erotica. Confidence is key when it comes to sex—and the more you try out, the more you will know what works for you, and the less timid you’ll be about your own and other people’s bodies. Plus, that post-orgasm glow looks really good on you.
Communicate. A lot. Everyone’s bodies (and brains) are different, even when you are working with similar parts. Rid yourself of preconceived notions about what ladies do with lady-parts. You don’t have to be romantic and slow. Don’t be afraid to fuck. Ask for and take what you want (remembering to make sure everyone involved is on board, of course). Embrace the fluidity that female sexuality has to offer, and play with all the tools you were given and the ones you’ve bought.
Your hands are your primary tools, so get ready to get arm-deep. Keep your nails trimmed, get latex/latex-free gloves, and lube. With patience and lots of talking, you can look forward to fisting, G-spot orgasms, and ejaculating. Strap-ons can also be powerful and exciting. Psychic dick is an amazing thing to experience—so if you are game, it’s worth investing in. (Any previously acquired cock-sucking skills can still come in handy when working with silicone.) And don’t neglect your classic oral-sex techniques.
5. HOW TO SLEEP WITH YOUR PROFESSOR
BY PROFESSOR X
Early in my teaching career, I found a note slipped under my office door: “You’re the sexiest professor on campus and if you can figure out who I am then you can have me.” The note was more confusing than thrilling, especially since it was from a woman and I’m gay. Actually, I was a little threatened by the note—even as a misidentified object of desire. Universities have gotten more puritan and corporate in the past 20 years, and I had just watched a dean get dragged through the spectacle of publicly defending himself against charges of mishandling sexual harassment complaints. He was finally forced to resign.
I pondered the note for a day before I took it to the chair of the department. He quickly read it, then with a slow grin reached into a desk drawer and pulled out one of those clunky metal stamping machines that records the date and stamped the note “Received.” He knew I was gay, and his crazy, Kafkaesque gesture was a good joke that made me relax.
Universities have changed a lot, but there are still premodern aspects, like the classroom autonomy professors often enjoy and sometimes abuse. Deans can say what they want and have certain weapons in their arsenal, but a tenured professor usually has a remarkable degree of freedom in the classroom. The best professors care about what they are teaching and do give a damn whether or not students learn. The best teachers have an unschooled and unteachable talent to persuade and lead students toward one truth or another. Teaching is a form of seduction. At the same time, universities and colleges just happen to be hotbeds of sexual exploration and discovery for young men and women recently released from parental supervision. Bedding a professor is high on the student trophy list. Students are young, smooth, lean, and sometimes available—a high temptation for some colleagues. It can get messy.
Crazy rumors circulated for years, with sorority girls claiming to have slept with me or definitively knowing a girl who had. When I started getting unsolicited invitations and anonymous notes from young men, I was less amused. If colleagues heard that I was rumored to be fooling around with a young woman, they wouldn’t take it seriously, but an athletic, handsome, creative, and sexy man—that’s another story. I remember discussing one particularly persistent brilliant and sexy male student with a doctor friend, who told me that physicians often negotiate a similar blurred zone of attraction, authority, and ethics. He had one simple principle: “Never, never, never sleep with anyone crazier than you.”
The student in question wasn’t clinically crazy, but he was in one of those frenzies that Alcibiades describes in Plato’s Symposium. He was brilliant, in love with somebody he thought was smarter than he was, and eager to get into bed with him. He was a little crazed. It would have been easy for me to sleep with him, but probably stupid: He was unpredictable and dramatic. Over the course of a semester, I negotiated my escape from his advances. He finally graduated and moved to Manhattan, where he became a painter and gay activist. (I ran into him one day near the New York Public Library; we had a nice exchange, and he encouraged me to “get back in touch.”)
Students like to flirt with professors, especially during office hours. It’s harmless, insincere, and flattering to those of us who have annual physicals. But when students want attention, I often turn a blind eye. I have a reputation for being a misanthrope when it comes to student social events and sit with a quasi scowl until I excuse myself from the proceedings. I met my last serious challenge at a department dinner for majors, and even though he was interested in me, I was clueless. He signed up for a seminar I was teaching, and other professors who knew that the student was gay asked what I thought of him. They were all pretty convinced he was the smartest student in the department, and he was awkwardly gay in the most adorable way. I started to warm up, pay attention, and feel some sympathy for him. We began an unspoken ritual where he would show up at my office before class and ask me if I wanted a cup of coffee. We would then walk to the café together, chat about nothing, and then walk to class together. I could tell he was nervous, and I thought that made him even more adorable. We slowly graduated to the occasional lunch, and I thought our conversations were more like mentoring sessions—the sympathetic gay professor coaching the young student in queer matters.
Then one day he sprung it on me: He couldn’t go with me and a group of students on an overnight trip because it would just be too difficult; his interests in me were not just academic. I was impressed with how direct and honest he was, and I told him I understood but that nothing could happen between us, and I wasn’t interested in him anyway because he was too young and I didn’t want to settle down. He took it well, but I sensed it was tough on him. About a month later, he invited me to lunch and asked if I was sure I wasn’t interested in having a relationship. It was painful, and my advice to him at the time was to hang out with more gay people; I told him (thinking back to my own experience in the ’80s) to experiment and shop around, have more experience before he thought about settling into a relat
ionship.
Nice advice, especially for the 1980s, but graduation came, he became legal, and I was surprised, truly, to realize that one needs to be careful about these things. Love was happening. It is still happening several years later. There is an age difference, to be sure, but no power or authority issues. He seduced me, but now we’re partners.
Teachers and students have been falling in love forever. If you’re just looking to bed your professor, you might have a good shot, but remember that it could easily get messy and it might also be terrifying for him—unless you want to ruin his career, you need to take your diploma before you take off your clothes. If you’re a professor, remember how awkward it will feel when you walk across campus and see that guy (now clothed) with his schoolmates, talking and turning their heads to look at you. A student might be easy and tempting, but he could also develop a very painful crush on you, and you need to be responsible for the collateral damage. The bottom line is this: Think, respect each other, don’t use stupid clichéd excuses, and don’t fuck anyone crazier than you. Oh, and if you’re in graduate school, all bets are off.
Professor X is an actual professor.
