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.