Brody's Scribbles...'An Englishman in New York' made me think

By Tim Trent (Dartmouth, UK) Dec 30 | Denis Pratt, or, as we know him, Quentin Crisp, was dramatised in his later years in the TV film shown over Christmas 2009, and portrayed admirably by Jon Hurt. Crisp was not a pleasant person, though he was an amusing, witty and diverting person, and has been roundly condemned by Peter Tatchell as not being a gay hero at all. Tatchell says:

"Why did Quentin turn so bitter? Jealousy. He resented the fact that he was no longer unique – no longer the only visible queer in town. Hence his loathing of the gay liberation movement of the 1960s and 1970s. It had encouraged and empowered the mass coming out of lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people. They stole his limelight. Put bluntly: Crisp disliked being overtaken and over-shadowed by other gays. We queered his pitch.Perhaps he is right."

Even so, the film made me think. And it made me think hard because it was, presumably, as true to life as a dramatised documentary can be. Some dramatic licence is taken, of course it is, but the basics must be true, or thereabouts.

But the part that made me think hard is where Crisp is speaking of the desperation homosexuals have of finding that partner. And, to set that in perspective, we need some figures. Bear with me.

Let's start by assuming that Kinsey was correct and that 10% of the population is homosexual. If he was wrong then the figures just need changing, but the logic remains

If 10% of the population is homosexual, then out of any 50 men and 50 women, only 5 men are available as potential partners (assuming one is, as am I, a male homosexual). The corollary of this is that for a heterosexual man, 45 women are available as potential partners. Already there is a huge inequality.

This inequality also is interesting when one looks at the imbeciles who say "Homosexuality is a choice." Who would choose limit their possible pool of lovers to 5% of the population instead of 45%? Who?

But, that digression apart, the film made a statement that opened my eyes. I wish I could recall the words exactly.

So, in my poor paraphrasing, Crisp says that homosexual men are deeply unfortunate in that it is men that we like and need. We are real men needing real men as equal partners, as lovers, as soulmates. Whatever it is that we may accept, what we need is the masculine real man.

In that 5% there are masculine men, real men. And they are searching for masculine men, real men.

You who are reading this are likely to be heterosexual. You know how hard it was, is, will be, for you to find your perfect lover, to fall in love with them, and to have that love returned, in 45% of the population. You know it and accept it because it is the norm. You know how many and how few partnerships are based on true love, and how many are based on mere acceptance of companionship, you see the breakups and the divorces.

So imagine doing that in 5% of the population.

Now imagine that there is no way you can tell who is in that 5% with you and who is in the 45%. Homosexuals do not have distinguishing skin colour, small ears, large noses, or, as Ian Fleming thought, an inability to whistle!

So, in your day to day existence, you see and fall for a real man. Your mind and body falls in love with him. The chemistry that we do not understand happens, and you are smitten.

And the probability that he is homosexual is one in ten. And if he is, what is the likelihood of his loving you in return? Can we even guess at it? Would it be one in 45, perhaps? Out of 50 souls one might return the love of another?

If so, and it may be so, mathematicians tell us that probabilities of independent events, and these are independent events, must be multiplied together. Am I wrong to do this, I wonder? Because one in 10 multiplied by one in 45 makes one in 450.

In betting terms it is 450:1 against a homosexual man ever finding love that is returned.

That means that, when I as a homosexual man fall for another man, there is a 450:1 probability against his evening considering me as a potential love interest.

You, the heterosexual who is reading this, you may calculate your own probabilities based on these figures. What interests me is the total improbability of finding returned male love.

It's not that I'm looking for it. I was lucky in my love and recognised that I could also love one woman, and she loves me in return. But, had I not been so lucky, how would I have ever found my man?

I was already deeply in love with one, one who was blissfully unaware of my adoration, who was heterosexual, and who went about his own life happily without caring if I lived or died. I was attracted to a great number more, but nowhere near the 450 I would have needed to have a fighting chance of a soulmate. I know. I counted. I have a list! You are not on that list! (450:1 against!)

So the homosexual man can never be happy unless he is very lucky indeed. His search for love is almost impossible. He will always have to take a double risk when he is smitten. First he has to risk rejection, automatic rejection, because the man he is attracted to is heterosexual, and then he has to risk rejection because of incompatibility.

Is it any wonder that so many of us end up either promiscuous or as bitchy queens when we are faced with all this deep hardship just to have what the rest of you have?

And you strive to deny us the rights you take for granted. You want to deny us the simple Human Right of Marriage. You want to be able to evict us from our homes. You want to be able to fire us from our jobs. You want to imprison us. You want to execute us. You want to marginalise us and stamp on our embryo rights.

We have it tough enough anyway, and far tougher than you do, and yet you still want to trample us under your feet.

Or maybe, after reading this, just maybe, you think that perhaps those queers have it pretty tough after all. And just maybe you will at least no longer oppose our quest for simple equality. We didn't choose this life. It isn't contagious, and most of the time it's fine.

But it also sucks.