Me love your kitchen long time

On Saturday afternoon I had a brief date with a guy who contacted me on Manhunt. He's a recently graduated student and part time chef, only 25 years old, and another Chinese Malaysian - it seems I'm a magnet for them.

It was interesting that I was only the second guy he'd ever met from online dating, and the first he'd seen on a proper, meeting-each-in-a-bar kind of date. He was very nervous at first, but he quickly relaxed and we chatted over drinks for an hour or so before I had to go to another appointment.

It's also interesting that all of the Chinese Malaysian guys I've met have been into older caucasian men. The Virtuoso admitted that it's a subconscious cultural thing - bagging an older white man to be your sugar daddy is a potent status symbol. Even if you earn more than he does and expect nothing monetary from him, it still has an image of prestige.

But while it was subconscious with The Virtuoso, with the 25 year old it was explicit. He admitted that he'd be absolutely fine with being a mail order bride. Give me a big gourmet kitchen, he said, and I'm yours. I laughed... but he stressed that he was serious.

I'm not interested in him - he's a total bottom, he uses more drugs than I'm comfortable with, and he's not terribly attractive - but I'm planning to invite him along to some gay social things I'm involved in because he doesn't have many gay outlets. And hey, these things are usually full of older white men who lick their lips at the thought of an eager 25 year old. I'll be doing both parties a favour.

A big fat fish in a small gay pond

It's a little odd that although I've known the Human Dynamo for more than a year now - attending his parties, giving and receiving personal advice and support, going on holiday together - I've never met his ex, despite the fact that they're both still prominent in each others' lives. Neither has KCG, for that matter. There's now even a running gag between us that his ex is a figment of his imagination, created to make him less lonely during the many years of their so-called "relationship". There is, after all, nothing other than his anecdotes to prove that this man exists.

HD and his ex were together for eight years (which is the equivalent of about four and a half centuries in gay relationship years). From what little I know about their eventual parting of ways, it was somewhat mutual but more driven by the ex. And although HD swears that there was nothing going on prior to the breakup, it seems a little odd that within two months his ex was living with a piece of fluff half his age.

In a cosmic irony, the piece of fluff recently dumped the ex just as HD took up with his new boyfriend. The ex is thus gone from being a partnered man on good terms with his single ex to being a single man on good terms with his partnered ex. The shoe is, as they say, on the other foot.

The reason why I am mentioning this now is because OKCupid, in its infinite algorythmic wisdom, has decided that HD's ex and I are a great match, and told us both so with the eagerness of a meddling aunt matchmaking as if her life depended on it.

Beyond the fact that it made this match while HD was showing his ex how to use OKCupid - and so he knows all about it - it's also shown me some flaws in OKCupid's idea of matching. HD's ex is a militant atheist, a strict vegetarian, and a Greens voter... three things I am decidedly not. I mean, kudos to OKCupid for trying to keep my hopes up in a small, shallow pool of possible men, but that's just ridiculous.

And now a ruling on human sexuality from those who don't live in the real world.

The internet (or at least the pink, sequined, Liza-worshipping portions of the internet) has been atwitter over the last few days about Cynthia Nixon, and comments she has made about her decision to become gay.

Cynthia doesn't understand why her "choosing" to be gay is an issue. Which suggests that she is living in a rather privileged bubble.

There are at least four problems with her position:

1. If one can choose to be gay, then logically one must also be able to choose NOT to be gay. If this were true, with so many people desperately wanting not to be gay - to the point of suicide - you'd think that at least some of them might have noticed.

2. She doesn't seem to realise that she is trivialising a factor in some people's lives that has made them the brunt of hatred and rejection.

3. In making this statement, she is siding with the Marcus Bachmanns of this world. If sexuality is a choice, it stands to reason that "praying the gay away" is a valid course of action, if one wishes to do it.

4. She's also playing right into the mindset that homosexuality is something that people DO, not something that people just ARE.

Her counter-argument, and that of her enablers, is that we should be "allowed" to "have" whatever sexuality we want. The idea that we are biological victims of our sexuality allows us to function, to an extent, within existing moral frameworks, whereas she argues that those moral frameworks should be dismantled entirely. But let's face it, outside of her elite NYC and LA enclaves, that ain't gonna happen. Besides which, traditional moral frameworks exist for a reason, and dismantling them on a society-wide scale will have unwelcome and harmful outcomes that I guarantee Cynthia and her supporters haven't considered.

