Dear Roe,
I’m living in a houseshare with a friend and I’m having trouble characterising things. From the start we clicked. He’s kind and funny and always has time to talk. I spend all day looking forward to the next time I see him. We usually eat dinner together and spend evenings hanging out.
He knows I’m gay. Usually it’s easier to have boundaries when a guy friend knows this but it’s different with him. He texted me a week ago saying he realised he’s started to think of me as more like a girl than a guy and this is confusing him. I probably do come across as not particularly manly. I said it was okay and maybe it didn’t matter. We have kept our usual routine. Even at the weekends he still wants to hang out. We went drinking with mutual friends and he got way drunker than normal. After we got home, he climbed onto me on the couch and we fooled around. We’re both pretending like it didn’t happen now.
I want to have a sexual relationship with him so badly but I’m scared he is just feeling confused. I don’t want to ruin things.
Let’s just examine what you fear you’re at risk of ruining. You are living with someone who is mentally reclassifying your gender in order to feel more comfortable about his desire for you. He can only act on these desires while drunk. And he is now letting his shame take over to the point of pretending that the sexual experience that you shared didn’t happen, ignoring how that could make you feel. So now, in your own home, the place where you are supposed to feel safe and supported and relaxed and like you can be yourself, you are now confused and being erased and ignored.
Desires that are still stigmatised, policed, punished and attacked, in systemic societal, cultural, legislative and even physical ways
I have a huge amount of sympathy for your flatmate. It can be incredibly difficult to confront the fact that your sexuality is not as straight-forward (pun not intended, but not unwelcome) as you once believed. Meeting you and wanting you may be forcing him to confront desires he had never felt before; or desires he had not acted on before; or desires that cause him confusion or shame and fear. Desires that are still stigmatised and policed and punished and attacked, in systemic societal, cultural, legislative and even physical ways – as anyone who read the author Gavin McCrea's brave, devastating piece on facing homophobic violence just this month can attest.
It’s a lot for someone to think about, and it’s no wonder that your flatmate is afraid of and intimidated by the prospect of facing homophobia from the external world, and confronting any homophobia he has internalised, and is using to judge his own desires. (His desires do not mean that he is necessarily gay; he could be bisexual or pansexual or sexually fluid, but all of these possibilities are impacted by homophobia.) But you know all this.
Because you’ve been in the position of realising that you desire men, and that the world could try to punish you for that. You’ve been through the process of coming out. You’ve done the work and built up the bravery and strength and resilience to speak openly about your desires, and your right to love. And so while I have empathy for your flatmate, I’m also concerned about what this dynamic will do to your emotional, mental and sexual wellbeing.
After everything you’ve done to respect your own desire, how will it effect you to be drawn back into a world of shame and secrecy and erasure? What will continuing to be with this man cost your self-esteem, your respect for your desires, your belief that you are worthy of love? If your own home becomes a type of closet, how will that impact your sense of safety and autonomy and freedom on both a daily and long-term basis?
These questions are worth asking – and maybe you’ll decide that you’re fine with the dynamic. I must point out, however, while many people – including many people who are ashamed of their desires – use alcohol as a crutch regarding sex, having sex with a drunk person who then acts like they don’t remember it and is struggling to accept his sexuality is dangerous, for both you. You cannot be sure that he is capable of giving consent, or even that it’s a healthy experience for him.
You also cannot be sure that any mixture of the alcohol and his shame won’t result in him lashing out during or after a sexual encounter. His assertions of not remembering anything – whether true or performed – will continue to hurt both of you.
You need to start protecting yourself, and him. Start a conversation with him. Tell him that you’re are happy to talk when he’s ready because you support him and care for him, and see what he says. If he’s interested in pursuing something, tell him that you want any experience to be empowering and fun for both of you – which might mean taking it very slow, talking it through, and making sure everyone’s sober.
Continuing to pursue something romantic or sexual with him while he's confused about his sexuality is far more likely to result in a disastrous living situation than anything good
Also tell him if nothing else happens, that’s fine too, and you’re happy to be friends. Or if he shuts the conversation down, refuses to engage, and keeps acting like nothing happened between you, step back. Create some space so that your heart can heal, and his thoughts can clear. This may look like creating some boundaries in your dynamic, or deciding if you still want to live with him.
You can like him and empathise with him and offer him support. Someone who is figuring out their sexuality deserves support, and hopefully eventually he’ll have some safe, empowering, respectful sexual experiences if he wants them. But continuing to pursue something romantic or sexual with him while he’s confused about his sexuality and denying physical encounters is far more likely to result in hurt feelings, a damaged relationship and a disastrous living situation than anything good.
You say you don’t want to ruin anything but there’s not much to preserve here. This dynamic is built on dangerously unsteady foundations that is just waiting to come crashing down. Either agree to rebuild something safer and more sustainable together, or look for a dynamic that’s more solid, built on honesty and openness, with someone who is enthusiastic in their desire for you, and delighted to revel in it.
Your flatmate deserves to feel good about who he is. But so do you.
Roe McDermott is a writer and Fulbright scholar with an MA in sexuality studies. If you have a problem or query you would like her to answer (max 200 words), you can submit it anonymously at irishtimes.com/dearroe. Only questions selected for publication can be answered.
