Singular life
Homophobic musings
Petronella Wyatt
Ihave actually found myself, recently, from time to time, harbouring frankly homophobic thoughts. The other day a female friend suggested we watch the video of E.M. Forster's novel, Maurice. I heard myself saying in a priggish voice that made me want to hit myself, 'Absolutely not. No way. I don't want to see men having sex.'
This was odd. I still prefer the company of homosexual friends to macho bar-bores with their lines in chat like gangland hit- men. I still worship those ne plus ultra of gays, Cole Porter and Noel Coward. I still nurse the ambition to become a tragic gay icon, like Marlene Dietrich or Maria Callas. Yup, it's an ingratiating proposition.
And yet. And yet. Section 28 works me up into a hot lather and I am filled with loathing and disgust for anyone who favours its repeal. I am tempted, moreover, to write a letter to the Times saying that the Equal Opportunities Commission should be replaced with a fax machine and the plug pulled out.
I must be bigoted. It's obviously my hopeless, myopic, bourgeois upbringing. The solution is clear. I should be retrained by a Blairite psychiatrist. I should be made to recite 'Gayness is good' 100 times as I brush my teeth at night. And yet. Why is it that I felt differently even a few years ago? Why is it that I feel I am drowning in a sea of homosexuality and like a drowning per- son must grab at any Jack Straw.
I went to see American Beauty a few days ago. Before the film began there was the most extraordinary display of vicious preju- dice I have ever seen. It was directed not at gays but at heterosexuals. So much so that at first I thought it was a joke. A sour look- ing 'queer' as he called himself claimed to have been persecuted and then fired from his job because he was homosexual. He list- ed all the disgusting and improbable names straight colleagues had called him. The advertisement ended with the words, in large black letters, 'Prejudice is queer'. I was gobsmacked, as were most of the cine- ma audience. I doubt it would have occurred to a single one of them to fire someone because they were homosexual.
It is like the Invasion of the Body Snatch- ers: sinister gay militants with self-righteous brimstone in their hearts are taking over the world. They dress like Oswald Mosley and wear their hair very short. They don't believe in tolerance or the old English virtue of live and let live. They want to destroy every heterosexual in the country.
They seem to have conscripted lots of nice young men, just like the old Hitler Youth. Recently I was chatting to a good- looking man I had known for a few months. My thoughts meandered to why, erm, noth- ing had happened between us. He was an assiduous telephone caller, a charming date and always read my columns. Obviously he was very shy. Yes, that was it. Well it wasn't.
`There's someone I'd like you to meet,' he remarked carefully, over drinks. This was bound to be lacerating. Either it was his mother or another woman. 'No,' he said slowly, rolling out the syllables as if they were pieces of dough, 'actually, it's my boyfriend.' Nasty pause. 'I didn't want to tell you before because I felt I didn't know you well enough.'
This would have been hilarious — go ahead, laugh — if it hadn't happened more than once of late. It is partly the fault of an accumulation of women's magazines and newspaper features. One of the corollaries of Cosmopolitan, Femail etc. has been to make men frightened of women in bed. Sex with them ceased to be a pleasure and became an exam. It scares them stiff, or rather not. I understand that it is easier with men in that sense. Cosier, maybe. Less intimidating. And you don't have to marry them — not yet.
But, and there are some big buts. There is one overwhelming argument against sex between men. I do not refer to the usual clichés about anal sex being physically dan- gerous and homosexuality rarely making people happy. So what if most of the homosexuals I know are miserable in their personal lives and end up with only casual encounters. So what if their instinct is not for permanence with a gay partner and an adopted child and that they often miss het- erosexual family life like billy-oh. It's none of my business.
No, the real truth is, it is bloody unfair on women. Whom are we going to sleep with, marry, have children with? Did these gays ever think of that? How dare men refuse to go to bed with us on the grounds that we are female. It is the most colossal case of sexist discrimination imaginable. Imagine saying to a black man you wouldn't go to bed with him because you didn't fancy blacks; in fact blacks were a complete turn- off. You'd be arrested.
The growth of homosexuality and its itin- erant propaganda is a matter over which women should take to the streets and march. What of women's sexual rights? What's wrong with us, anyway? Matthew Parris, why don't you want to sleep with me? Why don't any of these men want to sleep with me? What does the Equal Opportunities Commission have to say about that? I am warning you. The next gay who walks into my office will be fired. They had better get over their revulsion of my female body, quick.
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