Don’t Be It, Dream It
by Natty Soltesz
I’ve had my share of straight guys. Maybe I’ve had my fill.
I bagged the majority during my college years, that magical time when sexual identity is as addled and messy as a frat boy after his third keg stand. One straight drunk buddy made out with me at a party then invited me to his bedroom to trade blowjobs. Another got so horny looking at straight porn he whacked me off and let me return the favor.
And I’ve had others since then. Dalliances in secluded park paths and in the backrooms of adult bookstores, those playgrounds of the minivan-and-wedding-band set. Hookups with masc, discreet Internet-personals advertisers who need to be fucked quick before the gf gets home.
All of them “straight,” though in varying degrees of believability. My penchant for straight guys has come through most strongly in my writing, and I’m aware of the inherent irony in an oeuvre of gay porn about straight guys. I’ve joked that my characters think they’re straight but are actually bisexual; these days I use the term “straight-ish” to describe them. It’s something of a cop out but it serves my purposes. I’m certainly interested in the intersection of sexual identity and behavior, but I prefer to leave those conversations to the queer theorists (who need something to talk about).
My fascination lies in the fantasy of the straight guy, that persistent and near-ubiquitous gay male fetish for guys who prefer pussy but will reach for other forms of relief in a pinch. Internet porn teems with these representations, site after site of guys who only do it cause they’re horny, or tricked, or need the money.
One particular video that was making the Internet rounds a few years back had a straight-identified performer doggy-style fucking a guy whilst reading a pussy mag he’d draped over the bottom’s back. This crossed a line for many and seemed to distill the love/hate boner/shame relationship many gay men have with “straight guys.”
I thought it was hot, maybe because I make a strong distinction between representation and reality. Trading blowjobs with that guy in college was fun – having him alienate me as he fell in love with a mutual female friend was not fun. I got such a crush on one of my best straight buddies that I nearly ruined the friendship with my hopeless pining.
It’s true that there’s an element of self defeat and self hatred when it comes to fetishizing straight guys. But most of our sexual fantasies tend toward the unattainable – otherwise it’s unlikely they’d be fantasies. So it’s okay to jack off while imagining blowing your hetero married boss under his desk, but it’s not an aspiration worth losing your job for. To insist upon the fantasy is at best pathetic, at worst a tragedy. It’s not much of a waking life when you’re hung up on a dream.
So yeah, I’ll always turn my head for a little butch swagger. A football jersey, a gold chain, a splash of Drakkar Noir. But when it gets down to getting down I’d rather have the dude who’s got a spring in his step and a twinkle in his eye. He’s more likely to be aware of what he’s doing, and do it better, and do it with me again.