Because I can't say it enough

I am a proud gay man.

Last year I went to the Toronto Pride Festival. It was my second year in a row being at TO Pride and it was fabulous. We were situated on a street corner that intersected with one of the city's many trolley lines, so each time a trolley came along the parade stopped and the trolley floated along. My friends and I started shouting "trolley!" (like one might shout "car" when playing kickball in a not-so-busy street) and soon the crowd around us joined along. We got waves, horns, fingers and smiles thrown at us and took them all with appreciation and stride.

That night, I was sitting in my friend Jack's apartment, drinking a glass of vino verde getting ready to head out the Buddies in Bad Times (their history is amazing... you should check them out for a great whirlwind of queer Canadian theatre history). And it hit me.

It was June 28th, 2009.

Forty years earlier, men and women were arrested for being in a bar. Men and women were arrested for being themselves. For being Fabulous (it deserves capitalization).

Pride is fun. Pride month is summer, it's drinking on patios, outside parties, all-night raves and sexy men walking through the streets (side note: TD Bank in Toronto manages, every year, to find the most-toned, most-built, sexiest men to prance around in green speedos and hand out temporary TD Bank tattoos). I've been told more than once that Pride is "Gay Christmas."

But it's not. Pride is Gay Thanksgiving.

Thank you to the queens, drag or otherwise, who stood up. Thank you to the flamers, the femmes and the fairies. Thank you to those who came before. Thank you to those who fought but fell to GRID (when it was called that) and AIDS (when it came around). Thank you to the partners who stood by their side when they were told they couldn't and they shouldn't and did anyways. To the partners who stood by their side when given no explanation when there was none, and even when there was.

Thank you to the men and women who came before me. Who stood up for yourself and more importantly to be yourself. Thank you to each and every man I will never meet. To every woman who got lost in her eyes instead of his. To every confused he or she who desperately wanted -- no, needed -- to be a her or him. Thank you to my Marys, my friends of Dorothy, my family.

Thank you to every man, every woman, every person who fought for their right to love and be who they are. I, and my generation, owe you more than we could ever possibly say, and I hope a humble "thank you" can suffice.

Thank you. Because of you, I am a proud gay man.

This will, in retrospect, be bad...

As I write this, my computer refuses to connect to the wireless network in my apartment, so you’re getting this post a bit late. And drunkenly, although by the time I post it I may be entirely sober. Hopefully I won’t have edited. I apologize in advance for this being entirely scattered and non-linear.

Tonight was a bit of a breakthrough. It was a friend’s birthday so I met a few folks at a bar in town, one of two gay bars. We’ll call this bar B, and the other S. I met people at B, a bar that is typically low-key, with a nice pool table, a small bar and always is inhabited by an older crowd. Tonight was no different. At 24, I was the youngest by at least 8 years (and only then because they came to the bar for the mutual friends’ birthday). It was fun. I didn’t know anyone but the birthday boy and the guy who threw the party, but it was fun. I met new gays and for me this is huge. I tend to shy away from that because I just get so damned nervous when talking to anyone who is a potential partner.

My mind is a maelstrom of thoughts. Not in an intelligent way, mind you, but a crazy, messed-up typhoon of thinking. When I think of something, that thought is always attached to a potential. I think of all the different ways that thought can be played out. If that makes sense, then it would make sense that every gay or bi man that I talk to evokes this idea of a potential relationship. Even if I know the person, the thought is there, but if I know them well enough it quickly leaves. Every new person I meet, my mind goes into potentials, and potentials outcomes and potential relationships and that makes me nervous. Hence why I have trouble meeting new people, particularly gay men: I am nearly always nervous about how the relationship will pan out.

I have never dated someone in my age range. I have never really dated anyone, for that matter. I have only ever been with men at least seven or eight years my elder. I have only really been attracted to them, and there are either two reasons why, or one of two reasons why (see?? My mind is crazy.)

Reason one: older men have experience. There is no secret to my being a bottom, a submissive, a partner who loves when the other takes control. An older man knows what he wants and, ideally, takes it. That is what I enjoy, that’s what gets me off. Partly because with my upbringing, I have no idea what happens between two men, so I want someone to take control and teach me. Maybe after enough sexual partners the relationship will reach equilibrium, or maybe after enough the sexual partners the pattern will be so engrained I will have no other choice in the matter. Either is tempting, to be honest.

