Meet market...

I'm already a little more than frustrated with being thrust back onto the singles market.

Even though I'm only 24, only very nearly dead in they eyes of the most cutting queers, I feel like I've really outgrown the whole online thing. First it felt like I was practically alone out here. Now I just feel alone.

The internet is a beautiful thing for gays and lesbians. It allows us to freely meet and mingle in a community that does not threaten us. At least, it doesn't threaten us with reproach from the straights, more threatens us with reproach from one another.

I just really feel at a loss, I'm sorry if this post is a bit rambling. I'm not usually overly-emotional about things, but I just feel really crappy tonight.

After unsuccessfully trying to meet some guys in the area, just for the sake of making some new friends, I canvassed Google and found a few more sites that I haven't hit up yet. I did the typical sign-up thing, wrote my little blurb and finally got to work checking out the local population.

And again and again, the population lets me down.

I don't feel like my standards are too high. I just feel like I have standards.

The internet has degenerated into a sex shopping mall. Literally every profile I read was geared towards finding the next fuck. Even the ones with a few interesting words to say ended their profiles with the typical, "But I'm on here to have fun too." Ugh.

Is it so incredibly hard to fathom that we might use the internet to actually make some friends with gays in our neighborhoods? I understand that it allows us the freedom to seek out sex without the scary consequences of bigotry, but why does it have to be used exclusively for the physical purpose?

I guess when I was a few years younger, I didn't notice it as much. I was content with meeting people on the physical level and not really getting stimulated on the mental one. But at this moment in my life I would really treasure meeting some guys 'like me'. I know my tastes are quite outside the norm (not that they're weird, just unpopular) but it feels like I am literally a one-of-a-kind person. Why is there nobody out there that actually wants to have meaningful conversations? Or that isn't a totally self-absorbed asshole? (Of course, writing this makes me a totally self absorbed asshole, but this is a blog, not a conversation.)

I just feel very frustrated and very down about the state of gay affairs. Are we all just meant to fuck one another and then bitch about it to our girlfriends? Is there nobody out there that just wants to make a more meaningful connection with the people around them? Am I destined to be sitting here on a Friday night, surrounded with my books, music and blog to keep me company?

Really, I just want to feel like I have a chance at standing out 'out there'. Because after reviewing the local postings, I just don't see much of anything in common with my fellow homos. I would say I feel sorry for them, but then again, I'm the one in the minority here, and they probably feel sorry for me.

I guess I just haven't yet found the right market to meet the type of person that I'd like to.

More than peach fuzz...

I've always had an uncanny ability to grow facial hair.

It sounds like a stupid thing to declare but most guy's I've met have been (shockingly) envious that my beard grows in fully and completely. I'm talking the potential for mountain-man growth, if I don't shave it off regularly. Apparently most of the male population has issues growing proper facial hair, be it too 'thin' or too patchy or just too slow. I, on the other hand, have an abundance of it.

So it usually goes that those who don't have it, want it, and those who have it would rather not. I've actually had guys rub my stubble with nearly as much interest as they've rubbed my cock. To me it's bizarre, but I guess it's a sign of 'manliness'. Hell, I just usually let it grow because I'm too lazy to shave.

I always feel like sporting facial hair makes me look older, possibly a little too old for my liking. That, and I'm terrified that it places me straight into the 'bear-cub' (or whatever other animal they're using these days) territory, and I don't need somebody buying me assless chaps and calling me daddy.

Alas, even though I'm even insecure about something as simple as facial hair, it seems to be a hit with the boys. While it's not something I actively seek out, I will admit to having a bit of a fancy for it on the right guy, like Lady Antebellum's Charles Kelly, pictured below with some random fan. Rawr.

Actually, he reminds me of someone I know...but I digress...

Like most things, the facial hair attraction is a bit of a double standard; guys love to see it and give it a rub, but when it comes to the physical stuff there is the usual complaint of tickling, prickling hair in unwanted areas. When it happens, I kind of roll my eyes and remind them that 15 minutes ago they said it was hot.

So it seems as though I'm a bigger hit with the fuzz than without. That just means that I'll have to actually learn how to maintain it at a nice length without bushhogging it all off every five days. Ah, the things we do to maintain an image...

