Happy Howloween

Perhaps it is just the child still lurking somewhere deep inside of me or the mere fact that it allows for a slight deviation from the normal pattern of life; but, no matter what holiday it happens to be, I find a need to get into the spirit and celebrate!

Sometimes it's about tradition, sometimes it's about catching up with old friends or family, and sometimes it's about throwing back a cocktail or two and dancing the night away. There's nothing wrong with an excuse to do that, now, is there? Halloween is not exception, of course. The biggest gay bar in town throws the biggest party of the year the weekend closest to the trick-or-treat bash. Even furnishes a $500 prize for the best costume. It seems that every gay man alive is either there, at a house party, or wandering belligerently drunk down our downtown streets in tight, skimpy underwear, glitter, and angel wings. There's the "Rocky Horror Picture Show," too, shown Friday and Saturday night at the theatre next door with full audience participation. Fishnets and corsets abound. It seems that even those guys that never go out, disappear from the public eye for months at a time, show up for Halloween.

But, what is it about Halloween that makes it such a party? Why does it seem that so many gay men list it number one on their favorite holiday list? Is it the makeup? The dressing up? The complete disregard for convention and laxing of behavioral rules? Is it the idea of being someone else for a night, leaving your own skin for an evening and trying on someone else's? It's like an orgy of role-playing fantasies all rolled up onto one dance floor, filled to overcapacity and busting at the seams. Pink cocktails at hand, and hands creeping down slowly towards the pink flesh of manhood. A temporary liberation of spirit, of mind, of body.

Or is it the letting go, the fear and trepidation of walking through a haunted house and being completely vulnerable to the whim of a masked teenager in the dark. The exhilaration of being trapped in a pitch black maze alone with your closest friends screaming behind you. The sudden burst of adrenaline when the chain-saw carrying man almost leaps out of the screen and you fall into the arms of your boyfriend sitting on the couch next to you.

Maybe it's just the idea of tricks and treats and gobs of candy, forgetting our figures for one night and filling our bellies with sugar and sweetness (if not something a little more savory). It is the one night we are allowed to be bad, when evil is put up on a pedestal and awed at, wicked green fingers, magic spells, ghosts. The freaks and outcasts are glorified and revered, if only for one night. At least until the sun comes up and the light of days streaks through the windows onto our lipstick stained faces, running mascara, and tattered clothing. Then it is back to reality, back to the gym for another set of crunches, back to the normalcy of life. Until another holiday hits and we can deviate for a split second again....

Of course, I missed it all again this year. I seemed to get jipped out of Halloween every year, somehow, some way. So I missed to bar party, the infamous gathering at my friends' houses, the costumes, the candy, the fun over the weekend. All so that I could sit at work all night and wish I was somewhere else. I am off tonight, though, real Halloween, although it means little for the party crowd as it is a Wednesday night and they are still recovering from Saturday. I guess I'll make a date with my sofa, the 'Great Pumpkin,' and a pumpkin full of sugar sweetness.

Happy Halloween!

May your tricks be plentiful and generous with their treats!

First Taste

I have been dreading this entry for quite some time, but I thought perhaps since this month featured a poll on first sexual experiences, that I would be open enough to recount my own first experience at the age of 18 whether it exposes my vulnerabilities or not.

The reason I have been dreading this entry, the reason I considered not including it at all, was that my first sexual experience was not exactly the most enjoyable moment of my life. It is one of those dark moments that you try to forget, that doesn't really represent who you are as a whole. It was one of those moments in which you don't quite feel like yourself.

It is sad that the culmination of years of pubescent angst and sexual yearning, years of hormonal boiling and curiosity should come to an apex in such an anticlimactic manner. I'm just glad I'm not the only one. It seems to be a common thread among a number of people I have talked to that the first time was not the most satisfying. But then again, I guess you can't exactly be perfect without some practice.

Obviously I'm stalling here. Could you tell? Well, let's get down to business. I won't bore you with all the details, but my first experience did begin in a public park (but no, I didn't have sex in that park, at least I wasn't that stupid) with a complete stranger. I don't know why I even remotely found him attractive, I don't think he even had all of his teeth. I had read books in the library about cruising at park restrooms and in the woods. As a teenager, the idea excited me. So when I saw this man parked near one of the bathrooms, walking around seemingly aimlessly, I figured that that was what he was probably doing. I don't remembering being nervous or excited or anything like that, like I said, I've tried to block it out. It sort of just happened.

