Dear Eddie,
I’m a young, red-blooded man living in Yangon. Recently I went out drinking with two friends: an attractive lady and an openly gay Burmese man (let’s call him "Ko Kyaw").
We ended up at 50th Street bar, where a strange gentleman persuaded us to come to his house for “cocktails.” These turned out to be poor quality screwdrivers served in dirty plastic cups, and combined with the strong smell of dog urine, we were keen to move on. However, the lady elected to stay behind, leaving me somewhat sexually frustrated and utterly drunk on low quality vodka.
Ko Kyaw and I resolved to go back to mine and commiserate over a bottle of Grand Royal. After chatting for some time, there was a pregnant pause, I felt my heart flutter, and we leaned into each other and kissed—for perhaps ten seconds or more, until I gently pushed him away and went to the bathroom to gather my wits. When I got back I told him that I thought I should get some sleep, and that he should do the same.
Since this incident, I have settled down with a lovely young lady. And yet my mind keeps drifting back to that night…the screwdrivers…and the strangely erogenous smell of dog urine.
Tell me Ed: am I gay now? How can I reconcile myself with this moment of passion? Do I have to develop a taste for 80s synth pop and the musicals of Stephen Sondheim? Help a white guy out!
Yours curiously,
Undecided
Dear Confused White Guy,
First of all, thank you so much for your agony; you’re the first person to get ed-vice. Let me just start by saying I’m super qualified for this, me being gay and all, with my love for 80s synth pop (Bizarre Love Triangle is the best 80s synth pop song ever, change my mind) and my acquired knowledge of Sondheim from all the bootleg video recordings of Broadway musicals.
With that being said, I’m surprised by how long you’ve been dwelling on this 10-second kiss. I’m guessing it’s been long because you said you “settled down with a lovely young lady.” Don’t take offense but I almost puked the iced lemon tea that I was drinking, because that’s what all gays drink, when I read that sentence. Is it just me or does the word “settle down” not have a positive connotation in this scenario, considering you’ve been drifting back to that night? What you must think of is: is this some form of running away from your problems as a result of patriarchal toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia?
To quote a lot of well-researched, um, researches, sexuality exists on a spectrum. Maybe that 10 seconds of passion was the spark of a new sexual journey, or a result of alcohol. Maybe you’re queer. As per the gay agenda, me and my Into The Woods-loving gays along with all the queer people, who do not fit into the stereotypical gay stuff, welcome you with open arms should you realize you’re not straight. It does come down to you, after all.
Another thing you have to consider is whether you’re gonna talk to the lovely young lady about this incident. Another thing of equal importance is to ask yourself if you have a weird fascination with the smell of dog urine. If you really want to reconcile with Ko Kyaw (bless his little gay heart), maybe start out by just talking about it. Let me end this ed-vice by saying the root of your problems was going to 50th Street bar in the first place and following along with a creepy man who can’t even make screwdrivers. Instead he screwed your night and your comfort knowledge of heterosexuality. This could only happen to a white person.
Yours queerly,
Eddie
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