So who’s the woman in your relationship?
According to quite a few gay people, it’s an offensive question for straight people to ask.
I never got why.
Of course it goes without saying that in a relationship between two men no women are present, but it doesn’t take a degree in abstract reasoning to understand that the question of who’s the woman merely asks what body part goes into what orifice.
I always thought of the question as a healthy dose of curiosity for the gay lifestyle. And I’m always happy to tell any straight person that arguably the biggest joy of being gay is that everything goes into everything.
When sex involves two penises and four workable orifices, the possibilities become endless.
Macho men can be raging bottoms as much as Guys with make-up can be dominant tops, so the question of what goes into whom often has a surprising answer.
Guy #212 was a Guy I met in this gay sauna this one night. He was a petite Asian of the shy type. To him I must have looked like a deliciously tall hump of white privilege. I gauged his appearance and thought to myself Sure, I can dominate you for a while.
I’m not the dominant type, but being so much taller than Guy #212 it seemed only natural I would assert some dominance, be in control and have him ‘be the woman’.
Guy #212 was indeed the woman of our relationship, for the first 30 seconds or so that is.
Being a bottom isn’t always easy or without pain. Guy #212’s facial expression shifted between pleasure and agony a few times, until it settled on agony and the words ‘Please stop!’ came out of his tiny mouth.
Sometimes you intuitively feel you can top a Guy if you’re gentle enough in your persuasion. I was about to go in a second time whilst reassuring how tenderly I’d go about it, when Guy #212 pushed me back.
From a top’s perspective, having a bottom shove you out that early is like going to church and being told god doesn’t exist. Liberating, but hardly satisfying.
After we exchanged some aimless cuddles, Guy #212 rose up. I assumed he was getting ready to leave, but instead he suggested to top me instead.
It struck me as silly.
At the same time I had paid €19.95 to be in a gay sauna. It’d be a waste not to bend over. And besides, literally everything about Guy #212 was petite, which meant little to no agony on my end.
To exchange my dominant mood for a submissive one was as easy as it was awkward. I imagine that sense of awkwardness was the common feeling that sealed our connection. I don’t care much about masculinity or femininity, but to switch sides halfway during sex felt, dare I say it, unnatural.
It wasn’t unnatural because I can’t go both ways. It was unnatural because both of us changed personalities halfway through. On the gender spectrum I’m limber enough to bend from attempted manly to reluctant feminine and everything in between, but to make the transition in a matter of seconds felt as weird as a Game of Thrones episode featuring a laugh track.
Guy #212 asked for my phone number after we were done. I hesitated, so he resigned to giving his to me. He rests quietly in my contact list under the name of Sauna 5 or 6 or 7.
Sauna 5 or 6 or 7 was a nice Guy and not at all unattractive, but being with him was just a little too odd to pursue it further.
I suppose I didn’t want to be the woman in this relationship.
He did make me feel like I hadn’t wasted €19.95 though.