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