Straight crushes are the bane of an gay/lesbian/bisexual person’s dating life. (I have never dated probably because I have constantly been falling for straight guys and gays who are in committed relationships.) There are straight people everywhere and there are relatively more straight cuties than there are gay cuties, so it’s through no fault of our own that we fall for them. The only problem: they don’t like us, the way we like them. And what’s worse, they get offended and get overly defensive that a “queer” should like them. Here are some awkward encounters of mine with my straight crushes …
Scenario 1: My first official boy-crush was back in high school, before I even knew I was gay – or even what “gay” meant. Last year of high school, during first couple days of class, I saw this guy – not particularly handsome, but extremely attractive to me – and I very easily struck up a friendship with him, since I am a very sociable person. Soon we’re hanging out and studying together all the time. He was new in town and he needed a friend an a study partner, so he stuck around with me pretty much all year through. Not knowing of my own sexuality, I considered our friendship only to be “deeper than the usual kind”, but I was blind to all the gossips and rumours going on behind our backs. My friend apparently knew I was hitting hard on him, and that I was even having some crazy boyfriend moments. But it was surprising, when I look back, that he stayed around the whole school year. It wasn’t until after graduation that he started to distance himself from me. And it wasn’t a few months after his leaving me that I realized I was in love with him – which came as a shock. In retrospect, I cannot tell if he stayed with me because he needed a friend or because he actually accepted me as a queer individual and still friendzoned me.
Scenario 2: I was in a different town than my hometown during my 2 gay years before college. (Burma has only 2 years of high school.) I took several classes in English, French, writing and Mathematics. This guy I had seen for several times at a Maths class approached me in the English class, which I took about 3 months after the Maths class was over. He looks nerdy, quiet and reserved and not physically attractive – like at all. He started talking to me on Facebook, in person and over the phone, and we became friends and sat close to each other in the English class. We got close enough that we would go out together on a regular basis – for a walk, for dinner, to concerts and other events and to the movies. I was slowly developing a crush on him, although he didn’t look any more attractive to me than he had when I first saw him. We would exchange hugs more often than I would with any other friends, he would put his hands on me the way I put my hands on him, etc. I doubted if he was just socially awkward or if he really liked me. I consulted with some of my close friends and they went with the latter. When we saw Thor in on the big screen in mid-2011, we held hands for more than half of the film. I was sure I got him, alright. And when I finally asked him out … BAM, he’s straight! And he got all overprotective and shit and stopped talking to me. He started sitting at the other side of the classroom and not even make eye contact with me anymore. It wasn’t until a couple of months ago that he apologized for his overreaction and started interacting with me again. Some friends and I are speculating that he is in fact gay or bisexual and the would probably still be in denial.
Scenario 3: So I finally started college – after 2 gap years, urgh. And during the second semester, I started hanging out with this guy who lives right opposite me on my floor. He’s a really nice guy – cute but not really attractive (at first) because he can be socially very awkward not talk much. When I told him bluntly that I find him very awkward, his reply was, “Thanks?” We would go for walks and watch movies at the small local cinema or in either of our dorm rooms. We would sometimes hold hands during the movies – and I was careful about holding hands, because of the incident with the previous guy. But, after being exposed to Western culture where physical contact is more acceptable, I have developed the habit of hugging people – more so those who I like/love and this guy, I definitely liked him. When we watched movies in our rooms, we would snuggle under our blankets on one bed, almost cuddling. His white skin is so smooth and he is so pretty when I look at him closely. (There was nothing really interesting about his eyes though. Ooh, but, boy, does his package show well underneath his saggy tennis shorts, and, my, what a package!) Although I wasn’t sure what to make of his sexuality, I decided to ask him out. And I did. I asked him if he would go out with me. We were lying on the carpet in my room and he said, “No, but I would if I were gay. You’d be a fine candidate.” That was the best rejection I have had to date. It didn’t make me mad, it even made me like him more (sadly enough). The next evening, we went out (literally) to see The Hunger Games and we held hands toward the end of the film, which wasn’t romantic at all.
Two weeks passed and I wasn’t sure of his sexuality still. So I asked him out again in a letter. I got a text message as reply: “I’m not gay. Please stop asking.” Well, with text messages you can’t really tell the emotions of the sender. So I went to his door a couple of days later to see if he’s angry. I was ready to apologize if he was – because I crossed the line, even after he said he isn’t gay. [Knock knock] His door opens. He just said hi and stood there, rather awkwardly and as usual. I gathered some courage, looked into his eyes and said, “Hey, I’m sorry I asked you out again. I was worried if you’d be mad at me. Nobody likes being called what you’re not, but you can only be offended if you consider being gay a bad thing.” He didn’t even take a moment to think when he said, “No, I’m not mad at you. It’s ok.” And I could tell he wasn’t mad – AT ALL, which was amazing. Then he gave me a hug and went back to doing homework.