Showing posts with label Gays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gays. Show all posts

Thursday, 8 May 2014

Day 8: Make us want you...

Hah.

When I was 20*, I just used to post shirtless pictures, and the denizens of OUTintheUK would all say nice things about me, or proposition me for sex, or offer me money to watch me masturbate furiously before the cold, hard, lifeless stare of their digital lens. Or sometimes, if I was lucky, all three.

And I won’t lie. I kind of liked it. It was flattering and fun and exciting. (I never took the money- FYI.)**

But always done with a pinch of humour. I wasn’t *just* being a vacuous attention whore. I’d like to think I was pretty amusing at the same time. I think I was. But I did like being wanted.

And now I’ve grown up, and I don’t post *quite* as many shirtless pictures. Though those linked to me on Facebook will doubtless disagree.

Now I have to rely on charm, wit and my kind, selfless, caring nature.

I have stopped worrying about being wanted as well. It used to be a big deal. It really isn’t now. Now I have to settle for being stable and solvent and interesting and friendly and witty and amusing. Ironically, I honestly think I was actually far more witty and amusing back in those days though. When I had time to be, probably.

It is nice not to be so preoccupied with impressing people and trying to be appealing, sexually or otherwise, though. But I sort of think I’ve grown into my looks in a way. I’m probably a more appealing package these days than I was when I was 20. And I only take my shirt off nowdays, and rely on my slim, tanned, athletic body, if it’s absolutely essential.***


*and maybe a few years beyond...

**I was giving it away.

***to the fee.

Any time, at your convenience.




Thursday, 9 January 2014

Boys and their Toys

Today I read a tweet about gay men all loving Lego.

This is true.  Gay men DO all love Lego. Fact.

But it’s also inaccurate.  It’s not gay men that love Lego.  It’s just men. They love Lego.

And it’s not just Lego. Men love toys.  Because men, if we’re honest, are generally just little boys who got taller. And boys love their toys... So why, I hear you ask, is there this gay perception pertaining to toys, games, gadgets and geekery? The gays genuinely ARE all obsessed with Playstation, comics, Star Trek, Dr Who, Lego, etc, etc, the list goes on.

Well, straight men are too. But straight men have to hide their enthusiasm for toys, games, comics and science fiction to attract girls. They have to hide it in the first instance, and then once settled comfortably into relationships, they’re just not allowed the free run of filling their homes up with Lego or geeky posters or Dr Who memorabilia.  They’re not allowed to spend loads of time shopping for comics, or playing x-box.


I spend all my disposable income on myself.


Don’t get me wrong -  straight guys with girlfriends still DO these things, but there often appears to be a serious limit on it. They always complain how they never get to play PS3 anymore, because of this and that.  Especially post-child.

But the gays? The gays get to continue to be little children, buy themselves Lego, play computer games, watch Dr Who, watch Star Wars for the 187th time, and spend all their disposable income on gadgets. And when they get into relationships and get a place together?  It doesn’t change. You’re allowed to continue to be geeky, collect crap, watch crap, stay up drinking cocktails and playing Playstation all night because you both like doing it. In fact, you can do it together...!

That’s kind of the best bit about being gay. You get to play together and share boy things, and kind of... be yourself in a way that I often feel straight guys have to subdue. Being straight means you have to pretend not to like certain things, or to like them but leave them behind whilst you pretend to be a grown up. That’s why I see dads walking around the Lego shop with their children, with looks of wonder and longing on their faces. They have to live a bit more vicariously than the gays do...

We’re all still 10 year old boys at heart – so treat yourself.  Go and get yourself some Lego...

Many boys like to lounge around in
pants, playing playstation all day.




Tuesday, 3 December 2013

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."


So this week, a super hot guy came out, in a manner of speaking. Not gay, not bi, not anything so specific.  But he does guys. At present, anyway.

It’s a win for the gays. Give us that much...

It’s odd. By rights we should hate him. He’s young, good looking, fit, rich, successful, famous, intelligent AND nice. People that perfect are just too annoying.  But he’s just so hot and lovable that somehow I manage to overlook these numerous imperfections.



But it got me thinking about coming out, growing up gay and the scurrying around, hiding it that precedes all this. I’ve had people say to me, even quite recently, how lucky my generation is that they didn’t have to grow up afraid or hiding their sexuality. 

