Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Notes from two realities



So... my report on last night's date:

Last night was the worst date ever. FHBG, when he eventually turned up, was nothing like his pictures... and he had the audacity to suggest that my picture put me in a good light! The conversation was boring and stilted, as if we were both going through the motions and secretly thinking about something more interesting, like our tax returns. When we parted barely an hour after we met, we saw me off with, "Well, I guess I'll see you around," which is quite possibly the lamest thing one can say after a bad date. What a boorish, unattractive, unpleasant man, I thought. I am lucky to be rid of him.

Or at least that's how the date went in a parallel universe in which my life is a lot simpler.

The TRUTH is that the date was wonderful. Besides being smokin' hot, FHBG is also a delightful person. Within ten minutes of meeting we were bantering back and forth like old friends. I felt comfortable enough to ask him about bisexuality, and it seems that he really is genuinely sexually attracted to both genders. His gay friends tell him that he's wrong and just in denial, but to me that's the equivalent of Westboro Baptists telling them that they've made a lifestyle choice to be gay. FHBG's personal experience is the best measure of who he is and how he feels, and it's a little patronising to make blanket judgements from outside.

We chatted about life and work, bitched about gaydar and the freaky men within, and discovered a mutual devotion to martinis. And over the course of the evening there was a definite, and mutual, increase in flirting and attraction. After coffee we walked to another cafe and had some food, then I walked him back to his car, and got him to give me a lift back to mine.

Then I gave him a flash of the old GTR charm and demanded that he prove to me that he really was interested in men as well as women.

So we kissed, and it was the sort of rough, fierce, passionate kiss that left us both gasping. I'd forgotten how good it can be to kiss a guy who knows what he's doing. He dragged me into the crook of his shoulder, so that his bicep was pressed into the back of my head, while his hands stroked my shoulder, arm and my thigh. I ran my fingers through his hair and caressed the line of his jaw, and teased the hairs at the hollow of his throat. We kissed so hard and so long that my lips are still chafed. And when we pulled back and gazed into each other's eyes, it was pretty clear that we were both buzzing with the same thought: we need to fuck, at length, as soon as humanly possible.

If we'd been anywhere near a bed, rather than in his cramped Toyota, we probably would have gone for it then and there. As it is we'll just have to see how our schedules align.

So there you have it. A month ago I was aching with lonliness. Now suddenly I have two sweet, good-natured men stepping into my life, one who makes my head spin and my heart yearn, and one who makes me weak at the knees. I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Why now? Why not three months ago? DAMN IT!



Like an irritating older sibling, my life seems to be intent on teasing me to breaking point.

I spent yesterday getting gradually more and more wound up about KCG. He hadn't communicated with me other than a couple of texts on Saturday morning, even after I emailed him on Sunday afternoon. We've established that I really like him, and the thought that he might be ambivalent about me fills me with pain and dread. Having glimpsed what it might be like to know someone I really care about, I was becoming not so much "interested" as "obsessed".

Clearly I am high maintenance and do not deserve human relationships. And I'm nuts. But you've probably already worked that out.

So when I left my office and went home I looked for distractions. I did some hard digging work in my garden until it got too dark, then went on gaydar for a while. I noticed that a guy I'd looked at a while ago had tagged me as "nice". I messaged him to say thanks and to return the compliment, since he was, not to put too fine a point on it, hot. Before I knew it he was asking me out.

I actually messaged him back saying, "Really? I'm not sure I'm your type." But even after I sent him a clearer picture of what I look like, and stressed that any meeting we had definitely wasn't going to segue into a hook up, he was still keen. So we're meeting at a local cafe this evening.

If KCG is the Kinda Cute Guy, then I think this man will have to be FHBG... Frankly Hot Bi Guy. That's one of the reasons why I'm interested in meeting him. I don't think I've ever met a genuine bisexual before, and I'm intrigued to know how it works. Scientific studies have suggested that true bisexuality is extremely rare, so I'd like to know how he identifies as such. There's nothing like the spirit of scientific enquiry... mixed with the appeal of rugged good looks, a charming smile and a tasty body.

So, mission accomplished - I spent very little time last night thinking about KCG. And naturally within a couple of hours of setting up a date with FHBG, KCG had sent me not one but two emails, including an adorable in-joke photo that more or less melted my heart. Then two more messages this morning.

DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!

I have to remind myself that seeing FHBG tonight doesn't mean anything. KCG and I are nothing more than new friends right now. FHBG might not show up. He may show up, take one look at me and suddenly remember that he needs to be somewhere else. Or he may be a complete asshole. And it'll probably do me good to have my attention divided for a day or two, as we've already seen how crazy I get when it's focused on one person.

But if FHBG turns out to be a nice guy? Well, let's just say that it would be outrageously cruel of Fate to introduce me to a guy who appeals to my mind and my heart, then go and throw me a different guy who appeals to a somewhat lower part of my anatomy.

Still, on the bright side, I don't seem to be lonely any more.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Gays v Homosexuals: only one of them has "sex" in it



Some time ago I came across this fascinating infographic representing responses to the question of whether homosexuals should be allowed to serve in the US military.



As you can see, when the term "homosexuals" was used, the Strongly Opposed was more than 50% higher than when the term "gay men and lesbians" was used. Similarly, the Strongly Favor vote was considerably higher when "homosexuals" was replaced with "gay men and lesbians". Apparently people don't like homosexuals being in the miliary, but they have less of a problem with gays.

