I remember starting a call centre job with a load of other phone jockeys and on Day 1, while doing intros, this guy got up and announced to the group that he’s gay – steady, they only wanted your name!

I’ve been in my new job a few weeks now and have yet to drop into conversation the fact that I’m dating a guy – I’ve sidestepped this little revelation by referring to Rich only as “my partner”. Incidentally, when did straight people start using our conversational get-out-clause? Several people at work have been using this non-gender-specific description when talking about their loved ones, which has been a real red herring.

To tell you the truth, I’m quite enjoying the ambiguity I’m giving off – as soon as they know I’m gay it won’t be as much fun. There’s another new guy in the office who started at the same time as me and he’s always fishing, but without him asking directly if I’m gay, it’s all too easy to play this game of cat-and-mouse.

I think it’s best to just let these things come out naturally – we’ve got a work social coming up and a relaxed environment with alcohol is usually a good place to open up to colleagues – often you can learn more about someone you work with in one night at the pub than a whole year, side-by-side in the office.

The funny thing is I heard myself on an answer phone message the other day and I can’t believe how gay I sounded! Hopefully that’s just me being paranoid – I can’t be that obvious, otherwise people at work wouldn’t be in the dark.

On the other hand, this guy I mentioned is a very big, burly, macho-looking, married type. If you met him in a dark alley you’d make a quick retreat and probably would want a refund on that gay travel guide. In some ways he seems a very traditional bloke, but then he’s also got this progressive side to him too – he loves cooking, he watches girly movies and his local pub is very gay-friendly – apparently the ‘new man’ is not dead.

What with me trying to sound a little less gay and this guy working on his feminine side, we’ll hopefully meet somewhere in the middle (and not down a dark alleyway).

If there were no such term as ‘gay’, people would have to work a bit harder when voicing their prejudice or making malicious jokes. How can you use the word for something as an insult if the word doesn’t exist?

‘Gay’ as a description of someone’s sexuality hasn’t been around that long, relatively speaking, anyway. Phrases come and go and words change their meaning, and ‘homosexual’ just isn’t snappy enough to be a serious challenger in our abbreviated, tweeting times.

I was sat listening to two teenage girls on the bus the other day – actually, I was trying NOT to listen to them, but didn’t have much choice… as they swore, giggled, bitched, gossiped about boys and used ‘gay’ in every other sentence as a substitute for ‘uncool’, it made me realise that kids aren’t being homophobic, they’re just evolving the language.

I don’t see how these particular girls could be anti-gay because they talked over their suspicions that one of their male friends might be gay – yes they joked about it, but it was done affectionately and they definitely didn’t see it as a negative thing.

I know there’s a lot of debate at the moment about kids using ‘gay’ as a negative label, but I really think some are missing the point: they’re not using ‘gay’ as a homophobic slur; rather they’ve subverted its meaning.

And why not let them have it? For a word that’s caused so much trouble and played right into the haters’ hands, why are we so precious about it and clinging on so hard? We did, after all, co-opt the word ‘gay’ in the first place.

The way youngsters liberally scatter the word into conversation reminds me of a child that’s just learnt a naughty word and keeps using it to get a reaction and because it’s funny to the child.

And it is a new word to a lot of people, because society at large has only just started talking openly about gays. So you could see it as kids trying it on for size.

It’ll be interesting to see where next for ‘gay’ and if a new word enters the popular consciousness to describe same sex fanciers – suggestions on a postcard please. For now, however, if you’re stuck for a label, just call me ‘Joe’.

This year, however, Rich and me decided to say “fuck it” to VD day – quite literally. We turned the whole weekend into a gay sex-a-thon to try and recapture the magic.

Do you know, my limbs and some less general body parts haven’t stopped aching since – even 3 hours in the gym has never felt like such an all over body workout as this 2.5 days of non-stop gay sex (minus meals, freshening up and watching G.I. Joe on DVD – Channing Tatum in latex will do it).

The idea was to take the phone off the hook, shut the curtains, whack the heating up, stay near-total naked and do nothing but fuck for the entire weekend, holding off climaxing ’til the very end.

Gay sex is very different when you take the money shot out of the equation, because it’s now 100% about the journey, not the destination, which changes your focus and you don’t just stick to the well trodden path – you can take a meandering route and explore stuff (yes, I am still talking about gay sex!).

So we both became more creative and used what was around us for inspiration. Drinking a JD and Coke, for instance, might start you wondering where you could stick that ice cube that might be fun… plus you don’t want to be repetitive (and there’s 60 hours to fill!), so you try all sorts of positions (hence the aching).

And because the gay sex rule book has been thrown out the window, there’s no expectation about how long each bout should last – you might fuck for 2 hours without stopping, or just fumble for 5 minutes, then have a break. Gay sex becomes completely spontaneous.

Another side effect of spending most of the weekend fucking, but not cumming, is that everything you do, even when you’re not having sex, becomes sexual… making a drink, you’re still aroused so you start thinking about things you can do to him and then – bam – you’re hard again!

So, how long did we last until releasing two very pent-up loads? We made it ’til sunday morning! And, do you know what, I was really glad to just put my feet up afterwards and have a cup of tea.

