The knowing look…

I’ve always been able to spot other gay people, whether they be men or women.  I know loads of gays who can’t tell and it amazes me.  I don’t know what it is about ‘us’ (getting all tribal here Ulla!) but I can tell.

Yesterday I was working about 30 miles away delivering leaflets around a village, for some extra pennies.  I had my media player on, was listening to the Rolling Stones and intermittently jerking my body along to the music and just getting on with the work really.  About halfway through the ‘drop’ (technical term there for a leafletting round!) I saw him.

A gay man!

He was walking towards me, he saw me and I saw him.  He kept his eyes straight ahead as did I until we were almost on top of one another (in my mind we already were but that’s another post entirely) then his eyes met mine, solidly and steadily and in that moment, two gay men were fully and completely aware of one another.

He knew I was, I knew he was and there was that point of connection.  I could smell him, taste his mouth, his sweat, his body underneath my fingers.  I felt a rush of tension and excitement course through my body.  For that brief moment we were locked into one another and then his gaze shifted as did mine and we went on our way.

The colleague who was walking behind me noticed nothing nor did my other colleague who was walking just ahead and who turned round to tell me something in that moment.  I glanced back to where he was and he did also.  Once again, there was eye contact.  A second or two longer than would be usual then he turned away as did I but I was still aware of him.

The way he walked. His full, sensuous and eminently kissable lips. The sound his boots made as they connected with the gravel. The way his sweater clung to his chest. The nape of his neck. Mmmmmmmm. That look, which means everything to a fellow gay person yet which remains elusive to just about everyone else is just beautiful.

We’re everywhere and it’s marvellous!

Age or apathy?

I used to be really into what I wore. Mind you, back then I also had hair which not only didn’t show large parts of my scalp but was of a uniform texture and colour. Salt and pepper I believe the term is for what I have left of my hair in terms of shade, a description more apt for condiments I feel.

I wore clothes then which not only felt but looked good. I was adventurous, I took risks. Now I seem to be walking about in the exact same things day in and day out. Okay, so I never wear the same clothes twice in terms of t-shirts, undies and socks but it’s all starting to blend into nothingness. I wear brown suede Kickers ankle boots, blue jeans, a sweater and a fleece.

I’ve also taken to wearing scarves.  What is that all about?  Even in the late Summer, under my trusty brown crumpled Marks & Spencer corduroy jacket (which I’m inordinately proud of) was a stripey woollen scarf. I wasn’t that cold so why was I doing it? What I seem to be aiming for is becoming a kind of walking bed, all I need is a switch to flick giving me all over body heat and I’m sorted.

As an out gay man, I feel I should be strutting about in cashmere sweaters, Versace jeans, expensive-looking polished leather boots which it has to be said, would look good with the one item I possess which has some fashion merit, my Red or Dead designer specs.  I should be touching my hair up with the odd tint here and there courtesy of rip-off salons like Toni & Guy, not looking like I’m about to go on a sponsored walk!  Still, I’m yet to look like Bruce Vilanch so there is some hope at least.

Is all of this a sign of getting older or is it more a sign of apathy surrounding my physical appearance borne out of looking in the mirror and espying more lines and creases on my face plus of course the encroaching inches around my waistline? I really should buck my ideas up before it’s too late but then maybe I really can’t be bothered to.

It’s happened again…

Just 3 months after the brutal and upsetting murder of gay Liverpool teenager Michael Causer, there’s been another homophobically motivated crime, this time resulting in the death of 28 year old Woolwich man, David Cooper.  Police were called to his home (which should have been his sanctuary) after friends reported finding his body.  More on this atrocious incident can be read here.

You’d like to think that whatever the thought processes involved in killing one person purely and simply for being gay would be few and far between in people and that it couldn’t happen again.  I can remember hearing about the murder of gay London man David Morley.  It was a shocking crime, several youths kicking and battering him until he was almost recognisable and then leaving him for dead.  What compounded the tragedy was that he’d survived the nail bombing in the Admiral Duncan pub in 1999 and then died at the hands of cowards.

Because that’s what links all of these people, they’re COWARDS.

What kind of a fight can a solitary person put up in any situation?  Not a lot and especially with people hellbent on inflicting maximum pain and damage.  I’ve spoken to people who possess black belts in martial arts who won’t walk around town after a certain time of night and would rather talk their way out of trouble than stay and fight even knowing they can take their assailants down.  No one wants to have to defend themselves when they don’t have to.

Michael Causer was killed in a house then dumped outside in the street to be found.  David Cooper has been found at home so I would imagine he was killed there.  What is that all about?  For most people, a house whether yours or someone else’s, is a place of sanctuary.  Somewhere to leave your cares at the front door, to walk in feeling safe and secure.  Not only is there cowardice involved in these two instances but also the ultimate betrayal of trust.

I’m appalled.

Anal hex….

What is it with straights and their obsession with anal sex?  This week I got my first pile or haemorrhoid if we’re being posh or bunch of grapes if we’re being gross!  To be fair, it was just the one and I got it from straining.  Yes gay people can strain, they don’t go round shitting themselves from too much bum play!

