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.