But beyond all of that, the simple truth, of course, is that she is wrong. She can no more become gay than she can become black. If she started listening to gangsta rap, got hair extensions and talon-like acrylic nails, subscribed to the Black Entertainment Television Network and started speaking Ebonics... that wouldn't make her black. She'd simply be living a (rather offensively stereotyped) black lifestyle. Similarly if she has sex with women, goes to Pride marches, buys a motorbike and starts baking her own organic bread, that won't make her a lesbian. It'll just make her more annoying.

Frequently Asinine Questions

As part of an eventual coming out strategy, I've created a FAQ about being gay which attempts to answer most of the questions that people will have. The plan is to put it online and then refer people to it, so that I don't have to keep explaining the same things over and over again. The questions I've anticipated range from the salient, like, "How long have you known you were gay?" to the dumbass, like "Have you tried not being gay?".

But after I discussed the concept with another closeted friend, he suggested a whole bunch of other questions that I hadn't anticipated but which he has heard. Questions like, "Does this mean you want to be a woman?" and "So you like little boys, then?"

These questions are imbecilic, to put it mildly. And yet they demonstrate the vast gulf that separates some heterosexuals from homosexuals. Homosexuality is so bafflingly contrary to the core drives of many heterosexuals, and so unnecessary for them to research as part of their ordinary lives, that they harbour beliefs and opinions about it that are stunningly ignorant.

For example, the idea that transexuality, paedophilia and homosexuality are linked in many people's minds demonstrates that they lump any sexual behaviour separate from the heterosexual norm in a single category: that of "Being A Pervert". In this mindset, being sexually attracted to men, wanting to be a woman and molesting little boys are all different manifestations of the same abberent thing. And because they never have to deal with it themselves (unless a close friend or family member comes out), they are never challenged on their assumptions.

On the other side of the equation, it's also easy for me to forget that I've been traveling down a certain path for the last few years, and not only have my friends and family not joined me on that path, but they're scarcely aware that the path even exists. In extreme cases, coming out to them would be like lobbing an eight year old who'd never been to school into the third grade and expecting him to suddenly understand arithmatic, spelling and state capitals.

Been there, done him.

Following the failure with the South American, I organised a date last Monday with another guy on Gaydar. We had drinks for a couple of hours after work at a cool city bar. On Friday we met up again, this time at a suburban pub, then had dinner at a nice little restaurant, followed by gelati at a corner cafe and a mild evening stroll. When I walked him back to his car I could tell that he wanted to kiss me, but the street was surprisingly crowded so we simply said our goodbyes.

For the third date, last night, I invited this guy over to my house for dinner and a DVD, a scenario in which there would be no surprising crowds. Dinner went well, and the DVD was good. The implicit negotiation about how far we were going to go danced its way through the conversation. Eventually he asked me questions about my favoured choice of underwear, questions that could really only be answered by showing them off. And once you've shown a man your underwear, there's really no going back.

It wasn't the worst sex I've ever had, nor the best. Normally when I have sex with a guy there's a lot of eroticism: kissing, exploring with fingers and tongues, nibbles and strokes. With this guy, it was very functional. Nothing we did seemed to be about the pleasure of two people heated with desire for each other, but rather actions in the service of getting off. It was a process rather than an encounter.

Which may give the impression that the sex was bad or brusque, but this was not the case. His favourite sex position is on his back with his partner straddling him, a position I'd never tried before, and I found it intensely enjoyable, so much so that I came all over his chest while he was hard inside me. I came, then he came, then we chatted for a while before going to sleep. In the morning he seemed almost surprised when I kissed him and indicated that I was more than willing to go again. After a couple of other positions, he fucked me bent over the edge of the bed and came across my back. Then I had a shower, he had a shower, we got dressed, I made him breakfast, we went our separate ways and I got to work only 15 minutes later than normal.

At this point it's pretty certain that I'll see him again. And yet, despite all of my moaning about the lack of men in my life, I don't feel excited by this knowledge. It's one of those "it all looks good on paper" situations. We're about the same age, same weight, same height and in the same League. He's a top and I'm a bottom. He's enjoyable company and we hold many of the same values and priorities in life. But there's no instant sense of connection.

