Presuming I ever do start accessing gay culture, will I be able to do it easily because of my age?
I know that sounds stupid, but think of it this way. An 18-year-old comes out and starts to do gay things (whatever those are). People instinctively are protective and understanding of his youth and the fact he needs to be taught about the ins-and-outs of the gay life. After all, he's just a baby!
They are more sensitive to him and his needs and fears, because, after all, he's new to this! So lets get him some hot jeans, hair styled, teach him the warning signs of lecherous users, and send him out into the big gay world.
But are guys in their 20's afforded the same thing? Do people think, after all, they are a bit older...they probably don't need as much help.
In a recent issue of FAB Magazine, an article on the apparently dying night life in Toronto caught my attention with the line, "Every year, a healthy surge of twinks is delivered into the grasp of this city's club owners, and far too many of these owners are completely oblivious to decor and originality." I was surprised at the blatant use of the 'newly gay' demographic being described as twinks...which in common understanding means 18-20 year old bois. There was no mention of the influx of the 25 year old gay men who are looking for an accepting place for them to spread their wings, or the middle-aged gay men who have just recently ditched their wives and have decided to live the life they want to.
Perhaps it's just insinuated in gay culture that men past the age of 20 will be participating in some form of gay activities, even if they are closeted, married or otherwise not living it up in the gay villages of the world. After all, going all those years without so much as kissing a man at a gay bar or similar would be fairly unlikely...right?
I was out for dinner in the gay village a few nights ago and had the good fortune of being sat at a table next to two very cute guys who were out on a date. Both were in their early 20's, fashionable without being ridiculous, and just radiated that soft energy that announced, "I'm gay and know how to do it well."
It occured to me during the meal that these two weren't fresh off the S.S. Closet. At some point they took the steps to becoming the guys they were that night, the gay education that prepared them to obviously meet and pursue some gay activities. An amusing but insane idea popped through my head; how would they respond if I asked them about it, about how it went and how they were treated?
Obviously I didn't, but I'm beginning to wonder. In almost every other aspect of life, sports teams and clubs and anything else, people tend to stick to the groups they know the best. For a really young gay guy, that means having "a healthy surge of twinks" to go out and party with, guys going through the same life adjustments as they are. People in the same boat, roughly the same demographic, identified as being those in need of the most attention and guidance to get them started right. But thinking of guys a little bit older, or even 20 years older, who are normally surrounded by men who have been out and part of the scene for years on end, it must be difficult to socialize and be accepted and appreciated as a newly out gay 20,30 or 40-something, who by all accounts would be the odd duck in the room.
As we all know from just reading blogs, there are gay men out there of every age who are figuring their sexualities out and deciding to live as openly gay men. Somehow or other, they make it happen, point being that they get out there, meet people and make friends, and so on. So it must not be completely impossible as one gets older to be welcomed by the community.
However, I would predict that there are 'pockets of resistance' at certain ages that make it difficult. For example, I would think 22-23 would be an awkward age, because people must just assume if you're coming out, it will be way before that age. Same would go for someone in their mid-30's and mid-40's; guys would possibly be more inclined to come out after large life events such as divorce, or the dreaded mid-life crisis...things that don't necessarily happen at age 36 or 47.
Again, this may just sound like me making excuses for myself, but I do feel like I'm in a bit of an awkward age for coming out and learning the gay ropes. I'm not a first-year student anymore, I'm actually speeding towards the end of my degree. I'm not 18 anymore, I'm 21 (and apparently going on 35, according to some people...). I'm also not old enough to be a guy coming out of a long-term straight relationship and trying to find my gay self. I'm just a 21-year-old kinda-out gay guy who really needs a team leader and a band of merry under-25's to hang around with.
Of course, it could be that gays of all ages remember how they took their first steps, at all different ages of life. Be they 18, or 25, or even 38, gay guys don't forget how hard it was to come out and start that 'new' gay life. And that means everyone needs a helping hand when knocking on the door of the gay party, regardless of age. Because, after all, you don't learn these skills anywhere else.
Showing posts with label The Village. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Village. Show all posts
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Halloween Night...
My ass saw some action on Wednesday night.
But there was really no follow through from the occasional slap and grab. And I think (hope) most of the few slaps I did get were from the guy who was with our group.
People started arriving at around 7, some in costume and some not. Most were pretty bland...and I stood out like a sore thumb in my full get-up. But head and hat held high, we drank and socialized and had a good time.
Later in the evening one of my friends from home and his girlfriend showed up. I would probably call Nick my closest male friend, and I'd say we click pretty well. There's a comfort in our company. He also didn't know, as of that evening.
Something inside me was driving me mad. I was admittedly quite drunk by the time I took him on the tour of the apartment, winding up in my room. I closed the door behind us.
"Can we talk for a sec?"
"Uh, sure. Wow, I like what you've done with your room. It looks really good."
"Uh...thanks...I'm gay."
Pause. Shit, did I just say that. God, I'm drunk, why did I have to say this now?
"Oh. Ok. Hey, that's cool."
"What!?"
"Yeah, no big deal. I like the paint colour."
I think that's more or less what happened. Seconds later his girlfriend came in to reclaim him, and we went back out into the party. Nothing more was said about it.
Afterwards, I felt terrible about it. Fuck, someone I really do care about, and I just drop it in a two second conversation. Not smooth. There was no explanation, no story. Nothing except the words. And I don't even know why I needed to tell him so badly.
