Awkward Encounter In the Steam Room

Peter, Paul, and Me

I meet with my friends Peter and Paul every Sunday afternoon at the East Bank Club. We sit in the steam room and talk about guy stuff; mainly women.

Peter didn’t show up last Sunday. I don’t know what’s up with him. Nevertheless, Paul and I continued without him, commiserating with each other on the awkwardness of having sex with a female friend for the first time.

“Am I supposed to call her the next day?” Paul asked. “Send her flowers, or something?”

“Call, yes,” I responded. “But don’t send flowers unless you want to be monogamous.”

“Either way, it changes things.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re never quite sure how she feels about it. She’s never quite sure how you feel about it. It’s like . . . a trust is broken.”

“You mean, like an affair?” I asked.

“Yeah, like cheating on your wife. Except . . . “

“Except you’re cheating on a friendship.”

“Right.”

“I guess it would be hard to keep confiding in each other about your sex lives . . .”

“. . . outside of that relationship.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you could,” Paul suggested. “But it would just be . . . awkward.”

“And she probably wouldn’t feel comfortable talking to you about other men, either.”

“Right.”

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We were commiserating with each other on the awkwardness of having sex with a female friend for the first time.
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“Oh, by the way,” I interjected. “Did you know Peter was gay?”

“No.”

There was an awkward pause.

“I hope it doesn’t change anything,” I said.

“Oh, no. Of course not.” Paul thought for a second. And then he said, “But . . .”

“But, what?”

“Well, if I’d have known he was gay, I wouldn’t have let him blow me.”