The Complications of Queer Dating in a Heteronormative World

Aaron and I bonded through proximity. He worked at a sunglass kiosk at the mall; I worked at an engraving store that was, conveniently, directly across from him. During lulls, it felt like we could chat about almost anything. On breaks, we would grab one another food or a soda. Some people who worked at the mall thought we were a couple. I was one of those people-or at least I felt like we were on a romantic path. But there was one prodigious, meddlesome, elephant-in-the-living-room problem.

"I'm straight! Why does everyone always think I'm gay?" Aaron asked one day.

"You flirt with me more than any guy who wants to date me," I answered with a simper.

He denied it, but the blush on his cheeks told a different story. Maybe he wasn't as straight as he wanted people to believe. There was a chance that he was a two on the Kinsey scale. Aaron changed the subject. He wanted to talk about what we should do after work. Neither of us wanted to go straight home, but had no other plans.

"Why don't we have a dinner date," Aaron said.

I was thrown when he used the word date, especially since he was so frustrated about people being confused about his orientation. Would a straight man really say something like that? Was I overthinking his wording? Tell me that I am not alone in overthinking things, especially how people word things. His wording dallied in my mind after I agreed to go to dinner with him. How do other queer people deal with these situations? Something tells me heterosexual people don't deal with such quandaries.

Dinner And A Kiss

We went to a nearby diner. The hostess took us to a clandestine booth that was in the back, with no one else around. It was more romantic than a Bridgerton story. Sitting in the booth, suddenly, I felt his feet playing with mine. What was actually happening? I shot him a confused look; he didn't say anything. There was no way that a straight dude would do something like this. But something stopped me from saying something for a while.

"Are you playing footsie with me?" I asked, my voice thick with confusion.

"I am," he said, a shy smile on his face.

Why was he playing footsie with me? Later, he claimed that this was nothing more than a friend being playful with his buddy. After dinner, we went to see a movie, and he grabbed my hand as we sat in the seats and waited for the film to start.

My nephew threw a fit when I held his hand to get through the parking lot. But this grown straight man, was sitting here holding my hand in a movie theater like we were a couple. Pushing my luck, I laid my head on his shoulder like it was my personal pillow. He didn't seem to mind.

"Is this ok?" I asked.

"Of course," Aaron said, putting his arm around me.

During the movie, I caught myself falling asleep on him. Is this what it feels like when doves cry? Sure, having him act like a lover was nice, but this wasn't going to go any further than him letting me use his shoulder like a pillow. After the movie, we parted ways. My mind was reeling. Again with the overthinking.

Cuddling was an intimate act, so why had Aaron let me do it? He was a great guy, but even good dudes had limits on what they would do with their gay friends. Did he feel the same type of connection with me that I felt for him? Something in the pit of my stomach told me that I needed to talk to him. But would I be embarrassing myself?

How would this talk go? Maybe he would laugh at me when I said that I felt like there was something romantic between us. He would tell everyone that we worked with what happened. And then everyone would give me the side eye. Or perhaps he would pull me into his arms, and we would have the start of an epic romance. It worked in the novels that I saw some of the older ladies carrying around and that I secretly read when no one was watching. If overthinking were an Olympic event, I would win the gold.

Neither scenario felt right to me. Aaron wasn't a confrontational man, and it would be difficult to deny that something romantic was happening. But he may not feel the same way that I did. I decided to push through the overthinking and go to the mall to talk to him. My feet felt like cement and each step was heavier than the last.

My heart started beating faster as I got closer to the sunglass kiosk. The lyrics from the SWV song popped into my head, my heart starts beating triple time. He looked up from the book he was reading and smiled at me. It was like someone turned on the sun.

"Hey, can we talk tonight? It's something that's been on my mind." I said. To me, the words came out in a jumble, but somehow he understood what I was asking.

"Of course we can. I get off at six," Aaron said. I giggled at the double entendre in my head. There were no histrionics or outbursts. It seemed things were going my way.

At six, I walked up to the kiosk and was surprised to find that he was still working alone. I shot him a confused look. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say that he had no idea what was going on.

"Are you working a double?"

"No, I'm waiting on Cindy to come in. It's not like her to be late," he said.

