Testosterone Kisses

INTRODUCTION

This paper takes the view that it is inequitable when an embodied action, such as the performance of a platonic, non-sexual kiss between two adults, is interpreted and appreciated differently according to the perceived biological sexes of those performing the action. With reference to unscripted kisses that are performed and projected in the Australian media, this paper raises questions concerning differences between socially acceptable and taboo behaviours for straight and gay individuals who present as being male. It discusses ways in which to raise consciousness of gender inequities concerning embodiment as performed and presented in the mainstream media—and in the everyday—and considers ways in which embodiment between individuals, which transgresses norms of behaviour (as seen to be typical and/or befitting for straight or gay persons), might come to be accepted as unproblematic. I write this paper from the perspective of a gay male (who presents as being male) with concerns for the social and emotional well-being of those who may not be inclined to embody gender according to social norms.

 

Embodiment as I engage with it in this paper, is the choreography and manner, or ‘bodily practice’ and ‘bodily technique’ (Mauss 1979), in which a physical practice (such as a kiss) is executed. Where I talk of the embodiment of gender I refer to aspects of femininity and/or masculinity by which an action is performed. While gender categories of masculine and feminine may be dependent on culture, setting, and time, and as such are difficult to define (Butler 2004), dominant assumptions in contemporary Western milieu align masculinities to male bodies and femininities to female bodies (Francis 2009; see also Connell 1995). For the contexts of this paper, my definitions for ‘feminine’ are gentle, delicate, soft; and my definitions for ‘masculine’ are strong, forceful, powerful. Whilst I acknowledge that there are those for whom the dichotomous, binary categories of male and female do not fit, for the purposes of this paper I restrict myself to these terms, as they continue to be categories by which so many individuals are defined and/or define themselves.

 

NORMATIVE KISSES—SUBORDINATE KISSES

The action of kissing can mean different kinds of affection and different levels of intimacy between those performing the action. Whilst the kiss has been theorised in regard to its historic spiritual, ritualistic, and religious functions, and particularly in regard to its being a vital sign of romance and love-making (Danesi 2013), little has been argued about the semiotics of the non-sexual, platonic, or homosocial kiss in contemporary times, particularly in regard to gender. It is the platonic or non-sexual kiss between adults with which this paper is concerned. Marianne Wex’s arguments (1979) that the semiotics of embodied pose are understood differently according to who the performers are, is relevant to different meanings that certain styles of platonic kisses may take when performed by different combinations of female/male participants.

 

Non-sexual or platonic kisses between or involving females, be they between a male and a female or between females, are unremarkable embodied behaviour within mainstream contemporary Australia and many other Western societies. We do not double-take upon seeing such acts. But what about non-sexual kisses between males? Whilst we can rationalise that a platonic kiss between two males is no different to a platonic kiss between two females, there is a lot more going on, for both viewers and doers of the male to male non-sexual kiss, than we may be willing to concede. There are also consequences to consider that can impact on the social and emotional well-being of those who may not be inclined to embody gender according to mainstream cultural norms.

 

Our perspectives are shaped and affected by the discourses and cultures we come from (Connell 1995, Shilling 2003, McRobbie 2009). An embodied performance such as a kiss or embrace can signify differently according to the enculturation of individuals who view the act (Migdalek 2012). It can be argued that our ‘enculturation’ conditions us to do and view particular performances of gender differently according to the assumed biological sex of those performing said actions (see Connell 1995, Shilling 2003). The tendency to overlook or dismiss the proposition that our own perspectives and practices may be gendered, aligns with Bourdieu’s (1990) theories of habitus. Bourdieu speaks of Habitus in regard to schemes of perception and also action, that are internalised as second nature and fundamentally invisible to us. Habitus can manifest in internal response and reaction, and also in and through the body (Bourdieu 1990). What comes to be a person’s habitual way of looking at performances of gender, and what comes to be a person’s habitual way of doing/performing gender, is connected to the force and residue of non-consciously performed practices ‘…internalised as second nature and so forgotten’ (Bourdieu 1990: 56). Embedded practices that differ according to biological sex, was an aspect of ‘Habitus’ that Bourdieu did not particularly delve into (Adkins & Skeggs 2004). It can be argued that for Bourdieu, differences in the embodiment of femininity and masculinity between the sexes were, unlike gendered division of labour, embedded as nature, and as such, rendered invisible.