Reason two: older men are less likely to reject me. I have an average body. I have always had issues with the way I look and seemingly never the self-discipline to address that on my own. I get the sense that some older men are less focused on what their younger partner looks like than they are on the simple fact that a younger man still finds them sexually attractive. Don’t get me wrong – gray hair is hot. Even when looking at porn online, I prefer older, hairy, silver men to the shaven twinks, but I feel there is less room for rejection with older men.

Back to the breakthrough (although… I did need to get that down in writing. Not that it will change anything). At B, things were tame. At S, it was an “all male revue” night where typically the men shedding their clothes look closer to 12 than 22, but tonight the men were toned, built and very, very sexy. But they were smooth and I just felt unattracted and attracted at the same time. I feel like were I in better shape, these would be my potential sexual partners as opposed to the older, less in-shape men that fill my sexual resume. I enjoyed myself enough, but at the end of the night I was compelled to go back to B and have a final drink. It was the first time I had ever walked into that bar without knowing for sure that I knew someone in there. For me, that is a huge step. I can barely go into a restaurant without knowing that people I know are there.

The point being, I guess… (finally… good lord do I go on) I can feel this place easily becoming a pattern. This is the place I go. I don’t think I’ve ever had a place like that and it makes me nervous that this place is a bar. This is the first public gay place I’ve had to go to. With all of the predatory looking older men and the groping that happens, it still feels like a safe place for me. And that dichotomy makes me very, very nervous.

On a side note, I have a major crush on one of the (older, gray-haired, un-perfect but adorable) bartenders who was just leaving as I arrived. He asked why I came back and I couldn’t tell him it was because I was hoping he was still there. Instead I said the other bar was just not up to snuff (which was true, but inconsequential).

Sometimes I wonder with the way my mind works, if the only way I can really make sense of things is through a psychologist. 

Excelsior!

My sister is graduating from highschool tomorrow and that makes me feel old.

I spent the day yesterday up at my grandparents doing some yardwork for them and now I am delightfully sore. They hired a kid my age from the neighborhood to help out and afterwards we went for a beer and hooked up. It was... well, it happened.

I was at an irish pub in the city last night and we ran into this group of rugby players that were out for a bachelor party. Very hot. One guy lost his wedding ring, freaked out and when my roommate found it he made the bartender set up a $100 tab for us as appreciation. He then spent a half an hour hugging me and saying things like "you're gay? I never would have pegged you for being gay. You're a really good looking guy! I have a roommate who is gay, you should meet him." The roommate wasn't there, but I didn't mind because the whole rugby team was very appreciative of us, the ring-finders. So what I'm saying is I spent the night being man-handled by rugby bears. Glorious.

On unemployment

The title works two ways! I am currently on unemployment, and I'm going to muse on unemployment! Look at me being efficient!

Really the only musings I have right now are that unemployment is amazing and I don't know why I didn't do this sooner, and that I have too much time on my hands.

Now I'm looking at options to really exploit this glorious state I am in.

Option 1: Get a job you lazy hippy

The city I live in is terribly touristy, but not in a terribly annoying way. It's also one of the foodiest cities in America, so if I were to get a serving job I could make bank and it would be delightful.

Option 2: Couch surf like a dirty hippy

I have never been to the west coast, and I think I would enjoy it for a time. I know there is a ticket you can buy that's like, $600 where you can have the ability to ride the bus and take the train as often as you like for a month. This is an option. I know I would have to go to PEI, Ontario, New York, New Jersey, Florida, North Carolina, Chicago, Nashville, maybe Dallas or Austin, San Fran, San Diego, LA, the Lesser Portland, Seattle and Vancouver. Pretty much just skip over the United States of Jesus and say hello to friends along the way.

Option 3: Couch surf like a dirty American

Leave the country! Hell, leave the continent! Europe, Asia, Australia, South America... but fuck Africa right now. I'm not in the mood to be martyred just yet so I'll save Africa for when my britches are too big. I can fairly easily get an EU passport so that would make things even easier.

So those are my three options. Insight would be appreciated. 

Other than that... all is quiet on the home front. No boys, (no men either... alas) and just coasting right now. Laying out on the grassy coastal beaches and reading, getting sun and intellectual stimulation (even though my book right now is a collection of politically correct bedtime stories -- very, very funny) in very unequal parts.

And I'm spent.