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Gay? Who? and How?
BG's Never-Too-Late Mini-Pride Guide

Call me lame: not only am I pegging this column on New York Gay Pride a week late, but I also -- shame! -- didn't even go. Truth be told, I was compelled to take advantage of a rare free day to clean -- and I mean clean -- my closet. (...an all-day project, as the BG closet is roughly the size of most Manhattan apartments; Betsy called it The Black Hole.) Come to think of it, column-theme-wise, I've missed all of Pride month.

Then again, if you think about it, shouldn't Pride last all year long?

Okay, so I'm neither late nor lame; I'm making a point.

But since I can't actually go on and on about everything I missed at the parade itself -- the Patsy Cline homages, the witty signage, the inevitable running into that person from college whom you always wondered/had no idea about -- I will instead rave/chuckle briefly about George Gurley's recent cover story in the New York Observer: "What's Your Gay Quotient?"

We've all heard/made that earnest pronouncement about how "we're all on a sexual continuum...". But Gurley gets [mostly] straight men and women to get over themselves and, like, do the math. As in:where on that continuum? How much gay? As in: "Three percent gay," says one male respondent. "Three percent means that when I was 12 years old, I had a crush on Phil Blantan for three months, who was this kid in my dorm."

How fun is that!? Oh, how I wish I could invite Gurley & Co. and you all (and the folks right below) to just chill and talk about this -- and, uh, come out -- in my nice big clean closet.

In the meantime:

Dear Breakup Girl,

I have a severe problem and I can't figure out why I can't resolve it. I kind of cheated on my girlfriend but not really. I messed around with a guy that she knows and now she knows, but she still wants to work things out ... but something just doesn't feel right. What do you think it is? I feel partially that I can't trust her, but she said that she still trusts me and it hurts to know after that that she can still trust me. It feels good to know that, but something is wrong with me. I don't know what it is. I wish I did, because it is driving me crazy. Please respond if you can think of something.

-- Jeremy

Dear Jeremy,

Can't trust whom? Oh, Jer, this isn't about your sweet understanding girlfriend; it's about you and your Phil Blantan. That's what freaking you out, I think: the hookup that dare not speak its name. I mean, you dare not even call it cheating -- which it totally is, by the way, I don't care whom it's with; but I point that out more in the interest of interpreting your reaction (um: denial) than condemning your action (which you're doing fine all by yourself). Looks to me like you're writing your own emotions over in your girlfriend's thought balloon because they're a little too much for you to bear. You're wigged either because you didn't know you had these pro-boy feelings, or because you did. If you are still sincerely attracted and devoted to your girlfriend, regardless, then chalk it up to curiosity and experimentation. If there's something you're going to have to admit or explore further, well hey, good start. Thing to remember is that if the last person who should be okay with it is okay with it, then you should be the first person to be okay with it.

Love,
Breakup Girl

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