So today was culmination of Toronto's week-long Pride celebrations.
And I was not in attendance. Partly by choice, partly by scheduling conflicts, partly because I had no irresistible offers.
Of the few people who asked what my Pride plans for this year were, most were surprised to hear that I didn't have any. After all, Pride is supposed to be the big gay celebration, where Mo's from all across the region (and even from around the world) descend on the city, clad in booty shorts and skin-tight tank tops. And how does it all make me "feel?" they ask.
Well...sort of awkward. And anxious.
When I attended my first Pride a few years ago, I did so under the wing of the guy I'd been dating that summer. We went out with his friend, he made all the arrangements, and all I had to do was show up and try not to stick out in the crowd.
That sounds sort of ridiculous, since the crowds are largely made up of nearly-naked members of both sexes, clad with leather or spun out of their minds on a handful of different drugs. Since I don't fit into any of those categories, my simple jeans and T-shirt uniform proclaimed me an outsider. It was sort of like Alice falling through the looking glass, waking up in a world very far from my own.
I actually had a blast that weekend. It was fun and pretty meaningful for me, at that point in my life, to have been part of it. But this year, the thought of Pride just reminds me of how I still really have yet to find out how I fit into the gay community.
There's a whole other post I'm writing on that subject, since I find it pretty daunting to tack down the exact definition of 'modern gay', but that's for another time.
When I think about the thousands of horny homos, sweating under the pulsing beats of a club's sound system, complete with live sex show being simulcast on 50 foot screens...I dunno. I'm very torn.
On the one hand, it's like a huge high school party. There's all these people there having a good time, comfortable in their surroundings, confident in their swagger. All the 'cool' kids gathered together, getting drunk and trying to get laid. The sense of belonging.
Of course, in high school, I was definitely not one of the cool kids, and that's transitioned into my current status in the gay world - uncool. You know there's going to be this huge party, and everybody is going to be there, and it's all amazing and shit...but you're not invited.
I want to say that I'm mature enough to not give a shit about it. After all, at it's seediest, Pride is a cesspool of bad decisions, bitterness and thinly guised disgust for anyone who doesn't fit the perfect homo mould. When I think of it that way, I really don't have time or patience for such bullshit. It's ridiculousness on such a huge scale that they even have a fucking parade to cap the weeks festivities off.
No longer is Pride about gay rights, inclusiveness, acceptance. It's about a bunch of hot guys trying to fuck each other and chastising anyone who doesn't fit into their particular clique. And while I don't mind a bit of good-natured debauchery, when you feel like the odd one out it takes all the fun out of it.
And this is where I feel torn. Because as much as I understand that Pride is a rehashing of high school drama, and really isn't the lifestyle that I want to pursue, I still wind up feeling left out of the fun.
I just want to feel like I belong, like I'm not still an outsider, even amongst my own people. All these years later, and I'm still trying to figure out just how I fit into the gay community, where I can befriend some like-minded guys and finally have some fun times in a part of the gay world that I would be comfortable in.
I usually tell myself, "There's always next year." But I've been saying that for a long, long time, and still things have yet to change. I always thought that once I got to university, moved to the city and came out that things would sort themselves out, yet here I am still feeling like a total outsider on the one weekend a year when I should be feeling part of the 'big picture'.
And, alas, the pendulum of my mind swings back and forth between 'this is bullshit' and 'wow I wanna be a semi-cool kid'. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Now that Pride week is over, I'll roll out my excuses for not taking part in any of the events. And I'll probably not feel so wracked with anxious tension about not 'fitting in'. And in another week, it'll all be a distant memory.
But then, there's always next year.
Showing posts with label Big Gay Questions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Gay Questions. Show all posts
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Where'd you get those assets?...
For some reason, people have been checking out my ass.
Not that I mind. In the grand scheme of things, I'm usually hard up for compliments. Though I don't know why, I'm the type of guy who rarely gets boys seductively batting eyes at him, or the up-and-down eye scan on the street.
And to be honest, I'm not sure if they're looking at my ass...or just my jeans.
A few months ago when meeting up with a friend-of-a-friend I was wearing my favourite pair of jeans. Twenty paces down the street later, he asked, "Oh, where'd you get your Sevens?"
Not being a label whore, but being one who likes nice things, I wasn't surprised that he appreciated them. What threw me off was the notion that he had to ask where I'd bought them...jeez, they're jeans!
I took the compliment and enjoyed the microsecond of attention. Then I had my ass grabbed at a bar...now that I think of it, I should rename them my Lucky Sevens.
Even so, I have a hard time taking a compliment such as an ass grab standing at a bar as being genuine. I mean, I'm suspicious of homosexuals; we're all over-sexed creatures that are more often than not sexually liberated. There's nothing wrong with showing your interest and appreciation of someone via an affecitonate touch.
I'm just often skeptical that it's ever genuine. Sure, you might grab my ass, but how many others have you felt up that night? Is this attention directed at me because you genuinely want me or because you just like touching boys in general?
Recently, I had yet another comment on my jeans. After I had promptly removed them and tossed them on my bedroom floor, and began attending to other business, the guy blurts out, "Oh nice Sevens, where'd you get them?"
I almost choked...
...and then answered his question.
How strange though! Why the homo-significance of certain brand jeans, and who the hell really cares where you bought them?
But it begs a chicken-and-egg type question: Are they noticing my jeans because of my ass, or do they check out my ass because they like my jeans?
Yet another evening, standing in his kitchen, rehydrating after a workout, I caught him gazing at my ass.
"What kind of jeans are those?" he asked, gulping water from his glass and checking his watch.
I know I looked puzzled, but I replied anyway. "Oh, these are Lucky's."
"Well, they got you lucky tonight," he said with a smile.
They did indeed, but since when were guys more concerned with the jeans themselves rather than what's underneath the denim?...
Not that I mind. In the grand scheme of things, I'm usually hard up for compliments. Though I don't know why, I'm the type of guy who rarely gets boys seductively batting eyes at him, or the up-and-down eye scan on the street.
And to be honest, I'm not sure if they're looking at my ass...or just my jeans.
A few months ago when meeting up with a friend-of-a-friend I was wearing my favourite pair of jeans. Twenty paces down the street later, he asked, "Oh, where'd you get your Sevens?"
Not being a label whore, but being one who likes nice things, I wasn't surprised that he appreciated them. What threw me off was the notion that he had to ask where I'd bought them...jeez, they're jeans!
I took the compliment and enjoyed the microsecond of attention. Then I had my ass grabbed at a bar...now that I think of it, I should rename them my Lucky Sevens.
Even so, I have a hard time taking a compliment such as an ass grab standing at a bar as being genuine. I mean, I'm suspicious of homosexuals; we're all over-sexed creatures that are more often than not sexually liberated. There's nothing wrong with showing your interest and appreciation of someone via an affecitonate touch.
I'm just often skeptical that it's ever genuine. Sure, you might grab my ass, but how many others have you felt up that night? Is this attention directed at me because you genuinely want me or because you just like touching boys in general?
Recently, I had yet another comment on my jeans. After I had promptly removed them and tossed them on my bedroom floor, and began attending to other business, the guy blurts out, "Oh nice Sevens, where'd you get them?"
I almost choked...
...and then answered his question.
How strange though! Why the homo-significance of certain brand jeans, and who the hell really cares where you bought them?
But it begs a chicken-and-egg type question: Are they noticing my jeans because of my ass, or do they check out my ass because they like my jeans?