I nearly fell off my chair. I was kind of angry... partially in response to the person who was saying all this perhaps, but they would NOT accept that when I was young, growing up in Essex, kids weren’t happily coming out and leading confident, well-adjusted lives, out ‘n’ proud.

I don’t know where she got this idea from, but it certainly was not the case.

There were no gays at my school. Not a one. But boys who were a bit quiet or a bit camp or not good at football were harassed for being gay with depressing regularity. I was generally quite safe- I was confident and escaped most of this, but still got called gay all the time. But it was true, so I couldn’t really object.

Nor at college. One boy came out at college, and was subsequently hounded ‘til he quit.

It just wasn’t something that happened.  I now realise there must have been loads of gays all over the place, but every one of us was hidden. But it WAS scary. Whilst no-one was looking to out anyone; it wasn’t a case of people being under suspicion or scrutinised or anything; you did feel that you could give yourself away at any moment.

All my friends were girls, I didn’t play sports, I never had a girlfriend. I felt like everyone must have worked it out and it was frightening in a very real way. And now I wonder quite what the scary, unspoken consequence of being found out might have been...

I suppose being disowned by family, rejected by friends, hounded out of school and essentially having nothing left.  Which is pretty scary. Unfounded as it turns out, but the only mentions of gayness growing up were negative references from kids or in television drama, or the odd celebrity being hounded. There was not much positive press about homosexuality. It was a scandal, a shame, a crime or some manner of death combining all three. Whether real life or drama, it wasn’t something people accepted or celebrated.

But you gather confidence, you learn more about the world, you leave school and can select friends more similar to yourself, and you eventually see a world where they might accept you. Certainly for me, a couple of years after leaving school I was living in a world where I could imagine being honest and not hiding. And I was surrounded by people I had more confidence in trusting not to reject me. Not that I was paranoid when I was at school- my anxiety wasn’t unfounded – but you grow up a bit and I suppose you can be a bit more realistic about people’s responses.

My family, for example, far from rejecting me, have never been anything but whole-heartedly supportive. But when you’re 12 and you see gayers on telly booted out for coming out, you kind of have to wonder, don’t you...

But this is why the Tom Daley event spoke to me so much.  I only came out because I met someone, and after a few weeks, I didn’t want to sneak around any more. I didn’t see why I should have to. But prior to meeting Simon, I had no reason to upset the apple cart. Or risk upsetting it for uncertain reward.

But as I say, in a similar situation, at a similar age, I felt the happiest I ever had. A year or so before, I had accepted I was gay, I was generally happy, I had good friends, a reasonable social life, a successful career at school and college and a loving family. I wasn’t doing badly, so I just resigned myself to being single forever and wanking my nights away alone, and got on with things.

I was fairly happy with that arrangement. It was enough...

But then we met, and I had a reason to do it. Everyone else went on dates. Everyone else had partners, everyone else’s parents knew about their relationships. Why shouldn’t I have a bit of that.

And whilst the sneaking around was sort of exciting and dramatic, it was also very scary and was not sustainable in the long term. It was growing close to the time when we would tell our friends and families...

And then Simon’s fucking mother comes home early from work one day and catches us – not AT it, but sort of... well, okay.  Interrupts us and everything goes to blazes for a few minutes, so we just bite the bullet and tell people.

And you know what?  Not a single bad reaction. Not really.  Not from anyone. A couple of friends who felt a bit hurt, and who, if I’m honest, I’m not sure will ever quite understand that it wasn’t keeping secrets.  Not in that respect- just something that HAS to happen when you’re ready.

But friends and family were supportive and loving, if a bit crazy and paranoid, but we were totally accepted. Sometimes I feel guilty that I’d ever feared rejection when nothing of the sort happened remotely.  But it was too scary. Too big a risk.

You have to do it when you’re ready. When you have judged it safe.

So yeah – it IS a big deal when people come out. It’s still a big deal because you never quite know what people’s response will be. People are crazy and unpredictable and you can’t take it back once you’ve said it.

So it is very brave, and it is important.

Sometimes I wonder about being a bit more open about it at school, though that’s another type of risk on another level.  And another story...

In the meantime, after all the heavy stuff that I’m not very happy I’ve articulated clearly, here are some gems from my mum after I told her I was gay:

“I don’t mind as long as you never go to a gay club. It’s not safe. People wait outside and write down your names...”

“I suppose it’s okay as long as you don’t actually do anything together...”