Perhaps the most profound issue is that I get the impression that he's a bit jaded. He's done threeways and fourways, beats and beaches, sex trains and saunas, one hour stands and Long Term Relationships: he's seen it all. While there were things about me he liked and things we did that he enjoyed, there was nothing new or special going on.

I hate being right.

Well, I guess I'm right and my friends are wrong: there are leagues, and my date last Monday was out of mine. I texted the South American yesterday to confirm plans for tonight, and around four hours later he texted to apologise that he just couldn't do "this date thing", but thanking me for a nice time last week. It seems he's still in NSA mode and he didn't see anything in me to make him want to change that.

I was half expecting this so I wasn't devastated. In fact I genuinely appreciated his honesty - most guys just mutter something about being really busy, keeping you in a holding pattern of uncertainty until you eventually come to your own conclusion that they aren't interested. But the South American respected me enough to give it to me straight, and I'm grateful for that.

The good news is that I went back on Manhunt and Gaydar and within a few hours had lined up a different date for tonight. A different, more league-appropriate date, as far as I can tell from the pictures. I also chatted with a hot but flaky 34 year old and a lonely 23 year old. So even if I'm not having much success, at least there's interest around.

The theory of being able to do better.

I went out for coffee last night with The Human Dynamo and KCG, and during the course of our conversation I said to them, "So, what did you think of Mr Singular?"

There was a telling pause. "How honest do you want us to be?" asked HD.

"Brutally", I replied. "I doubt you'll tell me anything that I haven't thought myself."

"I don't think he's a very nice person, and I think you can do a lot better."

KCG was actually a little scandalised at HD's blunt assessment - HD normally has nothing but kind words to say about any and every person he meets. HD went on to mention that, following one disasterous conversation on the verandah during our camping trip, his boyfriend now refuses to be in Mr Singular's company by himself. Mr Singular was apparently uncommunicative or, when he did decide to communicate, he was rude.

Mr Singular is abrasive at the best of times, but never moreso than with people he considers beneath him: shop assistants, waiters, and, it seems, the friends of the guy he's kinda sorta dating. I must admit that while HDs criticism is nothing I've not considered myself, hearing it from someone else sets back any resurgent interest I had in Mr Singular. When HD and I were alone, he went even further, telling me he thought that Mr Singular was toxic and he didn't want me to get in too deep and get damaged myself.

All well and good, I responded, but what's the alternative? Men aren't exactly breaking down my door. He and KCG both opined that it's better to be alone than to be with the wrong person. Which coming from two men in fulfilling, monogamous, loving relationships is a little like a couple of stockbrokers telling you that money isn't everything and it can't buy you happiness while idly polishing their Porsches.

They both criticised me further when I told them about the guy I went out with last Monday. We'd chatted briefly a couple of months ago on Manhunt but found that our objectives were incompatible - he wanted an anonymous fuck, I wanted a more meaningful relationship. But we'd both shown ourselves to be considerate and understanding of the other's position, and agreed in theory to let each other know if we changed our minds.

By last weekend he was tiring a little of NSA, and I was getting frustrated by a lack of interest from anyone decent, so I suggested meeting up. After some discussion, we agreed to go out for a drink, with no sex on the agenda, just to see what we thought of each other.

He turned out to be a good looking 36 year old South American with a sexy Spanish accent. We had our drinks at an upmarket pub, then walked up the street to one of my favourite restaurants, both of which met with his approval. By then it was getting late and he had a long drive home before work in the morning, so I walked him back to his car, gave me a little kiss good night, and we parted company. We're now planning to go out again this coming Monday.

The reason why HD and KCG criticised me is because I mentioned that I don't see much future in this relationship, primarily because the South American is in a different league. He's go-getting, good looking, exotic and sexy. He's had several long term relationships, which he seems to have acquired with less fuss than getting TiVo. "Hmmm... a long term relationship might be nice... okay... eeny, meeny, miney, mo... I'll take that one." He's from the league in which one chooses a boyfriend from the available pool when one decides that one is ready for it. I'm from the league in which one searches desperately for a man and then thanks his lucky stars when one consents to spend time with him. I'm the man chasing oasis mirages in the desert; he's the man browsing for just the right brand of gin at Liquorland. There's a gulf between us - he's a Successful Gay, and I'm not.