At any rate, it's nice to know I have a big draw that's all natural and all me.

Shout out No. 2...

Howdy to a reader from Jackson, Tennessee.

Having visited Nashville and the surrounding areas in 2006 (I think, can't exactly remember the date) I must say that you guys have a great approach to life! Great music, great home-style food and lots of hot cowboys will ensure my eventual return.

Some random thoughts...

In an attempt to avoid writing a treatise on one subject or another, I've elected to scribble down a few thoughts and anecdotes from my life.

Prepare to be bored enthralled.

-So remember that guy I wrote about who I had the chemistry with, and flirted with, then found out he had a boyfriend? Well, we've kept in touch, because I genuinely would like to make some friends around here. Anyway, he dropped the bombshell on me this week that he broke up with his 'asshole' boyfriend two weeks ago. He seems pretty bummed about it, so now at least I have someone to commiserate with.

-The other day I pulled out a sweater from my closet that I still had yet to wear this season. It was still wrapped in its dry cleaning plastic, so I pulled it all apart, tore out the tissue and finally put it on. And the fucking thing has a hole in it the size of a walnut.

I think I wore it roughly around five times, and it had only been sent to the cleaners once, and when it was sent there was no walnut-sized hole in it, therefore I deduce the cleaner destroyed by sweater. I'm really disappointed because it was a birthday present and a Fred Perry. This however is not the worst thing to happen to me in recent months, so I'm not going to sweat the small stuff.

-In Grammy news, Neil Young wins his first award (though not televised) for best Rock song from his latest album. Yay Neil! In even better news, Justin Bieber went home empty handed. Then I read today that he thinks we should only have sex with someone we love. And we shouldn't have abortions, because, "Thats, like, killing babies." When asked if a woman, who had become pregnant after being raped, should be allowed to abort the fetus, he responded that, "Everything happens for a reason." Oh, and he can't really answer, because he's never been in that position before. Yup, chalk up another squeeky-clean poster boy that's stupider than a stick. I wonder how he feels about the gays.

Have a good night all.

Another V-Day behind me...

Honestly I can barely even come up with a few good pithy remarks about Valentines Day.

When I was younger I fantasized about spending that special day with a special someone. But this year I felt pretty contemptible about the whole shoddy affair.

I happened to be grocery shopping on the 14th and was stunned by the number of middle-aged men walking in an aimless daze, arms piled with flowers, chocolates and stuffed animals. So prolific was this year's V-Day that the store had set up an entire market area filled with all the Valentines necessities, including an employee wearing a hot pink shirt and red heart buttoned just above where his real one ought to be.

Not trying to sound like a cynical single, but really, I'd much rather celebrate my love for someone year-round with flowers, candy and gifts given 'just because' not 'because the calendar says so'. I mean, doing a little something for your someone on V-Day is sweet, but concentrating all of your creative love-energy on one Hallmark Holiday feels a little empty to me.

But I guess that's just my personality. After filling out some scientifically-questionable surveys,  I discovered that I much rather someone show their affection for me by doing the 'little things' in everyday life, instead of decadent amorous displays. As shocking as it sounds, picking up my dry cleaning and putting your fucking socks in the hamper are true testaments of your love for me. The odd flower would definitely be appreciated, but that's icing on the cake.

Even more shocking is the dollar value of V-Day; the average person reportedly spend $116 for gifts and dinners. I know that I'm a flat-broke student who can easily spend that on a single meal at one of my favourite restaurants, but for Joe Sixpack to spend that kind of money is truly surprising.

It also feels like Valentines Day is just another way for straight men to try and get their woman into bed. Send the kids to the grandparents, throw some flowers and candy at her, ply her with wine and then produce a nicely-wrapped gift of lingerie and then presto sexo, you've gotten laid for the first time in four months.

(My apologies to any married folks reading this, I think a teeny bit of cynicism got out there.)

In all my few years of dating, I've somehow managed to spend every V-Day alone, either by being single or being physically separated from the person I was dating. I have yet to receive the lavish attention the mind conjures when one thinks of the most 'romantic day of the year'. Like I've said before, this is the year of not giving a damn that I'm single.

And that's the best Valentine's Day gift I've had yet.