I’ve known so many guys living the straight life who I’ve strongly suspected of having more than a passing curiosity about what gay men get up to in bed: they’re fishing for info; trying to get all the facts, like someone weighing up where to go on holiday.

You’ll always come across the straight guy who asks a few too many questions about being gay – in fact, what’s with the questions anyway? Just go on the Net and Google ‘gay’ – I’m sure this’ll be pretty enlightening.

But often a guy will get you on your own and suddenly come across all urgent – like a reporter trying to get to the heart of a story – asking you how and when you first knew you were gay etc. I remember a far-too-good-looking, apparently straight guy on my course at uni always with the questions, before he went off the rails a bit, and fell into an ever faster spiral of sex with a never-ending string of girls – all very emotionless; soulless, like trying to prove something.

The womanising hot guy sleeping and pursuing so many disposable women, never making a connection, at the same time showing a strong interest in your gay sex life, is a recurring theme. You always wonder if the pussy is a smokescreen.

Then again with some straight guys it’s more subtle, more unspoken, just a heat between the two of you – and that’s fucking hot! I can think of a couple of straight friends I’ve got so close to that it’s eventually felt like a gay relationship without the sex – and they both went on to have long-term girlfriends.

One of these friends, Alex, I was so sure was gay when I first met him – a common (mis)conception about him – and there was an instant attraction between us, even if he didn’t fully appreciate it. I met him through work – we started on the same day – and we’d end up spending all our breaks together and then a lot of extra-curricular time.

I totally had the hots for Alex – in fact it was a lot more than that: I had real emotional attachment to Alex to the point that I’d miss him if he didn’t come in to work. And it wasn’t just a one-way thing: Alex was really sweet to me, always lighting up when we were together and buying me thoughtful, personal little gifts, like when I left the job – how gay is that?!

But, alas, Alex had a girlfriend and she was a friend too and I wasn’t about to rock the boat. One time Alex invited me over for what turned out to be a romantic dinner, candles and all, just the two of us. Again it was really sweet that he went to the effort, ‘cos his cooking stank!

I thought about trying something on with Alex that night and there was a moment on the sofa when it came close, but like I said before, it was too complicated and there’s always the danger that you’ve read it %100 wrong with guys you suspect are gay, and it would be game over.

After that ‘date’ I cooled things between me and Alex, for my own sake really. I’m sure the guy just needed a push, and maybe a night of hot gay sex would have done it, but there was too much emotion at stake.

I always joke to Rich about how his friend, Sarah’s, boyfriend follows him around when they all meet up – especially into the Gents! The more drunk they get the more physical the boyfriend gets with Rich – piggybacking down the street, flirting, long hugs, that kind of thing. And this guy never seems that close or even very into Sarah if you ask me – just another lost, gay-curious guy looking for a life-raft?

So, to all those smoke-screening, questioning, emotion-toying, gay following, curious guys: the time for talk is over; just try it, just have gay sex and see if you like it. Doesn’t mean anything; it’s not like signing a binding contract; it’s just experimenting; it’s just sex – even if you like it, doesn’t mean you’re gay, straight up.

Next time a guy asks me how you know if you’re gay, I hope I have the balls to grab his, kiss him and say “if you enjoyed that, that’s how…”

Then there’s a kind of communication short hand that you use to save time and words. It’s things like not having to finish sentences or saying it with body language and primal grunting sounds (me, first thing in the morning).

I know guys used to say it with hankies in their back pocket when they wanted gay sex on the down-low: yellow for water-sports; black for S&M; left pocket for active and right if you were a bottom.

Now I realise Rich and I have created our own undie code when it comes to gay sex, which loosely goes something like this: brief usually equals brief; dark means dirty and tighty whities are good for vanilla sex – often a blow job or a bit of ‘ying and yang’ (69).

Jock straps are an obvious one, but there’s still signs to read. Your more athletic, sports jock screams power bottom, whereas a skimpier pair is a shoo-in for a passive trip to the bottom. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a thong!

Boxers can mean different things, the shape giving some clue, with a longer leg suggesting a more pro-active approach. Y-fronts just give off mixed signals during gay sex.

Of course there’s the danger of clashing, but we always seem to avoid that gay sex faux pas. And turning up commando means anything goes…

Personally, I think they missed a trick here and should have combined their gay positioning system with a car SatNav to give you handy directions and a commanding voice when out for a cruise. Mind you, bound to be lots of dead-ends, just like with SatNav: you turn the corner expecting to see a toned Latino, but get a drag queen in Susan Boyle’s casts-offs instead.

Straight guys must get very jealous of us gays sometimes. Can you imagine what would happen if straight guys had as many fast fuck outlets as we do? If they had saunas just along from their local shops, a cruising ground minutes away and a guaranteed fuck at the gym, supermarket and book store. Nothing would ever get done.

This Grindr thing raises a lot of questions too: what if it falls into the hands of gay bashers? What if you don’t operate a 24/7 sex policy, but forget to log out – will you still get hungry homos knocking at your door? What if you drive through an area with a gay shortage? Will desperate guys start tailing you?