I happened to mention to a friend who also suffers with piles (and in fact has had them for many years) that I had a pile and he said “you’re gonna have to get used to that mate.”  I said “what do you mean?”  His reply “well, that’s to be expected in your game.”  “My game?”  “Yeah, you know being a bum boy and all!”  It was said in jest and there was no malice whatoever but there is this assumption that every gay man is out there stuffing things up their bums all the time.

What is that all about?????

Piles are caused by pressure exerted downwards not up so although having anal sex is hardly going to help if someone has a pre-existing issue with their dirtbox, it’s not going to be the primary cause.

I would imagine in sheer numbers, there are far more heterosexuals involved in anal play than gays.  I’ve heard that as many as 40% of gay men don’t have anal sex at all though as many as half of those have tried it and didn’t like it.  Does that ever get mentioned?  Hardly.  To some people, being a gay man is simply about bending over and taking it up the arse.  I don’t know what’s worse if I’m honest, the assumption or the preoccupation with it.

Queer scenes….

There have been many gay-themed films and tv dramas but the one which means the most to me is a miniseries which was aired on Channel 4 in the mid-90’s – Armistead Maupin’s Tales of The City.

It revolves round a boarding house in San Francisco, run by Mrs Madrigal (played expertly and intuitively by Olympia Dukakis) and tells the story of the tenants who are all fortunate to live there.  It was the first visual portrayal of gay people where they were out there living and loving and not dropping like flies.

The scene where Michael ‘Mouse’ Tolliver gets on the tram dressed as goat god Pan and chats away with Mary Ann Singleton (played by Laura Linney) and nary a single person looks up or around sums up the whole programme.  It’s unself-consciously gay positive in its outlook and I think that’s fab!

I guess each of you will have your own favourites from queer tv and cinema.  There are many reasons why we latch onto certain films, programmes.  In my case, they remind me of a time when I finally got to see ‘myself’ out there in the world and didn’t feel quite so alone or depressed.

Which ones mean the most to you and why?

The rainbow’s bluer today…

Yesterday, I did something which surprised me.  I denied my sexuality to someone who really doesn’t have a problem with it out of a fear of them perhaps viewing me differently.

I was chatting away with them and the subject of gay people came up.  My friend said “I’m not being funny here Jon but you mention gays a lot.  Are you gay?”  He was smiling when he said it.  I suddenly felt totally ashamed and guilty.  I said “no but I’d like to be” and he laughed.  “I’ll have to write that down, that’s a great response” he replied.

I don’t know why I did it.

Well, I do know why I did it because it would change the dynamic between us on some levels and because he has spoken of people not coming out until later in life and how he can’t comprehend it at all because “we all know what we are don’t we Jon?”  Yes, it’s true.  I have always known of what I am but dealing with it has been another thing entirely.  Anyhow, the conversation changed and I was relieved but the feeling nagged away at me.

I got back home, Ulla was online and I spoke with her about it.  I was totally and utterly disgusted with myself, I felt like a complete letdown.  She told me not to be so hard on myself, that coming out and being comfortable with one’s sexuality is a process.  She’s right, it is.  What shocked me I suppose is how I not only denied it but wanted to push the whole thing away from me and kind of disown it.

I thought because I had done the Coming Out interview, had fantastic gay friends and in many ways had made peace with who I am that these awful moments were gone altogether.  Having spoken to someone the other day about just this, he said it’s hard to free yourself of all the negative ideas and opinions and that occasionally, there will be tough days.  He talked to me about Internalised Homophobia and how that plays a part in eating away at a positive gay self-image.  He’s right, it does.

My head’s in a bit of a spin at the moment and I don’t know where I’m at on some levels. I do know that I’m gay and in the main I’m happy and comfortable with it.  I just sometimes get the sense from wider society that because I’m homosexual my sexuality is in some ways inferior to heterosexuality because it’s not about anything more than intimacy and having fun!  How fucked up is that?  I need to stop thinking and playing things over and just get on with it.

Thanks for listening, I appreciate it.

The lowly suburban queer….

When I think of suburbia I think of neatly trimmed hedges and lawn lines; pretty flowers in pots, baskets and borders; the sound of petrol mowers on a Sunday afternoon; people-carriers parked on driveways; children playing outside and older people tending the vegetable patches in their back gardens.  The suburbs are often viewed as middle-class, conservative both with a big and small ‘c’ and predominantly white in terms of ethnicity.

Yet within all this blandness lives a species we shall call the ’suburban queer.’  I know this person exists because I’m one of them.  Do I look any different from anyone else in my road?  Nope.  Does my presence advertise the fact I’m ‘on the team’ as it were?  Nope.  Does anyone know about me?  Well, Mum does but you could hardly call her the typical suburbanite.  Or is she?

That’s just it, because suburban living is so seemingly sedate, no one knows what’s going on underneath the ultra-ordinary exterior.  Growing up, I often heard gossip about “him at No. 37″ or “her at No. 6″ and “have you heard she’s only got pregnant by the milkman?  Yes, her!!!!”  This was often accompanied by vigorous shakes of the head from others present, looks of disdain and the set response “you’re kidding me?!?!?”  So, there must be all sorts of things that occur that very few of us ever have an inkling of.

