Friday 9 December 2011

What's That Between Your Legs

Staring at a crotch bulge has become dull, and I'm pretty damn gay.

I'll admit that I have a decent sized "package" when it's junk in the trunks, but I was self conscious for the longest time.  I've never been a "low hanger" but that's altogether another story... let's just say I'm a "grower, not a shower."

I've hit my 40s now so I have come to realize I am what I am, for better or worse.

The comparisons have ended.  I have what I have, and other guys have whatever they've got.

It's not that I am unimpressed by a big bulge, but along the way I've realized that anybody can make-do with whatever they've got, as long as everything is wired-up moderately close to the "reference design."  Even if some protective skin was (sadly) lopped-off before you even knew what it was for, most of the time things are, thankfully, "fully functional."

When I was young -- long before I realized I was mostly homo -- I remember sneaking peeks at other guys' packages.  In fact I became quite the expert at it.  To my knowledge, I was rarely, if ever, caught stealing glances.

Today, with my (admittedly limited) sexual experiences, I know there are thin, thick, long and short; big nuts and small; and everything in between (it's surprising how few partners are needed to provide these total metrics if you get lucky, so to speak).

I suppose along the way, I've just lost interest in "what's in their pants."

So it surprises me, every time, when I see a younger guy (21+, easy there copper) staring down at my package.  I've never considered myself to be impressive (Howard Stern syndrome), but I'm in fairly decent shape, I look good, I'm well dressed, and when things are all hanging just right, I suppose I give good crotch bulge.

I have caught younger guys catching more than a glimpse.  I've seen them in a full-on crotch stare.

From straight guys.

When I was in my 20s, I would steal glances, that much I remember.  But later in life, I came to realize I was gay.

Most guys love talking about equipment and comparing.  I suppose this transfers to our precious "built-in" gear.

And I suppose that being gay has, ironically, turned my interest away from the "gear" and towards the primary sex organ.  I can quickly adjust to what's in a guy's pants... but if we don't click, then why bother ?

Sunday 27 November 2011

Why Doesn't OKCupid.com Love Me ?

My inaugural blog post listed a bunch of dating sites for gay or bi guys in Toronto (if you have any better ideas please let me know).

After reviewing the ratings, I have to admit that I'd probably adjust them today, and it's only been a few months since then.  (I'm still totally behind the x out of 8 inches rating system though, hopefully we'll use that again in the future :)

It's November now though, and I'm experiencing a pre-winter dating "funk."  Coming-out in my 40s caused me experience a "second adolescence" as I've heard it described, which you'd imagine might bring with it nothing but fun times.

But instead I fear that I'm experiencing the same problems this time around that I did the first time back in the 80s when I was trying to fit in... when being gay just didn't seem to be an option for me.

One of the things that I enjoy about the GLBT world today is that there (theoretically) should not be a lot of "rules of engagement."  In nature, some species send the males prancing about to attract mates (and sometimes they even bump into another male in the process).

But with "normal" humans, the girls typically get to wear all the bright coloured outfits and send themselves out to attract mates.

I probably think of myself as some kind of peacock, because deep inside I think I should be "setting-up shop" to try to attract the perfect guy.

Instead, I should probably be actively looking for guys I'd leave my job for, move cross-country or around the world for... but that might involve (gasp) rejection.

It seems I'm relying on the most handsome profile pics I can self-take (yes, mine are current despite the reputation in the gay community) and well-edited profile text describing me and my desires to a "T."

I've even gone back to sites I abandoned to see if there's still hope.  I bumped into my profile on OKCupid and was taken aback by the profoundness of my summary:

My self-summary
So, I've tried a few sites to date to-date (bah dum bum) and I've found that this site -- ironically the site that tries to match you scientifically based on your responses to intimate questions -- is far less productive than sites that don't bother trying to pigeon-hole me into a certain "type of person" who might also like people who think similarly to me.
I've had some fun answering questions and responding to surveys on here, but I'm not kidding when I say that I am getting progressively less interesting matches as I add more information about my interests, politics, beliefs on particular subjects or sex acts, or whatever else.
I personally believe there are a couple of reasons for this.
First, all of these responses make it easy for someone to say "forget it" because of one particular response. Let's call this the Elaine Abortion effect in honour of our modern urban societal bible, the TV show Seinfeld.
Second, I've always accepted that I am not necessarily looking for people that have the same beliefs and opinions as I do, but there isn't a "find the opposite" button on here or anything resembling this.
Looking for a match is tough business, and from what I can see there's no formula for success.