Clearly, the universe was telling me not to have the conversation. It aligned the traffic jam and other obstacles to ensure that the talk with Aaron would not occur. He noticed that my anxiety was ratcheting up, "Are you OK?"

"I think I need a soda, you want one?"

He said yes. I walked over to the drink place where most of the mall employees got their caffeine fix. After placing my order, I stepped to the side to let the next guest go. My mind was a whirlpool of thoughts. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to broach the conversation with him. Aaron made no bones about being straight, and there was a reasonable explanation for why he acted cutesy with me. My mind went in fifty different directions. Perhaps he thought overthinking was attractive.

What was I thinking? There was no legitimate reason that I should have asked Aaron to talk. He had clarified that he was hetero. Even if he flirted with me the way OnlyFans creators flirt with their subscribers, that didn't mean he wanted to date me. Or anything that came along with it.

As I waited for the drinks, I felt a pair of arms wrapping around me. They felt like a nice, snugly blanket. I relaxed into the embrace. I looked to see who was brazen enough to do this, though I already suspected I knew who it was. When our eyes met, Aaron smiled at me, his lips inches from mine.

A kiss felt inevitable. Something in my belly started fluttering around. A kiss wouldn't be so bad. It might even be nice.

"Did Cindy come in?" I asked, trying to distract myself.

"Yep, I'm all yours now."

The lady working the drink kiosk shot me a knowing look. It was the kind of look that suggested she was thinking, "not your boyfriend, my ass."

Maybe her imaginary thoughts had a point. It seemed feasible that Aaron and I would get together, grow old, and pass down our love story to an army of dogs that we raised. That was the dream. Or I was overthinking. I was probably overthinking. Picking a restaurant is like waking up in the morning. It has to be done, but the level of difficulty and amount of energy it takes is absurd. There should be a point and click option. Or maybe a reward of tequila after a decision is made.

"Why don't we go over to Texas Roadhouse," Aaron said.

"Let's go," I said. Steak and a blooming onion are superb secondary prizes for choosing a place to eat, too.

There was very little wait for a table when we got there. The hostess took us to a booth and said that the server would be over to take our drink orders in a few minutes. As we waited for our drinks, my mind began to wander. Big surprise. Would Aaron make a good boyfriend? What was he like in bed?

Something crawling up my leg made me drop the last thought. I went to swat it away but stopped when I noticed that he was grinning at me. Once again, the man was flirting with me.

"I'm a leg man, what do you expect?" He asked.

"I'm not a woman," I pointed out. Then added with a laugh, "and as you can feel, I have not shaved."

Before he could answer, the server came over and took our drink order. We both got cocktails.

"Do you like me?" I asked after our drinks arrived.

"'Course I do, you're my friend," Aaron said. Then, as if he realized what I meant, "You mean like do I like you? I guess I've always been a bit curious about what it would be like if I were gay."

The server reappeared and took our dinner orders. Again, the universe seemed to be conspiring to keep me from getting the answers that I so wanted. Once our server left, I was too stunned to go back to that conversation. Still, I wondered what the implication was with his admission of curiosity.

My answer was coming sooner than expected.

Flirting Over Drinks

During dinner, a dribble of steak sauce made its way down my face, and he wiped it away. His face inches from mine. The look on his face indicated that something was on his mind. When I stepped away to use the restroom, he ordered me another drink. I was surprised to see it when I came back.

And he took care of the bill when the server dropped it off. I tried to hand him money, but he waved me off. He argued that I had bought his food when we worked together last, so it was his turn.

Was this an actual date? He hadn't used the word this time. But there were signs that this was more romantic than I had originally intended it to be. I'd only wanted to discover what he wanted with me.

Which I did. And much more. Was it my imagination, or were things moving romantically? As we walked out of the restaurant, Aaron looked at me like I was an ice cream sundae waiting to be licked, gave me pants feelings. I was ready to do whatever it was that he wanted.

This time, the overthinking was fun.

He drove me back to my car in the mall's parking lot. When we got there, we stood outside for a few minutes and talked. A half smile played on his face throughout the conversation. Like, he knew how this night would end.

"What did you mean that you wondered what it would be like if you were gay?" I asked him.