What ended up occurring was that we got to talking a little, figured out each other's intentions, and he took me back to his trailer home in his broken down little blue car with a broken back window covered in black garbage bag (god it just gets worse and worse, I'm really regretting this now). Actually, I don't even think it was his trailer, I think maybe it was his mothers. Anyway, we proceeded to, well, don't even make me say it. Really, it ended up being just a jumble of awkward bodies. Lasted about half an hour or so I guess. He couldn't even keep an erection, since it seemed that he masturbated 4 or 5 times a day and had worn it out for the day. At least that's what he told me. What the hell did I know about it? I put my clothes back on and left as quickly as I could, felling sick and like I was going to vomit all over the gravel outside.

I was turned off by the whole idea of sex for a long time after that. I couldn't believe I had done such a thing with someone I didn't know at all and who I would never see again. I vaguely recall he even said he had been in jail, or was being sent to court for something...ugh, my head hurts. What could I have possible been thinking? I hated that sick feeling afterwards, and that happened a lot over the next several years. When you have been taught for so long that something is wrong, it is hard not to feel that way, and I fear that that disapproval, that nonacceptance of gay sex is what creates this culture of discretion in sex, this underworld just under the surface where anonymity and discretion feel necessary. If it were accepted as healthy and normal, there wouldn't be a need to meet people in parks or any other secret place for that matter.

I find the idea ridiculous now, meeting people in this way. I don't regret anything in my life, that first experience did serve some purpose in the overall scheme of my being; but it still makes me cringe. We all do things that make little sense in our lives. It was a rite of passage, moving from abstinent to sexually active being, but if only I could have chosen someone a little more, shall we say, appealing? I guess it's good to laugh about it though, just a little. Then let's close the book on this one and move on to more pleasant ventures.

Glory Days?

As I just happen to be browsing the channels on the television into the wee hours of the morning the other night, I came upon a documentary entitled Gay Sex in the 70’s. Naturally, my interest was peaked, so I sat and watched as half-naked men filled the screen along with stories and recounts of the glory days of gay life in New York before the days of HIV and cautious sex.

“Must have been nice,” says a dear friend as I recount the film over a telephone call. What stuck out at me from the film most prominently was the pure freedom and uninhibited abundance that surrounded sex at that time. Over and over during the hour, men admitted to sex at all hours, in all forms, anywhere and everywhere in the city from the abandoned piers or the inside of dark 18-wheelers, to the back room of clubs, public parks, or bath houses that never closed. Sex three, four, five times a day, often with complete strangers, often with several men at once. “Life was like being in a porn,” said one man. It seemed almost an obsession for some, sex came before everything else. And there was no worry, no inhibition whatsoever as everything you could possible catch was treatable. As the film states, men would take penicillin before a long weekend out on Fire Island or stop by a trusted doctor’s office whenever anything unsightly occurred. Everything was a quick fix, and he was off again to the races, often cruising in the waiting room while waiting for his shot. He may even get laid in the doctor’s office itself, by a staff member or the doctor himself. It’s just another shot, right?

Perhaps it would have been nice to have that freedom, to not worry about anything or anyone. A sex that is purely recreational, purely without consequence, and available in incredible abundance. Perhaps the essence of it is that freedom to be who you want and do what you want with whoever it suits you to do it with at that moment. Of course, we know that there were consequences, consequences that stay with us even today. It couldn’t last, and perhaps it shouldn’t have lasted. However you look at, when you indulge in anything to such a vast extent, it is gluttonous, it can become an obsession, and it can take over your life. But in the overall scheme of things, in the ever evolving history of gay men, I think that perhaps this period of pure gluttony was a necessary evil.

Perhaps I am just playing devil’s advocate here, but the idea brings up a lot of complicated issues. One man in the film stated that he felt like every young man needed such a time to explore this sense of freedom of flesh, to explore his physical sexuality. Perhaps young gay men are robbed of that today with the reality and consequences of promiscuity and drug use that was not present in the 70’s. Although, it would seem that the warnings are not heeded by many of today’s youth as I have discussed previously in this forum. One might even go so far as to state that the current generations of gay youth are still paying for the sins of our predecessors. It is hard to say.

I digress. Returning to the idea of the necessary evil, I ask you to look at it in a broader perspective. This period of free love and abundant sex (which was not purely a gay phenomenon, but shared with much of the youth of this generation) created a place in society where gay men felt comfortable, could be themselves, did what they wanted without fear of persecution or backlash. It created a community. If you were in the presence of another gay man, there was an immediate sense of brotherhood, and shared respect. One of the most memorable lines from the film involved the idea that when the AIDS crisis began, it was the gay community that stood up and fought back. “It was the first time that the people inflicted by the epidemic took control of trying to stop it.” Community is what we need in order to have a voice, in order to protect and assist each other, and if it took a decade of overabundant genital exposure, then I can’t say that it wasn’t worth it. The sad thing is that that sense of community seems to be lost on current generations, but that’s a topic for another day.