I do remember babbling on about having brunch Sunday morning with him and his girlfriend. He ended up calling me yesterday and we talked for half an hour. Through the entire time, I wanted to say, "Let me explain about..." but I couldn't say it over the phone. I don't know why. He seemed completely normal about it. I guess he was giving me an option to talk about it. I texted him after our conversation that I'd hope we could talk in person about "what I said" the other night.
They ended up having to go home rather early, because she had class at 9 that she couldn't miss. We said our goodbyes, all gave each other hugs, and they were gone.
A little while after, we all packed up and headed out for Church St. The street itself was shut down, and hundreds of people were milling about. Some had stunning costumes...some simply looked stunning in their underwear.
One of the guests at our soiree was a bi boy who obviously caught on to my interesting costume choice. He's a big flirt (according to one of the girls) and made a couple lewd statements, which I of course didn't mind at all. He proved to be even more interesting, however, on our walk down Church St.
As we were walking, he would slap my ass and ask passers-by if anyone was interested in a sailor on leave. A few people too the occasional swipe, which at that point I certainly didn't mind. I don't think anybody really stopped to talk, and if they did, I certainly wasn't in the state to engage in flirty banter. We got some interesting photos of our walk...it looks like I'm lost in New York on Feet Week at one point.
A few hours of our strolling around went by, and it was quite fun to be out on such a festive night. Thankfully it wasn't freezing cold, and my white sailor ass didn't freeze.
Really, the night was a little different that anticipated. Fun, yes. Memorable, yes. I don't really know what I was expecting out of it, and honestly by the time we were in the gay-zone I didn't really have more than enough mental energy to put one foot in front of the other. I guess part of my little fantasy was to experience some culture...but there was really no reason to imagine that. Ah well, it was Halloween after all, not really a 'normal' night.
We made it home finally, plus a few people sleeping on couches. Of course, someone demanded the requisite episode of Sex and the City while we made quiche and cookies for our pre-dawn snack. We ate and laughed, and I crawled into bed, only after slipping out of my uniform and laughing myself to sleep to the thought of me in a sailor's uniform.
But there was really no follow through from the occasional slap and grab. And I think (hope) most of the few slaps I did get were from the guy who was with our group.
People started arriving at around 7, some in costume and some not. Most were pretty bland...and I stood out like a sore thumb in my full get-up. But head and hat held high, we drank and socialized and had a good time.
Later in the evening one of my friends from home and his girlfriend showed up. I would probably call Nick my closest male friend, and I'd say we click pretty well. There's a comfort in our company. He also didn't know, as of that evening.
Something inside me was driving me mad. I was admittedly quite drunk by the time I took him on the tour of the apartment, winding up in my room. I closed the door behind us.
"Can we talk for a sec?"
"Uh, sure. Wow, I like what you've done with your room. It looks really good."
"Uh...thanks...I'm gay."
Pause. Shit, did I just say that. God, I'm drunk, why did I have to say this now?
"Oh. Ok. Hey, that's cool."
"What!?"
"Yeah, no big deal. I like the paint colour."
I think that's more or less what happened. Seconds later his girlfriend came in to reclaim him, and we went back out into the party. Nothing more was said about it.
Afterwards, I felt terrible about it. Fuck, someone I really do care about, and I just drop it in a two second conversation. Not smooth. There was no explanation, no story. Nothing except the words. And I don't even know why I needed to tell him so badly.
I do remember babbling on about having brunch Sunday morning with him and his girlfriend. He ended up calling me yesterday and we talked for half an hour. Through the entire time, I wanted to say, "Let me explain about..." but I couldn't say it over the phone. I don't know why. He seemed completely normal about it. I guess he was giving me an option to talk about it. I texted him after our conversation that I'd hope we could talk in person about "what I said" the other night.
They ended up having to go home rather early, because she had class at 9 that she couldn't miss. We said our goodbyes, all gave each other hugs, and they were gone.
A little while after, we all packed up and headed out for Church St. The street itself was shut down, and hundreds of people were milling about. Some had stunning costumes...some simply looked stunning in their underwear.
One of the guests at our soiree was a bi boy who obviously caught on to my interesting costume choice. He's a big flirt (according to one of the girls) and made a couple lewd statements, which I of course didn't mind at all. He proved to be even more interesting, however, on our walk down Church St.
As we were walking, he would slap my ass and ask passers-by if anyone was interested in a sailor on leave. A few people too the occasional swipe, which at that point I certainly didn't mind. I don't think anybody really stopped to talk, and if they did, I certainly wasn't in the state to engage in flirty banter. We got some interesting photos of our walk...it looks like I'm lost in New York on Feet Week at one point.
A few hours of our strolling around went by, and it was quite fun to be out on such a festive night. Thankfully it wasn't freezing cold, and my white sailor ass didn't freeze.
Really, the night was a little different that anticipated. Fun, yes. Memorable, yes. I don't really know what I was expecting out of it, and honestly by the time we were in the gay-zone I didn't really have more than enough mental energy to put one foot in front of the other. I guess part of my little fantasy was to experience some culture...but there was really no reason to imagine that. Ah well, it was Halloween after all, not really a 'normal' night.
We made it home finally, plus a few people sleeping on couches. Of course, someone demanded the requisite episode of Sex and the City while we made quiche and cookies for our pre-dawn snack. We ate and laughed, and I crawled into bed, only after slipping out of my uniform and laughing myself to sleep to the thought of me in a sailor's uniform.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Hold on to your hats...
"Jesus, I need a costume, NOW."
It was 3 this afternoon and I was walking with my friend Jones, sipping coffee and getting myself freaked out about Halloween. I'd managed to get away without a costume for the weekend, but was in desperate need of one for tomorrow.
