One of my good friends and I had sex. This would not be so strange if it weren’t for the fact that he was both identifying as straight AND homophobic. Even stranger, he initiated everything from the kissing to the blowjobs, and I have to say, he was damn good at keeping teeth out of the equation. But he won’t date me, and even after the second time we had sex, he refuses because I’m too good a friend and that he doesn’t see me like that. He claims not to be attracted to me, and I think that’s bull. Nobody held a gun to his head and said, “Have gay sex now!” Even worse, he wants to bang one of our mutual friends who happens to be female, so his good friend comment is worth shit. I’m for the most part over him, but it still feels like a slap in the face. Any advice?
What we have here, Daniel, is a dude with a huge rift between his sexual practices and his self-perception; between his secret eroticism and what he thinks others know about him. Needless to say this is a very dangerous psychological dilemma for him or anyone like him. It’s no wonder he identifies as homophobic, pup, because indeed he is. At least he knows himself that well.
If you haven’t discovered this already, lots of homophobes indulge in the very thing that disgusts them. That’s why is so easy to see through all the bluster that these conflicted individuals make. You see, it’s like a smoke screen. They spew a lot of hate in an effort to disguise their lust. It’s one of those; “me thinks you doth protest too much” sorta deals.
You also rightly point out the falsehood of the whole “too good a friend” argument that he uses to avoid dating you. As you probably can guess his hesitation to “date” you has absolutely nothing to do with friendship. He loathes himself for what he finds inside himself. And while he may dabble in the very thing he hates in private; he sure as hell doesn’t want to parade his shame around by publicly dating you — an out and, I assume, proud gay man. Right?
Oh, and that, “for the most part, I’m over him” statement is, I assume you know, gay-speak for “still carrying a big old messy torch for the fucked up monkey.”
Finally this incident oughta feel like a slap in the face. Ya know why? Because it was a slap in the face, darling. And you know what slaps in the face are supposed to do for us? That’s right, they’re supposed to wake us the fuck up. And they’re supposed to sting like hell afterward. This painful aftermath is intended to ward us away from getting to close to that particular stimulus ever again. Think of it like baby learning to avoid the stove after burning his had touching a hot burner.
So, ditch this dude, pup. If ya don’t, you can look forward to a whole lot more slaps in the face.