One of the men interviewed for the film relayed his experiences from that time. He had participated heavily in the promiscuous sex of the day, but relayed a deeper desire through the whole experience to find a special someone, to find ‘the one’ to share life with, to be close to. I find it a common thread among most people, whether gay or straight. It seems to be the essence of some people, from that time and now, regardless of how much sex or how many partners they have until they find it. Perhaps it would have been nice to be alive at that time, to experience such freedom and know so much flesh; but if I had to choose between that and a special someone, I’d pick the special someone every time.

Big Blond Foam Wigs

There is a wonderful old movie house here in the city where one can catch a cult classic on most Friday nights at midnight. It is one of a dwindling number of cool places to patronize in the ever-changing town of Lexington, where it seems that it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Everyone is welcome. In fact, diversity is encouraged.

On one particular Friday night, I found myself carousing with one of my closest friends. We ate, we drank, we painted the town, biding our time before show-time at the historic downtown theatre, where our eyes were about to feast on the glamour and the glitz of the rock-musical classic, “Hedwig and the Angry Inch.” There were dregs and pierced noses along side nerdy, black glasses types, along side gay and straight and a hearty college crowd. Everyone in line for popcorn and root beer, excited to see the horror and the beauty of it all on the big screen.

For those of you who don’t know, the story is rather bizarre and twisted, unlike any other. But isn’t it always that way with the true cult classics. We were informed that the writer was a Lexington resident by the theatre manager as we walked into the main viewing room, quite proud to have someone tied to the project so close. But, apparently, he is not one that you would immediately think was capable of creating such a story by mere appearance. But I imagine that writers are rarely what we expect them to be in person based on their work.

The story here involves an East-German child that is seduced by an American soldier and taken to the United States as his bride after a botched sex-change operation (that the soldier insists he have). Once in the United States, the American soldier finds a piece of fresh meat and leaves our main character behind. As the story progresses, Hedwig becomes a song-writer and falls in love with a young lad, who later steals his songs and becomes a huge pop star leaving Hedwig in the dust without any credit for his work. Hedwig forms a band of the same name as the title of the film and begins following this lad across the country, playing each city he stops in for a concert in a smaller nearby venue, fighting for credit to his work and struggling to reach this child that has left him in the dust. What is the angry inch, you ask? Well, the botched sex-change operation left poor Hedwig with a useless (and apparently angry) inch of flesh where his genital used to be. “It’s what I have to work with,” he says as his lover discovers his malfunction. Such tragedy, such drama, such classic cult style.

Why do we love them? Why are they classic? Because they are so different, because they are so unlike anything else out there. If nothing else, they prove that maybe there is someone out there more screwed up then we ourselves are. They are as unique as each one of us and take us to another place, however bizarre and surreal. Where else can we put on our big blond foam wigs and sing about deformed genitals. I couldn’t think of a better way to pass a Friday night into the wee hours of the weekend.

The Romance of American Football

While I do not claim in any form or fashion to be a fan of American football, I cannot help but awe a little at the magic that seemed to occur here last night in the Midwest town of Lexington. What I awe at is the way one single event, one stretch of hours on a single autumn afternoon can suddenly stop time, erase all differences, and unite a city in purpose and energy.

It seems that hotel rooms were very scarce here in the city last night, traffic a virtual nightmare as tens of thousands of people fell upon the campus of the University starting as early as eight yesterday morning for coffee, bacon, sausage and eggs off the back of pick-up trucks followed by lunches of beer, bratwurst, and corn-hole games. Some go just for the food, the friends, and the alcohol. The real action began at 3:30 on this afternoon, though, as a perpetually close game ran through four quarters between the best team UK has seen in years and a #1 ranked LSU football team.

“I don’t think a single fan has left the game,” came the voice of the radio announcer, “fourth biggest crown this stadium has ever seen.” Four hours into it, the game comes up tied, we’re off to overtime. The crown chants, “Go Big Blue.” Another tie, another overtime. The tension in palpable as the crowd, the home audience, the radio listeners sit poised and focused. The energy of the city suspended in this one moment, this small stretch of time, all is lost and forgotten: gay, straight, young, old, worries, troubles, arguments, disagreements, prejudices. It’s all gone for the moment as something greater takes hold of the heart of the people and demands full attention.