"Let me show you," he said as he pulled me closer to him, his arms wrapped around me. I tilted my head and allowed him to place his lips over mine. My hands mussed his hair as his traveled down my back. With our bodies as close as they were, I could feel that he had some pants feelings going on too. Big pants feelings.

The kiss lasted for an eternity. It lingered on my lips for hours afterward. Aaron will want to avoid me after our kiss, I thought. Or he won't want to discuss it. And if he does, he'll say it was because we'd been drinking. My overthinking launched into hyperdrive. Instead, he sent a text the next day that seemed to imply that he had also spent the better part of the past twelve hours overthinking. Two of a kind.

"Hey, hope I didn't scare you off by kissing you. It's something that I've been thinking about for a while."

"Not at all, I enjoyed it," I confessed.

"Want to hang out at my place tonight? You can stay the night."

That was clearly coded for something more than making out. This was something that everyone understood, I was fairly certain. But what if I was wrong? I would go over there expecting some fun times in his bed, but what if he just wanted to watch a movie?

Or maybe he wanted to tell me that kissing me was a one-time thing and that we certainly would never go that far again. When I got there, he was waiting for me. He took my overnight bag, and we headed into the house. There was a bottle of white wine on the table with two glasses poured.

"We need to talk about what's going on with us," Aaron said.

"It's obvious that I like you. You're handsome and…" I let my words trail off, but we both knew what I was thinking. He confessed that when we hung out, it felt like I was his boyfriend. A feeling that he didn't hate.

"I just don't know if it's because I like you in that way or because I'm lonely and need a companion," he said.

"Here's the thing, I'm not a girl. I can't be a replacement for one. When we're together, it feels incredible, and you are boyfriend material but…"

"But I suck because I'm straight or straight-ish?"

"No. You are who you are."

Maybe I just blew my shot with him, I thought. It would suck, but it was probably for the best. Sometimes overthinking really sucks.

"Should I go?" I asked.

"No, I want you to stay," he paused. "Look, I think I worded things badly. I've never been with a dude before, but I want to be with you. When I see dudes flirting with you…"

"I get that. When girls flirt with you, it makes me a bit jealous, too."

Our lips met for the second time in twenty-four hours. This time, the flicker of passion between us turned into a fire. For the first time, maybe in my life, the only thing I was thinking about was what was happening at the moment. Soon, our clothes were tossed all over his place. Our bodies landed in his bed, where we stayed for the next several hours.

The time for being in-the-moment passed. As soon as I laid my head on his chest, the thoughts began to roll around in my brain. Did we do something that he would regret later? Was this a one and done situation? Where did my pants go?

"Did we cross a line?" I asked.

"No, we destroyed the lines and several others," Aaron grinned. He pulled me closer to him. "I've been with a few girls, but no one made me feel like you did." What did all of this mean?

"Instead of trying to be in a relationship, can we just keep doing what we're doing?" Aaron asked.

"You mean, can we be friends with benefits? I think that could work," I said.

I became his favorite type of ice cream for several months. One that he would consume two or three times a week. And each time it got better and better. Until it didn't.

One night, as we ate pizza and watched a trashy prime-time soap opera on TV, I looked over at him. He was still as handsome as ever, but something seemed different about him. There was something off. Instead of going down the usual road of overthinking and spiraling, I decided to ask him what was going on. Like an adult.

"You'd tell me if you started dating someone, right?"

"Of course, I would," he said. "And you'd tell me?"

It was refreshing but felt very strange to handle things in such a mature way. But something bothered me about the whole situation. There was a gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach. Something was off. But I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was, at least not yet.

Would Aaron lie to me? He hadn't to this point. I had doubts about what was happening, but then I figured that it was nothing more than my typical behavior. You're overthinking, I told myself. But was I really overthinking? There was certainly a precedent for it. But I didn't feel like I was overthinking. What does overthinking feel like? Overthinking is a skill. But overthinking about overthinking is a knack that not everyone possesses.

The situation came to a head about a week after our conversation. I was laying in bed, ready to fall asleep. Despite him saying he wanted to hang out that night, it was past midnight. He hadn't reached out to say he was home. Something was going on with him, but what was it? He hadn't mentioned dating anyone. Still, I wondered if there was someone who caught his attention. It would make sense. Or potentially he had grown tired of our arrangement.