Yet another evening, standing in his kitchen, rehydrating after a workout, I caught him gazing at my ass.
"What kind of jeans are those?" he asked, gulping water from his glass and checking his watch.
I know I looked puzzled, but I replied anyway. "Oh, these are Lucky's."
"Well, they got you lucky tonight," he said with a smile.
They did indeed, but since when were guys more concerned with the jeans themselves rather than what's underneath the denim?...
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Imagined Sloppy Seconds...
I feel like I just got hit by a bus.
That, and like I'm about 14 years old.
When James and I first started going out, he put his feelers into the community to try and find out more about me. I can't blame him, since that's what everybody does...the more you know about someone's past, the better.
But he never found anything out about me. As he told me one night, nobody seemed to know who I was. I laughed, since it's no surprise; I would have been shocked if anyone actually knew of me.
The one thing that I was somewhat ignorant of during our relationship was just how many people knew James, and by knowing him began knowing me. Not on any intimate basis, but more as the guy who he was dating. Nothing personal, just the vague idea of who I was. It never really occurred to me that he'd be telling people about me, acquaintances of his, friends from the clubs, whatever.
Furthermore, it never occurred to me that anyone would either remember who I was or care. Clearly I was mistaken.
I've been messaging back and forth with a guy online. He had an interesting profile, seemed cute but really level headed. There were a few things on there that won my respect, things that the average 20something wouldn't really be a part of.
So I sent him a message asking about just those things. I figured since it seemed rare to find someone with such qualities, he would find it rare that someone even commented on them. And so we exchanged a few messages back and forth, talking about pretty wholesome topics.
He seemed friendly. He seemed genuine. He seemed totally removed from drama and gay bullshit. We even shared the same name.
So when we exchanged IM addresses, I looked forward to talking with him in real time. This morning, Steve came online and almost instantly said hello.
But things quickly took an odd turn. He bombarded me with questions, where I went to university, what I studied, how old I was. Typical topics of conversation of course, but he asked with such hurry, such importance. And then it came.
"So, do you know a guy named James?" he asked.
I had no reason to lie, and admitted that I did.
"Oh, James told me about his friend Steve, same school and major as you," was his reply. "So I guess that's you."
Briefly I wondered how a guy from out of town, who lives an hour and a half away from Toronto, knew all about me. But it seemed like James had at some point during the summer told him all about me. And he remembered, including the details of my program and where my hometown is.
I wasn't too weirded out, since it's pretty innocent stuff. So we know the same people, who cares? Friends of friends makes things more casual anyway, you have a commonality. And I hadn't entered into our talking with any agenda or specific desire to date; I just made the mistake of being genuinely curious about someone.
Then things got weird.
"Well James is a good friend, I can't take his 2nds :P Anyway the reason I was on your profile is my friend really liked it.. He told me to check it out, you added him to favorites," said Steve. "He wants you to message him."
My jaw dropped. How fucking rude . And what an ego, nowhere had I even come onto the guy!
Steve then proceeded to extol James' virtues to me. "He's so cute and sweet, you should date him."
I laughed a little to myself. "Uh, we already did."
"Well, do it again," was his answer.
I explained that, had things worked out, we'd still be together. After all, you usually don't stop seeing someone you're happily coupled with. "If it had worked out, I'd still be with him," I said.
"It takes time, patience, understanding...you can work it out," Steve said.
"lol whatever I don't care," he continued, which seemed ridiculous since he'd just spent a few minutes telling me why I should date my ex. "I'm not going to tell him about our rendezvous though."
That made me laugh out loud. "Oh, well I'll definitely be asking him who Steve from [blank] is," I responded.
I tried to swing conversation back to his other point, this third guy who is apparently interested in me, and to try and find out just why Steve was receptive to conversation if he then was going to tell me he would never date me. It all got more confusing, since he couldn't remember this third guy's username.
"But you should message him, he wants you to," Steve said. "Better not tell him that I told you to though."
"Uhh...right," I said.
Steve then said he had work to do, bid me good luck and left the conversation.
I sat there in stunned silence, feeling like I was the victim of a drive by shooting.
What kind of a jerk would immediately call me 'seconds' and pretty much tell me to move along, then sing the praises of my ex, plus encourage me to message some third guy who is interested in me?
All of this came from simple, seemingly-genuine, friendly messages. I just wanted to get to know what seemed to be a nice guy. I just wanted a friendly conversation. And I never expected such a bizarre slap in the face. How could someone waste the time and energy to write me lengthy messages, then when we finally talk shut me down so quickly and rudely? And where did he get the idea that I was expressing a huge interest in him, when we'd never even been flirty?
I don't know exactly why the experience bothered me so much, outside of the general rudeness. After all, it's a tough gay world out there, full of judgment and intricate webs of friends and lovers. And me getting mildly upset about something so small seems unnecessary...and makes me feel like I'm a teenager. In many ways I am, since I haven't gone through much of that type of thing. It's all new, it's all fresh.
And so I sat there and just shook my head. What an odd experience, and what a rude guy. But I guess it shows me that I need to build up a thicker skin, to expect such reactions when I put myself out in the world.
The final though is a little more scary. A boy from another city knows who I am. Was able to recognize me from my university, my major, my age. Judged me from a distance, didn't leave room for a friendship or a casual acquaintance. He has no idea who I am , what I stand for or what I believe in. But he knows who I am, and he lives 50 miles away.
Just how many other people do, right in my back yard? And are they as dismissive as he is?
I have no idea, but it looks like for better or for worse, people just may recognize who I am...rather, who I dated...
That, and like I'm about 14 years old.
When James and I first started going out, he put his feelers into the community to try and find out more about me. I can't blame him, since that's what everybody does...the more you know about someone's past, the better.
But he never found anything out about me. As he told me one night, nobody seemed to know who I was. I laughed, since it's no surprise; I would have been shocked if anyone actually knew of me.
The one thing that I was somewhat ignorant of during our relationship was just how many people knew James, and by knowing him began knowing me. Not on any intimate basis, but more as the guy who he was dating. Nothing personal, just the vague idea of who I was. It never really occurred to me that he'd be telling people about me, acquaintances of his, friends from the clubs, whatever.
Furthermore, it never occurred to me that anyone would either remember who I was or care. Clearly I was mistaken.
I've been messaging back and forth with a guy online. He had an interesting profile, seemed cute but really level headed. There were a few things on there that won my respect, things that the average 20something wouldn't really be a part of.
So I sent him a message asking about just those things. I figured since it seemed rare to find someone with such qualities, he would find it rare that someone even commented on them. And so we exchanged a few messages back and forth, talking about pretty wholesome topics.
He seemed friendly. He seemed genuine. He seemed totally removed from drama and gay bullshit. We even shared the same name.
So when we exchanged IM addresses, I looked forward to talking with him in real time. This morning, Steve came online and almost instantly said hello.
But things quickly took an odd turn. He bombarded me with questions, where I went to university, what I studied, how old I was. Typical topics of conversation of course, but he asked with such hurry, such importance. And then it came.
"So, do you know a guy named James?" he asked.
I had no reason to lie, and admitted that I did.
"Oh, James told me about his friend Steve, same school and major as you," was his reply. "So I guess that's you."
Briefly I wondered how a guy from out of town, who lives an hour and a half away from Toronto, knew all about me. But it seemed like James had at some point during the summer told him all about me. And he remembered, including the details of my program and where my hometown is.