Finally, third overtime, “TOUCHDOWN UK,” and then a failed score attempt from LSU and the game is over. We win. Records, trends, expectations shattered and left in the cold grass. Fireworks shoot overhead, the crowd rushes the field, music plays. There is dancing, drinking, joy. It is a moment when nothing else matters, all is well, we are one as a crowd, as spectators to a great event in college sport history. As much as you may loathe the idea of sports, as casual a fan as you may be, at that moment you cannot deny the magic, cannot deny the romance of what seems to be possible, a peace in the world, a place where our individual differences mean nothing, where we are all united for a greater cause. It is the romance of a better world.

The party continues into the night, the downtown streets saturated with people. There is an air of celebration in the air that does not want to end, for in the morning, as the sun rises over the cluttered streets and parking lots littered with the remnants of ten of thousands of people, the romance slowly fades and the reality of our world returns. We pick ourselves up and do it all again next week in the hope that that magic, that romance, will begin anew.

A Question of Race...or....Racism Among Gay Men

"Have you ever gone Asian," says a voice to my right at a pristinely white tablet covered with pristinely white plates and napkins.

I do not respond. He says it a bit louder, and suddenly I'm drawn out of a moment of day dreaming. I am drawn back into the world of the living where myself and several friends are seated for an extravagant brunch after an evening of expensive cocktails and spirited dancing. I politely ask him to repeat the question as it has not registered in my brain as of yet, and then quickly answer, "yes." I am then asked to indulge them in recounting my experience, and then the conversation goes on to delve into the differences in men in the bedroom based on race. We discuss everything from African-Americans to Greek men, to Australians and Latino men. Some experiences being good and others bad, but generally, the conversation was quite interesting and actually invoked a lot of thought on the subject of race in general.

I cannot say that I ever really considered a man's race in deciding whether or not to go on a date with him, hang out with him, have sex with him, etc. It's just not something that generally enters my brain in any aspect of my life. I have been fortunate enough to have had a variety of friends of all different kinds of backgrounds from a very young age so that it doesn't even register into my consciousness that someone is different just because of the color of their skin. It is actually quite astounding that I didn't come out a little bit differently as several members of my extended family can be quite racist. It seems to be a fairly common ideology here in the Midwest with people raised in a certain generation. Nonetheless, I am glad I grew up the way I did. Ever the extreme idealist, I have continued to always try to treat everyone I meet as an equal, which in fact they are. The only exception being stupidity, you will lost points with me on that, but otherwise don't expect me to act differently or treat you any better or worse simply because you have a different background.

However, as a casual observer of the world, I have seen instances that would suggest that not every gay man is as..., let's say open-minded. It seems that there are a number of men who prefer or in fact go so far as to exclusively date one kind of man or one race of men. I realize that attraction is an innate thing. We cannot change who we are attracted to, but I find it hard to believe that such exclusivity is necessary. It seems that such filtration would weed out some of the best candidates who may in fact be right under our noses.

I have one friend who refuses to date African-American men entirely, another who generally won't give a white man the time of day, still another who tends to dwell in a Latino fantasy 90% of the time, and the list goes on. I have found that many African-American men (although I don't know that it is a majority) seem to prefer white men when cruising the Internet or out in gay bars, and quite often, Internet profiles from a number of people in general blatantly state a search for a specific race. But why is it so important? I really do not understand. No matter how you slice it, when you exclude someone because of their race, no matter what it is, isn't that racism.

Of course, when you add in the other factors that gay men use to weed out possible mate candidates, one could easily assume that as a group, we are actually quite picky, if not down right discriminating. There are men who won't date anyone above a certain age, a certain weight, who look exclusively for older men, or men with a certain income, who won't look at you twice if you associate with a certain crowd of people or hang out at certain establishments or are from a certain part of the country. You'd think that after years of being discriminated against because of our sexual orientation for so long that we would have a more enlightened outlook when choosing people to associate ourselves with.

I speak from the idealist perspective here. I realize the people have preferences, that certain things turn us on, and maybe one of those things for some people is the color of someone's skin. All I would ask is that we keep our minds open to whatever comes our way. Life is hard enough being gay, why make it harder by alienating anyone that could enrich out lives?

The Gay Sex Dictionary (continued)

To continue with our comprehensive list...

