Je ne veux qu'un gay confidant: Part I

The worst thing about being gay wasn’t coming out (which, for me has only been to a handful of people) but rather it’s the fact that, in so doing, and unbeknownst to me, it meant losing my FIRST and BEST gay confidant: My best friend.

So I want to share this relationship, which started where every perfect one wishes it had.

In Paris.

Just to give you an idea about where I was mentally: I had been broken up with my girlfriend for a year at this point. She and I dated for 4 years. I was definitely in the closet but deep down (or maybe not so deep down) I knew I was gay. It was still easy to dismiss/ignore/suppress because I’d been hooking up with girls and upon meeting me, I was not outwardly all that gay.

That being said, I must admit that if you were at all observant, and knew what to look for, some gay would slip out. Maybe it was how I rolled my eyes, or the fact that I thought Chris Crocker was funny, or that I decided to study abroad in Paris, whatever it was, it’s safe to say that my close friends had their suspicions. Oh, and as with many young gay people, the biggest and most obvious red flag was that I showed very little interest in getting back on the horse after breaking up with this long term girlfriend.

Either way, this is all beside the point. Paris is where I made my first real gay friend. He was out and gay and proud and hilarious.

He didn’t act very gay but he wasn’t in any way, shape, or form hiding it. In fact, before I even met him, I was told there were 3 other dudes in the program, each one getting a ‘token’ description. There was the hippie one, the fat one, and the gay one. Matt was that gay one.

I remember meeting Matt for the first time at a bar called “Le Violon Dingue” which was located in the 5^th arrondissement in the Latin Quarter—a bar we frequented often in the months to come.

Matt was standoffish and almost rude at first. I was the new kid in the program and I needed to be assessed and understood. I got that, whatever. No problem.

I very quickly became friends with a girl named Kate who was the ultimate hipster. She too was new to the program, so naturally we became close. She was beautiful and smoked cigarettes and wore sexy, black boots that made her look so Parisian. She loved Polaroids and smoked Lucky Strikes. French men would literally write her love letters. I didn’t know people still wrote love letters but it was Paris so I guess if it were to happen anywhere, it would be there. The best thing about Kate was that she didn’t speak a goddamn word of French and barely tried. She didn’t need to-- she was that perfect. Of course Matt was drawn to Kate as well but probably for different reasons. I was still so repressed I remember wanting to make her my girlfriend, where as Matt thought she made the PERFECT accessory.

Anyway, Kate is really the reason why Matt and I got so close. We would all hang out together and romp around the city. It must’ve been the first day or so because I remember upon hearing Matt order something in French, my jaw dropped. I’d never heard an American speak with such poise and such confidence and such fluency. Side note, something I notice about myself, and I don’t know why: I rarely offer compliments, even when they are well deserved, but I remember the words literally pouring out of my mouth, “Jesus, Matt, your French is amazing.”

At this point, Matt had little-to-no trust in me and even less interest, not to mention, I’m sure he’d heard the compliment a thousand times. I forget what his exact response was, so this could be way off, but the way I remember it is as follows:

He has his back to me. Upon hearing the compliment he offers just a head turn in my direction. He stares me right in the eyes and with his head stationary and his lips pursed, he looks me over from head to toe. He starts to tuck a pretend piece of hair behind his ear while simultaneously shaking his head and says “Um, I know” with a tone so condescending it would make you cringe. Then he turns his head back around and walks away giggling with Kate…. MY KATE under his arm.

In reality, since Matt isn’t a character from Mean Girls, he probably just smiled and said “Oh, thanks” but for some reason it came across like he was a giant bitch.

Eventually, I think Matt realized I was not a threat and that I was pretty funny and nice and interesting to talk to. Essentially the 3 of us: Kate, Matt and myself would get really, really high in Kate’s room and laugh and laugh and laugh until 3am every night. Eventually Kate would try to kick us out but we would just ignore her (not so subtle) hints for us to leave— In the beginning it was a little awkward because Matt and I had no established relationship independent of Kate but we would have to walk to our respective homes together. Despite having just laughed it up for like 5 hours and pretty much ignoring Kate in her room, as soon as we weren’t with her, we felt weird. As if her presence made it OK for us to be hanging out, even if she wasn’t paying attention to us, it made us both feel more comfortable. Remove her and we were like, “… so… yeah man. What’s up? Yeah.”