Take for instance, the chap across the road from us.  His wife left him 3 or 4 years back now but because I see her daily in her car driving to and from the house, I assumed everything was hunkydory.  It took our neighbourhood gossip to inform me recently that “oh no, they haven’t been together for ages now” before giving me all the ins-and-outs pertaining to their break-up plus some associated venom which I could have well done without.

I would never have guessed that what I was seeing was in fact a mirage, an illusion.  Who knows then what is going on in the rest of the street?  There are more than likely other gay people.  There’s bound to be a bit of transvestism going on behind closed doors.  Affairs.  Maybe even a bit of bondage thrown in for good measure.

Do the neighbours know that I’m gay?  That I keep a blog pertaining to my homosexuality?  That I have a weekly column at a queer website?  That I’m in close contact with a South African dyke whom I think the world of? That I like watching gay adult movies where guys are doing all sorts to one another? That I’m friends with, gasp, another gay guy who lives not a mile away from here? I doubt it.  I live in suburbia and that means giving as little of myself away to the outside world as possible.  Is that a good thing?  I’m still deciding on that.

Shattering myths….

Shortly after coming out earlier this year, I got chatting to a friend and he said “does this mean you’ll start being all camp and buying records by Kylie Minogue, going on pride marches and waving rainbow flags?”  I replied “why would I?”  He said “well, that’s what gay people do isn’t it?”  I was taken aback by this.  Is this how gays are perceived?

I don’t possess a single album by Kylie Minogue or Madge (as Madonna is affectionately known by her trillions of adoring gay fans) nor do I wish to because I don’t like that kind of music.  I do however like Blues, Prog Rock, Heavy Metal, Jazz, Folk and World Music among many other genres.  Does enjoying a meaty guitar solo pulled out of the bag by messrs Gary Moore or Joe Satriani make me any less queer than say dancing round the room to The Village People whilst vacuuming?

There are so many assumptions floating around out there about what constitutes being, in my case, a gay man.  Let’s get this next one out of the way as soon as we can.  I don’t like cabaret, musicals or show tunes! I feel ill when I hear Shirley Bassey’s voice coming out of the radio speakers at home and have to get up as soon as I can and switch it off.  I abhor the sweeter-than-sweet warblings of both Celine Dion and Barbra Streisand though I am able to appreciate how technically proficient both of them are, I’d just much rather not have to endure listening to them if I can help it.

I don’t cross-dress. I shouldn’t have to write this but again these are assumptions based on sexuality that a lot of people make.  British writer and doctor Vernon Coleman cross-dresses and argues that the majority of men who do enjoy wearing women’s clothes are in actual fact heterosexual.  Quite why being gay automatically means I would want to don a frock is beyond me.  Still, when the only exposure some people have of gay men is when they see them dressed as nuns at pride events or in stock video footage whenever a news story features us in some way, can’t really help.  Plus, one now well-known and cherished out gay tv presenter began his career dressing up as a woman and that only adds to the misconceptions.

I’m not effeminate.  When I told one person of my homosexuality, she looked me up and down and said “no you can’t be” and I replied that yes I was.  “No” she again said.  I responded “well, why can’t I be?”  Her answer was “well, you’re not limp-wristed are you?  Are you sure you’re not a bit Bi maybe?”  I said that no I wasn’t.  She looked at me puzzled.  There was then an awkward few moments while she adjusted to the news that standing in front of her was someone she knew, who wasn’t camping it up but was in fact a homosexual.  She still asks me periodically if I still feel I’m gay, I tell her that I am and she gives me the same disbelieving look.

I have known and met a lot of gay men who are affected in some way but I’ve met far more who are no different in their outward appearance and manner than heterosexuals.  Most of us, gay or straight, don’t fit the media profiles of the archetypal good-looking guy or gal anyway.  The simple fact is the vast majority of us are quite ordinary in every way and gay men and women are no different.  That doesn’t mean we can’t scrub up well when we want to but we’re just run-of-the-mill in reality and the only difference between us is who we fall in love with and find sexy!

This next one is a little trickier to reply to.  There is an assumption that one ‘becomes’ gay due to bad sexual experiences with the opposite sex.  There is of course an element of truth in this statement because the very nature of one’s homosexuality means any attempts to have sex with men/women (delete where applicable) is going to be fraught with frustrations. I have never had a good sexual experience with a woman but this hasn’t led me to want to be gay whatever that means, it has however clarified my own feelings regarding my sexuality.  I engaged in sex with women because I wanted familial and societal approval, not because it actually appealed to me.

I hope I’ve gone some ways to picking apart these frankly downright bizarre stereotypes and misconceptions.  I’m gay, that’s not because of a whole list of external variables which may or may not be true for whole swathes of society.  It’s by virtue of the fact I am sexually, emotionally and romantically attracted to men.  It’s as simple as that really.