Attraction

I’ve never been the boy everyone wanted to be with except for maybe five minutes back in the mid-‘80s, and even then not so much. Sadly, I was way too shy, frightened and awkward to truly enjoy it or take advantage of it at the time.

I’ve always been attracted to sweet, small, slim, twinkish young men. (Big muscles, lots of body hair and hyper-masculinity are generally not my things.) When I was young, I thought this meant that I should be sweet, small, slim and twinkish myself. I felt awful about myself because I didn’t look like the boys I wanted. I was even too awkward, scared and defensive to be sweet around most people. I’ve since learned you don’t have to be the man of your dreams. You can be you, and he can be who he is.

I’ve noticed that no matter if you’re generally thought of as hot or not, if you’re charming and outgoing or if you’re doggedly persistent and willing to deal with a lot of rejection, you’ll probably get around. Sadly, I’m none of those things. I’m not outgoing. I’m usually too shy to be charming. And if I feel rejected, I’ll climb into my hole and stay there for about a year, so I never make overtures.

I enjoy my attractions and feelings, and I always have. From the moment I first started noticing my sexual attractions, I have relished them. Looking at men and feeling the attraction and dreaming are joys in themselves. The feelings don’t have to be reciprocated for me to appreciate them. And I don’t expect them to be reciprocated.

I never take pride in my attractions. I never give myself points for being attracted to the “right” man. I never think of myself as noble because I would date, have sex with or marry someone others find ugly because he supposedly has a good heart or has a good character. Of course, I want to be around men who are nice and treat me well and not just those who I find attractive. But my attractions are my attractions. They are what they are. I don’t choose to be attracted to particular men any more than I choose to be gay. It’s just the way I am. And I think it’s just the way everyone is.

I don’t think anyone owes me love or sex. I don’t think it’s right of me to expect or demand that of others any more than I think it would be right for them to expect or demand that of me.

It’s wonderful when two people meet and discover they have a mutual attraction and that they are compatible. Those who find that are lucky, but it doesn’t happen to everyone. And that’s just life.

It’s fine with me if people have their preferences and their types. After all, I have mine. What bothers me is when others think my tastes should be the same as theirs, or when they’re rude and nasty about who they don’t like as if the worth of others is measured by how attracted they are to them. If you’re not into someone, fine, but you don’t have to be mean about it.

Fundamentalism Stinks Through and Through

No doubt there was a lot to complain about concerning the Catholic Church and how the hierarchy was running the show in the 16^th century. Martin Luther’s solution was to emphasize faith over works and a more literal interpretation of the Bible over Catholic traditions and doctrine. The idea was that in the beginning was a pure and unified church, and the Bible could help Christians get back to that golden era. But we now know that early Christianity was anything but pure and unified. Even the Bible indicates this. Many of Paul’s letters were written to chastise Christian communities he started because they had strayed from what he taught them. The four Gospels are distinct and have their own theological agendas. And there were other writings that expressed a broad range of attitudes and beliefs among the early Christians. These writings were suppressed by the emerging proto-orthodox movement. It’s these same self-described orthodox Christians who gave rise to the Orthodox Church in the East and the Roman Catholic Church in the West…with a great and mighty push from the Roman Empire in the 4^th century. In a way, I think it’s ironic that Martin Luther wanted to get away from the Catholics and get back to “real” Christianity by placing so much emphasis on the Orthodox canon. It’s sort of like trying to get away from the American South by drinking sweet tea and watching reruns of the Andy Griffith Show.

The same things that led to the Reformation—the printing press, curiosity about the past and surviving artifacts and literature—led to greater scrutiny of the Bible, the process of translations, early Christianity and a more scientific worldview that was at odds with Luther’s exalted view of the Bible, and his literal reading of it.

In the late 19^th century, some American Christians realized that modernity was threatening their conservative brand of Christianity, and they wrote a series of essays collectively called The Fundamentals. This new Christian fundamentalism claimed the Bible is inerrant, that it is literally true, that Jesus was divine, born of a virgin, died to pay the price for our sins as a substitute blood sacrifice, was physically resurrected and that he will return.

Many American LGBTs come from conservative evangelical and fundamentalist families. Many of them were seriously harmed. Many gave up their conservative beliefs. Many gave up on religion altogether. But some LGBTs and a few straight allies want to transform evangelical and fundamentalist Christianity just enough so that it is LGBT friendly.