Sixty-nine (69)- both partners pleasure each other equally and at the same time. With a male and female, generally the female performs oral sex on the male, while he performs oral sex on her vaginal area. With two men, each generally performs fellatio on the other at the same time. Some find this form of sex less than satisfying as you are in the mist of working on your partner while being pleasured yourself and are not able to fully enjoy the pleasure being performed on you. Others enjoy the experience thoroughly.

Cruising- general term for looking for sex, it can occur anywhere, from the grocery store to the local gay bar, Internet, or the bathroom at the nearest home depot.

Trick- basically a one-time encounter, usually involving oral sex, mutual masterbation, etc, and sometimes, although rarely, anal sex. A trick is someone you never intend to see again.

TS- transsexual. This refers to someone who identifies with the opposite sex of that which they were born. Most often, when using this term, the individual has undergone surgery to become the opposite sex, or is in the process of doing so with hormone treatments, etc.

TV- transvestite, drag-queen. This refers to a person that dresses like the opposite sex. They do not necessarily have any intentions of becoming or identify with the opposite sex.

Transgendered- refers to anyone with gender identity issues, including TV, TS, and Intersex individuals.

Intersex- a person who is born with physical or physiological abnormalities and whose genitals may not directly link them to either gender. Their physical being is often sexually ambiguous.

Handjob- sometimes referred to as mutual masturbation, although reciprocation is not always present. Fairly self explanatory, one partner pleasures the other's genitals with his hands.

DD free- Internet lingo for drug and disease free. Generally means he's claiming to be free of STD's and doesn't use drugs.

Nipple play- yes ladies, men are sensitive there, too. It can range from simple touching and rubbing of the nipples to rougher forms of biting, clamping, etc. I've known several men that when touched there, they became instantly aroused, even with only minor touching.

Prince Albert- refers to a common type of penile piercing.

Water sports- sounds innocent enough, but actually involves sexually pleasing someone by urinating on them (or even in them). I knew a friend who went into a bar in England where a man lay in a bathtub in the restroom where gentleman could come in and urinate on him. personally, I don't understand the appeal.

Steamer- (as long as we're getting dirty, might as well go all the way). This practice involves lying down with plastic wrap over the face and allowing someone to stand over you and defecate onto the plastic wrap, thus creating 'steam.' Apparently there are boutiques in New York where you can pay to have this done.

Dirty Sanchez- This one is rather humorous, although rather disgusting as well. It involves doggy-style anal sex in which there may be a little bit of a mess (don't make me spell it out for you), getting it on your finger, and then rubbing it across your partner's (the bottom's) upper lip like a mustaches as you are giving it to him from behind.

Cement- refers to ejaculate (cum) that has been ejaculated into the rectum during anal sex. Physically harmless, but often a little messy when coming back out.

Pig Play- refers to 'dirty' sex. Generally it is sweaty, raunchy, sometimes downright nasty. Can involve water sports, fecal matter, etc.

Douching or enemas-not just for women, there are rather elaborate devices available on the Internet or at your local adult bookstore for the cleansing of the private areas. Of course, with men, it involves cleaning the rectum/anal area. Some even find the process rather sexually arousing. Water or other liquids are inserted into the bodies cavities and the ejected back out to cleanse the desired area. The general purpose is to prevent any unsavory accident from happening during the sex act.

Glory-hole- generally it refers any hole that a man's genitals can fit through for someone to pleasure on the other side. This is the epitome of anonymous sex as you may never see your partner during the act. They can be anywhere, but most often are found between stalls in public restrooms, adult bookstore video booths, or gay bathhouses.

Gay-for-pay- refers to a male porn star who has gay sex for money on camera, but is actually straight in real life.

LGBT- Standing for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgendered, this abbreviation is often used to represent the Gay community in general.

Poz- abbreviation for someone who is HIV positive. Often used in Internet profiles.

Voyeurism- refers to getting sexually aroused by watching someone else naked or having sex, usually without that person/people knowing. Sort of a peeping-Tom phenomenon.

Exhibitionism- refers to getting sexually aroused by exposing one's genitals to others, often in public.

Power Bottom- may seem like an oxmoron, as a bottom is usually submissive during the sexual act, but they are out there. A power bottom takes control of the sex act, often inserting his partners member into himself and taking control of the pace and position of the sex act. Basically, a dominant bottom.

Well, that's all I can think of at the moment, if any term comes up that you do not know the meaning of, just ask, I'll do my best to clarify.

