"Right," I said automatically, trying to catch up. Had he referred to gay people as "they"? I was struck with the idea that Sean was straight and had simply been in the M4M chatroom looking for a buddy to get pan-roasted halibut with. Either way, this debate wasn't something I wanted to dive into, so I phrased a weak counterpoint designed to change the subject, and the conversation resumed its tepid civility.
After dinner, we went back to his place, a small house on a wooded street, where a large dog attacked me in the kitchen with a continuous stream of deafening, bloodthirsty barks. Sean made no move to restrain the animal, but simply said, "That's Andy." Andy bared his fangs and backed me into the refrigerator. A postcard from Italy jostled loose and fluttered to the floor.
We ended up in Sean's living room watching TV. When he turned it on, it was tuned to a channel I'd vaguely heard about: Fox News. He started to flip around. "Wait, go back," I said. On the screen,
There was nothing that could neutralize the awkwardness at this point except deranged Republican-on-Democrat sex.
Ken Starr was holding a press conference. I'd been following the Monica Lewinsky story like an addict. It was the most riveting thing that had ever been broadcast. The last president to be impeached had been Andrew Jackson for illegally ousting the Secretary of War. Now we got to watch our current president be impeached for using an improvised sex toy. It was fantastic television.
"Ken Starr looks like a child molester," I said, settling onto the couch. Sean harrumphed in reply.
"Hmm?" I said.
"No, nothing," he said. "I'm just amazed by people who think Ken Starr is the bad guy in this. I mean, he's doing his job."
"Yeah, but is this really a good use of government resources?" I said. I wasn't particularly political at the time — to me, the Lewinsky thing was just a fun scandal — and it felt odd to be arguing about this.
"Don't you care if your president is immoral?" said Sean.
"No," I said. "They're all immoral, aren't they?"
"If he can lie to us about cheating on his wife, he's a liar and he should be impeached."
"I think that's crazy," I said, locating my political indignation. I'd never defended a politician. I'd voted for Clinton by reflex. But Sean's self-righteousness was too much. "Who the hell cares who sleeps with whom?"
"Everyone!" he said loudly.
A hush fell over the room. The only sound was Ken Starr grimly droning from a podium on the steps of a federal building. Sean and I were still right next to each other on the couch, which suddenly felt too close.
"Are you a Republican?" I asked.
"I'm registered independent," he replied.
"But who did you vote for?"
"I voted for Dole," he said defiantly.
"Wow. So you're Log Cabin?"
"Can we not talk about this?" he said. The phone rang and Andy erupted into another Cujo-esque yowling spasm. Sean went to answer the phone, speaking quietly out in the kitchen.