I don’t like that idea. I think fundamentalism is rotten to the very core, and evangelicals are generally fundamentalist. I don’t think it would be a wonderful thing if not for the homophobia. It stinks through and through.

Fundamentalism leads to absolutism and intolerance for the beliefs and experiences of others. It leads to an arrogant attitude. Those who are “saved” interact with others who don’t share their beliefs with a kind of smugness. They supposedly know the “truth,” and you don’t. Evangelical Christian missionaries go to the poorest parts of the world with the primary purpose of “sharing the Gospel.” Tackling poverty and relieving suffering are only tangential concerns at best. Fundamentalism fosters a kind of modern colonial attitude. The missionaries don’t travel to Africa and Asia to learn anything from the locals because they don’t think they have anything to learn. According to their religion, they already know everything that’s important. Fundamentalism leads to a disdain for science and learning. This is especially tragic considering a large number of poor people in this country are fundamentalist or are influenced by fundamentalism, and education is key to getting them and their children out of poverty. If you believe the Bible is inerrant and literally true, then escaping the sexism, the racism, the xenophobia and the homophobia found in the Bible becomes all the more difficult. And if the Bible does have any spiritual value, what if concretizing the mythology robs it of that value? Fundamentalism is a methodology imposed on Christianity and the Bible. It isn’t inherent to Christianity or the Bible.

I was born in West Virginia, and I spent most of my life there. West Virginia, especially southern West Virginia, is steeped in fundamentalism. The effect on this gay boy was hugely negative, but aside from that, I saw how fundamentalism helped to keep the population stuck in the status quo. Many aren’t interested in looking beyond their culture for ideas that might improve their lives. Quite a few who are barely literate and have little education, go around quoting the Bible out of context and pontificating about things they don’t understand. By and large, the friends, family and neighbors of such annoying people indulge them and actually believe they are fonts of wisdom.

Merry Christmas!

I have my Christmas pizza from Round Table Pizza, my coconut cake from Pepperidge Farm and a big bottle of Diet Cherry 7up. I’m all set. It’s chilly here in Merced, and it’s raining. We’re having a wet Christmas, and that’s a good thing.

I hope you have a good time tonight and tomorrow no matter if you celebrate or not—or, if you do, how you celebrate or what you celebrate—no matter if you’re with friends and family or if you’re alone like me.

I don’t take Christian mythology literally, and I know Christmas was appropriated from ancient pagan celebrations by the early Christians. But I still love Christmas, everything from its dodgy history to the goofy secular aspects to Silent Night. I think a wild, over the top celebration of the birth of a baby during the darkest time of the year (for those of us who live north of the Equator) is a great idea. I think it’s about the hope that we will band together and live to see the return of spring.

Jerry

American Playhouse: Family Business aired on PBS in February 1983. It starred Milton Berle. It was a rare serious dramatic role for him. He played a dying successful businessman, and he had to decide how he would divide his estate among his sons. The youngest son Jerry, played by Jeffrey Marcus, immediately caught my eye. He was just a few years older than me, and I thought he was cute and sexy. He made a point of talking about girls with his father. To this day, I can hear him going on about bodacious sets of tatas. I got the feeling he might be gay. Maybe because his lascivious comments about girls seemed a little too over the top and forced. Turns out, I was right. I was 17, a junior in high school, deeply closeted, had never told a soul I was gay, never met an out gay person, and yet I felt this tingling when I saw Jerry. I knew there was something different about Jerry. When his father died, it was revealed that Jerry had a boyfriend, and he used his inheritance to open a gay bar.

Jerry was one of a handful of positive and fully rounded gay characters I saw as a teenager. He wasn’t merely some sad sack tragic boy doomed to lead a life of loneliness like Willie’s old friend on Family. Jerry wasn’t going to settle for that. Jerry had a boyfriend, and he started a business that catered to other gay men. He couldn’t tell his father, but his brothers knew.

I have wanted to see this film again for many years, but it’s not on DVD or YouTube. I think it’s been mostly forgotten. It would be interesting to find out if the film holds up to my memory of it. I felt so alone and isolated at the time, and Jerry gave me hope.

Matt

As the title implies, Matt Shepard Is a Friend of Mine was made by a friend of Matthew Shepard. Michele Josue attended high school with Matt at the boarding school for American students in Switzerland.