It's an interesting quirk, showing just how much good marketing can affect prejudices in the community. In the popular imagination, "Gays" are the fun, fabulous creatures you see on sitcoms and romcoms, spouting bitchy one-liners and helping straight girls choose a new outfit in a montage sequence. "Homosexuals" are the creepy old men who stare too long at your teenaged son at the beach. It's as if "Gay" is the spicy fashionable image, while "Homosexual" is the icky unfashionable reality.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Loving the way he makes me feel about myself



The Kinda Cute Guy and I had our second ‘date’ last night, starting at a bar and ending up later in the evening at a cafĂ©. I say ‘date’ in inverted commas because romance is not officially on our agenda – we’re just gay guys looking to expand our social horizons and find a new friend. Officially.

Our first “date” lasted three hours and had several awkward pauses. The second “date” lasted six hours and flowed pretty smoothly (especially after we’d packed away a couple of martinis). And I’m pretty sure I didn’t imagine the faintest thrum of sexual tension between us.

Naturally I’m delighted by all this. He really is wonderful. He’s cheery and thoughtful and intelligent, good-hearted and generous, and… well, kinda cute. I recall at one point, fairly late in the evening, he was telling me something and I wasn't paying a blind bit of attention because I was gazing into his eyes and noticing how they seemed to sparkle, and how the day’s worth of stubble he wore gave him a little hint of grrrrr that he hadn’t had the previous time.

Later as we walked back to our cars I had a strong urge to put my arm around him. Not to initiate some sort of sexual activity, or to lay some claim to him, or to affect some sort of “buddy” thing. I just wanted to have a sense of physical contact with someone who was touching me in an intellectual and emotional sense.

But I resisted, because I don’t want to screw this up. Instead we said our goodbyes and agreed to meet up again in the middle of next week.

He’s like no other guy I’ve ever met, and more importantly, he makes me feel like I’ve never felt before. He fills my mind with possibilities and potential, and makes me feel as if good things might happen. So I hope he genuinely likes me, because I’m sure as hell falling for him.

But I’m mindful of the pivotal line in ‘There’s Something About Mary’: “You don’t love her. You just love the way she makes you feel about yourself.” And I worry that this is exactly what I’m projecting onto Kinda Cute Guy.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

When the milestones are all blank



I'm sure I'm not the first person to wonder what effect the lack of romantic milestones in gay life has on gay people.

This has come to my mind because of the Kinda Cute Guy mentioned in the last post. He recently broke up with his partner of two years and, as a result, had to move out of his ex's house. There's no messy divorce because there wasn't a marriage to begin with. Unlike a married couple, with their shared bank accounts and shared ownership of everything, the breakup appears to have been no more complicated than a couple of housemates going their separate ways.

I'm full of questions that are not, at this stage, appropriate to ask. How did he decide when it was right to move in? What was the goal? How did it even work? Was he just some sort of sexual houseguest? But it never occurs to me to ask these questions of my straight married friends, because it's perfectly obvious how it will all work. They are following a clear and ancient script.

Consider the milestones in straight romance. First date, first kiss, first girlfriend, school balls, meeting the parents, engagement and engagement rings, wedding, marriage, anniversaries, pregnancy, first child. Cuddling up in the cinema. Sending flowers to her workplace. The lazy or unimaginative man can virtually sleepwalk through the whole thing and still have a pretty good idea of where he stands.

Now consider the milestones in gay romance. There aren't many. Instead there's an ongoing, amorphous sense of something contrary to social expectation. There are no engagement rings and no pregnancies. Things like anniversaries are arbitrary, and "weddings" are hollow. School balls are sociopolitical minefields. Meeting the parents or cuddling in the cinema could end in a beatdown. If a girl flirts with a hot guy on the bus the worst she can expect is rejection: if a guy does it, he could get the shit kicked out of him. Even the language rebels against gay romance: the equivalents of "wife" or "fiance" sound trite and feeble. "Hello, I'm Dale, and this is my life partner Sean." Ugh.

Even in these enlightened times, there isn't the sheer weight of historical tradition, or the vast numbers of participants, to guide gay men through romantic activities. If there are gay rites of passage, they remain underground, largely ignored by mainstream culture. Gay boys don't learn the romantic rites of passage from their parents, or TV, or pop songs, or advertising, or architecture, or cliches, or greeting cards, or (ironically) fairy stories. If they are lead (rather than finding their own way), it'll be at the instruction of an older gay man whose intentions probably aren't entirely altruisitic.

This lack of deep, old, unspoken example makes life difficult. For example, there's a difference between telling your mother that you're enagaged to a wonderful girl and telling her that you've decided to commit to your boyfriend. One fits perfectly with the accepted narrative. The other is a forced fit: a gear that doesn't quite mesh. Even the most accepting mother in the world will find her delight muted, if only because she has to mentally rein herself in before sharing the good news with her friends and colleagues. However happy she is, somewhere underneath, it's not quite the RIGHT thing to happen.

It seems that gay men travel a road with few signposts, and have few shared understandings other than those based in sexual attraction. Simple things like taking your date a bouquet of flowers aren't a given as they are in the straight world. EVERY SINGLE THING needs to be appraised, negotiated, assessed... not just once, but every time you encounter someone new.

It's exhausting, but it appears to be unavoidable.

Friday, September 17, 2010

The Brioche Potential

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