I wasn't too weirded out, since it's pretty innocent stuff. So we know the same people, who cares? Friends of friends makes things more casual anyway, you have a commonality. And I hadn't entered into our talking with any agenda or specific desire to date; I just made the mistake of being genuinely curious about someone.
Then things got weird.
"Well James is a good friend, I can't take his 2nds :P Anyway the reason I was on your profile is my friend really liked it.. He told me to check it out, you added him to favorites," said Steve. "He wants you to message him."
My jaw dropped. How fucking rude . And what an ego, nowhere had I even come onto the guy!
Steve then proceeded to extol James' virtues to me. "He's so cute and sweet, you should date him."
I laughed a little to myself. "Uh, we already did."
"Well, do it again," was his answer.
I explained that, had things worked out, we'd still be together. After all, you usually don't stop seeing someone you're happily coupled with. "If it had worked out, I'd still be with him," I said.
"It takes time, patience, understanding...you can work it out," Steve said.
"lol whatever I don't care," he continued, which seemed ridiculous since he'd just spent a few minutes telling me why I should date my ex. "I'm not going to tell him about our rendezvous though."
That made me laugh out loud. "Oh, well I'll definitely be asking him who Steve from [blank] is," I responded.
I tried to swing conversation back to his other point, this third guy who is apparently interested in me, and to try and find out just why Steve was receptive to conversation if he then was going to tell me he would never date me. It all got more confusing, since he couldn't remember this third guy's username.
"But you should message him, he wants you to," Steve said. "Better not tell him that I told you to though."
"Uhh...right," I said.
Steve then said he had work to do, bid me good luck and left the conversation.
I sat there in stunned silence, feeling like I was the victim of a drive by shooting.
What kind of a jerk would immediately call me 'seconds' and pretty much tell me to move along, then sing the praises of my ex, plus encourage me to message some third guy who is interested in me?
All of this came from simple, seemingly-genuine, friendly messages. I just wanted to get to know what seemed to be a nice guy. I just wanted a friendly conversation. And I never expected such a bizarre slap in the face. How could someone waste the time and energy to write me lengthy messages, then when we finally talk shut me down so quickly and rudely? And where did he get the idea that I was expressing a huge interest in him, when we'd never even been flirty?
I don't know exactly why the experience bothered me so much, outside of the general rudeness. After all, it's a tough gay world out there, full of judgment and intricate webs of friends and lovers. And me getting mildly upset about something so small seems unnecessary...and makes me feel like I'm a teenager. In many ways I am, since I haven't gone through much of that type of thing. It's all new, it's all fresh.
And so I sat there and just shook my head. What an odd experience, and what a rude guy. But I guess it shows me that I need to build up a thicker skin, to expect such reactions when I put myself out in the world.
The final though is a little more scary. A boy from another city knows who I am. Was able to recognize me from my university, my major, my age. Judged me from a distance, didn't leave room for a friendship or a casual acquaintance. He has no idea who I am , what I stand for or what I believe in. But he knows who I am, and he lives 50 miles away.
Just how many other people do, right in my back yard? And are they as dismissive as he is?
I have no idea, but it looks like for better or for worse, people just may recognize who I am...rather, who I dated...
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Never take the simple path...
When it rains, it pours.
A little while ago, faced with the perpetual boredom and the lack of any gay interaction, I made some inquiries to see if there were indeed any openly gay guys around my age in my area. To my surprise, I came into contact with a small but promising number of them, each one a little different than the other.
It became apparent fairly quickly that only one of the few guys actually had his shit together. While I have no problem with guys who are in the closet or still feeling out their sexuality, I was faced with the knowledge that we might suffer through a bit of a dramatic phase; I wouldn't know what he wanted, he wouldn't be able to follow through, etc.
But the one guy, James, was different from the rest. At each sentence I found we had more and more in common. We go to the same school, live within a block of each other in Toronto, have similar acquaintances, and so on and so on. It turns out we even would have met before this, had I went out after attending a mutual friend's birthday party, where he and a few others were waiting to carry on the festivities.
It started innocently enough. I didn't see in him any sort of boyfriend attraction, and even the sexual pull was perceived to be the work of circumstance; two gay boys in a gay-free zone naturally want to get naked with each other.
And we did exactly that. Even though I wanted to go through with things as building a friendship that can carry on past the last days of summer, we found ourselves kissing, cuddling and groping until finally we blurred the line between 'just friends' and something else entirely.
At first I was terrified. I though I'd ruined the chance at keeping things friendly, that when I told him I really didn't want anything serious our friendship would be over. But the discussion never happened, we kept on our course of coffee and movies and dinners and occasionally blowing each other when the opportunity arose (not an easy feat with the both of us living under our parent's roofs).
But as the weeks have passed, we've grown sort of attached to each other. For some reason, the boy I had written off as not my type is now the boy I find myself texting every night to say "sleep well".
It's bizarre, and I don't know when I crossed the line from thinking of us as 'just friends' to actually becoming interested in him. I'm still mad at myself, because it would have been better to just enjoy each other's company and then carry our friendship to the gay streets of Toronto. Alas, we've passed that mark...though God knows how it happened...
I'm also having my usual terrified thoughts of 'is this what I want/is he right for me?' While he's great on paper, and his personality is complimentary to mine, I still look at him and wonder if he's 'perfect' enough for me. I've spent my dating time so far going out with people, trying to find that one click that felt right from the moment it happened...and it never has. Now, here I am with someone, quite comfortable, and second guessing if I should invest myself in someone that I'm not head over heels for yet or not.
It's quite hard to explain, really, so bare with me. But even physically, he's not what I envisioned as my 'ideal imaginary boyfriend'. He's got a great body, don't get me wrong, but he's shorter and a little slighter than I would have envisioned. There are other things, but in essence he does not embody the 'imaginary boyfriend' I designed in my last English lecture.
Still, I'm trying to go with the flow and not let that stop me. The bottom line is, I'm having fun, I do have a soft spot for him and I want to see where things go. We did have a semi-confessional conversation last Thursday when I had gotten back from a friend's party and was sufficiently lubricated to speak my mind and vent my fears. He pretty much repeated the same as me; how it was unexpected, back home of all places, how it was untested, since we're both not able to just stop by and cuddle on the couch on a Tuesday night, and most importantly: is our attraction and our situation borne from a real connection and click, or is it just circumstantial from being the only two gay guys we know in the area?
Since then, we've kept things really out in the open. We're both pretty careful about commitments and labels and all of that, so things are so far very unofficial and untested. Our bottom line seems to be, "I have fun when I'm around you, and I just want things to keep on going like they are."
This is all fine and good by me. But when it rains, it pours.
He decided to skip a friend's birthday party in Toronto to instead spend the evening with me when my parents were away for the night. At the time, I didn't think anything of it, but he got quite a bit of flack after the fact. Seems his friends want to meet this mysterious boy who was important enough to miss a party for.
Funny how he even met his friends...they all go to our same university, are all our age, and all met through the GLBT group's meet and greets since they all didn't know any other gay guys. Yes, go ahead and insert several ironic comments here.
So, the invitation was extended to me, and come Saturday night I'll be having an evening of many firsts. For starters, it will be the first time I meet the guy I'm seeing's group of gay friends. Needless to say, I'm terrified. Then comes the venue...my first night out on the town with gay guys at one of the most popular gay clubs in the city. It also happens to be the most popular, packed night of the year: the night before the official Pride Parade (aka gay Christmas eve). It all culminates with my first Pride ever, the parade on Sunday.