Like other documentaries and TV segments, this film goes into detail about Matt’s murder, the trial, the funeral, and the massive unexpected press coverage. It is devastating as it always is. What this film does that others have not is give us a clearer picture of what Matt was like as a teenager and a young adult. Josue interviews several of Matt’s friends, and the conversations are intimate and personal because it appears that Josue knows most of the people she interviews. She also interviews Matt’s parents, and they allowed her to use many family photos and videos that have not been shared with the public before. Josue and another friend even read from Matt’s diary. And we’re introduced to a beloved stuffed rabbit that Matt carried around with him as a small boy. Matt’s father tried to find the rabbit when Matt was in the hospital so he could put it beside him, but Mr. Shepard couldn’t locate it. He says he now believes he wasn’t meant to find the rabbit that night because, at that point, he needed it more than Matt did. The rabbit reminds his father of happier times.

It’s heartbreaking to hear the people in Matt’s life play the “what if” game. Judy Shepard wonders what would have happened if Matt’s father had not taken that job in Saudi Arabia. Apparently the school in Switzerland encouraged students to travel in Europe, but just before graduation, Matt and his friends decided they wanted to go to Morocco. As most know, he was brutally gang raped one night when he went exploring on his own. Everyone—his friends, his family, teachers from school—agree that this event changed Matt. Judy Shepard says that she saw a difference immediately after the attack. She says that Matt had gone from being a friendly, naïve, open young man willing to talk to anyone to someone who carried himself like a victim. She said he walked with his head down and wouldn’t look people in the eye. In her book, Judy Shepard revealed that the summer before he started college in Wyoming three years later, he was still having flashbacks that were so vivid, he couldn’t distinguish them from reality. He went so far as to insist he had been raped again when he had not. Matt went to college in the fall after high school as planned, but he quickly dropped out and drifted for several years. His return to Wyoming was his attempt to start fresh in a place that seemed familiar and safe. Of course, his old high school friends now wonder what would have happened if they had decided to go someplace that was safer for American middle-class teenagers. It’s natural for them to wonder about that. No doubt, Matt’s life would have been different. He probably wouldn’t have been raped, and he probably wouldn’t have gone back to Wyoming three years later. Matt’s high school guidance counselor from Casper advised Matt to return to Wyoming. Apparently, this man was the first person Matt came out to as a teenager. He could tell, as I’m sure many with even a half-way functioning gaydar could, and he encouraged Matt to talk about it. The counselor was gay himself, so he understood what Matt was going through. It seems this man regrets advising Matt to return to Wyoming. But as the two violent attacks on Matt indicates, you can be a victim anywhere. Marrakesh might have been a scary place for a small teenage American white boy in the mid-’90s (Matt was 5’1” and weighed 101 pounds), but Laramie was supposedly the type of place where people didn’t bother locking their doors at night.

Matthew Shepard would have turned 39 earlier this month. This film was made a couple of years ago, and his friends still have a youthful appearance.

This documentary is now streaming on Netflix.

 

Celebration

When I post photos of men, it’s never my intention to make my friends feel self-conscious about their bodies. I just want to celebrate our attractions. For much of my life, I didn’t feel safe sharing my feelings, so now I want to be honest. I enjoy looking at cute, sexy young men. They are beautiful to me, and seeing them fills me with happiness. It’s important for me to acknowledge that. I don’t expect my attractions to be returned, and that’s okay. Everyone is allowed to be attracted to whoever they’re attracted to. Savoring the attractions is a joy in and of itself for me. I try to provide a bit of variety so that most of my friends see someone here who turns their head every day. I like some of the pictures more than others. I’m personally more enamored of the less muscular guys.

Transparent, Season 2

I finished the second season of Transparent yesterday, and I already miss it. Jeffrey Tambor’s Maura continues to be my favorite character, and I wish the show would devote more time to her. I found Maura’s situation especially poignant in episode 9. Maura tags along with her two daughters to a feminist retreat in the woods. Sarah and Ali quickly go their own way, and as Maura strolls around by herself looking at the crafts for sale, a woman asks her if she’s trans, informs her that trans women aren’t allowed at the retreat and that some feminists are hostile toward trans women. Maura immediately seeks out her daughters, but they’re nowhere to be found. The episode does a good job of demonstrating how alone and vulnerable Maura feels. I strongly related to her. I have PTSD and extreme social phobia, so I often feel like I’m in enemy territory.

