The One

Straight men—rather, men who believe themselves straight—suddenly finding themselves attracted to or falling in love with other men is a popular theme in gay literature. This is partly due to the historically widespread nature of this experience for gay and bisexual men: In a heteronormative society, it is often surprising to discover that oneself is not the “norm,” and the realization can happen late in life. The general premise of such a straight/gay romance entered popular mainstream consciousness with the Annie Proulx’s 1997 short story, “Brokeback Mountain,” which was made into a major motion picture. As with Nick’s narrative in The One, “Brokeback Mountain” presents two seemingly straight men who meet and become irresistibly attracted to one another. Proulx, like Marrs, maintains some ambiguity in what exactly this means. In a 2005 interview, Proulx describes the narrative situation:

It is not a story about ‘two cowboys.’ It is a story about two inarticulate, confused Wyoming ranch kids in 1963 who have left home and who find themselves in a personal sexual situation they did not expect, understand nor can manage […] Their relationship endures for 20 years, never resolved, never faced up to, always haunted by fear and confusion. How different readers take the story is a reflection of their own personal values, attitudes, hang-ups. It is my feeling that a story is not finished until it is read, and that the reader finishes it through his or her life experience, prejudices, worldview, and thoughts (Testa, Matthew. “Close Range.” Salt Lake City Weekly, 29 December 2005).

The story of Ennis and Jack from “Brokeback Mountain” resembles Nick’s storyline with Alex: Nick, too, believes himself straight and is surprised to find himself attracted to a man. Nick, too, insists that he is straight despite how passionately feels for that man. In one of their first conversations, Nick and Alex each confess that they know the other really is their Match, because of the heady spark they felt earlier—only to both agree, seconds later, that the Match was a glitch. The naked contradiction almost comically recalls the famous scene in “Brokeback Mountain” in which Ennis, during the sexual act itself, says, “I’m not no queer,” and Jack promptly concurs, “Me neither.”

However, a stark difference between The One and “Brokeback Mountain” is that Nick’s relationship is not, in Proulx’s words, “haunted by fear” or “never resolved.” Upon learning of his same-sex Match, Nick becomes angry and defensive, quarreling that he is not a “closet case.” Such an inflamed response often betrays an underlying fear and shame—but even if so, that fear is not haunting for him. Nick’s distress fades as his love for Alex grows. In his 2018 interview for The Advocate, Marrs addresses Nick’s romance:

I wanted to show just how fluid sexuality can be and that I don't see why you can't fall in love with someone of the same gender even if beforehand you never thought that you were attracted to a member of the same sex […] Anybody can fall in love with anybody they want to, and they shouldn't be penalized for it.

In his variation on the straight/gay romance, Marrs stokes two fierce contemporary debates: the relationship between sexuality and genetics, and the concept of sexual fluidity. First, because the fictional Match technology uses a client’s DNA, there is an automatic elephant in the room when Nick insists on his heterosexuality; his genetics attest otherwise. Notwithstanding, the novel undermines this substantiation when the reader later learns that some of the protagonists’ Match results may have been counterfeited through corrupted software. The obscurity is a vehicle for novel’s thematic tension between certainty and uncertainty.

Second, Marrs’s interview clarifies that Nick’s storyline involves “fluid sexuality”—though, historically, the concept covers disparate models, and Marrs never delineates his approach. The debate of sexual fluidity is especially contentious among academic philosophers. Recognition that sexual orientation is not a choice has been essential to the advancement of gay rights. However, since the 1970s and 80s, with the rise of Postmodern Theory and its offshoot, Queer Theory, some academics argue that sex, and therefore sexual orientation, are social constructs and thus theoretically malleable. Other scholars oppose this, maintaining that such a stance reintroduces the idea of the euphemistic “conversion therapy” as viable.

Still other scholarship contends that sexual fluidity in no way precludes the automaticity of sexual orientation: Though a person’s orientation is subject to neither their own will nor others’ machinations, their orientation may nevertheless shift—involuntarily—due to untold complex environmental and biological factors. This position is more scientific than philosophic and has the weightiest empirical evidence at its disposal. With Nick, however, among the least labyrinthine explanations for Marrs’s idea of sexual fluidity is that the character is bisexual and is only now awakened to the spectrum of his desire.