For many people across the LGBTQ+ community, one of the biggest dating dealbreakers is not sexuality itself — it’s secrecy. While “DL” or “down low” culture has long existed in gay and bisexual spaces, many openly gay, lesbian, bisexual, and trans people say they would rather date someone who is openly themselves, even if that person is still figuring things out, than someone living a completely hidden double life.
The conversation around DL culture has become more visible in recent years through social media, podcasts, dating apps, and relationship discussions online. Many people describe exhaustion from relationships where affection can only happen in private, where partners refuse to acknowledge them publicly, or where they feel emotionally compartmentalized. For openly queer people who fought hard to accept themselves, dating someone deeply invested in secrecy can feel emotionally draining.
“It’s a common misconception that gay people are obsessed with ‘turning’ straight or DL people,” one respondent said. “Honestly, most of us prefer someone who’s already comfortable with themselves. A lot of openly LGBTQ people don’t want the secrecy, the hiding, or feeling like they have to shrink themselves to protect somebody else’s image. Most people want peace, honesty, and somebody who can publicly stand beside them.”
That distinction between “discreet” and “DL” came up repeatedly in conversations. Many respondents said they understand privacy. Some people are not out because of religion, safety concerns, family dynamics, or career fears. But they also said there is a difference between being private and making someone feel invisible.
“A discreet person might just not post their relationship online,” another respondent explained. “But DL usually means I can’t hold your hand outside, can’t meet your friends, can’t call at certain times, and have to pretend I don’t exist if somebody walks in. That stops feeling like love after a while.”
For trans people especially, being treated like a secret can carry additional emotional weight. Several trans respondents described experiences with partners who pursued them privately while publicly distancing themselves out of fear of judgment.
“One guy told me I was beautiful every night in private, but acted like we barely knew each other in public,” said a trans woman from Atlanta. “Eventually you realize they’re not hiding the relationship because of safety — they’re hiding because they’re ashamed.”
Lesbians and bisexual women shared similar frustrations. One bisexual woman said she stopped dating women who were deeply closeted because the emotional imbalance became too heavy.
“I was always the one taking the emotional risk,” she said. “I could lose family too, but I still chose authenticity. It started feeling unfair to constantly carry somebody else’s fear while ignoring my own needs.”
Dating apps have amplified the divide. Profiles labeled “DL only,” “masc discreet,” or “no public stuff” frequently spark heated debates online. Some LGBTQ+ users say those profiles reflect internalized shame, while others argue they are simply a reflection of how difficult it still is for many people to come out safely.
Still, many openly queer people say the issue is less about labels and more about emotional availability.
“Nobody wants to feel like a side mission in somebody’s real life,” one respondent said. “People think openly gay people are chasing unavailable men, but most of us actually avoid them because we already know how the story ends.”
Others emphasized that the desire for openness is not about demanding public performances or social media validation. Instead, they described wanting ordinary relationship experiences many straight couples take for granted — being invited to family events, going on dates without fear, celebrating anniversaries openly, or simply existing together without secrecy.
“We want peace,” another respondent added. “Not confusion, not coded language, not disappearing when your boys come around. Just peace.”
As conversations around identity and relationships continue evolving, one thing appears increasingly clear: across much of the LGBTQ+ community, authenticity is becoming more valued than secrecy, even among people who still prefer to keep parts of their private life out of the spotlight.