I found Maura’s adult children more likable this season, but they still seem self-centered and self-indulgent. Sarah especially got on my nerves in the first few episodes.

Spoilers… In season one, Sarah divorces her husband so she can resume her relationship with her college girlfriend. Well, we all know marriages sometimes don’t work out. Then in the first episode of season 2, Sarah marries Tammy. It’s a big, expensive wedding, too. But after going through the ceremony, she decides she’s made a mistake and tells the rabbi not to file the paperwork. It would be easier to forgive Sarah if this were simply an isolated lapse in judgment, but she and her brother and sister have a way of being oblivious to the needs of others. It’s all about them, or it seems that way much of the time. The kids remind me of the Buchanans from The Great Gatsby. “They were careless people, Tom and Daisy—they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.”

Sometimes you have to forget the law...and the Bible.

Mark Twain said sometimes you have to forget the law and do what's right. I think it's that way with the Bible even if you're Christian. The Bible was written by human beings. It was produced in a culture far different from our own. And the process by which it was formed and passed down to us is more than a little dodgy. So even if the Bible condemns homosexuality, I think the right thing to do is to realize those people just didn't understand. Just as they didn't understand about women being equal to men and deserving of equal rights and that slavery is wrong.

Dream Boy

The first Hardy Boys episode aired in January 1977. I loved it from the start. I loved Nancy Drew, too, but I was especially drawn to the Hardy Boys. Obviously, the boys were supposed to be brothers, but they seemed more like a couple. They hung out together, they traveled together, and they occasionally solved crimes together. Rarely did you see such a close bond between two young men on a TV show. I had just figured out I was gay, so it’s no wonder seeing intimacy between two cute young men thrilled me. I was particularly attracted to Shaun. I was 11, and Shaun Cassidy was 18, but my crush was by no means innocent. I can remember having explicit fantasies involving Shaun and me, and occasionally Parker Stevenson, too. I would have been thrilled if Shaun took me to a movie or to Burger King or to Transylvania or one of the other cool places they went on the show, but I would have hoped that we would have had some private fun without our clothes on at some point. That’s just the kind of boy I was, blushing and painfully shy on the surface, and a smoldering sexpot underneath.

Several years and many crushes later, I saw The Outsiders, and I fell in love with Ponyboy played by C. Thomas Howell. Although not many would think Howell and Cassidy were related, they were remarkably similar in type. Both were cute and boyish, and more pretty than handsome. Both had a soft and gentle side to their nature, at least on screen. Neither seemed particularly athletic or competitive. Neither had that drive to prove their manhood. And Howell especially displayed a certain amount of vulnerability.

I notice young men like that even now. I don’t expect to find one at this late date. And no, that’s not because I’m insecure or because I’m being down on myself. That might have had something to do with me not finding my Ponyboy 20 or 30 years ago, but now I’m just facing reality. Few twenty-year-old pretty boys with sweet dispositions want to date an overweight 50-year-old without money, and I don’t hold that against them. It’s just the way things are. But I still notice, and I still enjoy looking and dreaming.

It might make some nervous that I’m attracted to younger men. Many might not find it particularly surprising but would prefer I keep such thoughts to myself. Some might think the attraction needs an explanation. They might say I’m refusing to grow up like Peter Pan or that I’m afraid of getting old or dying. They might say that even though I’m gay, I still have a biological drive to plant my seed in someone young and healthy. People often seem to want to find explanations for things that make them uncomfortable. When I was 11 and lusting after Shaun Cassidy, an older teenage boy, some probably would have said I needed a strong male role model to teach me how to be a man. I don’t put much stock in the explanations. I have grown older over the years, and my archetypal dream boy has remained relatively constant. At first, he was an older man. Then he was a peer. And now he’s younger. The image of him seems to be hardwired into my brain. I don’t want to let him go even if the fantasy never came true. He is my ideal, this sweet, pretty boy who lives in my head, my Holy Grail. If I no longer remembered him, if I stopped desiring him, it would probably be the end of me.

Robert Sean Leonard as Neil Perry, Dead Poets Society (1989)

I was 23 when this movie was released. It doesn't seem that long ago. Probably because the memory of it is so fresh and vivid in my mind. I was blown away by the movie. Of course, all the cute young men had me drooling, and as someone who was withdrawn and painfully shy, I immediately identified with Todd, Ethan Hawk's character. I loved the way Neil was able to look past Todd's standoffish demeanor. Neil had a kind heart, and he was much more socially adept. He knew Todd was scared, and he wasn't going to let Todd push him away. I loved Neil for that, and I wanted someone like Neil to rescue me from my loneliness. I was also able to see a spark of romance and attraction between the boys. That might not have actually been there, but I wanted the boys to be in love, so that's what I saw. Todd was obviously the one who appeared to be the most vulnerable, so what happened to Neil came as a huge shock.