But maybe it was because we were so stoned? Who knows. Point is, that didn’t last long, and in fact it’s funny to think about a time when things were awkward because in the years to come, nothing was awkward between us except at the end of course.

I remember the first time we started to hang out without Kate, our first transition into a real, independent friendship. I was alone in my apartment and Matt came knocking on the door. I was like, “Oh hey… uhh Kates not here, but come on in”.

We started drinking wine. Note: I fucking hated wine but we had no money and we could each down our own bottle in one night and it was the PERFECT amount to keep us fucked up and it cost 1.85 euro. We became experts at searching for the cheapest wine with the highest alcohol content. Pretty sickening actually, but we both turned 21 that semester so it was fun and affordable.

I remember being up on the mezzanine level of my apartment, which overlooked the lower level where Matt was. I don’t remember why or how or who initiated it but I was playing 2 (terrible) songs over and over: Jo Jo’s “Baby it’s You” and Kelly Roland’s “Stole”. I’m embarrassed putting this down on paper now but at the same time I am remembering these moments fondly. 

I was on the mezzanine belting out the lyrics and Matt was down on the ground level dancing like a mad woman… (gayer moments of my life, I do admit). I can still see Matt gyrating his hips ever so ethnically to JoJo’s drum beat intro, getting heavier and raunchier as the rhythmic clapping marries in with the beat. This is an (embarrassing) snap shot in time that will forever be etched in my memory as the (proud) beginning of our friendship.

From there on out we were inseparable. We did everything together and we had a ball doing it. He would come over everyday and we’d hang out, listen to music, go on escapades throughout the city, get high, get drunk and then do it all over again. It’s funny that we were both “studying” abroad because I barely remember classes or studying or even learning for that matter. I do know that I got straight A’s that semester but Matt ended up graduating late for the time wasted in Paris.

At the end of the semester we returned back to the States where our friendship remained as strong as ever. We both lived in the same state so we saw each other often and things just continued as if we were still in Paris.

At that point the dynamic of our relationship was that I was the straight one and he was the gay one. He would tell me stories about the guys he was interested in and I would give him advice as if he were talking about a girl. It just felt normal. I think a part of Matt was proud to have a straight friend. When college started again that next semester we went to different schools but made a point to visit each other and meet each other’s friends and everyone just got along so well.

At this point the timing is pretty important. The first time I’d ever hooked up with a dude happened over winter break of my senior year in college. It was a little tough to get through that last semester and my friends all say I was “off”.  My best friend (who I am out to) has told me, “Yeah, man, I could tell you were struggling with something” but to be perfectly honest, I didn’t feel like I was struggling or coming to terms with being gay, that struggle was longer and more drawn out, and therefore less intense. It wasn’t concentrated all in that final semester by any means—so I still get defensive when he mentions this because he makes me sound crazy. Anyway, I just felt stifled and bored. I knew what I had in store for myself and what kind of life I wanted to live and being in college with those same people just did not fit that vision. Anyway, not the blog for that…

Point is, this is where it starts to get juicy. I was about to write the details of my coming out here but that is in another blog –so if you want to read that melodrama, go for it. Point is, Matt was the first soul on earth that I ever told. I would be lying if I said I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders or that things magically got better. It was just normal after that. Who better to tell than Matt-- a gay friend who I really respected and admired and to whom I felt very close. Since we were so close anyway, things just remained the same. He just knew a new fact about me. That’s all—or so I thought.

Anyway, in my mind things were just fine. I had a confidant and I felt I could be honest and use him as an outlet to vent, or get things off my chest. I told him about that first dude I hooked up with and how it went and how I felt etc. It all seemed pretty healthy despite occasionally getting some weird reactions that I would just dismiss and attribute to him just being a little judgy--whatevs. No biggie.

I have never been so wrong about something in my life. To see what happens with Matt and me, read: Je ne veux qu'un gay confidant: Part Deux... dun dun dunnnnnn.

***Note: I've cut this entry in half because it's just so loooong and so wooooordy and the detail is exhaaaaausting--I'm sorry, it's just off-putting.