Yikes.
I mean, it would have been great to do some of these things, on a smaller scale. Ease myself into everything. Give myself a chance to get used to it all. But no, I have to be meeting the friends on the busiest night of the year, in one of the busiest clubs in the city. All for my first time.
"What a shitty night to not be single," a friend said.
"I don't know if I'll be able to handle all the judgment at once," I replied. "The friends who want to meet me (whatever that means), the crowd at large on the craziest night, and of course James who would probably not take kindly to me accidentally making out with anyone, should that happen," I said, in a half joking but half terrified moment of cringing clarity.
Another offered his advice. "Nobody's going to be looking at you anyway," he said. "They'll all be either drunk, or high, or both...and not really going to notice you. Besides, everyone will be looking for someone to go home with."
He paused. "What a way to go, though," he said, chiding me.
"It'll really be sink or swim."
A little while ago, faced with the perpetual boredom and the lack of any gay interaction, I made some inquiries to see if there were indeed any openly gay guys around my age in my area. To my surprise, I came into contact with a small but promising number of them, each one a little different than the other.
It became apparent fairly quickly that only one of the few guys actually had his shit together. While I have no problem with guys who are in the closet or still feeling out their sexuality, I was faced with the knowledge that we might suffer through a bit of a dramatic phase; I wouldn't know what he wanted, he wouldn't be able to follow through, etc.
But the one guy, James, was different from the rest. At each sentence I found we had more and more in common. We go to the same school, live within a block of each other in Toronto, have similar acquaintances, and so on and so on. It turns out we even would have met before this, had I went out after attending a mutual friend's birthday party, where he and a few others were waiting to carry on the festivities.
It started innocently enough. I didn't see in him any sort of boyfriend attraction, and even the sexual pull was perceived to be the work of circumstance; two gay boys in a gay-free zone naturally want to get naked with each other.
And we did exactly that. Even though I wanted to go through with things as building a friendship that can carry on past the last days of summer, we found ourselves kissing, cuddling and groping until finally we blurred the line between 'just friends' and something else entirely.
At first I was terrified. I though I'd ruined the chance at keeping things friendly, that when I told him I really didn't want anything serious our friendship would be over. But the discussion never happened, we kept on our course of coffee and movies and dinners and occasionally blowing each other when the opportunity arose (not an easy feat with the both of us living under our parent's roofs).
But as the weeks have passed, we've grown sort of attached to each other. For some reason, the boy I had written off as not my type is now the boy I find myself texting every night to say "sleep well".
It's bizarre, and I don't know when I crossed the line from thinking of us as 'just friends' to actually becoming interested in him. I'm still mad at myself, because it would have been better to just enjoy each other's company and then carry our friendship to the gay streets of Toronto. Alas, we've passed that mark...though God knows how it happened...
I'm also having my usual terrified thoughts of 'is this what I want/is he right for me?' While he's great on paper, and his personality is complimentary to mine, I still look at him and wonder if he's 'perfect' enough for me. I've spent my dating time so far going out with people, trying to find that one click that felt right from the moment it happened...and it never has. Now, here I am with someone, quite comfortable, and second guessing if I should invest myself in someone that I'm not head over heels for yet or not.
It's quite hard to explain, really, so bare with me. But even physically, he's not what I envisioned as my 'ideal imaginary boyfriend'. He's got a great body, don't get me wrong, but he's shorter and a little slighter than I would have envisioned. There are other things, but in essence he does not embody the 'imaginary boyfriend' I designed in my last English lecture.
Still, I'm trying to go with the flow and not let that stop me. The bottom line is, I'm having fun, I do have a soft spot for him and I want to see where things go. We did have a semi-confessional conversation last Thursday when I had gotten back from a friend's party and was sufficiently lubricated to speak my mind and vent my fears. He pretty much repeated the same as me; how it was unexpected, back home of all places, how it was untested, since we're both not able to just stop by and cuddle on the couch on a Tuesday night, and most importantly: is our attraction and our situation borne from a real connection and click, or is it just circumstantial from being the only two gay guys we know in the area?
Since then, we've kept things really out in the open. We're both pretty careful about commitments and labels and all of that, so things are so far very unofficial and untested. Our bottom line seems to be, "I have fun when I'm around you, and I just want things to keep on going like they are."
This is all fine and good by me. But when it rains, it pours.
He decided to skip a friend's birthday party in Toronto to instead spend the evening with me when my parents were away for the night. At the time, I didn't think anything of it, but he got quite a bit of flack after the fact. Seems his friends want to meet this mysterious boy who was important enough to miss a party for.
Funny how he even met his friends...they all go to our same university, are all our age, and all met through the GLBT group's meet and greets since they all didn't know any other gay guys. Yes, go ahead and insert several ironic comments here.
So, the invitation was extended to me, and come Saturday night I'll be having an evening of many firsts. For starters, it will be the first time I meet the guy I'm seeing's group of gay friends. Needless to say, I'm terrified. Then comes the venue...my first night out on the town with gay guys at one of the most popular gay clubs in the city. It also happens to be the most popular, packed night of the year: the night before the official Pride Parade (aka gay Christmas eve). It all culminates with my first Pride ever, the parade on Sunday.
Yikes.
I mean, it would have been great to do some of these things, on a smaller scale. Ease myself into everything. Give myself a chance to get used to it all. But no, I have to be meeting the friends on the busiest night of the year, in one of the busiest clubs in the city. All for my first time.
"What a shitty night to not be single," a friend said.
"I don't know if I'll be able to handle all the judgment at once," I replied. "The friends who want to meet me (whatever that means), the crowd at large on the craziest night, and of course James who would probably not take kindly to me accidentally making out with anyone, should that happen," I said, in a half joking but half terrified moment of cringing clarity.
Another offered his advice. "Nobody's going to be looking at you anyway," he said. "They'll all be either drunk, or high, or both...and not really going to notice you. Besides, everyone will be looking for someone to go home with."
He paused. "What a way to go, though," he said, chiding me.
"It'll really be sink or swim."
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Hot headed...
The more I learn about what is perceived to be the 'norms' of the gay community, the more it puzzles and perplexes me.
I was sitting in Gay Starbucks (the Church Street Starbucks that is populated almost exclusively by gays) last Thursday, minding my own business and devouring the paper. The layout of the shop is sort of interesting, since it has a second floor that accomodates couches, armchairs and the usual wooden chairs and tables.
The crowd was no different than what I normally run into there. Some older guys, maybe on their days off, dressed casually and reading a book. Younger guys typing frantically on laptops and sipping from overlarge plastic cups. Business guys having their afternoon break. A lesbian scratching on a pad of paper. And me, trying to find a comfy nook in the deflated armchair that I occupied.
I had gotten about halfway through the paper, lazily reading and enjoying the fresh coffee, when I noticed the guy across from me doing pretty much the same thing. He was a good looking guy, dressed in surprisingly fashionable office garb, and what I would peg to be mid-30's. He laughed aloud, quietly, at the occasional piece he read, something that I do on a daily basis and always wonder how crazy it makes me look. To some, I suppose, it stands next to such horrors as talking to ones self out loud and maniacally petting a cat on your lap that happens not to exist.
But, since I knew exactly what his laughter was geared towards, I found it a bit of an intellectual turn on.
That is, until I heard him open his mouth.