Turns out we're having people over, and of course everyone's dressing up. I started in mid-October being a little excited for the chance of a themed party, but by last week I was in full duck-and-cover mode: pretend it's not Halloween and don't worry about not having anything to wear. Simply go to friend's place, drink, and go home minus any fancy dress.
Once it was decided that we were having people over here for part of the evening, I panicked a little. I mean, as a host, I can't not have a costume. It would just look bad. So I set out for Wal-Mart to find the cheapest piece of crap I could find.
Naturally, I couldn't find anything half-decent. There were a million of the Scream masks and capes, but nothing else really. I dug around, and came up with some elf thing from Lord of the Rings, and in my panicked state bought it.
When I got home, I held it in front of me. "I look like a fucking idiot," I said to Nina, who added that I was a 'geeky' fucking idiot. Perfect.
"I can't wear this!" I cried, as if I'm prepping for my runway dash, displaying the new D&G threads for Hallows Eve (you know, orange is very in...).
So this afternoon I resigned myself to the need to find a new, decent costume. Jones and I headed to a Halloween place he'd heard of, and we found it...along with 300 other people who were in line there.
"Shit, now what am I going to do?" I begged. He laughed and suggested paper-bag-man. I gave him a slitty-eyed look and we walked further down the street.
As we passed the windows, I gazed into what I'm assuming was an Army Surplus store of some type. The window was full of gear, soldier's uniforms, white nurse dresses, the works. And a sailor suit.
"That's it!" I shrieked, pointing towards the glass. Moments later, we were inside rooting though thousands of shirts and pants.
"Now, what exactly do sailors wear?" I asked one of the women working. She gave me a knowing grin.
"I know what you need," she said, taking me to the racks in the back. She pulled a pair of white pants, and a black tunic with white needlework, and handed them to me. "That's it," she said, her gap-toothed grin opened wide.
I held it in front of me. Then imagined how hopefully gay I'll look in it. Then imagined further being chased down the street by several cute guys wanting a piece of my sailor ass.
"Well?" she said, snapping me out of my lustful trance.
"Ahh, but the hat!" I added. Hell boys, if I'm going gay, I'm going all the way.
She led me to a stack of dixie cups, and plopped one on my head. "Good," she said. Then she grabbed me some dog tags and threw it all in a bag, and rang me through the cash.
So I'm going as a sailor. I don't know what got into me, the insane notion that I can pull this off and look sexy instead of stupid, but I'm committed now.
And hopefully the boys will agree. Later in the evening tomorrow we're venturing into the heart of the Village to the ever-popular Halloween street party, where I hope to be shamelessly hit on.
Plus, I've now got a dual-purpose costume...if I ever do wind up seeing someone, and we want to have a bit of fantasy time, I can pull out my skivvies so he can pull them off.
It was 3 this afternoon and I was walking with my friend Jones, sipping coffee and getting myself freaked out about Halloween. I'd managed to get away without a costume for the weekend, but was in desperate need of one for tomorrow.
Turns out we're having people over, and of course everyone's dressing up. I started in mid-October being a little excited for the chance of a themed party, but by last week I was in full duck-and-cover mode: pretend it's not Halloween and don't worry about not having anything to wear. Simply go to friend's place, drink, and go home minus any fancy dress.
Once it was decided that we were having people over here for part of the evening, I panicked a little. I mean, as a host, I can't not have a costume. It would just look bad. So I set out for Wal-Mart to find the cheapest piece of crap I could find.
Naturally, I couldn't find anything half-decent. There were a million of the Scream masks and capes, but nothing else really. I dug around, and came up with some elf thing from Lord of the Rings, and in my panicked state bought it.
When I got home, I held it in front of me. "I look like a fucking idiot," I said to Nina, who added that I was a 'geeky' fucking idiot. Perfect.
"I can't wear this!" I cried, as if I'm prepping for my runway dash, displaying the new D&G threads for Hallows Eve (you know, orange is very in...).
So this afternoon I resigned myself to the need to find a new, decent costume. Jones and I headed to a Halloween place he'd heard of, and we found it...along with 300 other people who were in line there.
"Shit, now what am I going to do?" I begged. He laughed and suggested paper-bag-man. I gave him a slitty-eyed look and we walked further down the street.
As we passed the windows, I gazed into what I'm assuming was an Army Surplus store of some type. The window was full of gear, soldier's uniforms, white nurse dresses, the works. And a sailor suit.
"That's it!" I shrieked, pointing towards the glass. Moments later, we were inside rooting though thousands of shirts and pants.
"Now, what exactly do sailors wear?" I asked one of the women working. She gave me a knowing grin.
"I know what you need," she said, taking me to the racks in the back. She pulled a pair of white pants, and a black tunic with white needlework, and handed them to me. "That's it," she said, her gap-toothed grin opened wide.
I held it in front of me. Then imagined how hopefully gay I'll look in it. Then imagined further being chased down the street by several cute guys wanting a piece of my sailor ass.
"Well?" she said, snapping me out of my lustful trance.
"Ahh, but the hat!" I added. Hell boys, if I'm going gay, I'm going all the way.
She led me to a stack of dixie cups, and plopped one on my head. "Good," she said. Then she grabbed me some dog tags and threw it all in a bag, and rang me through the cash.
So I'm going as a sailor. I don't know what got into me, the insane notion that I can pull this off and look sexy instead of stupid, but I'm committed now.
And hopefully the boys will agree. Later in the evening tomorrow we're venturing into the heart of the Village to the ever-popular Halloween street party, where I hope to be shamelessly hit on.