The Gay Sex Dictionary

Feeling a bit Frivolous today, I thought perhaps we'd review a few terms and practices that not everyone may be familiar with, trying to focus the list on the practices of gay men (although most would generally apply to anyone). I know we've clarified a few things on this blog in previous entries, but perhaps a comprehensive list would be more productive for past and future reference if in fact I use some word or term that is unfamiliar with some of our readers. The list may range from tame to downright vulgar, but we might as well put it all out there, provide a little education whether it's pretty or not.

Fellatio- i.e. blow job, oral sex, sucking cock, giving head, etc. A mouth, a penis, you get the idea. Just remember, it's not a straw.

Rimming- licking, tonguing, sucking, or generally arousing a partner's anal opening with your mouth. If you're going to do it or have it done to you, for goodness sakes be clean down there!

Vanilla sex- there are a few different interpretations of this one. For most gay men it means having sex but not going "all the way" (i.e. anything but anal sex). Nothing kinky or extravagant, it's the basics of arousing each other.

Fisting- the practice of inserting one's fist into his partner's rectum. One thing I have no intention of ever trying and find hard to believe that anyone truly enjoys. But to each his own. They even sell plastic versions, like dildos, for personal pleasure.

Dildo- they come in all shapes in sizes, some vibrate, some don't, some have two or three heads for group action. They are generally made of plastic or glass and are shaped and sized like a penis for pleasuring oneself or a partner. They are the anchor to any good sex-toy collection.

Fetish- technically, to be a fetish, one can only be able to get off (to cum or ejaculate) when in the presence of said object or scenario. Without it, arousal is impossible. A lot of people call things fetishes, but they may just simply be something that turns him on but may not be completely necessary for arousal. They can range from things like socks, underwear, or shoes, to being tied up, being choked, or simply being outside. The list ranges from the very mild to the absolute bizarre. I've mentioned this before, but the most unusual one I ever head was haircuts.

Cum- ejaculate, sperm, jiz, cream, whatever you want to call it, it can be a mess if you're not careful.

Top- the insertive partner, whether it be into his partner's mouth or rear end.

Bottom- the receiving partner in either oral or anal intercourse.

Intercrural sex- there is no insertion, but rather the 'top' thrusts his penis between the other man's thighs. Kind of a mock way of having sex. Tends to be more pleasurable for the top if done properly. May be safer as it is a non-penetrative form of sex.

S&M- or slave and master. May be considered a fetish, but generally one partner takes control of the situation and the other does whatever he is told to do. Often involves whips, chains, blind folds, ball gags, nipple clamps, leather, elaborate scenarios, and sometimes pain.

Fucking- anal sex, corn-holing, 'going all the way.' Many gay men consider this real gay sex, everything else being simply foreplay.

Foreplay- everything from kissing to rubbing to dirty talk. It's the stuff that gets you aroused before the main event.

PNP- usually this is an abbreviation seen on internet profiles. It means party-and-play. Which generally means he wants to smoke a little weed (or participate in some other drug activity) before getting your clothes off.

Frot- the rubbing of two penises together. Often when to men face each other, it happens naturally or one will take both members into his hand at once and rub them together.

Tea-room- generally a public restroom or other meeting place where men meet for anonymous sex.

Tea bagging- placing of the scrotum into another's face.

Well, it seems there are more than I thought, so we will have to continue this into the next entry.

All Bark and No Balls

I do not know why exactly I have been reminded of this the last day or so, but I feel the need to express one of my greatest pet peeves today, one of the very few things in life that makes me so irate that I can't hardly see straight. I am not generally one of those people that gets truly angry or even raises his voice more than a couple of times a year or so; but, when it does hit, it can be bad. Nearly 100% of the time, it has something to do with someone I know either flat out lying, withholding the truth, or saying something that he or she has no intention of following through with.

I realize that it is human nature to keep certain things private, to tell little white lies either to cover something up or to keep the peace, to fain excitement or interest when there is none there simply to be polite. Things like "let's catch a movie" and not seeing him for 2 months and never catching that movie. "Let's go on a cruise to the Mediterranean." "I'll call you, we'll go to dinner next week." "Yes, your dress is beautiful, very slimming." It happens everyday. No harm, no foul. We do it to friends, family, and acquaintances alike. It is expected, and because it expected, these things don't bother me so much. Especially with people I don't know very well. We sit at home sometimes and wonder why he didn't call, or why she doesn't want to come over; but really, in the end, it is all very simple. People do want they want. We are selfish in this way. We make decisions about what to do and who to associate ourselves with everyday. We choose to be at this place a this time, we choose to go on this date, we choose to call this person back, and we sacrifice other options in the process. In the end, it seems we choose the most personally appealing options, often at the expense of other people.