A few moments later, two younger guys sat at the table next to me and Laughing Boy. There we were, a triangle of tables and chairs, with the relative silence of the shop broken with the conversation of the new arrivals.
It was hard not to hear their chatting, since nobody else was really talking, and the music was faint enough to avoid all hope of drowning them out. As they talked, I learned of their mutual friend, who had held a dinner party the night before, and how he hated so-and-so who happened to be the boyfriend of one of the guests...and on and on...
As I flipped the pages, a new voice joined the conversation. It was Laughing Boy, who had injected himself in their little coffee break chat, happily discussing the merits of Montreal over Toronto.
My interest wained, and I had pretty much finished up the paper. So too had the guys and Laughing Boy almost finished up their conversation. They were discussing shopping in Yorkville, and (though I don't really recall how they got there), one of the guys said, "Oh, there's this guy who works there you should meet. I think you'd like him."
Laughing Boy paused briefly, then said, "Well, is he as good looking as we are?"
I almost fell out of my chair, not that they noticed. Their conversation ended, the boys got up and Laughing Boy left on their heels.
I couldn't believe the tone, the delivery, the matter-of-factness that Laughing Boy had mustered in the statement. He said it with such conviction; it wasn't a really flirty gesture towards the guys, but merely an affirmation that they were all, indeed, fabulous.
As I walked home, I couldn't get it out of my mind. I would never say something like that to complete strangers. Let me rephrase that, I would never insinuate that I was good looking, or preface my interest in someone with a verbal affirmation that he was as 'good looking as me'.
I wouldn't mind telling a guy, "Wow, you're really good looking!" But to be so damn self-glorifying to say, "Is he as good looking as we are," blows my mind.
The question is, does he really believe it? Is this some ploy to project a sense of superiority and protect him from his innermost fears? Or is he really so caught up with himself to say it that he really, actually, believes in his great looks?
As we all know, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. While I think Zac Efron is gorgeous, a recent poll of my friends seems to indicate that many don't see the super-attraction. To imagine that you're just naturally a guy's type is crazy to me; we all see couples that have differences in appearance.
On Friday I brought up the incident at dinner with a friend. "Can you believe the pig-handedness?" I asked. "It's worse than straight guys!"
She looked at me, and nodded slowly. "Yeah...well, that's sort of the norm for you people," she said.
"But...but how is that attractive? Being full of yourself is hot these days?"
"Well, not that," she said. "But gay guys just naturally pump themselves up in public. It's like a survival thing, it projects an image."
Afterwards, I kept thinking back to her point, that it's 'normal' for gay guys to be so outwardly overconfident in themselves. It scared me a little, thinking that I one day might wind up as abrasive as this guy, to 'survive'. And it sends a twofold message: the overconfidence in one's self also implies that other guys won't be 'good enough' for you, that the unsaid words were, "...because if he's not, I probably won't be interested."
I'm not ever one to play up my appearance. In fact, I more use more self-deprecating humour about the whole thing as a way to cover my genuine insecurities, which stem mostly from never feeling noticed or deemed attractive like so many other people I knew growing up. I don't get uncomfortable talking amongst friends about people's looks, but I don't think I could ever declare to a complete stranger (or even my friends, for that matter) that I was an attractive creature. It seems in damn poor, ungentlemanly taste.
And what does it say about me, then? I got the, "Unless you really love yourself nobody will really love you," speech recently from a friend. Does it mean that I have a healthy attitude about my looks, or am I beating myself down far too much, so much that people see the insecurities and look away in distaste? Should I be adopting a more 'fuck you' confidence, telling people that I'm for sure 'hot stuff'?
I wonder how the mysterious 'blind date' candidate really did look...
I was sitting in Gay Starbucks (the Church Street Starbucks that is populated almost exclusively by gays) last Thursday, minding my own business and devouring the paper. The layout of the shop is sort of interesting, since it has a second floor that accomodates couches, armchairs and the usual wooden chairs and tables.
The crowd was no different than what I normally run into there. Some older guys, maybe on their days off, dressed casually and reading a book. Younger guys typing frantically on laptops and sipping from overlarge plastic cups. Business guys having their afternoon break. A lesbian scratching on a pad of paper. And me, trying to find a comfy nook in the deflated armchair that I occupied.
I had gotten about halfway through the paper, lazily reading and enjoying the fresh coffee, when I noticed the guy across from me doing pretty much the same thing. He was a good looking guy, dressed in surprisingly fashionable office garb, and what I would peg to be mid-30's. He laughed aloud, quietly, at the occasional piece he read, something that I do on a daily basis and always wonder how crazy it makes me look. To some, I suppose, it stands next to such horrors as talking to ones self out loud and maniacally petting a cat on your lap that happens not to exist.
But, since I knew exactly what his laughter was geared towards, I found it a bit of an intellectual turn on.
That is, until I heard him open his mouth.
A few moments later, two younger guys sat at the table next to me and Laughing Boy. There we were, a triangle of tables and chairs, with the relative silence of the shop broken with the conversation of the new arrivals.
It was hard not to hear their chatting, since nobody else was really talking, and the music was faint enough to avoid all hope of drowning them out. As they talked, I learned of their mutual friend, who had held a dinner party the night before, and how he hated so-and-so who happened to be the boyfriend of one of the guests...and on and on...
As I flipped the pages, a new voice joined the conversation. It was Laughing Boy, who had injected himself in their little coffee break chat, happily discussing the merits of Montreal over Toronto.
My interest wained, and I had pretty much finished up the paper. So too had the guys and Laughing Boy almost finished up their conversation. They were discussing shopping in Yorkville, and (though I don't really recall how they got there), one of the guys said, "Oh, there's this guy who works there you should meet. I think you'd like him."
Laughing Boy paused briefly, then said, "Well, is he as good looking as we are?"
I almost fell out of my chair, not that they noticed. Their conversation ended, the boys got up and Laughing Boy left on their heels.
I couldn't believe the tone, the delivery, the matter-of-factness that Laughing Boy had mustered in the statement. He said it with such conviction; it wasn't a really flirty gesture towards the guys, but merely an affirmation that they were all, indeed, fabulous.
As I walked home, I couldn't get it out of my mind. I would never say something like that to complete strangers. Let me rephrase that, I would never insinuate that I was good looking, or preface my interest in someone with a verbal affirmation that he was as 'good looking as me'.
I wouldn't mind telling a guy, "Wow, you're really good looking!" But to be so damn self-glorifying to say, "Is he as good looking as we are," blows my mind.
The question is, does he really believe it? Is this some ploy to project a sense of superiority and protect him from his innermost fears? Or is he really so caught up with himself to say it that he really, actually, believes in his great looks?
As we all know, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. While I think Zac Efron is gorgeous, a recent poll of my friends seems to indicate that many don't see the super-attraction. To imagine that you're just naturally a guy's type is crazy to me; we all see couples that have differences in appearance.
On Friday I brought up the incident at dinner with a friend. "Can you believe the pig-handedness?" I asked. "It's worse than straight guys!"
She looked at me, and nodded slowly. "Yeah...well, that's sort of the norm for you people," she said.
"But...but how is that attractive? Being full of yourself is hot these days?"
"Well, not that," she said. "But gay guys just naturally pump themselves up in public. It's like a survival thing, it projects an image."
Afterwards, I kept thinking back to her point, that it's 'normal' for gay guys to be so outwardly overconfident in themselves. It scared me a little, thinking that I one day might wind up as abrasive as this guy, to 'survive'. And it sends a twofold message: the overconfidence in one's self also implies that other guys won't be 'good enough' for you, that the unsaid words were, "...because if he's not, I probably won't be interested."