When we extend ourselves, we can get stung.  The last time I reached out to a guy who seemed appealing to me on a "site" (ok it was Grindr lol but I rarely log in) I was immediately blocked by him.

Should I be discouraged ?  Of course not.  There's only one way to find out if there could be a connection.

Though I am quite finicky already, there is a piece of my newfound adolescence that I feel should probably learn the traditional notion of "dating in your league."

But that can mean so many different things.  I've seen plenty of white collar guys after blue collar, twinks after bears, and all things in between.

With a dating pool as diverse as ours, perhaps that old "in your league" notion doesn't really need to apply.

Tuesday 1 November 2011

Is it Time for a House Guest+Benefits?

I'm not a typical person, that much I've learned over the years.

And I'm not kidding when I say I really don't know what I want from my gay life right now.

I do know that I really need my alone-time. When I'm with people or even one other person, I'm "on". I'm personable and quite entertaining, if I do say so myself.

This generally works out great for everybody, but I'm probably best served-up in small portions. Just like when, say, a friendly house guest gets into Day 3, my patience with people can begin to wear thin. The plates start to mount-up in the kitchen sink, the bathroom starts to get messy, and the food stores run thin. My routines break down.

I give my all to people. I don't sit down on the subway until all of the women, childern and even every guy near my age or older gets a seat. Whatever the situation, I try to lighten the mood if things are particularly anxious. I pitch-in to help when something is needed.

Like I said at the beginning, I'm not a typical person.

My "specialness" doesn't seem to come through in online dating, though. When a guy is looking for a hot partner on a dating site, the last thing he seems to want to hear is that I'm nice.

When I'm out in public, I get more than my fair share of looks so I know I'm marketable. When it comes time to get phone numbers at a bar, stuff happens, but probably not as often as I'd like. I am getting on in age now, even though I'm graced with youthful looks.

If I have to resort to regularly checking Craigslist "Missed Connections" for guys who may have been too shy to say hello, it's time to think of other ideas.

And when someone special does come along, will I be ready ?

I wish I could say.

I do know that the routines that keep dirty dishes out of my sink, my bathroom relatively tidy, and my food stores well-stocked, probably could use some shaking-up now and then.

Wednesday 12 October 2011

Matthew Shepard

13 years ago, a gentle soul was violently taken from this Earth because he was different.

http://www.matthewshepard.org

Monday 3 October 2011

Slut it Up, Or Stay A Gay Prude?

I've always been a person who deeply appreciates "alone time."

Before I came out, I was not exactly getting laid. Well, not at all, really. And all was fine. But as I get older, I am wondering if I couldn't be happier with a boyfriend.

Sure, back in college I would drink it up and hit the bars with the friends, and when we all competed for chicks I'd get in there too. But I didn't have any game and ended up being the prey of larger girls who thought I was "gettable" (I had some extra lbs back then).

Weight -- hell, appearance in general -- doesn't much affect a straight guy's chances if he has confidence, but like a male bird or lion in the wild, for "some reason" (cough, gay) I thought I should be the one to get prettied-up and attract mates.

I'll admit to having some natural prettiness (my eyes get me all kinds of complements), but I wasn't as pretty as a peacock. I didn't try hard, if at all. So when acting straight was expected of me (and I still obliged), I barely got any sexual contact.

Then after college, my straight friends began getting less and less sex from their life partners, so it seemed that sex became less and less important to the people around me. Did that mean I stopped thinking about sex ? Not even a little bit. In fact, as I secretly got gayer and gayer (which coincided with the availability of the internet), I got horned up, hypersexualized even. This seems common in the gay community, where two guys who "hit it off" (meaning, they've gazed into each other's eyes after a couple of vodka coolers) might be busting a nut together within 20 minutes of meeting. In my early 40s, my sex drive is still a very powerful force.

Coming out and visiting the Village establishments in Toronto (and any other city I'm visiting) has been an exhilarating experience, but I'm just not interested in anonymous sex in a bathhouse or "sex maze" (yes, we have one of those in Toronto). Nor am I looking to pick-up a drunk boy (over my shoulders, no doubt) and carry him back to my lair, no matter how sexy that might sound to some.

I'm all for it if it's good for you, but it's just not me.

This can really make me feel like an outsider, because sex seems to be the next logical step after a hello and a handshake in the gay community. It seems like the natural thing to do -- you're a guy, I'm a guy, and we're into each other... so we're going to get off now, right ?