Perhaps because they're both in higher leagues than me, KCG and HD didn't seem to get the distinction. In fact both of them claimed not to believe in leagues at all. In the most breathtaking piece of wrongheaded thinking of the evening, one of them actually suggested that maybe when I contact a guy, and he looks at my profile but doesn't respond, it's because he's intimidated. Not, as one might guess, because he looks at me and thinks, Eww, how would you even think you had a chance with me, loser? No, it's because he sees me and is crippled with self-doubt because I'm so awesome.

I was actually a little insulted that they'd try to feed me such an implausible line.

The Sexual Inventory: not as dirty as it sounds.

As the new year commences I've been taking stock of what I've achieved over 2011. Although I didn't find a boyfriend or out myself, I did manage to realise some smaller milestones. I had sex in my own bed for the first time. I acquired my first Friend with Benefits. I had my first gay dinner party. I had bareback sex for the first time (a milestone of dubious worth, but it exists nevertheless). I had a drink at my first gay bar. I bought my first tube of lube. I started seeing my first gay-friendly therapist.

True, some of those milestones are, not to put too fine a point on it, dumb. But there they are anyway.

As part of this reflection I've realised that I've also reached the stage of being unable to keep track of all of the guys I've seen over the last few years since I first decided to venture outside my closet. So I decided to sit down and do a Sexual Inventory.

Sexual partners is the easiest one... at least according to my definition of "sex". If you take my definition (sex = one or more partners achieving orgasm), then I have had seven partners. If you take another popular but looser definition (sex = nudity and indecent fondling), then the number bounces up to thirteen. But I find that definition unsatisfying: if that equalled sex, then logically every time a straight guy got a lap dance from a stripper, he'd technically be having sex with her... and I don't think many people would argue that.

Beyond sex, if I'm simply counting guys with whom I've gone on at least one physical date, then we're talking a group of twenty nine... twenty five of whom were in the last four years, and fourteen of whom were in the last twelve months.

Here's the breakdown of the stats:

2011

Had sex (by my definition) on roughly eleven occasions with four men: The Virtuoso, Mr Singular, Guy One and another guy I never mentioned in this blog. Interestingly, the two best lays (The Virtuoso and Mr Singular) and the one worst (the unnamed guy) of my life were this year.

I got hot and naked with two other guys, but as we stopped short of actual sex (by my definition) I've not included them. In addition I dated another eight at least once without it leading to anything more lewd than a hug or a handshake.

2010

Had sex on four occasions with two men: FHBG and this guy. I got hot and naked with one other. This was also the year that I met and became friends with KCG and The Human Dynamo. I went on one date with one other guy that I can recall.

2009

Nothing. No sex, no kissing, no dating. Zilch. It's a wonder I didn't kill myself.

2008

I had sex on around six occasions with one man: BN2. He was my first. I got hot and naked with two others (BN1 and this guy), and I dated two more.

But here's the irritating thing. Three of the seven sexual partners were one-offs. Two of them were three-offs, and the remaining two were, as far as I can recall, six-offs. This means that I have had sex on 21 occasions. Furthermore, only five of the seven were ever penetrative sex partners, and two of those five were among the one-offs. So long story short, I worked out that I've only had penetrative sex on 13 occasions... in my entire life.

No wonder I feel uncertain of my appeal and abilities in bed. I've been to the dentist for a filling more often that I've been to a horny naked guy for one.

While my number of partners is edging out of freakish demi-virgin territory, my number of actual sexual encounters remains infinitesimal. By contrast, The Human Dynamo was in a committed relationship for eight years, and KCG was in what was basically a gay marriage in all but the eyes of the law for two years. Over those respective periods, I'm guessing they both had sex more than 21 times. Hell, they might have covered that in a better than average month.

Leaving that aside, it's interesting how much I'd forgotten over the last few years. Names, dates, even entire existences had fallen by the wayside. It took a thorough audit of my email folders, Gaydar and Manhunt message bins, my phone's memory and the archives of this blog to get it all. But now it's stored here for posterity, so it'll make an interesting resource for future reference.

Here's hoping that 2012 continues the onward and upward trend!