I'm not ever one to play up my appearance. In fact, I more use more self-deprecating humour about the whole thing as a way to cover my genuine insecurities, which stem mostly from never feeling noticed or deemed attractive like so many other people I knew growing up. I don't get uncomfortable talking amongst friends about people's looks, but I don't think I could ever declare to a complete stranger (or even my friends, for that matter) that I was an attractive creature. It seems in damn poor, ungentlemanly taste.
And what does it say about me, then? I got the, "Unless you really love yourself nobody will really love you," speech recently from a friend. Does it mean that I have a healthy attitude about my looks, or am I beating myself down far too much, so much that people see the insecurities and look away in distaste? Should I be adopting a more 'fuck you' confidence, telling people that I'm for sure 'hot stuff'?
I wonder how the mysterious 'blind date' candidate really did look...
Saturday, April 19, 2008
What's my age again...
I have become ever more aware of a purported 'truth' in the gay community.
Guys who are worth dating, apparently, only date older guys. Young guys in their early 20’s are ‘immature idiots’, and to be avoided in favor of older men who do not exhibit such qualities.
I read recently an instance of a 20-year-old (20! Good lord! Not even 21!) that does not date boys his own age, since they are 'immature and childish'. He insists on dating only those who are older than he is. Period.
What a frightening thought. To think that all my peers (and therefore myself as well) are 'immature and childish' makes dating and finding someone worthwhile even more trying. It seems to me a pretty shitty outlook on the gay community, and reduces the prospects of happily pairing off even more than they already were.
While I agree that some young people are truly vapid, insecure and unlearned, it's quite hypocritical. After all, this is a statement from a 20-year-old, who says he is past dating guys his own age. Yet, theoretically, he should not close the door since there must be other guys the same age as he is who have the same outlook on life, and are not 'immature and childish'. This fear of 20-something 'idiocy and immaturity', while in some people well founded, is condemning of an entire group of people who will one day grow up to be the 'older men'.
I do admit that, after thinking about this for a few days, dating older guys would probably satisfy many of the things that would make for a compatible relationship. While a part of me doesn't want to admit it, I can see being quite comfortable with someone just a little older, or with more mature tastes.
Case in point; last night I went out to dinner with a friend of mine. We don't see a ton of each other, but we get together once a month or so, and usually it involves going out for a great meal and some wine. We talk about all sorts of thing, from the mundane to the worldly and everything in between. Usually we rack up a bit of a bill, but when you're enjoying such good food and good company it is usually forgivable.
We got talking about how the both of us rarely have the opportunity to go out for such meals with people our own age. Of everyone I know, only a handful actually appreciate quality cuisine; for most my age, the magic is lost.
Now, I'm sure there are lots of guys older than I am who still have little appreciation for food, but the chances of finding someone who actually really enjoys fancy dinners would probably be much higher.
The same goes for taste in music, literature, film; the enjoyment of architecture, museums and traveling. Even compared to some friends my age, I have radically different taste. I have a sneaking suspicion that someone older would have more compatible tastes in these areas.
I'm not trying to be a snob here, as I hate pretentious 20-somethings that think they're intellectuals. But, thorough my entire life, I have always been the one with taste that falls just outside the 'mainstream' for the times (that is to say, for the age group). I remember vividly being the one breaking open bottles of red wine at high school parties, much to the horror of my friends. I took a lot of flack for my taste during those few months, until everyone realized how great wine was and it became the 'it' drink. For once, it seems, I was at the head of a new trend.
But, with all of this presumed similarity in taste between a young and an older guy, would we have anything actually in common?
As I try to keep an open mind about the age gap in dating, I can't help but wonder what a 20-year-old would have in common with a 35-year-old, other that the appreciation for a nice '04 Pey La Tour and a mutual disdain for revisionist architecture. While someone younger would still have school and family and summer jobs to worry about, someone older wouldn't have the same issues. A student who attends four hours of class a day cannot relate to a professional working 50 hours a week at a law office. The professional, working on buying his first house, cannot possibly comprehend the student-budget apartment living his boyfriend endures. The two come from such vastly different worlds. Will the mutual appreciation of art keep them together?
I firmly believe in the 'young at heart' aspect of anyone, at any age, so that is not part of this argument. Anyone can be whatever numeric age they are, but still have the energy and passion for life of a 20-year-old (and in many cases, more). But even if two people are of similar outlooks on life, would not the fundamental differences
And how too does this work for older guys who are dating these younger boys? Would they not carry the suspicion, as our 20-year-old example does, that boys of a younger age are not worth dating because of their attitudes and behaviour? Or are they older, and wiser, about the fundamental truths of humanity; that all people are not the same, and that there are wonderful people of every age.
The older guys who are in relationships must go through a lot of crap, from people their own age and from younger people themselves. I've been accused on many instances of being ageist, so it must be quite trying at times for someone older to have to justify his choice in a younger partner.
What about sex? I must admit, I really do enjoy the company of boys my own age over people significantly older than I am. I apparently have a taste for the type you still have to check ID's for to make sure everything's legal, something that I find odd since I don't really fantasize about 'underage sex' or sex with teenagers. Guys who are young-looking apparently scare people other than me. The ‘daddy’ type does not make my stomach flutter and eyes dance.
But back to the sex...my theory is it will be easier now to sleep with 18-22-year-olds than it will be when I'm 30. Is that right? I mean, I want to enjoy the ridiculous passion of youth, but will I be able to do so when I'm older? Or will it be, gasp, easier to pick up that 19-year-old who wants to show me his new tattoo?
And where does that leave the morals of the older crowd? I mean, if the young one is up for it, I guess there's no problem, but I would feel a bit off at first, questioning if dating older is what the guy 'really want's, not some kinky experimentation. Not that I’m implying there is anything wrong with a gap in age, but as someone unaccustomed to it myself, I would be hesitant at first, again, questioning if this is really what both party’s ‘want’.
Then again, there's lots of videos on xTube featuring younger guys and older guys together, claiming the young ones seek out the older, and both parties seem to be enjoying each other immensely.
In the recent debate in Canada over the age of sexual consent, gay and lesbian groups were outraged at the thought of raising the age from 14 to 16. The debate centred on the notion that the gay community is ‘inherent to relationships where large gaps in age exist’. The argument focused on the fact that, as a minority, it is difficult for an openly gay teenager to find sexual partners of their exact age, forcing them to explore people of other ages in an attempt to enter relationships and live the same sort of life their heterosexual peers do.
It seems everywhere that the idea of younger dating older is entrenched in the gay idiom, though admittedly for vastly different reasons. While GLBT groups argue it is out of necessity for younger people to find partners, my 20-year-old example simply does it because of his disdain for his own age group.
But I still fall back to my main argument; if I, at 21, am mature and have tastes of someone older than my age, there must be other 21-year-olds out there that possess the same qualities. I may be unique, but I can't be one-of-a-kind.
I supposed until it actually happens to me, I’ll never really know what it’s like to date someone older than I am by a margin of five years or more. I’ve dated people a year or two older, but nobody 26 or 27.
But the more people I have gone out with, the more I do realize that I am still just a bit ‘different’ than they are. When I think of the longevity of the relationship, sometimes I question if the person I’m with will really gel with me. Sure, there’s the flash of youthful passion, and the reassurance that you’ve a)finally found someone who likes you and b)have a boy to hold. But after a brief stint, I start to have a gnawing question in the back of my mind…is this really going to go anywhere?
