"And I was caught right in the middle of it. By the way, Carl, can I ask you a personal question, please?"
"Well, you may ask, anyway."
"You had some experience as a gay male prostitute. You also said you had a girlfriend. How would you identify yourself sexually?"
"I´m quite decidedly bisexual. I have a slight preference for men, but when I was a teenager I was in denial, so I figured that if I got paid for having sex with guys, I could still call myself straight. A lot of rent boys are like that. And it's pathetic, really, because even if they have girlfriends or female partners, they are still in denial. They really want and need sexual and emotional contact with men, but they feel shame and stigma about it, so they think that by selling sex, that will make them straight, de facto heterosexuals, if you will."
He looks at me, with an expectant smile. Then he says, "Your turn."
"I think I'm gay."
"You think you're gay."
"I'm not really interested in having sex with men. Even less with women."
"But you went ahead and married Greta."
"It kept Dad quiet, anyway, I guess."
"Are you asexual?"
"Not specifically. But maybe. I don't know."
Carl seems to know that this is making me uncomfortable, and appears to be backing off from the subject.
"Did your father have a role in the gay marriage debate?"
"More than he wanted. Way more than he wanted..."
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