 

Even though notions of what is appropriate behaviour to us may feel as though they are our own, we should not overlook the relationship between culture and subjectivity, and that notions such as these are externally imposed (McRobbie 2009, see also Mac an Ghaill & Chris Haywood 2007). Representations within mass media influence, teach, and encourage particular gendered behaviours and understandings of masculinity and femininity (see Goffman 1979, Connell 1999, Bollen et al. 2008). We, as cultural subjects are influenced by popular and omnipresent representations of certain forms of embodiment—such as kisses—which are commonly validated, in contrast to other forms which are subordinated. Ratings given these performances differ according to the perceived biological sex of those performing them (Migdalek 2012). For example, It was not an issue when female Australian Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, kissed and had been kissed by the likes of Wayne Swan, Bob Hawke, or President Obama. Kisses between female political figures and their male counterparts are not uncommon. But would this also be the case if we were to witness similar kisses between the likes of Tony Abbott and other male public figures? Not likely. Kisses involving female political and other public figures are so common in mainstream Australian—and other—contexts, that their gender inequitable construction remains largely invisible. It is only when norms of performance are transgressed that they attract our attention.

 

 

It must be noted however, that male political leaders of Western countries commonly kiss their Middle Eastern counterparts, and in such cases, these kisses, as gestures toward, particular ‘foreign’ males tend to be acceptable. This harks to Edward Said’s (2003) theories on Orientalism where that which is culturally classified as ‘exotic’ is easily commodified and maintained, not only as that which is distant, mysterious and other, but also as something with implications of inferiority (see also Savigliano 1995). The combination of who is kissing who can change the semiotics and noteworthiness of the kiss, especially when the combination of the age/s, sex, and/or race/s of those taking part in the act contrasts to the representations to which one is commonly exposed.

 

INHIBITING INFLUENCES

Although Australian society may be made up of diverse and pluralistic groups, recurring exposure, through mass media, to images of certain styles of platonic kisses, defines particular types of embodiment forcefully. Public figures, along with actors, become teachers of the ways masculinity is to be thought about and performed in the world (Bollen et al. 2006). In an Australian context, it can be argued that the prevalence of particular public representations of homosocial mateship between men delimit the type of embodiment that signifies as normal. In mainstream Australian settings, the actions of the male who embodies gender differently to the norm are marked and draw attention for being any combination of curious, ludicrous, subordinate, and/or deviant. In being contrasted to a norm, they are not being simply regarded as different or other, but as ab-normal (Martino & Pallotta-Chiarolli 2005). Being classified and marginalised in such ways can be oppressive to the sense of identity and self worth of those who are not inclined to embody in a gendernormative manner (see Drummond 2005, Hillier 2010).

 

Sociologist Michael Flood argues that people are locked into rigid rules for performing gender (O’Connell 2012). I contend that the influence of mainstream gender norms in Australia is largely inhibiting. Male members of minority cultural groups who might normally, comfortably kiss one another in many circumstances, do not tend to do so in mainstream Australian general public contexts, or what Bourdieu might refer to as mainstream social fields (1990). To illustrate, I was recently at a public function attended by a mix of Italian-origin and Australian guests, and was surprised that while Italian-origin males kissed and embraced females in attendance (both Italian-origin and Australian) they only shook hands with males (Italian-origin and Australian). My Italian-Australian friend confirmed that the same Italian-origin men would definitely embrace/kiss one another in solely Italian public settings. This editing of embodied behaviour within certain Australian mainstream public contexts illustrates the force of mainstream hegemonic culture within Australia, and the pressure it exerts on secondary cultures to conform.

 

As a child of European parents, I recall kissing and being kissed by many of the adult males and females in my life. From around the age of twelve, kisses were no longer generally practised with my father and uncles, but did continue with my mother and aunts. I am not certain if it was my father and uncles who stopped kissing me, or if I stopped kissing them. However, the situation worked differently with my sister for whom the practice of kisses with all adult family members continued. I think this occurs for and between males in other families too. But why might an expression of love between and toward male family members be differently embodied to that between and for female members? It may be that kisses on children—and women—are a gesture of dominance that position them subordinately, and that that positioning is something that the would-be man is encouraged to resist. Certainly masculine embodiment was the direction in which I was encouraged to move. I understood from a young age that it was appropriate for me to have a strong handshake, to participate in aggressive sports such as football, to physically occupy and command space. Whilst it may not have been my inclination to embody in such ways, my understanding was that this kind of embodiment was not only desirable but also natural for males.