That said, dating someone older might not solve that. The question of compatibility is one that crosses every age group, regardless if you have five years or five months in between you. But to harbour the attitude that someone younger, your own age, is simply not worthy of your time in dating is simply scary.
So keep your minds open, be it for an older guy, or a boy your own age; you just may be surprised at what you find.
Guys who are worth dating, apparently, only date older guys. Young guys in their early 20’s are ‘immature idiots’, and to be avoided in favor of older men who do not exhibit such qualities.
I read recently an instance of a 20-year-old (20! Good lord! Not even 21!) that does not date boys his own age, since they are 'immature and childish'. He insists on dating only those who are older than he is. Period.
What a frightening thought. To think that all my peers (and therefore myself as well) are 'immature and childish' makes dating and finding someone worthwhile even more trying. It seems to me a pretty shitty outlook on the gay community, and reduces the prospects of happily pairing off even more than they already were.
While I agree that some young people are truly vapid, insecure and unlearned, it's quite hypocritical. After all, this is a statement from a 20-year-old, who says he is past dating guys his own age. Yet, theoretically, he should not close the door since there must be other guys the same age as he is who have the same outlook on life, and are not 'immature and childish'. This fear of 20-something 'idiocy and immaturity', while in some people well founded, is condemning of an entire group of people who will one day grow up to be the 'older men'.
I do admit that, after thinking about this for a few days, dating older guys would probably satisfy many of the things that would make for a compatible relationship. While a part of me doesn't want to admit it, I can see being quite comfortable with someone just a little older, or with more mature tastes.
Case in point; last night I went out to dinner with a friend of mine. We don't see a ton of each other, but we get together once a month or so, and usually it involves going out for a great meal and some wine. We talk about all sorts of thing, from the mundane to the worldly and everything in between. Usually we rack up a bit of a bill, but when you're enjoying such good food and good company it is usually forgivable.
We got talking about how the both of us rarely have the opportunity to go out for such meals with people our own age. Of everyone I know, only a handful actually appreciate quality cuisine; for most my age, the magic is lost.
Now, I'm sure there are lots of guys older than I am who still have little appreciation for food, but the chances of finding someone who actually really enjoys fancy dinners would probably be much higher.
The same goes for taste in music, literature, film; the enjoyment of architecture, museums and traveling. Even compared to some friends my age, I have radically different taste. I have a sneaking suspicion that someone older would have more compatible tastes in these areas.
I'm not trying to be a snob here, as I hate pretentious 20-somethings that think they're intellectuals. But, thorough my entire life, I have always been the one with taste that falls just outside the 'mainstream' for the times (that is to say, for the age group). I remember vividly being the one breaking open bottles of red wine at high school parties, much to the horror of my friends. I took a lot of flack for my taste during those few months, until everyone realized how great wine was and it became the 'it' drink. For once, it seems, I was at the head of a new trend.
But, with all of this presumed similarity in taste between a young and an older guy, would we have anything actually in common?
As I try to keep an open mind about the age gap in dating, I can't help but wonder what a 20-year-old would have in common with a 35-year-old, other that the appreciation for a nice '04 Pey La Tour and a mutual disdain for revisionist architecture. While someone younger would still have school and family and summer jobs to worry about, someone older wouldn't have the same issues. A student who attends four hours of class a day cannot relate to a professional working 50 hours a week at a law office. The professional, working on buying his first house, cannot possibly comprehend the student-budget apartment living his boyfriend endures. The two come from such vastly different worlds. Will the mutual appreciation of art keep them together?
I firmly believe in the 'young at heart' aspect of anyone, at any age, so that is not part of this argument. Anyone can be whatever numeric age they are, but still have the energy and passion for life of a 20-year-old (and in many cases, more). But even if two people are of similar outlooks on life, would not the fundamental differences
And how too does this work for older guys who are dating these younger boys? Would they not carry the suspicion, as our 20-year-old example does, that boys of a younger age are not worth dating because of their attitudes and behaviour? Or are they older, and wiser, about the fundamental truths of humanity; that all people are not the same, and that there are wonderful people of every age.
The older guys who are in relationships must go through a lot of crap, from people their own age and from younger people themselves. I've been accused on many instances of being ageist, so it must be quite trying at times for someone older to have to justify his choice in a younger partner.
What about sex? I must admit, I really do enjoy the company of boys my own age over people significantly older than I am. I apparently have a taste for the type you still have to check ID's for to make sure everything's legal, something that I find odd since I don't really fantasize about 'underage sex' or sex with teenagers. Guys who are young-looking apparently scare people other than me. The ‘daddy’ type does not make my stomach flutter and eyes dance.
But back to the sex...my theory is it will be easier now to sleep with 18-22-year-olds than it will be when I'm 30. Is that right? I mean, I want to enjoy the ridiculous passion of youth, but will I be able to do so when I'm older? Or will it be, gasp, easier to pick up that 19-year-old who wants to show me his new tattoo?
And where does that leave the morals of the older crowd? I mean, if the young one is up for it, I guess there's no problem, but I would feel a bit off at first, questioning if dating older is what the guy 'really want's, not some kinky experimentation. Not that I’m implying there is anything wrong with a gap in age, but as someone unaccustomed to it myself, I would be hesitant at first, again, questioning if this is really what both party’s ‘want’.
Then again, there's lots of videos on xTube featuring younger guys and older guys together, claiming the young ones seek out the older, and both parties seem to be enjoying each other immensely.
In the recent debate in Canada over the age of sexual consent, gay and lesbian groups were outraged at the thought of raising the age from 14 to 16. The debate centred on the notion that the gay community is ‘inherent to relationships where large gaps in age exist’. The argument focused on the fact that, as a minority, it is difficult for an openly gay teenager to find sexual partners of their exact age, forcing them to explore people of other ages in an attempt to enter relationships and live the same sort of life their heterosexual peers do.
It seems everywhere that the idea of younger dating older is entrenched in the gay idiom, though admittedly for vastly different reasons. While GLBT groups argue it is out of necessity for younger people to find partners, my 20-year-old example simply does it because of his disdain for his own age group.
But I still fall back to my main argument; if I, at 21, am mature and have tastes of someone older than my age, there must be other 21-year-olds out there that possess the same qualities. I may be unique, but I can't be one-of-a-kind.
I supposed until it actually happens to me, I’ll never really know what it’s like to date someone older than I am by a margin of five years or more. I’ve dated people a year or two older, but nobody 26 or 27.
But the more people I have gone out with, the more I do realize that I am still just a bit ‘different’ than they are. When I think of the longevity of the relationship, sometimes I question if the person I’m with will really gel with me. Sure, there’s the flash of youthful passion, and the reassurance that you’ve a)finally found someone who likes you and b)have a boy to hold. But after a brief stint, I start to have a gnawing question in the back of my mind…is this really going to go anywhere?
That said, dating someone older might not solve that. The question of compatibility is one that crosses every age group, regardless if you have five years or five months in between you. But to harbour the attitude that someone younger, your own age, is simply not worthy of your time in dating is simply scary.
So keep your minds open, be it for an older guy, or a boy your own age; you just may be surprised at what you find.
Monday, January 28, 2008
Your choice...
Be what you want to be, says the common phrase.