I suspect it will just become a way for gay guys to approach each other in clubs without the sooooo 2009 method of actually having to talk to them. A quick text message pinged across the dancefloor from your iPhone will get an answer straight away without having to face rejection in the flesh. Then again, activating Grindr in a gay club would probably cause some kind of meltdown.

Then again, some of the things certain loose-tongued straight friends get up to must surely put me to shame. Take Linda, for example: she really is Queen of the Butt Plug and has never been interested in giving her arsehole mere supporting status.

Turns out we’re being out-sexed in the suburbs too. Rich and I have kept a fairly low profile within our street since we moved here. It’s probably that thing of pre-empting any homophobia by distancing yourself before they get the chance to reject you. Which is sad, I guess, but such an easy habit to pick up when you grow up gay.

Anyway, we decided to make more of on effort this Christmas. We get the posters through our door from the local residents’ group, including an invite to this year’s (well, last year’s now) Xmas party and so we went along for sugar-dusted mince pies and sugar-dusted questioning…

It was fine; mostly middle-aged couples who were all friendly. One couple seemed particularly friendly: Scottish, early 50’s I’d guess and very attentive with the alcohol. They own the big house on the corner and seemed very interested in us.

We ended up talking most to this couple and the husband became more and more affectionately physical: bear-hugging and thigh slapping etc. in the way that some straight men do once the booze has pounded their inhibitions and self-consciousness.

As the party thinned and the couple drank more, their loud and colourful language, innuendo, rude jokes and general sauciness got some disapproving looks from the straight-laced members of the residents’ association.

We decided it was time to make our excuses and leave, thinking we’d leave the Rude 2 behind, but they wanted to walk with us. It was quite a raucous walk back, but as we neared our own house their conversation suddenly became more serious and little more than a whisper. We were being invited to their New Year’s eve party.

They reassured us that none of that ‘boring, old-fashioned’ crowd would be there, just lots of fun, ‘like-minded’ people and even some ‘nice, young men,’ the woman said, leaning in… oh my god, we’d just been invited to a swingers party!

We both made some fumbling, non-committal response with the intention of saying “thanks, but no thanks” but without sounding rude or judgemental.

We didn’t go, but I would love to have been a fly on the wall. It explains the grotto-type thing they’ve got at the bottom of their garden with fairy lights and what I suspect is a hot-tub. I bet they’re disappointed that they haven’t managed to recruit the local gay couple to their sex parties – maybe gays are the latest must have for married swingers’ parties.

Needless to say we’ll be keeping ourselves to ourselves again when it comes to the neighbours.

I went along to give support to one of my best friends who was in a panic about his previous night’s gay fuck. He slept with a guy he’d met earlier that same night at a Christmas party. The booze flowed, they hit it off, danced ’til they dropped, back to his, and ‘forgot’ the condom.

My friend is usually so militant about safe sex, always prepared and in control. For some reason he didn’t stick to his own high standards that night – I think there was so much chemistry between him and this guy – an attraction he’s never felt – and it caught him off guard.

Cue frantic phone call to me early the next morning after he’d slunk out of this guy’s house. He needed to get tested A.S.A.P. and didn’t want to be worrying about it all over Christmas and the New Year. Would I go along with him for moral support?

Sexual health clinic waiting rooms can never be pleasant places to sit even if they had made the effort to put up some rather sad looking Christmas decorations. It was incredibly busy – the party season obviously being a busy time for STIs – and we were informed matter-of-factly by the person at the desk that a long wait lay ahead.

I’m sure making you wait hours in a drab and uncomfortable room is all part of the plan, giving you time to think about those errors of judgement when it comes to gay sex. My friend was certainly glad to have someone there, and to play the game, ‘what do you think they’ve come in about?’

In fact, people-watching is one of the few things you can do to pass the time, what with the magazines being at least five years out of date. There’s the mincy homo who strides in like he owns the place – obviously clocking up some mileage. There’s the twitchy first-timers, all on their own, reading a mag upside down and nervously looking up anytime someone walks through, as if a gun-shot’s just sounded.

You’ve got your couples; your young mums with babies; your older gay guys – or are they straight? Can’t tell. Always older men anyway, not women. Lots of students – some French, some Spanish I think… from all over. A middle-aged guy in workman’s jacket. Furtive glances – is that guy to my left checking me out? He keeps staring. Now he’s getting up and coming towards me! Oh, he just wanted some water from the machine.

The staff – mainly nurses I guess – come and go. There’s a really sexy male nurse in blue uniform – I hope my friend gets him. No, I shouldn’t be thinking like that. Hey, that woman came in way after us and she’s just been called. Oh shit, I think I know that guy that’s just walked up to the desk… please don’t turn around…

As you sit there, time stretching on forever and your arse starting to ache, it occurs to you that, gay, striaight, bi, young, old, married, single, black, white, mother, attractive, not-so… at some point we all end up at the local sexual health clinic. There’s no judgement inside and we’re all there because of choices we’ve made about sex. It might not exactly be the ideal way to achieve it, but that’s true equality, right there.

Merry Christmas and a happy New Year.