If there's one thing that drives me nuts about being gay, it is the complete lack of a courtship paradigm. Not that I'm old-fashioned: I don't think a man should order his lady's food any more than I think that lady needs a corset. But at least straights have a model to rebel against—or embrace, depending on how evolved they are.
Gays have the challenge of starting from scratch. As if it weren't hard enough to accept that you'd never go to prom with Johnny Football Star, now you don't know what to do when—fifteen years later—Johnny finds you on Grindr and is meeting you for dinner. Should you bring flowers? Will he? Is this a friends thing?
And most pressingly: Who pays?!?!
I have been out with too many men who equate a real date with a commitment ceremony—something reserved for that elusive future boyfriend who must exist but is never the guy they're with—to stay silent any longer. They have no problem cruising you at Jackhammer and proving their Kinsey rating between the sheets, but set them at a table with actual china and more than one fork and suddenly you're treated like a coworker. And for many, one fork alone will do the trick.
Fair enough, it is hard to know how your companion is labeling your get-together without actually asking. Is it a date, or are you hanging out? Is he maybe just hungry and afraid to eat alone? Does he honestly only want to check out this new restaurant? If only you could ask. But asking means certain demotion from date to hanging out if that even were the case because that makes you neurotic.
And sex doesn't clarify it either. Gone are the days when physical encounters separated the buddies from the boyfriends. I've heard, "We can't date, but we can still fuck," more than enough to know it's our postmodern morality and not my egregious personality encouraging this compromise.
Perhaps most awkward is the morning-after-the-hook-up breakfast at the local diner. Sitting across from the man you've known for going on ten hours, you're now less concerned with how long he takes to come and more with how fast he takes the check. Because he should.
And so should you.
That's right, the answer to the ubiquitous question above is a resounding "YOU!" You pick up the check.
Every first date should end with a polite exchange in which you both offer to pay for the meal. And "Can we split it?" doesn't count. Pay for his half. One of you will coyly give in and insist on treating next time.
And unless Johnny Football Star really does have a problem snapping, it'll make next time come sooner. Even if it is too late for prom.
Homer can be reached at homermarrs@gmail.com .