Everyone loves that one, that great Western ideal of choosing your life, your path. It was the driving mantra of youth since the '60's, when kids started really resisting their parents, fighting to create the life they wanted for themselves.
It really hits to the core of most contemporary culture. We are taught at the youngest ages that we should strive to reach our own goals, to aim for the moon and to do everything we can to make it happen. From Sesame Street onwards we are encouraged to be ourselves, to embrace difference and to make the best lives for ourselves possible.
Even my mother holds this ideal dear. She was listening to the radio a while ago to the song "Wild One" by Faith Hill. The lyrics roughly describe the trails of a young girl, asserting her independence from her parents by making her own choices. It touches on the hot button issues such as clothes, hair, rock music and choices in boyfriends...OK, not exactly 'controversial' topics, but things that traditionally kids and parents are at odds over, with both sides believing they are fundamentally right.
It even has the wonderful line, "Her parents' dreams went up in smoke..."
I watched as the song played. Mom's reaction was fascinating; she nodded and spoke-sang along with Faith, almost emoting a "You go girl!" smile on her face.
Pretty nice to believe that at one time my mother believed that.
But when did it change? When did the caveat get inserted, "You can be anything you want to be...as long as I approve."?
"When she was 3 years old on her daddy's knee, he said, 'You can be anything you want to be...'" That's a line, like I said, that has been drilled into the consciousness of every Western youngster. It's a basic belief of Western Liberalism, that we are all masters of our lives and indeed allowed to pursue any type of lifestyle we want to, and that's OK.
I find it infuriating when parents teach their children that ideology, then fall flat on their asses when it comes to following it through. Sure, you can squabble with your kids about how funny their hair is, and how bizarre their torn and frayed clothes are, but mostly they allow them to make their own choices.
What bothers me most is when parents have objections or really hard times in accepting what their grown children really want. Be it partners, or career paths, or even our favorite topic, sexuality, parents seem to forget that they encouraged their children to make their own choices earlier in life.
I understand where it comes from, in part. The parental drive to protect their children has become overly evident to me in recent months, and usually it's from the best possible intentions. But parents also need to learn to let go of full custody of their children's futures. Sure, we're all bound to make mistakes, but a parental "tisk-tisk" on the choice of boyfriend or girlfriend one has has very little merit, unless the partner has some serious personality flaws all but you can see.
Naturally, where I resent it most is when it comes to accepting one's sexuality. Part of 'being who you want to be' is embracing your natural sexuality. In the case of gays, it means actually having to declare your sexual preference in a world sometimes hostile to your choices. It seems like parents seem to drag their heels particularly badly when it comes to that acceptance.
I remember when my mother basically spat at me that I had 'made my choice' to be gay. I cleared up, rather angrily, that I was who I was, and it was something that I had no control over. I didn't choose to be gay, she didn't choose to be straight...it's just the way it is. When you put it in that black and white, it seems futile to argue against it, to resist accepting the decision of the other person.
What's more irritating is how parents seem to forget that open-minded attitude. It's one thing to take a little coaxing to come around on the issue, but quite another to flat out refuse to accept it.
Even to this day, I'm not sure how 'good' my mother is with the gay thing. She never really mentions it, ever. Not that I'm expecting her to ask, "How's the anal sex thing?", but I would like to know how she's adjusting to the whole thing. I just don't understand, can't understand why there is such resistance to this particular facet of my person. I grew up with the ideals I described above, yet they flew out the window the minute I came out.
She even acknowledged it that night, how she thought of herself as such an accepting person before I told her, how all through her career she really believed in it all. And she didn't say she stopped believing in it...she just, like me, couldn't understand what the problem, the hesitation with accepting my sexuality.
"You tell her life is hard, she says, 'That's alright.'" Faith sings.
You go girl.
Everyone loves that one, that great Western ideal of choosing your life, your path. It was the driving mantra of youth since the '60's, when kids started really resisting their parents, fighting to create the life they wanted for themselves.
It really hits to the core of most contemporary culture. We are taught at the youngest ages that we should strive to reach our own goals, to aim for the moon and to do everything we can to make it happen. From Sesame Street onwards we are encouraged to be ourselves, to embrace difference and to make the best lives for ourselves possible.
Even my mother holds this ideal dear. She was listening to the radio a while ago to the song "Wild One" by Faith Hill. The lyrics roughly describe the trails of a young girl, asserting her independence from her parents by making her own choices. It touches on the hot button issues such as clothes, hair, rock music and choices in boyfriends...OK, not exactly 'controversial' topics, but things that traditionally kids and parents are at odds over, with both sides believing they are fundamentally right.
It even has the wonderful line, "Her parents' dreams went up in smoke..."
I watched as the song played. Mom's reaction was fascinating; she nodded and spoke-sang along with Faith, almost emoting a "You go girl!" smile on her face.
Pretty nice to believe that at one time my mother believed that.
But when did it change? When did the caveat get inserted, "You can be anything you want to be...as long as I approve."?
"When she was 3 years old on her daddy's knee, he said, 'You can be anything you want to be...'" That's a line, like I said, that has been drilled into the consciousness of every Western youngster. It's a basic belief of Western Liberalism, that we are all masters of our lives and indeed allowed to pursue any type of lifestyle we want to, and that's OK.
I find it infuriating when parents teach their children that ideology, then fall flat on their asses when it comes to following it through. Sure, you can squabble with your kids about how funny their hair is, and how bizarre their torn and frayed clothes are, but mostly they allow them to make their own choices.
What bothers me most is when parents have objections or really hard times in accepting what their grown children really want. Be it partners, or career paths, or even our favorite topic, sexuality, parents seem to forget that they encouraged their children to make their own choices earlier in life.
I understand where it comes from, in part. The parental drive to protect their children has become overly evident to me in recent months, and usually it's from the best possible intentions. But parents also need to learn to let go of full custody of their children's futures. Sure, we're all bound to make mistakes, but a parental "tisk-tisk" on the choice of boyfriend or girlfriend one has has very little merit, unless the partner has some serious personality flaws all but you can see.
Naturally, where I resent it most is when it comes to accepting one's sexuality. Part of 'being who you want to be' is embracing your natural sexuality. In the case of gays, it means actually having to declare your sexual preference in a world sometimes hostile to your choices. It seems like parents seem to drag their heels particularly badly when it comes to that acceptance.
I remember when my mother basically spat at me that I had 'made my choice' to be gay. I cleared up, rather angrily, that I was who I was, and it was something that I had no control over. I didn't choose to be gay, she didn't choose to be straight...it's just the way it is. When you put it in that black and white, it seems futile to argue against it, to resist accepting the decision of the other person.
What's more irritating is how parents seem to forget that open-minded attitude. It's one thing to take a little coaxing to come around on the issue, but quite another to flat out refuse to accept it.
Even to this day, I'm not sure how 'good' my mother is with the gay thing. She never really mentions it, ever. Not that I'm expecting her to ask, "How's the anal sex thing?", but I would like to know how she's adjusting to the whole thing. I just don't understand, can't understand why there is such resistance to this particular facet of my person. I grew up with the ideals I described above, yet they flew out the window the minute I came out.
She even acknowledged it that night, how she thought of herself as such an accepting person before I told her, how all through her career she really believed in it all. And she didn't say she stopped believing in it...she just, like me, couldn't understand what the problem, the hesitation with accepting my sexuality.
"You tell her life is hard, she says, 'That's alright.'" Faith sings.
You go girl.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Schoolchildren of all ages...
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.
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.
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