My biggest sex organ is unquestionably my brain, and my ears and my mouth are its method of interacting with the outside world, at least while face-to-face, in public. And often, public interaction is plenty. After all, I'm really picky and I like a chance to properly vet a potential mate.

My dating record this summer hasn't exactly been stellar, and I'm not holding back -- I'm up for a coffee or a drink as long as you have a couple of nice face pics and can (mostly) spell. But sex as a part of the vetting process seems to be the one thing that I'm currently missing when I compare my (generally negative) dating notes to other gays with much more action and boyfriend possibilities.

Extending my prudish ways into my gay life seems to be counterproductive, but not dropping my drawers for just anyone is a survival instinct that remains strong. It protects me from errant STIs to be sure, but perhaps just as important, it protects my sensitive being from the emotional wounds and the lasting scars that can come from fleeting encounters and unanswered phone calls the next day -- either to me, or from me.

There are signs that our community might be changing. Younger gay guys seem to be interested in dating. I am hopeful, because I don't think I can be promiscuous just because I feel I have to.

So for now, the only thing I'm keeping down low is my slut dial. I'm keeping it low, way low.

Well, mostly down... for the time being anyway ;)

Wednesday 28 September 2011

Slapfights in the Village? Not On My Watch

Hate, the natural feeling that starts wars, still runs rampant in our world today.

One of my favourite surprises about the vibe in the Gay Village is the feeling of absolute acceptance. Accepting everyone, no matter how off-kilter they may seem to us at the moment, is an unwritten, magical rule that sticks, even in the wee drunken hours. I have yet to see a late-night altercation that caused me any concern whatsoever. Not even an enthusiastic slapfight.

As recently out, this rule is an amazing bonus that I didn't expect. I am generally a positive, accepting person, but in the Village I may have been one of the biggest offenders of this unwritten rule. Like my gay celebrity role model Derek Hartley I can turn snarky at the drop of a hat, especially if there's a laugh in it (for me, anyway).

Last weekend while interacting with a (hot) bartender at Woody's I told him what a horrible person I was for making a smart-ass coment in a discussion with a nice group of gay bar-goers. I can't remember the exact statement, but it was a (funny, no doubt) smack against one of the guys' previous statements.

It seemed to create a lul in the conversation, and we pretty much all dispersed afterwards.

It then struck me that I had violated The Rule.

My bartender reassured me that I'm fine (and brought me a drink, no wonder I fall in love with bartenders), but I still felt that I had done something wrong and should learn from it.

Ever since, I have been particularly sensitive about blanket statements of hate. I've had to listen to people I know -- friends, even -- spew venom about races that are ruining our country, and I've even had an artist tell me how much he hates gay people because they take all the paying art jobs from straight artists. With a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, I did seriously try to explain how they've got it all wrong, but I didn't really get anywhere (with the artist it probably didn't help that I went on to explain how coming out made me 3 notches cooler. That just seemed to fan the flames. He actually told me I was gay for the wrong reasons).

Hatred is a natural instinct. And it's an easy one to conjure.

Having an unwritten rule against hate might make gays and everyone else in the Village feel special, but perhaps more importantly we get to learn from our jerky comments when they hurt others that don't deserve it.

Coming out and enjoying the Gay Village is, (unfortunately ?) a rare thing in society. I just wish there was some other way for everyone to learn how to accept everyone unconditionally.

Wednesday 21 September 2011

The "Straight" Friend

One of the realities I've learned to live with is that many (if not most) guys are capable of getting into hot man-on-man action, but many (if not most) choose to label these activities "icky" and live life as "totally straight" instead.

This is a tough nut to bust on the straight community's face because it could mean that many (if not most) straight guys could possibly"catch the gay." It's also a sploogy mess for the gay community to grasp because it messes with the "born this way" mantra that appears to be helpful in advancing gay rights -- "we didn't choose this, girlfriend, cock chose us."

As I've already said, I'm doubtful that I was born totally homo, but instead I've made choices to maximize my happiness. That said, I'm pretty sure I could have just (or nearly almost) as easily chosen to be one of the generally unhappy "straight" married guys who tell everyone who'll listen how much they're not getting laid anymore.

While I see my story as one of freedom and the pursuit of happiness, some scary straights may take it to mean that gayness is contagious and should be marginalized (or even worse).

Enter the "straight" friend whom I've gotten to know quite well over the years. He's in a relatively sexless hetero relationship, goes out of his way to brag about former female conquests, and, when I came out to him, was extremely uncomfortable having discussions in public about my sexuality or dating because he felt others would think he was gay.