 

Cultural theorist Angela McRobbie (2009) argues that even where we consider ourselves to have agency over ways in which we operate, what we choose to do is largely regulated by cultural boundaries, influences, and parameters (such as embedded and dominant patriarchal hierarchies prevalent in media and popular culture) that envelop us. In sporting arenas such as the Commonwealth Games, we frequently witness formal medal award ceremonies in which congratulatory kisses occur between males and females. What does it signify that congratulatory kisses are given to female athletes by male and female officials and dignitaries, whilst in the case of male athletes, congratulatory kisses are only given by female officials and not male? During the Commonwealth Games of 2006, then Australian Prime Minister, John Howard, frequently kissed Australian female athletes by way of congratulation. Why would a Prime Minister who would profess to love all Australians equally, not also kiss male athletes by way of congratulation?

 

 

Public congratulatory kisses between males and females are so naturalized that we rarely look into their gendered connotations. If equity is something we purport to stand for, then the gendered machinations of these images need to be deconstructed. If these kisses are sexual, is it not demeaning for a woman to be publicly subject to physical contact of a sexual and potentially unwelcome nature? If these kisses are signs of care and nurturing, is it not demeaning for a woman to be positioned or allow herself to be in the childlike position of one who is in need of care or protection, (or by the same token, why doesn’t the male athlete also need care and nurturing)? Or if these kisses are merely signs of warmth and congratulation, then why don’t kisses also take place between male officials and male athletes? Why only where there are females involved?

 

Had kisses been exchanged in these contexts between males, they would have been noticed and noted very differently. This indicates a gendered disparity in cultural norms within Australian mainstream contexts and the differential positioning that women and men continue to inhabit. In the case of the Commonwealth Games, as hosted by Australia in 2006, it highlights the globalised colonial culture of Commonwealth nations within which non-dominating colonised cultures – in which males may otherwise exchange kisses – have been subsumed. Note should be taken of formal award ceremony kissing patterns that occur when such events are hosted by other countries.

 

In a similar vein, female winners and guests on TV quiz shows and talk shows such as Deal or No Deal (Seven Network), tend to be kissed by male and female hosts and guests alike. However male winners and guests tend only to be kissed by females. Where kisses do occur between males in quiz shows, talk shows, and sporting arenas, these are robustly accented with what I refer to as ‘Biff-Slap’ punctuation (Migdalek 2012), a device whereby any doubts that the kiss might be steeped in gay sexual desire are robustly eliminated or slapped out of the question. This aligns with the need of Australian men to distance homosocial mateship from any taint of suspected sexual attraction between men (Bollen et al. 2006). It is interesting to note in the same public arenas that kisses and embraces between females do not seem to be accented and marked by the same homophobic self-consciousness, nor read that way, despite the fact that these embraces are frequently sustained and gentle, making them more easily read as sensual and sexual than those between men. I contend that whereas the impression of a kiss between females may be benign—and even pleasurable and sensual for male spectatorship (Pallotta-Chiarolli 2010)—a kiss between males in this setting may be perceived as a homosexual action, and so, due to dominant heteronormative views, and the arguably low cultural capital of being perceived as homosexual (see Connell 1995, Nayak & Kehily 1996, Paechter 2003, Martino & Pallotta-Chiarolli 2005), an action to be avoided.

