I was lying in bed with my takeout, lazily scrolling through my phone, when I texted my friend Jason: Is it weird that I don’t have any gay friends? It was one of those questions that seem simple but unravel into something much bigger.
What followed was a conversation so layered, so unexpectedly raw, that I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Jason didn’t hesitate—he had seen it too. Gay friendships always seem to come with baggage, he told me. There was always some history: a past situationship, a drunken kiss, a flirtation that never fully dissolved. And let’s be honest—sometimes, gay friendships feel like the Wild West. At any moment, they could turn into something more, whether you want them to or not.
the messy reality of gay friendships
For me, these friendships have often been like a beautifully wrapped present—with a ticking time bomb inside. Either we used to like each other, we hooked up once upon a time, or one of us started catching feelings. Suddenly, what was supposed to be a fun, supportive friendship turns into an unspoken game of Will They, Won’t They?—even when I never intended for it to be that way.
Jason shared a similar experience. Most recently, I got cut off by a gay friend because he liked me, and I had a boyfriend. He wanted more out of our friendship than I could give, and just like that, poof—another friendship gone. That stuck with me. He said it made him realize something: the lines in gay friendships are often so blurred they make an Instagram filter look clear.
What Jason said really struck me—most of my friendships with other gay guys always seem to get tangled in sexual tension, no matter how hard I try to keep things platonic. It’s like trying to keep a white couch clean in a house party—it sounds good in theory, but reality has other plans.
Jason brought up a point I hadn’t really considered: distance. When your gay friends live in different cities, states, or even countries, there’s less room for messy entanglements. You’re not competing for the same guys, you’re not dealing with the awkward we-hooked-up-but-now-we’re-just-friends dynamic, and there’s no chance for things to escalate physically. Online friendships? Pure. Local friendships? A potential minefield.
It made me think—are my strongest gay friendships the ones that exist behind a screen? Do I need geographical separation to maintain the kind of platonic relationships I crave?
Jason pointed out something else that made me pause. In gay culture, open relationships are more common than in straight communities. And in a way, that openness extends into friendships, too. We’re conditioned to blur the lines between sex and friendship in ways that make purely platonic connections difficult, he said.
But while open relationships might work for some, Jason and I both agreed—they are definitely not for us. We see a lot of that openness as stemming from insecurities, the fear of missing out, or the idea that commitment is somehow limiting. For us, relationships—whether romantic or platonic—should be built on trust and clear boundaries. And maybe that’s why we both struggle with forming lasting gay friendships—because those blurred lines don’t align with what we actually want.
the future of gay friendships
So where does that leave me? Do I resign myself to a life of surface-level acquaintances and online besties? Or do I figure out a new way to define friendship on my own terms?
Maybe the answer is boundaries. Maybe it’s about setting clearer expectations from the beginning. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s about accepting that gay friendships—like love, sex, and relationships—are inherently complicated, and that’s part of what makes them so special.
At the end of the day, I agree with Jason—gay friendships can be complicated, and the lines can blur too easily. But as we wrapped up our conversation, we both laughed, realizing something: If anyone could beat this stereotype, it would be us. Even if we ever became close friends in real life, we knew we wouldn’t fall into the same patterns. Maybe that’s the real exception—friendships that don’t just survive the mess, but rise above it.
One thing’s for sure: I’m not giving up on finding my people. Even if I have to wade through a little bit of mess to get there.
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