Plus, I've now got a dual-purpose costume...if I ever do wind up seeing someone, and we want to have a bit of fantasy time, I can pull out my skivvies so he can pull them off.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
A boy's white night (part 2)...
Things could only get better after having sat in a room silently with my ex-roommate for 45 minutes.
I tried to rebound, personality wise, as best I could. After all, I'd just sat practically without saying anything. So I took a few more swigs and we headed out on the town.
Almost immediately I got the sense that Katie was flirting with me. She adjusted my hair, pulled on my jacket, and threw my bag at a different angle on my shoulder. Oh, and the fact that halfway through the night, she pulled off my glasses and cooed, "Yeah, you're hot. Without these."
Gee, thanks.
Flirtations aside, we had a good time stalking the city after dark. It's not as if we were alone, as predictions showed nearly 1 million people turned out for the festival/show. We saw toilets floating on water, acrobats on ropes, silent looped films...it was all very artistic. We were even going to venture into the abandoned subway station, opened specifically for this show, but the lineup was around the block.
What's with that! Can't people just not attend these things so I don't have to wait?
Along the way we ran into several people we knew, mixing and mingling with people from all walks of life. Really, the magic wasn't so much the art, but the fact a huge portion of the population was out in a festive spirit. It was like when people cared about Christmas.
Keeping with the Christmas tradition, we warmed ourselves up with coffee and Baileys. How rebelious, walking the streets with spiked coffee...at least we didn't smoke anything, like so many of the other pretentious hippie kids.
At 1:30 we'd taken in enough art, and headed to a local bar for a few drinks. On the way, Katie got a call from her friend, who wanted us to meet in the Village and go out there.
My stomach leaped. Was this it? I was going to hit a gay bar? With my straight friends?
We started out in that general direction, and I got a little tense. I mean, I'm paranoid of actually going, yet this crowd would be a lot of fun. And I would have the guise of an overcrowded bar to keep me semi-hidden, lost in a sea of randoms out for the festival.
Also, part of me was excited. I do want to get out there...maybe this was my ticket.
Alas, it wasn't meant to be. When we got there, Katie called her friend, who had already gone home. We trundled down the street into another bar she knew of and closed the place down.
Back out on the street, we headed back to Katie's place, though not really knowing why. We continued drinking, our small party in her small apartment. One thing led to another, I went to the washroom, and came back to find them all knee-deep in a game of truth or dare.
I took my seat, and was given the 'truth or dare' question. I chose truth, because to be honest, I'm not very daring. I'm still not crazy enough to strip, run naked or otherwise fulfill most of the dares people like to come up with. I took my truth.
"What percentage of men have you slept with over women," Katie asked, straight faced.
Well, this is unexpected. I smiled wryly, and was happy with my reaction. I didn't really care that she knew, much less anyone else there.
"It's a lot higher with the boys than with the girls," I laughed. She smiled dangerously at me. Apparently this new shocked nobody in the room.
After Laura and Katie made out as part of a dare, I wound up taking a dare myself. "Kiss Katie," Laura giggled like a 10th grader.
We moved in and made out for a minute or two. She was a good kisser, I now understand why gay guys make out with women for no other reason that to have someone to kiss.
When we pulled away, Katie had put on that dangerous smile again. "You're good at that," she said, biting her lower lip.
On the walk home, I grilled Laura. "How did she know!?" I begged.
"Oh, she asked me when we were just leaving her place actually. I was surprised she knew that early, but she's a good judge of character," Laura said.
Wow. I got discovered! People can tell! I may be broadcasting signals! At the entirely wrong sex and orientation, true, but this is big news for me.
We made eggs for breakfast, I showered, and finally went to sleep at 5:30, a smile still on my face. I guess I may not be such a failure in the broadcasting department as I thought I was.
I tried to rebound, personality wise, as best I could. After all, I'd just sat practically without saying anything. So I took a few more swigs and we headed out on the town.
Almost immediately I got the sense that Katie was flirting with me. She adjusted my hair, pulled on my jacket, and threw my bag at a different angle on my shoulder. Oh, and the fact that halfway through the night, she pulled off my glasses and cooed, "Yeah, you're hot. Without these."
Gee, thanks.
Flirtations aside, we had a good time stalking the city after dark. It's not as if we were alone, as predictions showed nearly 1 million people turned out for the festival/show. We saw toilets floating on water, acrobats on ropes, silent looped films...it was all very artistic. We were even going to venture into the abandoned subway station, opened specifically for this show, but the lineup was around the block.
What's with that! Can't people just not attend these things so I don't have to wait?
Along the way we ran into several people we knew, mixing and mingling with people from all walks of life. Really, the magic wasn't so much the art, but the fact a huge portion of the population was out in a festive spirit. It was like when people cared about Christmas.
Keeping with the Christmas tradition, we warmed ourselves up with coffee and Baileys. How rebelious, walking the streets with spiked coffee...at least we didn't smoke anything, like so many of the other pretentious hippie kids.
At 1:30 we'd taken in enough art, and headed to a local bar for a few drinks. On the way, Katie got a call from her friend, who wanted us to meet in the Village and go out there.
My stomach leaped. Was this it? I was going to hit a gay bar? With my straight friends?
We started out in that general direction, and I got a little tense. I mean, I'm paranoid of actually going, yet this crowd would be a lot of fun. And I would have the guise of an overcrowded bar to keep me semi-hidden, lost in a sea of randoms out for the festival.
Also, part of me was excited. I do want to get out there...maybe this was my ticket.