 

Kisses or embraces between male presenters and guests on variety and talk shows, such as The Footy Show(Nine network) are frequently performed in jest as that which is ludicrous, hilarious, deviant, subversive, taboo. The notion of males performing such acts is almost always homosexualised. Kisses and embraces between females are not. How do studio audiences’ howls of laughter at man-on-man kisses that are played for laughs on programs such as The Footy Show, position television viewers toward non-violent physical contact between males, and also to notions of ‘gay’? What makes audiences laugh here is rooted in homophobic ideologies in which male to male physical intimacy is necessarily sexual, undesirable, amusing, and subordinate. It has become our habitus to laugh at gender nonconforming embodiment, such as non-violent tactile contact between male figures in scripted and unscripted situations, without recognizing the heteronormative and gendernormative ideologies that situate such representations as being comedic. The man-on-man kiss played for laughs in public arenas impacts on not only our responses to gender nonconformity, but also on ways in which we might censor our own performances of self. Same sex touching between males, that does not take place on the sports field, has been historically homosexualised (see McCormack 2012). The force of such semiotics, and the continuation of sending up non-violent physical contact between straight males, makes it a rarity to understand intimate physical contact between males in other terms.

 

Where readings of certain behaviour, such as a gentle non-sexual kiss between two males, are viewed in an aversive or comic light across a dominant cultural group, individuals inclined to perform such embodied practices – in public settings – are likely to develop a heightened degree of panopticonic self-consciousness (see Foucault 1977, 1981). I continue to be self-conscious of how my kissing or being kissed by another male will be received in public contexts and settings that I do not know for certain to be accepting of such practices. Of course there are settings and even precincts in which I can let my guard down, and I knowingly put myself in those contexts. However, there are far more mainstream Australian public settings in which I am aware that, were I to kiss a male friend without a Biff or a Slap, I am at risk of being ridiculed, scoffed at, abused or even bashed, usually by other males. There is a tendency for males to feel the need to prove that they are not gay through asserting their heterosexual masculinity over those whom they feel able to dominate (Connell 1983, 1995, Mac an Ghaill 1994, Kehily 2002, Renold 2003, Mac an Ghaill & Haywood 2007, Paechter 2007). This is unfortunate because, through doing so, individuals inhibit themselves from other gender expressive ways—such as feminine ways—in which they might project themselves. Reasons for this connect to inherent homonegative social attitudes in the fabric of many Western societies in which people are locked into rigid rules for performing gender (see O’Connell 2012).

 

Harking back to Bourdieu (1990, 2001), not only do the workings of schemes of perception and action become habitual, but they also fade from consciousness, and as such are not necessarily open to change. I am capable of recognising that I embrace males and females differently in most public contexts: Where I embrace males, I incorporate Biff-Slap punctuation; Where I embrace females, I do not. Despite recognizing that differentiation in practice in my head—and perhaps desiring to change my usual and gender inequitable ‘embracing habitus’—it is a differentiation in practice that is not easily or comfortably un-learned in my body. To illustrate, I refer to a relatively recent experience. I was to meet several friends at a cinema in a central suburb. When I arrived, my friends Sue, Ben, Gail, and Ted were already there, clustered in a circle outside the foyer. I know Sue and Ben very well and Gail and Ted (a married couple) not all that intimately. As I joined their circle, I kissed Sue and Ben. Next to them was Gail, who I also kissed, and next to Gail was her husband Ted. ‘Well’, I thought in that split second, ‘I know and like Ted just as well as I know and like Gail’, and so, with thoughts of challenging and disrupting how unequally we relate to people according to their biological sex swimming in my head, I went to kiss Ted. What followed still irks me as a highly awkward moment. Ted and I found ourselves hovering between what was going to become a kiss or a biff-slap-on-the-shoulder embrace. I imagine that the moment was as uncomfortable for Ted as it was for me. Whilst I might see the logic of a platonic kiss of greeting between two males as no different to a platonic kiss of greeting between two females or a male and a female, the embodiment of that kiss is not easily taken on or executed. That the Ted kiss moment was so awkward for me (and for Ted also, I believe) illustrates that changing embodied norms in one’s everyday life involves far more than intellectual justification. It is ironic that the next time I met Gail and Ted, I controlled and regulated my body and kissed neither of them, when I would otherwise have been inclined, and not hesitated, to kiss Gail.

