This post was submitted by corey

Start your week with sex… or lack thereof. Delve into the jungle of the newly out and single every Monday morning in Sexual Disorientation.

To read the first part of this story, click here.

The first few months of being out and dating are like the first run through an all-you-can-eat buffet: you try a little of everything, figure out what you like, and go back for more. I’d learned that sex with random people didn’t do it for me, but I also didn’t think that I needed for it to be attached to a relationship for it to be enjoyable.

A “spring fling” is thus something I thought I could pull off, and when a great guy came along who seemed to want more than being friends, I took the opportunity. But after we slept together, we were simply no where – no fling, no friendship, nothing. We went from talking everyday and confiding in each other to dropping all but the most basic communication.

For me it raised some questions. Is there room in the gay world for dating? Is there room for flings that last more than forty-five minutes? Or are my options limited to friends, fucks and boyfriends?

The Incident went down on a Saturday night in Georgetown. After drinking and socializing most of the evening, we were finally alone and on the couch. I inched closer to him; he inched closer to me. I put my head on his shoulder and my arm across his chest; he leaned his head on mine and took my hand. And soon, we were kissing.

I was suddenly very confused. I had wanted this to happen for a few weeks, while we ran about town on what were basically dates while he maintained that he just wanted to be friends. The fact was, I really liked this guy but I was moving soon and so was he. Having had a rocky few months, I knew that he didn’t need any more heartbreak. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship for a one-night stand, but I thought that a little fling – a few weeks of dating and intimacy with an amicable departure – might be good for us both.

I pulled away from his lips and asked him to wait. Gathering my thoughts, I asked, “Are you sure this is what you want? I know you’re not into hookups.” “I know,” he said.” “So this isn’t a hookup?” He shook his head no, and that was good enough for me.

Between the wine and my desire to advance things with him, I took this as a sign that he must want something similar to me. I thought that we were headed for something between a relationship – which I would have wanted but which wasn’t possible – and no-strings-attached sex – which was a little too short-term for either of us.

We slept with each other and I was on cloud nine. Something about this felt different than the sex I had had in the past. It’s not that I didn’t care about some of the men who came before (no pun intended), but it wasn’t the same kind of caring. The next day, after he had left, I wondered if I was falling for him.

The funny thing about flings and dating is that they are supposed to be casual due to their lack of clear boundaries or commitments, but in reality this often makes things more complicated and stressful. As it turns out, getting laid without structure isn’t so laid back. Some people – myself included – take comfort in the clear definitions of friendships, people we’re just having sex with, and people we’re in a relationship with. When you start mixing with those categories, you can often end up with a mess.

My boy and I went from being close friends who talked everyday about things important to us to hardly talking at all. We had all sorts of things planned for the weeks ahead, from which he dropped out of one by one, leaving me with jazz tickets and train tickets and too much free time. I know that he wasn’t trying to hurt me. But in the sobering light of day, he may have realized that he couldn’t be friends with me without us wanting to sleep together, and that we couldn’t sleep together without us both wanting something more than that.

Regardless of his intentions, I was left pretty upset. Not only had I lost my chance at a few week fling with a great guy, but I had also lost a good friend. I also worried that I had somehow hurt him – that maybe I should have just kept my distance so as to avoid all of this from happening. He was younger, still in his late teens, and perhaps I was the one who was supposed to be responsible and stop us both.

Anything that is more than just sex but less than a relationship seems to run in contradiction to every kind of paradigm presented to a young queer person in our society. There is the old notion that sleeping around is as much a part of gay identity and community as is superior taste in clothing. On the other hand, there is the new guard – those in very public relationships, those adopting kids, those fighting for marriage rights because they actually want to use those rights.

Truth be told, it can be hard for queer people to go on dates and feel comfortable and safe. It can be hard to define something that is more meaningful to us than a one-night stand but that doesn’t fit into the heteronormative structure of a “relationship.”

And many of us may feel rejected also by our queer peers. I have friends who sleep around, friends who are in relationships, and friends who are in relationships and sleep around, but I don’t have any who date or have short-term affairs. We don’t need the approval of others and we don’t need to live in a way that mimics our friends, but standing on one’s own with no example to live by is easier said than done.

(Of course, there’s the distinct possibility that it has less to do with being gay and more to do with being me. But that’s a more depressing line of questioning for another time.)

In the weeks following The Fall of the Fling, I found myself disinterested in sex. I had the opportunity once or twice, and normally I might have gone for it. But after sleeping with a guy that I really liked, sleeping with someone for whom I didn’t have feelings seemed to lack much appeal. And now, even if I do find someone who fits that bill, I’m not sure I’m willing to risk falling too hard too fast once again.

Knowing me, it won’t be long until I’m mixed up in something once again despite these reservations. But I will be a lot more careful before pursuing a fling. Maybe some people can have more than sex and less than a significant other, but I’m complicated enough as it is without adding all that.

And to my long lost boy, if you should be reading this, from the European city you flew off to without warning: I’m sorry that we messed up our friendship, our fling, or whatever it was we wanted. I hope you weren’t hurt like I was. And I hope that if we’re ever living in the same zip code at the same time, you’ll look me upl.

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