Alas, it wasn't meant to be. When we got there, Katie called her friend, who had already gone home. We trundled down the street into another bar she knew of and closed the place down.
Back out on the street, we headed back to Katie's place, though not really knowing why. We continued drinking, our small party in her small apartment. One thing led to another, I went to the washroom, and came back to find them all knee-deep in a game of truth or dare.
I took my seat, and was given the 'truth or dare' question. I chose truth, because to be honest, I'm not very daring. I'm still not crazy enough to strip, run naked or otherwise fulfill most of the dares people like to come up with. I took my truth.
"What percentage of men have you slept with over women," Katie asked, straight faced.
Well, this is unexpected. I smiled wryly, and was happy with my reaction. I didn't really care that she knew, much less anyone else there.
"It's a lot higher with the boys than with the girls," I laughed. She smiled dangerously at me. Apparently this new shocked nobody in the room.
After Laura and Katie made out as part of a dare, I wound up taking a dare myself. "Kiss Katie," Laura giggled like a 10th grader.
We moved in and made out for a minute or two. She was a good kisser, I now understand why gay guys make out with women for no other reason that to have someone to kiss.
When we pulled away, Katie had put on that dangerous smile again. "You're good at that," she said, biting her lower lip.
On the walk home, I grilled Laura. "How did she know!?" I begged.
"Oh, she asked me when we were just leaving her place actually. I was surprised she knew that early, but she's a good judge of character," Laura said.
Wow. I got discovered! People can tell! I may be broadcasting signals! At the entirely wrong sex and orientation, true, but this is big news for me.
We made eggs for breakfast, I showered, and finally went to sleep at 5:30, a smile still on my face. I guess I may not be such a failure in the broadcasting department as I thought I was.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Saturday night well spent...
"So did you hold hands in the movie?" Nina asked, standing in my doorway.
I had just gotten home, and was all smiles, secretly dying to talk about my night.
"Oh shut up," I laughed, "what was I supposed to do, blow him in the theatre?"
My night had been what I think was a fairly successful first date. I managed to be funny enough to keep him laughing, flirty enough to keep up eye contact, and interested enough to put him at ease.
Not that there was anything no to be interested in with in Danny. Cute without trying hard, friendly, intelligent...that smile...
We met up at 6:30, me with butterflies in my chest. After all, first dates for me at this point in my life aren't just 'ah-fuck-it' fun, since I'm trying to present myself as semi-sane. But from the first moment, it was pretty easy. Conversation flowed. We laughed about school and work, even if we stood out as the only gay couple at this place (note to self, maybe have dinner dates closer to/in the Village).
After dinner, we opted for a movie, but had an hour to kill in between. I suggested Starbucks, and he agreed. But once we got there, I forgot the important question, "Do you drink coffee?"
"Oh, sure," he said, "but usually just Tim Hortons or something."
Does nobody in my life consume as much coffee as me, other than my classmates?
We talked some more, at one of those small-ish tables, and I tried to gauge his reaction to me. Our hands grazed on the table a few times, which left me wondering what he was thinking.
In the movie theatre, we choose the back corner to sit. Alright, I thought, this is cozy, and a little private. But as the movie rolled, nothing really happened. Of course, I don't know the dating rules and queues, so I sat there elbow-to-elbow with him. I was waiting for him to make some move, any move, and finally our knees connected. Hurray, elbow and knee connection. Why am I such a dork?
Eventually our hands touched, and he hovered a bit. Finally after a few moments of that we were holding hands. Then we were wrapped arm in arm, with him running his hand up and down my forearm. We stayed like that for the rest of the movie.
The lights came up and we sat there. I'll admit, for the breif moment I was a little hesitant to be seen so far from the Village holding a boy's hand, but I felt guilty afterwards. It shouldn't matter, and we didn't budge as the theatre cleared.
"So, ready to get out of here?" I asked, smiling at him.
"Uh, lets wait five minutes," he answered. OK, I'll admit, the first kiss in the movie theatre is smaltchzy, but I'm a sucker for that shit. And he's a good kisser, knows how to use his tongue. We got up and held hands all the way out to the street.
Neither of us wanted to go. I offered for him to come back downtown with me, but he broke the news he had work Sunday morning. We wound up in a little bar just down the road, sitting across from each other, holding hands. On the upside, I don't think anyone was pointing and staring, but again I felt that oh-my-god-I'm-holding-a-boy's-hand-in-public rush. But we never stopped, and I realized how very little I cared.
Finally, we were going to head our separate ways. But not before some good-night making out. We wandered for a while, but I found it's incredibly hard to find an unlit corner to kiss boys in. There was an alcove nearby which looked like it had no traffic, so we stopped there and our lips met. He's almost as tall as I am, so it was great height-ratio. It was getting pretty hot, hands grabbing my ass, lips trailing down my neck, hard-ons grinding into each other.
Then, all of a sudden, he pulled back. I wondered what was wrong for a second, then heard heels behind me. Apparently he's not crazy about making out with a boy in this much public. We went back to kissing, but street traffic magically picked up, so we had one last deep kiss and walked towards the subway.
About halfway down the path, he stopped me. "You know, I really don't want to go," he said, spinning me around and kissing me again. We walked five feet, kissed, walked five more feet, and were finally at the tracks. His train was waiting, and he jumped on. My train arrived, and we gazed out our widows at each other, not breaking eye contact until the tunnel wall was in our gaze.
All in all, a damn successful first date.
I had just gotten home, and was all smiles, secretly dying to talk about my night.
"Oh shut up," I laughed, "what was I supposed to do, blow him in the theatre?"