 

‘GAY’ EMBODIMENT

While my focus is primarily on the platonic or non-sexual kiss, arguments I make are relevant to inequities of embodied performances of gender in general. A key stumbling block to achieving gender equity in regard to gentle, and arguably feminine, homosocial embodiment between males has to do with participants’ perceived sexual orientation. Most people assume they can determine whether someone is heterosexual or homosexual based on the way they enact gender (O’Connell 2012). Research shows that social connections are commonly made between femininity in a male and homosexuality (Gere 2001, Gard 2001, Martino & Pallotta-Chiarolli 2001, Martino & Pallotta-Chiarolli 2005). Despite cognitive shifts in mindset that have destabilized traditional codings and categories of what it is for a male to be gay within wider society and a broadening of attitudes toward males who display feminine qualities (‘sensitive new age guys’), feminine (or ‘gay’) embodiment on a male body continues—within wider society—to be perceived as unfitting embodiment for a straight male, positioning both ‘gay’ and ‘feminine’ as subordinate. If being regarded as homosexual is positioned as being inferior or subordinate, then maybe this is the root of the problem. The data I have collected from fieldwork with approximately four-hundred high school students in four co-education private and public institutions (Migdalek 2012), indicates that a great many males (straight or gay) dare not move in feminine ways because of anxieties over the proposition that others will assume that they are gay, and not because they are unable or disinclined to move in such ways. Similar anxieties may stop straight females from striding when they walk, sitting with straddled legs, or even having their hair cut super short. It should be noted however that, in such cases, they may still gain from associations of masculine qualities with power (see Halberstam 1998).

 

There are two issues of concern here: The first is that gender nonconforming embodiment (such as a gentle homosocial kiss between males) signifies a persons sexual orientation as being gay; The second is that standing out as ‘gay’, even though largely acceptable, is still positioned as subordinate. Whilst participants who took part in my fieldwork appeared to be supportive of public declarations that people should be free and uninhibited to embody gender in any way at all, almost all of them indicated via anonymous response sheets that ‘gay’ is something that they do not wish to be regarded as or mistaken for. It can be assumed that some of those anonymous voices were those of gay individuals too. In context such as these, the self-image and the social and emotional well-being of the individual not inclined to embody in accordance with gender norms deemed appropriate or fitting for their sex, is at risk.

 

Ways in which gay and straight characters are commonly represented in scripted performances in movies and television programs have much to do with stereotypical public conceptions of gay—and straight—embodiment. Although there have been scripted movies and television programs in which the male heterosexual protagonist has feminine emotional characteristics, we have yet to see mainstream movies or television programs in which the male heterosexual protagonist might embody in a feminine manner without comedic intentions. Those who create mainstream media continue to be bound by conventions that work invisibly as definitive and restrictive barriers to the realm of possibilities of gender expression and understanding. That audiences make assumptions about characters’ sexual orientations according to their embodied performances is problematic. A 2014 Google search on the male to male kiss performed in the 1927 silent movie, Wings, comes up with file titles such as ‘Gay Kiss’ and ‘Hollywood’s First Gay Kiss’. Even though the kiss between a soldier and his dying colleague was not taken to be a romantic one at the time (Danesi 2013), the semiotics of the act for contemporary viewers appear to be fixed beyond reinterpretation.

 

Mark O’Connell (2012), a US psychotherapist concerned with negative social attitudes toward GLBT people, theorises that the scarcity of empathetic, gender-nonconforming characters in mainstream commercial movies effectively condones homophobia for audiences. O’Connell discusses case studies of children, who on seeing typical trivialized images of characters that were perceived to be ‘faggots’, experience intense fears of being perceived similarly themselves, even by friends and family. As such, these prevalent portrayals are not benign. In order to affect positive social change, children need to see three-dimensional, gender fluid characters on film and television. This would make it possible for them to construct different narratives about being male, female, transsex, or intersex, and about ranges of human behaviour in general (see O’Connell 2012). Achieving this will be indicative of a more equitable social mindset toward the embodiment of alternative masculinities/femininities.

 

DECONSTRUCTION

In order to safeguard the social and emotional vulnerability of those whose performance inclination is not aligned with socially prescribed gender norms of embodiment, there is a need for deconstructive work in which we take the perspective of phenomenologist Alfred Schutz’s (1944) stranger or outsider, in order to see that which is ‘normative’ with fresh eyes. The stranger/outsider, on viewing the everyday practices of a particular culture, is able to question them as a result of not sharing the same taken for granted assumptions about appropriate behaviours (Brodersen 1971). Viewing routines of kissing that vary according to the perceived biological sex of those who exchange them through the perspective of a stranger, makes it possible to see things differently. Doing so enables us to question patriarchal and inequitable machinations that are embedded—as nature—in the very behaviours that we view and practice (or resist practicing)—as a matter of course—from day to day.

