The Misanthropologist: Does Getting A Blowjob From A Guy Make You Gay?

Growing up in a sheltered lefty enclave in northern California, I developed a few unusual ideas about life and the universe: 1) if you’re going to jack some of your parents’ weed, ask politely, 2) shopping at farmers’ markets is akin to a great act of humanity and when you walk into Whole Foods, you’re participating in the preservation of the planet and also ending wars and nursing baby animals or some shit and, in all seriousness, 3) being gay is a-okay. It wasn’t until I was shipped off to the cold cruel world of private liberal arts education that I realized not everybody was as comfortable with non-hetero love.

I guess I never thought about sexuality in terms of gay or straight. I kind of always just thought you like who you like and that’s how it goes. I recognize now that this could be perceived as extremely naïve: outside of far left bastions like my home town, there often exist rigid definitions of sexual identity: gay, straight, bi, queer, trans, godless heathen, craven whore, etc.

There are some places where who you sleep with is your identity and you may or may not have any choice in the matter. I consider myself very lucky to have grown up in an environment where having two moms wasn’t weird. And, since the Misanthropologist is allergic to seriousness, allow me to hastily end this explanation and get to the story.

I knew a kid in college who had a very different upbringing than me: Bill from a wealthy Connecticut family. Bill was pretty wild and drank like a fish, and he could be kind of a gross over-sexed asshole when alcohol got the better of him (once declaring to a mutual female friend at a party that he’d “like to eat her pussy” which, naturally, put her off).

So, one night of excessive drinking led Bill to the apartment of a fellow student and sometimes friend, Gino, who happened to be gay, and may or may not have had a thing for Bill. A couple of friends had gathered at Gino’s to watch a movie. After a lot of beer and a lot of whiskey, Bill—class act that he was—declared that he needed to jerk off. Gino, ever the accommodating host, offered Bill his porn-filled laptop to take into the bathroom. Bill closed the door behind him, dropped trou and set about to looking for some sexually explicit videos.

After about ten minutes, Bill drunkenly demanded Gino come into the bathroom. Gino found Bill with his pants around his ankles and an aggravated expression. Apparently, Bill had called Gino in to complain that the only porn on his laptop was “gay stuff.” Gino, quick on his feet, offered to give Bill a blowjob. Whether it was a lifetime of legitimate curiosity, vague wondering or just a shitload of whiskey and a cool attitude, Bill agreed and Gino went down on him.

Having sobered up from a presumably competent blowjob, Bill thanked Gino and headed off to the next party. Once there and amongst a bunch of straight bros doing kegstands in a kitchen, Bill’s next decision was certainly a product of too much whiskey. “Guys,” he said, “Do you think it’s gay if a guy goes down on you?” Which was, of course, met with masculine cackling. Why, they wanted to know, would he ask such a thing. Bill shrugged nonchalantly and announced that he’d just gotten a blowjob from Gino over at Gino’s apartment.

The kegstanding stopped abruptly and the small group in the kitchen went silent for a few moments. Finally, one of the ringleaders, declared, “Yeah, dude. That’s pretty gay. That’s like, the definition of gay.”

Bill took a seat at the kitchen table and gathered himself up into a thoughtful expression. “See,” he began, “I don’t think so.”

So they laughed and asked him to say more.

“Well,” Bill said, “I’ve never really been attracted to men, but I really wanted to come. Gino gave me a blowjob and although it was technically great, it wasn’t very arousing. I kind of realized as he was doing it that I just wasn’t that in to dudes sucking my dick. I like it better when women do it.”

The ringleader creased his brow, “I still think you’re gay, dude.”

“See, I’m not. Before tonight, I didn’t know whether or not I was attracted to guys. I didn’t think I was, but I couldn’t be sure. Now I’m dead certain that I never want to be involved with a dude. I’m not into it.”

Synapses fired and the ringleader came to an astonishing conclusion, “So, what you’re saying is… you were more gay before you got a blowjob from a man.”

“Yes, that is what I’m saying. I’m less gay now because I know I never want another one. I only want women to do it from now on. And no disrespect to Gino, he knew what he was doing, but it just wasn’t hot like with girls. So, yes, I’m less gay after a guy gave me a blowjob.”

“So, you’re like a scientist.”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed, “I… took a heuristic approach.”

So, I’m tempted to say Bill’s a little full of shit and his explanation may be mere sophistry or an attempt to explain away his actions before the rumor mill got a hold of the situation first. On the other hand, I’m tempted to say that my fellow student Bill is the Niels Bohr of getting blown by a dude. If he really was comfortable with the situation and open to it, and simply realized throughout the process that it wasn’t his cup of tea, I say more power to Bill.

In fact, I wonder if everyone might benefit from that kind of thing. This is not to say that you can’t be sure what you like without trying everything, but this is to say that if you find yourself in unexpected situations—like having a semi in a bathroom with nothing but a desert of unappealing gay porn between you and your orgasm—maybe you can learn about yourself in a valuable way if you navigate with openness. Or, maybe Bill’s just totally gay.