My night had been what I think was a fairly successful first date. I managed to be funny enough to keep him laughing, flirty enough to keep up eye contact, and interested enough to put him at ease.
Not that there was anything no to be interested in with in Danny. Cute without trying hard, friendly, intelligent...that smile...
We met up at 6:30, me with butterflies in my chest. After all, first dates for me at this point in my life aren't just 'ah-fuck-it' fun, since I'm trying to present myself as semi-sane. But from the first moment, it was pretty easy. Conversation flowed. We laughed about school and work, even if we stood out as the only gay couple at this place (note to self, maybe have dinner dates closer to/in the Village).
After dinner, we opted for a movie, but had an hour to kill in between. I suggested Starbucks, and he agreed. But once we got there, I forgot the important question, "Do you drink coffee?"
"Oh, sure," he said, "but usually just Tim Hortons or something."
Does nobody in my life consume as much coffee as me, other than my classmates?
We talked some more, at one of those small-ish tables, and I tried to gauge his reaction to me. Our hands grazed on the table a few times, which left me wondering what he was thinking.
In the movie theatre, we choose the back corner to sit. Alright, I thought, this is cozy, and a little private. But as the movie rolled, nothing really happened. Of course, I don't know the dating rules and queues, so I sat there elbow-to-elbow with him. I was waiting for him to make some move, any move, and finally our knees connected. Hurray, elbow and knee connection. Why am I such a dork?
Eventually our hands touched, and he hovered a bit. Finally after a few moments of that we were holding hands. Then we were wrapped arm in arm, with him running his hand up and down my forearm. We stayed like that for the rest of the movie.
The lights came up and we sat there. I'll admit, for the breif moment I was a little hesitant to be seen so far from the Village holding a boy's hand, but I felt guilty afterwards. It shouldn't matter, and we didn't budge as the theatre cleared.
"So, ready to get out of here?" I asked, smiling at him.
"Uh, lets wait five minutes," he answered. OK, I'll admit, the first kiss in the movie theatre is smaltchzy, but I'm a sucker for that shit. And he's a good kisser, knows how to use his tongue. We got up and held hands all the way out to the street.
Neither of us wanted to go. I offered for him to come back downtown with me, but he broke the news he had work Sunday morning. We wound up in a little bar just down the road, sitting across from each other, holding hands. On the upside, I don't think anyone was pointing and staring, but again I felt that oh-my-god-I'm-holding-a-boy's-hand-in-public rush. But we never stopped, and I realized how very little I cared.
Finally, we were going to head our separate ways. But not before some good-night making out. We wandered for a while, but I found it's incredibly hard to find an unlit corner to kiss boys in. There was an alcove nearby which looked like it had no traffic, so we stopped there and our lips met. He's almost as tall as I am, so it was great height-ratio. It was getting pretty hot, hands grabbing my ass, lips trailing down my neck, hard-ons grinding into each other.
Then, all of a sudden, he pulled back. I wondered what was wrong for a second, then heard heels behind me. Apparently he's not crazy about making out with a boy in this much public. We went back to kissing, but street traffic magically picked up, so we had one last deep kiss and walked towards the subway.
About halfway down the path, he stopped me. "You know, I really don't want to go," he said, spinning me around and kissing me again. We walked five feet, kissed, walked five more feet, and were finally at the tracks. His train was waiting, and he jumped on. My train arrived, and we gazed out our widows at each other, not breaking eye contact until the tunnel wall was in our gaze.
All in all, a damn successful first date.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
Alone again (naturally)...
I got up before the sun this morning, packed up the car, and hit the road.
A short time later, and I'd unloaded my parents at the airport. Hurrah! I'm free! See, they've gone on vacation (without me, the bastards...) and I'm now all by my lonesome for the next 2 weeks.
Theoretically this is all good. I've got the place to myself, and have no interuptions or distractions. I can walk around naked all day! I can jerk off whenever, wherever. I can even *gasp* have sex! Truly it should be a glorious time.
Actually I'm really looking forward to being 'on my own' again. I went grocery shopping today and grabbed a bunch of stuff I like, and I'm planning on actually living by some sort of schedualed timeframe while they're away. Part of the reason for that is the amount of things I have to do around here as replacements for them. All the chores they do on a daily basis fall to me now...not that I'm going to be doing them all, or as frequently as they would, but there's enough to keep me busy. Hell, even cutting grass and watering gardens takes hours.
In my fantasy world, I was setting up all sorts of great scenarios for my two weeks. All the people I would have over, the parties I could throw, the general freedoms of having only you between your four walls. Then tonight, as I sat eating dinner, I started realizing that things maybe weren't as straightforward as they had seemed. People who I was expecting to be in town aren't, my friendship with Ashley puzzles me ever since coming out to her (I worry that she's just not as good with it as she's let on, even though Laura says its fine), and I'm worried and a little disappointed because I don't have any plans for the Canada Day long weekend. It just feels a little like all the conversations about how excited we were that summer was upon us have led to nothing of great importance happening. I guess now that I have the opportunity I should try and turn that around, take the initiative.
Having some spare time has left me time to waste checking in on friends at school. And of course that's always interesting, especially when it seems like everyone is starting some hot summer romance recently. I've lost track of the number of people who are now seeing someone or in relationships. I guess people have been caught up in Pride fever and are shagging like jackrabbits. Well, the gay ones anyway. The straights are keeping up though, I must admit...but honestly, this is almost summer, isn't the big relationship boom supposed to start in the spring?