 

What needs to be modified is the outlook toward homosocial embodied behaviours such as the gentle platonic kiss between men, and the inequitable social system of semiotics that valorises and devalues certain embodied performances over others according to one’s sex. We need to raise questions regarding inequitable, habitual ways of viewing and doing gender, and why we see some embodied performances as different or funny, when really the only difference hinges on the perceived biological sex of those performing them. Examining through the eyes of the stranger, why embodied performances such as the gentle homosocial kiss means differently when performed between women and between men, would be a positive step toward recognising gender inequitable ideologies embedded in such practices. This ‘visual critical literacy’ work (Migdalek 2009), as influenced by critical literacy theories in feminism, post-structural studies, gender studies, queer theory, and men’s studies (see Mellor, Patterson & O’Neill 1991, hooks 1994, Threadgold 1994, Martino & Mellor 1995, Davies 1997), could be an endeavour of educators. Classrooms can be sites of critical reflection, analysis, and deconstruction of the machinations behind embodied practices, such as the homosocial kiss, as occur in scripted and unscripted media, as well as the everyday.

 

In this paper I have argued that in order to improve the social, emotional, and physical well-being of those who may not be inclined to embody gender according to social norms, it is necessary to address two fundamental questions: why assumptions about a person’s sexuality are made according to a persons embodiment; and why homosexuality continues to be commonly understood to be subordinate. My feeling is that these inequitable mindsets link to patriarchal, masculinist, heterosexist and gender oppressive ideologies that are so deeply embedded in mainstream Australian social and cultural practice, that unless brought to social consciousness, tend to remain unnoticed and unproblematised (Migdalek 2012).

 

Contesting embodied gender inequities is not just the province of schools and education programs. It needs to occur in our everyday lives. When we laugh at antics, such as scripted or unscripted tongue in cheek kisses between male personalities on mainstream television, we should be mindful of how this kind of representation, as well as our chuckles, impact on the outlooks and behaviours of those around us. We need to consider the impression that our responses to such amusing behaviour has on those (siblings and offspring) sitting beside us on our living room sofas. If we consider ways in which laughing at such antics might influence those beside us, be it to inhibit their embodied inclinations or to inspire them to further ridicule, denigrate, marginalise or alienate real persons inclined toward such behaviour, then what appears to make us laugh may not be so funny after all.

 

Unless the machinations of our habitus concerning the viewing and doing of bodies are made visible, then existing gender inequities that marginalise those whose embodiment of gender is not ‘normative’, will simply continue. Through making differential readings of the platonic or non-sexual kiss according to one’s sex visible, we might move toward broadening personal and social notions of possible, and acceptable embodied performance of gender in general – regardless of biological sex or sexual orientation.

 

In the spirit of arts based research, in which invented stories can be presented to progress or substantiate philosophical arguments (see Kilbourn 1999, Muecke 2002, Schlunke & Brewster 2005, Leavy 2009), I conclude this paper with a short fictocritical play-script titled ‘Testosterone Kisses’. The plot involves Doug, a male tonight show host, who on introducing a male guest on his national television program, inadvertently kisses the male guest. The scene which takes place in Doug’s dressing room following the kiss, was written to provoke thought and further discussion on matters of gendernormativity, heteronormativity, homophobia, denigration of that which is regarded as female, and embodied gender inequities raised in this paper.

 

TESTOSTERONE KISSES (PLAY-SCRIPT)

Characters:     DOUG (A 40 something tonight show Television host)

EVAN (TV executive)

DONNA (Doug’s dresser)

 

EVAN (enters furious):

You kissed Dante! What were you thinking?

 

DOUG:

It just happened. I introduced him, he came on, his fans roared, and it just happened.

 

EVAN:

Doug! You kissed him! What the B’Jesus were you thinking?

 

DOUG:

What, you think I was thinking ‘Ooh, hot looking guy. I want some of that’?