These are natural life processes. Decisions have to be made, and something will almost always be left out of the equation. No one can be blamed for that. People enter and leave our lives everyday and we think little of it. A certain points in our lives we choose companions and friends and grow close to them, making that series of decisions that leads to genuine human bonds. The rest just falls to the wayside.

My problem with this is that if we take it too far and become so engrossed in ourselves, so caught up in our own lives the way it seems so many have done in these United States, that life becomes so shallow as to have no meaning at all. We close ourselves off to new experiences and new people so much that our lives become encased in a netting of laziness and complacency. Sometimes we even close ourselves off to love. It is in this regard that I become so irate with the issue. When you are dealing with an emotion as strong and eternally complicated as love, I find it very difficult to put up with anyone who doesn't have the balls to follow through with what they say. I can deal with a friend who never calls to go to that movie. What I can't deal with is a lover (or potential lover) saying the L word without knowing for sure or thinking about the consequences.

In the last few years, I have developed a new perspective on life. I try not to say anything that I do not mean, and I try to follow through with every promise I make. It is a different lifestyle. If there's a show or a concert I want to see, I'll go to it if at all possible even if I have to go by myself. If I tell you we'll have dinner that week, be rest assured that I will call you about it. If I say I want to go to the other side of the world, I am going to do my damnedest to make it happen. If I don't have any intention of doing something, I won't say that I am going to. I don't expect everyone to be that way, but if you are going to be my partner in life, if we are going to embark on a journey or love and companionship, then I generally have to insist on it. If I say that word, if I open my heart to you in that way and put myself in that vulnerable position, then you can be sure that I mean it. If you say it back, you better mean it to. And no, you can't take it back. You can't decide a month later that you made a mistake and try to take it back. You can't decide that you are suddenly not ready, because in that regard, you have presented yourself to your partner in a false way. You have portrayed a false sense of yourself if you were not sure of your love, if you weren't sure of the relationship. And in that way, you hurt not only your partner, but yourself by wasting the time and energy it takes to stay in a relationship.

Call it leading someone on, call it flat out lying, call it placating for the temporary pleasures of sex. We all use those little lines, those cute romantic phrases and compliments that make our partners feel good. I am not naive in this regard. I just have a major problem with someone who portrays a desire for something real, something more than a fling and then suddenly turns his back and deciding that either the time or the person isn't right.

It's about barking the word Love so loud it rings in the ears for hours, but not having the balls to take it, embrace it, to follow through on a heart's promise. This is what makes me angry. I will say the word when I mean it, when I feel it in my heart; but when I do, I'll be damned sure that I am ready to follow that path and live with the consequences. But isn't that what love is supposed to be about. Isn't love supposed to be about caring for someone else so much that you put them first? In that way, it is by design not selfish and therefore demands something more than the superficial existence created by doing what you want and seeing who you want all the time. Maybe that is too difficult for most people. But if it is, then maybe most people are incapable of true love.

Everything decision has a consequence. What makes me angry is when a person fails to look at those consequences before putting someone else's heart in jeopardy. Bark all you want. I can handle it. Just have the balls to follow through.

The Conglomeration of Past and Present

One of the most important things that makes each of us unique in this world is our completely individual and unreplicatable set of life experiences. No matter our place of birth, race, gender, sexual orientation, or religion, there is no one in the world that has lived exactly the same way and with the same complete perspective as you have. Siblings can come pretty close, but even with that, there are differences created simply with birth order if not by outside influences. Even identical twins are going to have some unique experiences that shape them in a different way then their genetic counterpart. It is the sum of all these experiences: relationships, interactions, life events, along with our genetic make-up that makes us who we are today.

What is the point here? Well, the same is true in the realm of love and all that goes with love: loss, joy, pain, fulfillment. Our capacity for love and our current view of relationships is a conglomeration of what we've experienced in the past, what we've seen others go through and what is right in front of us, the experiences that we are currently embarking on. We cannot mature and grow without experience, without loss and hurt and pain along with elation, joy, and romance. It is what makes us better people and ready for our current loves. It defines who we are in our current and future relationships. No matter how much of clean start we may try to make, our present will always be riddled with remnants of our past.

I have no regrets in life. I have to believe that everything we go through is for a reason and will lead me on my next journey and onto better things, even if the reason is not readily apparent at the time. I have made many mistakes in love, pushed too hard, not pushed hard enough, let things go that I shouldn't have, stayed too long, gave up too soon. I've been hurt, heart broken, lonely, unable to immediately put the pieces back together. But still, there are no regrets, because each interaction provided a lesson in some form or another, helped teach me who I am and what I want in life and in love. Without each and every past lover, boyfriend, trick, or experiment, I would be a different whole being today. It is the reason I carry parts of my past with me, to remind me of what not to repeat and what good thing to strive for in the future.