Hrm, and Pride. Laura declared the other day that we should go down (well, now it's 'should have' gone down) to Pride in Toronto. I mulled it over for about 3 seconds before saying, "Why?"
"Because, you're supposed to have Pride. Now that you're coming out and all, you should be comfortable in showing that side of yourself."
Thats all fine and well, but it's not like I have strong ties to the gay community as yet. Hell, I don't really have any gay friends. It'd make more sense if I went with at least a few other homos, not just me and my friends from home. Besides, I have very mixed feelings about the whole Pride Parade thing anyway.
It's such a multi-headed beast. On one hand sure, lets celebrate that we have the ablilty to celebrate being whatever sexual orientation you are. Secondly, it's great to show that there is such a community in exsistance, and that mainstream attitudes are not only accepting but embracing the fact that homosexuals exsist outside of bad comedy films.
But where it gets a little dicey for me is the whole over-corporatization and overselling of the event. Is it really necessary to parade around to raise awareness about the GLBT community anymore? I mean, everyone knows about it now, it's no longer a secret! That said, the parade should focus more on social issues, such as the AIDS crisis, and less on the "We're Here, We're Queer" mentality.
Add on top of that the fact that, in order to sell the Queer community as not being at odds or a three-headed mutant dog compared to the straight world, organizers get hot guys dressed in underwear or less to spray each other with water guns and frolic in an outward show of overt sexuality? Do we really need to scare the straights half to death with the idea that these homosexuals are acutally having sex with one another? It just seems to me a little contradictory to on one hand to try and draw the inclusiveness of the 21st century from the very sexually segregated imagery of party boys hosing each other down on floats.
(And yes, I do realize that the entire Parade is not as much fun as these floats are.)
Oh well, maybe by next year I'll have stronger reasons to attend. For now I have to get some beauty sleep for tomorrow night's Stevie Nicks concert (yay!), and plan the intricate details of a dinner party I'll try and have next week. See, I'm showing my pride after all!
A short time later, and I'd unloaded my parents at the airport. Hurrah! I'm free! See, they've gone on vacation (without me, the bastards...) and I'm now all by my lonesome for the next 2 weeks.
Theoretically this is all good. I've got the place to myself, and have no interuptions or distractions. I can walk around naked all day! I can jerk off whenever, wherever. I can even *gasp* have sex! Truly it should be a glorious time.
Actually I'm really looking forward to being 'on my own' again. I went grocery shopping today and grabbed a bunch of stuff I like, and I'm planning on actually living by some sort of schedualed timeframe while they're away. Part of the reason for that is the amount of things I have to do around here as replacements for them. All the chores they do on a daily basis fall to me now...not that I'm going to be doing them all, or as frequently as they would, but there's enough to keep me busy. Hell, even cutting grass and watering gardens takes hours.
In my fantasy world, I was setting up all sorts of great scenarios for my two weeks. All the people I would have over, the parties I could throw, the general freedoms of having only you between your four walls. Then tonight, as I sat eating dinner, I started realizing that things maybe weren't as straightforward as they had seemed. People who I was expecting to be in town aren't, my friendship with Ashley puzzles me ever since coming out to her (I worry that she's just not as good with it as she's let on, even though Laura says its fine), and I'm worried and a little disappointed because I don't have any plans for the Canada Day long weekend. It just feels a little like all the conversations about how excited we were that summer was upon us have led to nothing of great importance happening. I guess now that I have the opportunity I should try and turn that around, take the initiative.
Having some spare time has left me time to waste checking in on friends at school. And of course that's always interesting, especially when it seems like everyone is starting some hot summer romance recently. I've lost track of the number of people who are now seeing someone or in relationships. I guess people have been caught up in Pride fever and are shagging like jackrabbits. Well, the gay ones anyway. The straights are keeping up though, I must admit...but honestly, this is almost summer, isn't the big relationship boom supposed to start in the spring?
Hrm, and Pride. Laura declared the other day that we should go down (well, now it's 'should have' gone down) to Pride in Toronto. I mulled it over for about 3 seconds before saying, "Why?"
"Because, you're supposed to have Pride. Now that you're coming out and all, you should be comfortable in showing that side of yourself."
Thats all fine and well, but it's not like I have strong ties to the gay community as yet. Hell, I don't really have any gay friends. It'd make more sense if I went with at least a few other homos, not just me and my friends from home. Besides, I have very mixed feelings about the whole Pride Parade thing anyway.
It's such a multi-headed beast. On one hand sure, lets celebrate that we have the ablilty to celebrate being whatever sexual orientation you are. Secondly, it's great to show that there is such a community in exsistance, and that mainstream attitudes are not only accepting but embracing the fact that homosexuals exsist outside of bad comedy films.
But where it gets a little dicey for me is the whole over-corporatization and overselling of the event. Is it really necessary to parade around to raise awareness about the GLBT community anymore? I mean, everyone knows about it now, it's no longer a secret! That said, the parade should focus more on social issues, such as the AIDS crisis, and less on the "We're Here, We're Queer" mentality.
Add on top of that the fact that, in order to sell the Queer community as not being at odds or a three-headed mutant dog compared to the straight world, organizers get hot guys dressed in underwear or less to spray each other with water guns and frolic in an outward show of overt sexuality? Do we really need to scare the straights half to death with the idea that these homosexuals are acutally having sex with one another? It just seems to me a little contradictory to on one hand to try and draw the inclusiveness of the 21st century from the very sexually segregated imagery of party boys hosing each other down on floats.
(And yes, I do realize that the entire Parade is not as much fun as these floats are.)