“It will be okay.  We can just tell everyone that you’re two bachelors that live together, and enjoy each other’s company. No-one will ever need to know...”

Dare you open... The Scary Door?





Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Pride in Pictures

Less ramble.  More photos.



 

11.00 Morning booze and Parade through Brighton

     13.00 Chair-O-Planes and boy bands
     14.00 Naked fitties all around
     
17.00 Freemasons dance-off and skanky street booze preparation


     
00.00 Street Party and finally allowed to eat again



And that was (some of) Brighton Pride 2013...








Friday, 28 June 2013

Twenty-somethings...

Last weekend I went out for a birthday with lots of twenty-somethings.

I felt SO. OLD.

Some of them weren’t even that much younger than me.  Only a couple of years, but they seemed so much younger. We went to a bit of an impromptu house party for a friends birthday; just a little bunch of gays, none of whom I really knew.

But it was really fun.

But they just don’t get tired. And they can drink so much. They made questionable home-made horrorshow cocktails comprising whatever random nastiness they could find. Wine and beer and sambuca and vodka and whatever else they could lay their hands on.

I even drank it.

But they just appear to feel no effects at all. They just carried on. I was already hungover before I went to bed. It was awful.

But then I started thinking... ‘Hang on. I remember this.’ And I recalled when I first started working in schools and I socialised with the little school crowd and really started drinking properly, that’s what we did.  

We drank anything. Everything.

Even really horrible things we didn’t even want or like.

I’d forgotten. Or repressed it, maybe. But maybe it’s not that different.

Either way, they are hardcore. Or I’ve become really, really softcore.

Don’t get me wrong. We had a lovely time. An amazing time... I’ve never met such a warm, welcoming group of people in my life. They were great.

But so young.


And they party too hard.




Thursday, 23 May 2013

Day 23: Things you’ve learned that school won’t teach you (#BEDM).


1) CRUSHES ARE FLEETING.
It isn’t love, dear gays. It is infatuation. You may well feel that, after a week going out with a guy, he is perfect. That you are beautiful together. That no-one has ever felt like you feel.
You may even feel the urge to share this with others. To proclaim your love, and how amazing he is, and how perfect your new relationship is, and how no-one else could possible understand.
But I would advise against this, for the following reasons:

a. It makes you sound like you are a 12 year old girl.
b. Your relationship will likely be over in a further 3 weeks, when you remember that you can’t handle the commitment.
c. You went through this entire process 2 months ago, with a previous perfect guy. It was horrible to listen to then, and it is horrible to listen to now.

By all means enjoy yourself, and fall in love, be soppy and romantic and talk about it. But do not overstate what you have. It’s been a week, it’s not unique to you and it may not last. Crushes are fleeting. Infatuation *feels* amazing, but is not sustained. If you are lucky (or careful about how you play it) you may end up in love for real, which is nice. But this takes time...


2) PASTA BEFORE BED KILLS HANGOVERS.
It’s true. Hangovers are horrible, but they are easily avoided. Simply cook yourself a meal when you get in from clubbing, comprised mainly of pasta, and you will awaken the following morning feeling fine, if slightly full.


3) QUALIFICATIONS DON’T EQUAL SUCCESS
At least, not necessarily. We tell you all the time that you need qualifications to get on in life. And most of the time that’s true. Sometimes though, it’s just down to luck. Most of the rich, smarmy fuckfaces you meet are super-stupid. They just somehow defied the odds and managed to wangle a highly paid job without having to demonstrate intelligence AND managed to not get run over by ice-cream trucks during their formative years despite their alarming stupidity.

And all whilst brilliant young teachers with incredible qualifications and sky-high IQs toil in obscurity.


4) YOU WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG. YOUR PARENTS REALLY DO KNOW NOTHING.
All children say mean things about their parents. At school we combat this, making vague but supportive noises about how they have your best interests at heart. But you’re actually completely right. Your parents really ARE stupid. They had you on a whim, because babies make cute noises and are fun on television. But they were not qualified to do this, and they are really just guessing their way through it. Consequently, only about half of the decisions they make have any likelihood of being remotely correct or appropriate regarding your upbringing.

Hurts doesn’t it?  Your entire childhood is really just up to chance, and things they may or may not have seen on Supernanny one night when they were having their dinner.


5) EVERYTHING IS DECAYING AND WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE.
We try not to dwell on it in school, but it’s true.