I'm an out gay man, and I'm ferociously necking with a woman. So why are we engaged in the most overt sexual act a person can perform in public? I don't want to have sex with her, and she doesn't want to have sex with me. After all, the idea of two people with very different sexual identities and attractions ending up tongue-tied is tinged with the absurd, even the pathetic. In both groups you'll find more who never would. That's not to say that all gay men and straight women-however liberal-do it. I'd feel more self-conscious copping to this habit of mine if I thought I were the only homosexual male in my set-educated, liberal, sexually exploratory-who indulged. And then we're kissing-no, we're making out. We shoot it to each other, almost simultaneously, knowing that the moment is coming. I throw back the rest of my beer and slide the glass toward the bartender.
We're however many drinks in-that's inconsequential, really, but alcohol is always motivating-and leaning into each another with droopy lids and grinning mouths. I'm in the early hours of the morning, ponied up to a bar with a few friends, among them a strikingly beautiful, model-tall female we'll call Shannon.