All that overthinking was for naught. He sent a text and asked me to come over. Though, he didn't explain why he sent the message in the middle of the night. Whatever the reason, like Sherlock Holmes, I decided to get to the bottom of the case. Too bad I didn't own a trench coat and deerstalker to complete the outfit. A graphic tee and khaki shorts would have to do.

When I got to his house, he pulled me into a kiss. Once again, clothes were thrown everywhere to be found later, when getting dressed was a requirement. As we lay in bed, I decided to take the leap and ask him what was happening.

"Hey, what's going on? Why are you pulling away?"

"How can you say that after what we just did?" Aaron countered with a laugh.

There were clues that I was right, though. The house was sparkling clean. Which was not something that he would do for me. This had to have been done for someone else. Every time I went to ask, the words got stuck in my throat.

The thoughts preferred to stay in my head.

Upset And Rejected

The next day, my phone blew up with texts from friends telling me that Aaron had been acting like the Incredible Hulk at work. I decided to put on my metaphorical trench coat and deerstalker to find out what was happening with him. I wasn't overthinking this time. For once. Maybe for the first time.

With great trepidation, I sent a message to him. It was the first time that my hands shook as I asked if I could go to his house. I was going to get answers, but I didn't know if I wanted them. He said yes almost as soon as my text sent. I headed over there right away. When I walked into his house, he pulled me into a bear hug. I could feel his body shaking and the tears as they hit my shoulder.

"What's going on?"

"A girl came over and found a condom…" he answered.

The story was a bit complicated. He'd been talking to a lady on one of the apps. They'd agreed to meet at his house, likely for the same thing that I went to his place for. He'd cleaned up the house but forgot to empty the trash can in his bedroom. The rest as they say is history.

"You mean in the trash? Like one…"

When she found it, the woman verbally attacked Aaron. She used words that cannot be printed. Her parting shot at him was a slur against him that is usually aimed at gay men. How did she know that he had been with a man? My only conclusion was that he had come clean to her.

What did this new wrinkle mean for Aaron and me? Did he want to go back to just being friends? Or did he want to move forward and be partners? There was the overthinking. I'd been worried that it wouldn't show up, but I should have known better. But once again, the mature side of me took over. Instead of leaving the questions unasked, I laid them out on the table for him. There had to be some resolution.

"I've never had chemistry like this before. Not even with a girl," Aaron said.

"Me either. The closest I came to something like this was my first boyfriend," I said.

Having the issue resolved felt nice. Not as nice as it felt when our lips met in a kiss that cemented the way we felt about one another. Why wasn't I angry that Aaron hadn't told me about dating a woman? The answer is: I was. He should have told me. He owed it to me to let me know that he was seeing someone else. But it's arduous to keep those negative feelings when your friend is hurt.

"I met someone," Aaron said about six months after our arrangement began. His smile told me everything that I needed to know. He was in love.

Would they last? Was she good enough for this sweet man? Could I take my Sherlock Holmes act on the road? The answer was yes to the first two questions. Aaron's lady was one of the sweetest people that I have ever met. She genuinely loved him and wanted the best for him.

The last question is still to be determined. As their relationship heated up, Aaron and I put the benefits part of our friendship to bed. We agreed that he needed to give the relationship with his lady a chance to grow. Then we had a conversation that shocked me. I wasn't sure I heard him right.

"I want you to meet Laura," he said. "She's wonderful. And she knows all about us and thinks that I should continue to sleep with you while we figure out our relationship."

"That's not a good idea," I said.

Why would Laura want her boyfriend to continue sleeping with someone else? It could have been a kink. Maybe it was something about wanting to wait until their wedding night to be together. Whatever her reasoning, I am glad that I turned it down.

Laura and Aaron are still married. They are happier than ever. It's wonderful to see them share their love with the world. I haven't found my guy yet. But I am pretty serious with overthinking. We're rarely apart. It might be a forever type of situation with us.

I do believe that the chemistry I felt with Aaron will appear again. Somewhere out there, my guy is waiting for me to stop overthinking and join him. Maybe he wants to see me in the trench coat and deerstalker.