 

EVAN:

You tell me mate. Because that’s pretty well how it appeared.

 

DOUG:

Look, what’s the fuss? I got out of it: shifted along, got on with the interview, and then with the rest of the show.

 

EVAN:

No mate, you didn’t get out of it!

 

DOUG:

Get stuffed Evan.

 

EVAN:

Dougie, the audience were gob-smacked! Where was the laugh line, the joke to diffuse things?

 

DONNA (to DOUG):

Um, your wife telephoned just before. She wanted you to phone her back.

 

DOUG (barely hearing her):

Yeah, sure. That bloody kiss. Hey, is Dante still here? Did he say anything?

 

EVAN:

No. He left straight after the interview.

 

DOUG:

Why didn’t he make a joke of it?

 

EVAN:

Dante is a muso Doug, not a comedian. Maybe he’s gay. Who gives a shit? Either way, it’s you with the egg on your face. The tabloids are gonna go to town Doug. I can see the headlines labelling you a latent homo. We need to beef up a spin on this story before they do. Maybe we assemble something about you paying up on a dare … or say you took it upon yourself to fulfil the fantasy of a friend who’s a massive Dante fan … (dismisses the idea) No that’s crap. How about he reminded you of a nephew?

 

DOUG:

I’d never kiss my nephew. (pause) You’ve got to admit there is something really feminine about the guy. He’s got that long hair, and …That’s it: It was like being with a female guest; I was in female guest mode, and that’s why I kissed him.

 

EVAN (not convinced by DOUG’s idea):

You’ve made a real mess here mate. (EVAN grabs DOUG and kisses and embraces him accompanied by hefty biffs and shoves) That’s how you kiss a guy on national television … if you must.

 

DOUG (sarcastically):

Yeah, point taken macho guy. (defensive) What does a Wrestlemania embrace like that prove? That you’re a real man? That you’re not gay?

 

EVAN:

That’s exactly the point. What you did on national television tonight was a ‘gay’ kiss.

 

DOUG:

So, let me get this straight—boom boom: it’s a gay kiss if a male kisses a male without the macho biffs and shoves. What’s it mean when Chrissie Swan kisses a female guest on her show without shoving or slapping the guest around? Is that gay too? Have I got it straight?

 

EVAN:

It’s not the same thing. Australia is gonna see your kissing Dante as sexual.

 

DOUG:

Hey listen, I kiss all my female guests—apart from frumpy Gina Rinehart, and believe it or not, most all those kisses are not actually sexual. They’re just pecks on the cheek. Or is a peck on the cheek sexual? Cos that’s all I did to Dante. Tell me: (getting worked up) why is it sexual when the same non-sexual kiss I give a female guest happens to get planted on a guest who happens to be male? In countries like Italy, men kiss men all the time … (hearing himself ranting, stops in his tracks) God, I’m ranting. I sound like I’m pro-gay or something.

 

EVAN:

Yeah, you do.

 

DOUG:

I’m married for Chrissake! (runs out of steam)

 

EVAN:

Leave it with me. We’ll probably go with your line about the long hair. Maybe that, or, you’re trying to raise Australia’s consciousness on some gay rights issue or something. I hope you’re not losing it mate. (goes to exit)And Doug, what a television host might be able to do on national television in Italy, television hosts do not do here in Australia.

EVAN exits. Silence between DOUG and DONNA.

 

DOUG (dismissing DONNA):

I’ll be right from here Donna.

 

DONNA (tentative):

It was just a kiss … and the guest that you kissed just happened to be a guy. I don’t get why you …

 

DOUG:

… Because Donna, people are going to think that … never mind.

 

DONNA:

I’m sorry.

 

DOUG:

No, it’s OK. Say what you were going to say.

 

DONNA:

Just there’s no need to be homophobic.

 

DOUG:

Right.

 

DONNA:

Well, I’ll be going. Good night.

 

DOUG:

Yep. Good night.

 

DONNA:

OK then. (goes to leave)

 

DOUG:

Good night. (goes to kiss her. DONNA is taken aback)

 

DOUG:

It’s just a kiss.

DOUG kisses her. Speechless and stunned, DONNA makes to go, but DOUG embraces her and forces a stronger, smothering kiss to her lips …

 

 

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