I admit that sometimes I get bogged down in recalling bad memories, in focusing more on what I have lost in my life rather than the abundance of blessings I should be eternally thankful for. The challenge is keeping the past behind us while still using it as the tool it should be in ever fine tuning our futures. Only in the past few months have I begun to feel more like myself, to feel more like a strong and stable individual after a long series of unfortunate events and general unrest. I am at the epilogue in the story of the past year and half of my life, at a point where I can look back and truly objectively look at what has happened without being too emotionally involved in it. It is now that I can truly learn and move on with good people beside me and healthy relationships intact.

It is that sum of what I have gone through, what I have learned along my journey that makes me who I am and makes me capable of loving another in a healthy and productive way. It is what makes me unique. It is why I am capable of truly appreciating the good times and knowing that the bad times will not last forever. It is what gives me the strength and the courage to continue on this journey, this never ending classroom called life.

A Razor and a Bar of Soap

I was riding in the car this past weekend with several friends. We were trying to find a happening place to spend the evening; and, upon discovering none that provided any satisfaction, our conversation invariably led to some rather interesting subjects. Seems to be the case time and time again when outside stimulation wanes; we find our own entertainment in revealing conversation.

I found this particular conversation rather amusing, as our thoughts and words somehow (I really don’t know how) led to the topic of personal hygiene and grooming. It was a mixed group, male and female, but it seemed we all agreed on several key points. However, I wonder if there is a certain etiquette or unspoken standard we go by these days in regard to personal grooming. What is preferred and what is considered acceptable?

We all agreed, with much laughter, that ball hair is disgusting. It seems even straight guys are shaving their scrotums these days, as the girls in our group proclaimed their refusal to go down on the guy or play with his balls if he’s got the little squigglies going on on his sac. I tend to agree. I’m sure there’s a few out there that wouldn’t mind a little fur, maybe even think it was manly; but more often than not, I’m finding that people would rather it not be there these days. When you have to pull a hair out from between your teeth, it tends to ruin the mood a little. And hygiene is a key as well. “A Sweaty ball sac has a smell like no other,” and it isn’t appealing. Hell if I wanted something with an odor, I’d go straight for the tuna taco. (Although, one of my straight friends insists that a women’s private parts don’t really smell like fish. I’ll have to take his word for it).

As far as the rest of it goes, I agreed with my friends that there should be some grooming in the general pubic area. Heck, girls seem to go to great lengths to properly groom; and it seems there a hundred ways to do it, from shaving to full on Brazilian waxes. I’m glad that waxing hasn’t become popular for men down there, though. Eeek. I don’t think that completely removing the hair is really all that attractive on a man, though. Unless your into really, really, young, say illegal young men. I did it once (the shaving, not the illegal young man). I looked like a prepubescent fool. There should be something there at least to signify that you’re at a an age capable of growing something down there.

I was walking back from getting my mail the other day, saw what seemed to be a straight man with the smoothest legs I’ve seen in years. They had to be shaved. I found it unnatural. Unless you’re training for the summer Olympics in the backstroke or butterfly or you have a genetic inability to grown hair at all, you should leave it. At least in my opinion. It seems that hairless chests and shaved pits are becoming more popular as well. I never minded a little hair on the chest, although, the pits should be kept to a reasonable length. I’d prefer not to notice it while you’re arms are down, bushing out like an out of control fur-ball under there.

As far as hygiene is concerned, cleanliness is an absolute key. If a man is dirty, forget it. Ok, I’ll admit it, every once in a long while the moment will hit and be so strong that there’s no time to clean up, you just have to go for it, sweaty as you may be; but for the most part, I’d like to know that you take care of yourself and shower daily, if not more often than that. Cologne is a good thing, too. Sometimes I wonder if in fact the industry is supported solely by gay men and women buying scents for their fellows. I’ve never met a straight-man cologne whore. Actually, I’ve never met a straight man that had more than two scents in his collection. On the other hand, most gay men I know can recognize at least half a dozen scents and have several at home for various occasions.

Of course, I could ramble on for hours about the ins and outs of cleanliness and personal grooming. Everyone you talk to is going to have a different taste, a different preference. It’s just like hair styles and fashionable shoes. At least it seems that the word is getting out there: take care of yourself, not just for you, but your partner as well.