Oh well, maybe by next year I'll have stronger reasons to attend. For now I have to get some beauty sleep for tomorrow night's Stevie Nicks concert (yay!), and plan the intricate details of a dinner party I'll try and have next week. See, I'm showing my pride after all!
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Wiped...
You know when you're tired, especially when your body feels all dragged down.
Like this morning, I woke up with a scratchy throat, baggy eyes and a bit of a headache that never really went away. After considering it for the day, I decided that I'm tired and should probably get some sleep (after I post, of course).
Today was uneventful, but it was nice not to be too busy. I did something wonderful, though. I handed in my 60-day notice to my landlord, so I'm officially going to be away from my hellish roommate soon! Not that the 60 days come before the end of school, but it formally recognizes the fact that we're done in that short amount of time. Yay!
Also in exciting news, on Wednesday night Laura and I had dinner at her place, where she announced that one of her roommates is moving out, and she wants me to move in. At first I was so surprised that I didn't really get excited, rather started disecting reasons why I shouldn't live with her and her other roommate (who I love). But I couldn't come up with anything substantial (other than we need to do some serious decorating...wait, isn't it supposed to be the woman's touch? not the other way around?...) When I told my mom about it, she basically said that I'm doing it, "Right!?" So there are no formal details yet about when I get my room, but it's 95% official that I have new roommates for next year.
This weather is so wonderful, a real boost for soul. Better weather means more people out, and there's nothing more that I love than the bustling city streets (especially at night, it's just so damn cool!). But I swear, I'm going to have to stop walking home through the Village at night. Of course, I was passing through at 11, prime-time where everyone is showing up. During the daylight hours, I shake my head and think, "I don't need to be a part of that, hell, I don't go clubbing as it is, so why would I want to go gay clubbing?" Yet when it's dark out, all I can think about while walking home is how great it would be to have a group to go out with, people that I fit in with who weren't (completely) judgemental.
I don't even know what's reality vs. what's illusion. All I read about are the major drug problems with gay (and straight) clubs, the unsafe sex pratices of people who indulge in it, the horribly judgemental queens who tear each other to shreads. But the illusion I see when walking down the street is hot, young guys having fun in a pretty comrader-ish way.
My current make-me-feel-better attitude is, "Don't worry about it for this year, you've got 2 weeks of school left, you're not going to develop a social life in that time anyway so just focus on next September and doing it then." But that's always my approach...invest in my fantasy about the future. To an extent, it's worked out ok. I managed to do a lot of stuff in this semester that was only a dream in first semester...but it's more complicated than that. I have to meet gay guys who I'm compatible with for friendship, then develop enough of a group to actually go out with, then actually take the plunge and go...all this from a guy who doesn't know how to make 'new friends' anyway.
Ugh. Well I'm not going to beat myself up about it tonight (I'm too tired anyway), but I just can't shake the images of the hot blondes in tight pants bouncing down the road to the clubs, while I walked home on another night. God, I really need to stop repeating this post over and over and over...
Like this morning, I woke up with a scratchy throat, baggy eyes and a bit of a headache that never really went away. After considering it for the day, I decided that I'm tired and should probably get some sleep (after I post, of course).
Today was uneventful, but it was nice not to be too busy. I did something wonderful, though. I handed in my 60-day notice to my landlord, so I'm officially going to be away from my hellish roommate soon! Not that the 60 days come before the end of school, but it formally recognizes the fact that we're done in that short amount of time. Yay!
Also in exciting news, on Wednesday night Laura and I had dinner at her place, where she announced that one of her roommates is moving out, and she wants me to move in. At first I was so surprised that I didn't really get excited, rather started disecting reasons why I shouldn't live with her and her other roommate (who I love). But I couldn't come up with anything substantial (other than we need to do some serious decorating...wait, isn't it supposed to be the woman's touch? not the other way around?...) When I told my mom about it, she basically said that I'm doing it, "Right!?" So there are no formal details yet about when I get my room, but it's 95% official that I have new roommates for next year.
This weather is so wonderful, a real boost for soul. Better weather means more people out, and there's nothing more that I love than the bustling city streets (especially at night, it's just so damn cool!). But I swear, I'm going to have to stop walking home through the Village at night. Of course, I was passing through at 11, prime-time where everyone is showing up. During the daylight hours, I shake my head and think, "I don't need to be a part of that, hell, I don't go clubbing as it is, so why would I want to go gay clubbing?" Yet when it's dark out, all I can think about while walking home is how great it would be to have a group to go out with, people that I fit in with who weren't (completely) judgemental.
I don't even know what's reality vs. what's illusion. All I read about are the major drug problems with gay (and straight) clubs, the unsafe sex pratices of people who indulge in it, the horribly judgemental queens who tear each other to shreads. But the illusion I see when walking down the street is hot, young guys having fun in a pretty comrader-ish way.
My current make-me-feel-better attitude is, "Don't worry about it for this year, you've got 2 weeks of school left, you're not going to develop a social life in that time anyway so just focus on next September and doing it then." But that's always my approach...invest in my fantasy about the future. To an extent, it's worked out ok. I managed to do a lot of stuff in this semester that was only a dream in first semester...but it's more complicated than that. I have to meet gay guys who I'm compatible with for friendship, then develop enough of a group to actually go out with, then actually take the plunge and go...all this from a guy who doesn't know how to make 'new friends' anyway.
Ugh. Well I'm not going to beat myself up about it tonight (I'm too tired anyway), but I just can't shake the images of the hot blondes in tight pants bouncing down the road to the clubs, while I walked home on another night. God, I really need to stop repeating this post over and over and over...
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