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

Denver City Blues, March 2009

Part of moving to a new city, meeting new people, and embracing life as a young professional is deciding what to say about myself to other people. And it’s not just a matter of what to say – it’s also about how much of it to say and to whom to choose to say it.

For instance, I decided not to tell my landlord or most of my new friends that I occasionally enjoy a cigarette or two, with the idea being that if people didn’t expect it of me maybe I’d soon stop doing it. I decided to be open about my work for the Obama campaign at a recent conference, despite the presence of several known Republicans, but I left out the part about being a gay, agnostic, democratic socialist.

All people choose how to “message” themselves to others, but perhaps this applies more to the gay identity than to others. Unlike most essential parts of our identity – our gender, our race, and even things like socioeconomic or educational background – we can generally choose whether to hide our sexuality from others or be very vocal and honest about it.

The more I thought about this, the more choice I saw in the way I presented myself with others in my life, be it professional or personal. I began to worry: do I give too much away in my day-to-day close encounters of the third kind? Or do I keep too much of myself private and lose out because I can’t loosen up?

To speak or not to speak. From the bedroom to the office, that seemed to be the question.

The whole notion came about last week when a close new friend told me, “Great sex is all about communication.” Chemistry, effort and talent may all be important, but the number one factor for having fun in bed is effectively stating what you want – and being listened to. Anyone worth sleeping with, he said, is going to want to hear it.

“If they don’t, they’re just selfish and mean,” he warned. Instantly, I thought he was onto something.

I tend to be a pretty quiet guy until I get to know someone, and when I’m sleeping with someone that comfort level starts over at zero. In other words, even if I hook up with a friend I’ve known for a long time, until I get to know him sexually I’m going to be fairly silent about what I want and need in bed.

There was something about vocalizing the most intimate aspects of myself that has always made me feel uneasy, and thus is something I tend to avoid until I felt really comfortable with someone. Stating too much had always been a worry. What if my sexual desires gave away too much of my personality and set me up to be manipulated or at least “figured out”? What if – at least in the eyes of the other man – I turned out to be some kind of freak or undesirable?

Of course, there were problems with keeping quiet, too. There was the immediate issue of not having a totally satisfying experience. There was the long-term issue of having to backtrack with guys with whom I was originally quiet and then wanted or expected something different. And there was the underlying issue that if I wasn’t comfortable with these guys, why was I sleeping with them to begin with?

As I mentioned, I was also thinking this week about how much I should or shouldn’t say about myself at my new job. For the past two years, I have considered it part of my duty as a queer person to be as “out” as is safe and reasonable. I believe that the queer rights movement depends on more gays coming out, more heterosexual people knowing gay folks, and the “public face” of the gay community therefore broadening and not being pigeonholed into certain media-perpetuated stereotypes.

That was as a college student. As a young professional, while I made no secret of my sexuality while getting hired at the national level, coming out to the people I’d actually be working with on a day-to-day level seemed to be another story.

But earlier this week I was gently outed by a coworker who seemed to be looking out for me. I was pleased to learn that the people I’d be working with were by and large accepting and open-minded, and that I had at least a few queer allies in case I ever ran into trouble. But I still felt like my sexuality should be kept under wraps unless I had a specific reason to tell a specific person.

Really, it all related to the same questions I had been considering regarding communication and sex. Was it better to be honest with people and not worry about those who didn’t like what they heard? Or was it better to play on the safe side and allow yourself to remain a mystery until you felt comfortable opening up?

In my situation, I think that maybe I need to be a bit more communicative with the people I sleep with and a little less open with others – at least until I get a better feel for my new job. Social change and gay rights aside, there is something sensible in keeping your personal life personal, even if you happen to write a sex column.

On the other hand, if I’m going to have sex with someone, I might as well extend my oral abilities to include good communication. After all, expecting our partners to listen to our desires and hear us out hardly seems like asking too much.