I just got sent on a Donna Summer jag and I regret nothing.
This was from a mere 5 years ago.
It's insane to think that because I love/d disco and Donna Summer that I should have known I was gay, but there it is. Or, for that matter, that because I love Wendy Williams of radio and now TV fame, that I should have known.
Stereotypes are rubbish. They are ways invented to marginalize, categorize, and dehumanize human beings. Yes, there are *some* basis for stereotypes wherein *some* groups of people have common traits. But in the world of the gay male, you are really acting a fool if you think you can always spot one because of their interests or way they speak.
This is what I tell myself every day. I choose to believe it's true until the day I die. I do this for two reasons. (Probably more, but I'll list just two).
1) I refuse to be stereotyped. EFF you, that's why.
2) I want to believe I have a shot with the gay dude who is muscular and butch. The guy that nods slightly in the gym and grunts a 'Hey what's up.'
This keeps me both frustrated and in the game. I know there are gay men out there that would not set off your "gaydar" and I want one. I don't know if I have the same to offer him, but he might not even care, which would make him a better man than me.
But this is why I'm running now and losing weight more steadily than I ever have in my life. I need to have my game tight. I know what I want--so I have to *bring* it. We men are driven by the eyegate. I'm sorry, but we are. So if I want the eyecandy I seek, I have to be eyecandy as well. If I ever find a hunky dude that doesn't care what *I* look like, Teh Blogworld will be the first to know.
Today was a good day. I got five miles in on the treadmill like it was a walk. LOTS of energy! (It was prolly last night's deep dish pizza crust had my system still all carbed-out) I was looking at my gym co-work-outers with an eye towards July 31st, and how I'm going to do something by then. I felt possibilities. I felt the momentum that has visited me so many times building up again. It was the momentum that sent me out on my first two man-dates ever. And now with my stomach disappearing and my man-boobs drying up, I feel even MORE confident!
Again, I ask you, though, am I wrong to be so shallow? AM I shallow? Or do I just know what turns me on and what doesn't?
I'll add this in closing. I am Captain Risk Aversion. It takes A. LOT. to get me to do something risky.
For instance (and this is important, please pay close attention); I have never had sex... and I am 46 years old.
I don't think my friends and acquaintences would believe that of me. If they did know, I don't think it would be so much of a shock for them because I am strange in my own way, but not THAT strange. It would be just as easy to believe that I'm a guy who could have had some sex within the last 30 years as not.
But I never have because if it doesn't feel right--or safe--I won't do it. If it requires a sustained commitment on my part and I don't feel it then I will not try it. I don't want to try and fail, so I don't try.
So this month, if I *DO* try ... I'm gonna need some help. If the dude looks like Jason Statham ... well lemme tell ya, that will be some pretty powerful effing help right there. But if he looks like Andy Richter (sorry buddy) then not so much.
I would however not kick Kai Owen outta bed. something about those eyes, and of course, that accent. Oh yes, I likes the Kai Owen.
See you tomorrow.