Shout out...

I'm starting a new trend here at FU.

Since re-re-starting blogging, I've been tinkering with analytics and seeing where my traffic is coming from. Alas, unlike the good old days when I was getting a shockingly high number of hits (at least I was surprised anyway), things have slowed down, no doubt because I barely posted for like two years.

Anyway, now that I'm resuming regular postings, I thought it would be fun to give a shout out to some readers from smaller communities. While I love my city folk, it's kind of fun to think that someone, somewhere is some town is reading my words.

I just hope the locations I pick are actually those of readers, not just randoms that accidentally got directed while Googling alternative testicular cooling methods.

So, the first official shoutout is to a reader from Wollongong, New South Wales, Australia. Hope you're enjoying the dog days of summer down under!

Peeking at the outside world...

I forgot how much fuckwittage there is in the cesspool of the online world.

I'm not trying to sound cynical. It's been so long since I've even really looked at any online-profile websites that I'd forgotten how ridiculous and traumatizing it is. Silly old me even thought that - maybe - the world would have gotten nicer during my online absence. Oh brother...

In an attempt to actually meet some people in my general vicinity as well as (possibly) start moving forward and putting some distance between myself and my previous relationship, I re-created a profile on one of the more modest sites. My expectations have been set pretty low both due to geography and 'the nature of the beast' but admittedly I've been surprised at my general lack of success and the dent it leaves in one's ego.

First off, it seems that people come in three groups. One, the smattering of guys that come across as having serious socialization problems. Not exactly great material for friendship. The next are arrogant, cocky and generally sex crazed. It always reads like these guys are just looking for the next lay and basically can't stop talking about how wonderful they are. Again, not the type of guy that I'm really interested in hanging out with.

The final group is the one that exasperates me the most. They're the ones that have the perfect hair, perfect teeth, a killer body, a coverboy that holds a doctorate in neurobiology who also find time to build houses for destitute Guatemalans and volunteer at their local animal shelter.

Yes, yes, yes, I can already hear a certain someone's sage advice: "People bullshit profiles all the time and everybody lies." Don't worry,  I'm not sucked in completely, but damn if I haven't read some appealing profiles. But, of course, I shudder to even think of talking to, let alone meeting, these saints.

On one such occasion I read the profile of a guy in his mid-20's who was a short blond with the most amazing smile I've seen. He's a student, working towards his doctorate, seeking genuine and intelligent conversation with similar guys. His photos paint a picture of a very attractive man with a fabulous social life (and deadly smile). His profile described him as having impeccable taste. His favourite music closely resembles mine, something that barely, barely ever happens. In short, he would be the ideal on-paper friend.

So on a whim I messaged him. I politely asked what he was studying and congratulated him on pursuing his education so far. No innuendo, no sly wording, just a few straight-up friendly lines.

Of course I was thrilled when I got a reply a mere 20 minutes later.

The thrill lasted around two seconds when I realized it was 10 words long. An answer to my question. That was it. No further discussion, no questions pointed back at me. Nothing of any substantial meaning.

I don't really know what I'm doing wrong. I didn't send him five pages of personal info, explaining point by point how much we have in common and how awesome and rare that is. I just sent a friendly note. I think I would have preferred silence instead of the one-line reply.

Over the course of about a month I have never been spontaneously sent a message from anyone. Roughly 20 people have viewed my profile. And it makes me feel pretty worthless and unappealing.

I know I shouldn't let it bother me. I mean, it's the fucking internet, it's pretty much all bullshit, lies and half-truths. But it does play into my (insane) want to be wanted. Nobody is more aware than me that my tastes and interests lie outside the 'norm' of a gay 20-something. I'm not expecting people to be banging down the doors wanting to get to know me. But dammit, I would really like if a couple people showed a vague interest!

Sadly, at this point in my life, there really isn't any other way to meet people except online. Now living in a homophobic community, it's even less likely that I'll run into guys around my age and strike up a friendship. And my one experience with a local boy, as you've already seen, was pretty much a disaster. I have little choice but to put myself on the interweb and hope for the best.

I just wish I didn't feel so damn worthless over something so utterly stupid.

So many resolutions...

I'm not big on New Year's resolutions.

