dirty laaaaaaaaaaoundreh

for richer or poorer, for better or worse, a new dirty laundry came out in today's baltimore gay life. it's called...

Fern.
by Robert


"I went out on a date," Adam said during one of his weekly telephone calls. We'd broken up, he'd moved away, yet we still talked on the phone at least once a week. Adam would call to tell me that something funny was on television or to ask computer advice. I'd sometimes call just to hear his voice again. "Are you there?" he asked. "Yeah, of course," I said, my eyes darting around the room and finally landing, glazed, on the window. I brought my hand to my forehead, a habit I'd seemed to have picked up since Adam left, and rubbed my temple. "So you went on a date. That's great."

"Yeah," he said, "his name's Fern. He's really nice. You can see a picture of him on my webpage. I posted one."

My first reaction wasn't what Adam wanted to hear, I'm sure, but I couldn't help myself. "Fern?" I asked. "And this is a guy?" Give me a break, I could hear Adam thinking.

"Of course it's a guy," he said.

"Oh, right. Of course," I said. "You know, that's my grandma's name. Fern."

"He's a nice guy so far," Adam said, plowing ahead. "We had a good time. I think that we're going to go out again."

"Good," I said, trying to make it sound as final as possible. "Good." Period. That's where the conversation ends. "Good." What did he expect me to say? "Oh, that's wonderful, Adam. Gosh, I'm happy that you've moved on. I hope that you guys have totally incredible sex. What's that you say? He's hung like a bear? And he makes 100k a year? Wow. Congrats." Instead, I gritted my teeth and stared out the window, waiting for this bit of the conversation to end, waiting until I didn't have to hold my tongue or pretend like I was cool with everything. Waiting until we were back on level ground, back to safe topics: work, friends, the apartment.

After I hung up the phone I went to Adam's webpage. There they were together. Happy. And Fern looked like a really nice guy, the kind who's effortlessly good-looking but not prepossessed. He probably wakes up in the morning and runs his fingers through his hair, barely glancing in the mirror, completely sure of his good looks but not distracted by them. Fern looked really likable, and for this I had no choice but to hate him.

Why was this bothering me, after all of these months? Then again, why did Adam feel like it was acceptable to tell me about his love life? I had to wonder: is it ever possible for exes to actually be friends?

It seems like a very Queer as Folk-hippie-lesbian concept to me, being friends with an ex. I've never done it successfully, though Adam and I have come the closest. There's always a different dynamic—Is it competition? Blame?—between two people who have dated. No matter how long it's been since you broke up or how many relationships you've been in since, the fact is that one of you dumped the other.

When you date someone, they see a side of you that you don't let anyone else see. I don't just mean that they see you at your most vulnerable--after sex, or in the bathroom, or just waking up in the morning--but they know the real you. Even though you break up, that person is still someone who knows you for what you are. Even after you've moved on, that intimacy is still there. It's not easy to switch from romantic to platonic love, and although hearing "I went out on a date with someone else" seems like it should make it easier, it doesn't.

So is it possible to be friends with an ex, to achieve the same kind of friendship you'd have had if you didn't date? Or will there always be that spark of emotion, no matter how many months or years or other boyfriends pass?

It's a strange experiment, seeing if two guys who used to love each other can actually be friends again. But if anyone's worth the effort, Adam is. I just better not have to be his best man when he marries Fern.