He's overly macho for his stature, and he's sensitive, and there's no doubt that he performs well for the ladies. Chicks seem to really dig him so he doesn't really have any problem there. But for whatever reason, somewhere during our friendship he was interested in exploring some man-on-man sex play with me.

As a boy who was generally quite good at being bad, I can relate to this side of man sex for the straight/bi guy and as a genuine man-child I'm sure this was a big factor for him. But if it was truly "icky" then it doesn't explain why we've repeated our sex play more than a few times over the years (and I suspect I'm not his first dude).

That said, it's nowhere near being a romantic relationship, or even a completely satisfying sexual relationship. And it's become a confusing friendship.

"Straight" friend has been attempting to to repair his hetero relationship and while things were heating up there, he hadn't tried to contact me for a while. I was actually relieved.

But now he wants to come over. For the weekend. Sleepovers have an high win-rate with him so I'm back to being aroused, confused, and frustrated, sometimes one after another and sometimes all at the same time.

But inside there somewhere is (was ?) a friend. If he's more hetero than I am these days, maybe this is easier for him to resolve.

It's the kind of turmoil that I seek to shed from my life by actions like coming out -- maybe this backfired with "straight" friend if he now sees me as constantly hot for dick. Egad.

Nearly every gay man I talk to about this predicament tells me to stay the hell away, though there's always one hardcore straight fetishist in the room.

The sex play can be pretty hot (he's "being bad" since he's cheating, and I'm conquering a "straight"), but there are rules, weird rules that I figure are there to keep the boundaries up. I'm generally fine with them because I don't think I'd ever be interested in a relationship with him, even if he totally fruited right out in front of my eyes.

Sometimes there's some post-play confusion for him, and sometimes when all signs point to sex we've instead spent a confusing evening of let's-be-more-boring-than-typical-straight-friends role play, as if he made a conscious decision this time out to keep it straight. That's when I can feel like I'm being played.

Sadly, instead of telling him to go fuck himself, I fear I'll be subconsciously telling myself to just say "fuck him" this weekend, for what it's worth.

Wednesday 14 September 2011

SMS from a Guy Named Jaden? Hellllloooo :)

Today ended up being a great, gay day.

That said, I woke up second-guessing my "decision" to go homo. Unlike many gays, deep inside I still feel I've made a conscious decision as a bisexual man to live a gay life. This may piss off "lifers" who feel that you're either born this way or not, but I say meh to them. I make my own choices in life.

I have occasional thoughts about a potential future as a "normal guy" with a girl. My questioning today came to an abrupt end when I checked my messages. Overnight, a guy dropped me the following SMS:

"It's Jaden, remember me from Friday night?"

How darling, a gay named Jaden! It's one of my favourite names for a boy.

The only problem was a pretty big one. I forgot who he was, and where, exactly, I met him (and provided him with my cell number). I'm not a (total) lush, and I don't give out my number to anyone, so, in my memory, he must have been a good lad, if not a total god.

I do remember giving my number out earlier that evening to a man who was older than me and not physically attractive to me (I'm clinically picky). That was a conscious decision made after we had a very interesting conversation. I knew he'd be capable of more of the same, and my gay circle of friends right now is akin to an extra-small cockring jammed onto a thick tool. Sorry for that visual (and any broken blood vessels).

From what I know of dating. a phone number is a number. If you got it, it's a possibility. If I'm offering my number too frequently, I may have to start using a tactic I learned recently after messaging an incredibly cute, young guy on a dating site:

"Thanks for the interest. Unfortunately we're not a good match."

I have to admit it worked incredibly well. It both comforted me and also let me off easily. I now use it often on the dating sites, it's way better than ignoring someone, especially if they're obsessed with your (3-year-old) face pics. It can work to "cut them off at the pass" before they start to badger you.

When Jaden messaged me, I couldn't help but smile from ear to ear.

It said to me that I'm now at a place in my life that a (possibly) cute guy with a cute name might be interested, at least in expanding his circle of gay friends.  Better to prevent blood vessels from bursting than to keep things too tight.

It made me happy, even if I didn't remember the details, because it reminded me of the girls' numbers I accumulated over the years, without doing anything with them. And it reminded me of the blind dates with women, arranged by friends, that I abruptly canceled at the last minute.

Unlike those phone numbers and blind dates, now distant memories, I didn't want to avoid Jaden.

We're now online buddies, and I after seeing his face pic, I now remember (parts of) our conversation last Friday night.

While I'm not getting laid anywhere near as often as I'd imagined I would as an "out" man, I've certainly come a long way, as a man. And it feels great.