In fact, I don't ever recall really making one, ever, both because everyone I see making them usually breaks them within a month or two, and because I generally believe if I want to make a change in my life, I need to do it at any point in the year, not just on January 1st.

But there are so many things that I want to do lately and just can't seem to muster up the drive or concentration for. Most aren't even difficult, but I've been so out of it lately that I have yet to really follow through with all but one.

The one thing I've been doing - writing a short, one page summary of my day - has been sort of interesting. I'd like to look back in 10 years and see what my life was like. I was inspired to do this from reading a biography on Winston Churchill, which used excerpt from many common British folks' diaries. They gave great insight into the times and how they felt about the issues of the day. Sadly, my diary is more of a recap of my terribly boring life, with no real social or political commentary. I guess that's what Frozen Underwear is for, though I doubt I'll wind up in any books.

Other things on my list, but so far ignored:

- Write to a friend every day. I want to send a letter/note/whatever to somebody every day, both as a way to get back in touch with my friends and to keep up to date on how everybody is doing. Not that challenging, but I still haven't done it yet.

- Volunteer. I want to volunteer for a youth services group in the LGBTQ sector. It wouldn't be a huge commitment of time, and it's something I've wanted to do for a long while. I really want to actually do something for others, even if it's just in a small way. Don't know how difficult it is to get involved with, and it's definitely a pain now that I'm not in Toronto, but I want this to happen this year.

- Write fiction. There have been many times that had the vague workings of a novel or short stories, but my insecurities about writing always take over and I wind up shelving everything because I worry it's not good enough, not original, been done to death and would be a giant cliche. I want to write something that's actually good, and it's intimidating.

- Fitness. I know I've beaten this one to death, but come spring/summer I would like to actually get a little more fit. I lost a ton of weight from stress and anxiety last year, then gained it all back (and then some) with the depression I've been in for the last 6 months. Even just for my general health, I'd like to loose some weight and work on the cardio thing.

- Learn to ride a horse. I've had this on my list for years, and now that I'm back in horse country there's no reason that I can't get some experience and learn to ride.

There are others, but that gives you an idea of the types of things I want out of the next year.

Now it's just finding the time to do it all...

Get out from under my skin...

I want my ex out from under my skin.

He's not in there in any good kind of way. It's not the sexy itch that needs to be scratched, more the poison ivy that continues to welt and swell.

We talked today for the first time in about a week, and it started a little rocky. Mild bickering more than anything. It got better and we even had a 'normal' conversation. We ended it well and everything was fine.

I waited for the text message that I knew would follow our conversation. Sure enough, it came, albeit having a bit of a surprising invitation to come spend the night and sleep with him.

Now, to be clear, this was very out of context. He's told me many times about how sleeping with his ex's always made him feel bad, "Seemed like a good idea at the time but wound up making me feel lonely and like shit after." So, why oh why would he want to proposition me?

My sex life with the ex was never very satisfying. On my side, he never seemed into me enough, never seemed to want to have sex that often and always made me feel more like he viewed sex with me as 'work' more than fun. On his side, he says I didn't listen to what he wanted, that I wasn't in tune enough with him and that I never 'met him half way'.

Me being (stupid) me, I wanted to know why he felt the way he did, why he would want to have sex with me now, if he ever really enjoyed sex together...on and on. He kept feeding the fire with offhand remarks that generally made me feel bad about myself and basically want to cry. After hashing it all out, he then told me none of it even matters anymore since we're not together.

I wanted to know all that, generally, because I'm a very self-conscious person and always felt as if I never actually made him happy. I wanted to know why. Instead of getting an answer or an understanding, I just got my feelings hurt, and I don't really even know what for.

We allow others to have power over our feelings, expecting that they will handle with care. But what happens when we want to take that power away, when it's better not to be able to be hurt my a few bits of text? Why is it so hard to not give a shit about things that he says, when I know full well it's not right? Why do I let it bother me?

By the end of the conversation I was left vulnerable, hurt and really sad. And stupid. And I had nothing to show for it.

I guess it just takes time and detachment to finally take that power away from someone. But I want him out from under my skin. I want to be free of the hurt that words can cause.

When that will happen is another story.