TRAY BUTLER

ILLUSTRATOR MARK JULIEN

So, Seth got dumped, again, though the latest split takes the pink ribbon prize for creativity. “My boyfriend and I broke up,” he told me, “on Valentine’s Day!”

I nearly bit off the tip of my tongue, trying not to interject that it’s risky to use the “B” word when the relationship didn’t last as long as a season of Project Runway. “

And here’s the thing,” my loveless friend continued, “he told me over Instant Messenger!”

Ouch—the unkindest cut, a V-Day dumping that ended with a frowny. I tried my best to be supportive, considering this was the fifth or sixth “boyfriend” Seth had been through since we met. Turns out my reserve for fauxcompassion would be tested again and again that week; the news of Seth’s newfound singlehood was quickly met with two other breakups among extended acquaintances, plus one other relationship sputtering toward Nick and Jessica territory.

I’ve noticed that springtime always includes an extended detour through Splitsville. Once the holidays wrap and the synthetic pressure of Valentine’s Day recedes, gay thoughts turn to shirtless beaches and slutty summer nights. At least mine do.

Over the years I’ve seen a pattern as predictable and tragic as Paula Abdul’s wardrobe choices: Half the gay couples who were picking out matching cock rings at Christmastime don’t make it to Easter— and fewer still last through Pride.

There are certainly a million and two exceptions to this sweeping overstatement, and I doubt any hard and reliable data exists about the seasonal mating patterns of the modern homosexual male. But among the hard and unreliable ’mos I’ve known, it’s a reality no one likes to talk about. When the weather warms, relationships chill. Guys don’t want to be alone on New Year’s Eve, but who needs a ball and chain at White Party? Tray Butler and his boyfriend regularly fly south for the winter. Track him down at trayb.com. A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS WHY SPRINGTIME IS THE RIGHT TIME FOR HEARTBREAK.

Gay men already act like so many migratory birds, flocking to the same predictable destinations year after year. The catch: How do you net a free-spirited bird whose instincts tell him to fear captivity?

I floated my theory to Seth, trying my darndest to muster some heartfelt compassion. Alas, it didn’t help.

“So you’re saying I’m never going to meet someone who’ll stick it out for the summer months? Fuck that! I need a man year-round!”

He had a point. If this really is a fight against nature, is there no hope of nurturing a lasting relationship? And that’s when it hit me: What Seth kept losing weren’t relationships, they were situations—extended conversations garnished (usually heavily) with sex and convenience.

The same can be said of many of the meltdowns I’ve seen in the spring: The daters parted when temperatures rose, but the maters made it through Labor Day. I’m not saying one is better than the other, because it all comes down to what you want. Seth, however, needed to realize that he was a mater who kept attracting daters—the kind of guys who end things over IM.

It’s a simplistic view of masculinity, sure, and one that doesn’t explain the whole range of phobias, hangups and fuckups that plague gay dating. But to rise above the situation, to elevate convenience to actual commitment, we need to acknowledge that nature informs everything—even seemingly unpredictable homo hookups.

Seth, however, has another plan, and it involves a different kind of “net.” He met some guy online just a few days after the recent breakup, and the new lovebirds have been IMing each other like crazy.

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