 

I Wouldn't Want To Share An Elevator With Dan Savage

A few days ago, Amazon offered the audio version of Skipping Towards Gomorrah: The Seven Deadly Sins and the Pursuit of Happiness in America by Dan Savage for a few dollars.

I have mixed feelings about Dan Savage. The It Gets Better Project was great. He knows how to make fun of homophobes. He usually makes a strong case for equality in the mainstream media. He can be funny, too. But he can also be harsh, sarcastic, condescending, rude, insensitive, arrogant, self-satisfied and rather unpleasant. He isn’t someone I’d want to be friends with.

His posts at The Stranger sometimes generate lively discussions in the comments section, and I used to follow those now and then. Savage sometimes participates in those discussions. One day, his readers were talking about how some LGBTs experience family rejection, and a gay father said that he loved his seven-year-old son unconditionally. He thought unconditional love should be the model for parents. Savage popped up and asked the man if he’d still love his son if he turned out to be a psychopath. He was talking about this man’s seven-year-old boy. I found the question to be so repugnant, I rarely read his posts at The Stranger anymore.

But I did get the audiobook because it was super cheap—probably because it’s dated. I’ve been listening to it for the past few days. Savage is the one who reads it. The book is supposed to champion liberty and individual pursuits of happiness, and it’s supposed to counter the holier-than-thou types who want to tell everyone else how to live and use the law to limit their freedom. Savage decided to indulge in the seven deadly sins as a way of demonstrating that one person’s sin is another’s happiness, and his publisher paid for everything.

The trouble is, Savage isn’t always that sympathetic toward other peoples’ pursuits of happiness, and if he’s not already into someone else’s “sin,” he doesn’t demonstrate much intellectual curiosity or compassion.

There are a couple of things that he defends with passion. He is all for the legalization of pot which he categorizes as a kind of slothful pastime as a way of fitting the subject into the structure of his book. Savage makes it clear that he thinks pot is safer than just about any recreational drug, and he believes the benefits far outweigh the risks. He claims he doesn’t think kids should smoke it, but he says he would rather they smoke pot than drink or do other drugs. Savage is also a great defender of heterosexual swingers, and he devoted most of his lust chapter to hetero swingers clubs and practices. It was obvious that he admires and is impressed by straight couples who get together in large groups to screw around, but he thinks gay bathhouses are kind of gross.

Savage went to Las Vegas and to a riverboat casino to explore greed. His descriptions of the people and venues were often tedious and unflattering. Savage admitted gambling simply isn’t his thing, and the conclusions he drew weren’t terribly insightful.

For some strange reason, Savage decided to pursue envy by staying at an expensive spa, but the spa wasn’t luxurious, and the regiment was rather grueling. Savage and his fellow guests had to walk in the hot desert sun for several hours a day, and they were given very little to eat. Savage made a lot of snotty comments about the décor, and his observations of the wealthy spa-goers were mostly banal. His most keen insight was that the rich were so well off, they had to pay for the experience of a little deprivation.

The chapter on gluttony was mind blowing in its stupidity and thinly veiled hostility. Savage begins the chapter by claiming he is tempted to overeat even though he’s thin. He claims he was overweight as a teenager, and he claims that he sometimes indulges in dessert at fancy restaurants. He went to a fat acceptance convention claiming he thought he’d meet a lot of happy eaters, but then he skipped the first night’s dance because he feared the floor would collapse. He spoke of how he was afraid the cables holding up the elevator would snap when several large women got in with him. He talked about how all of the overweight people seemed reluctant to eat much in public. He was critical of the way the event organizers claimed being overweight was healthy and that some are simply prone to gain weight. He made a point of describing how unhealthy some of the participants looked. He told us about how some had to use canes, wheelchairs and scooters. I didn’t detect one note of empathy when he spoke of these things. Savage learned that some of the participants had weight loss surgery to restrict the amount they could eat, but others were highly put off by these surgeries because it violated the spirit of fat acceptance. Savage briefly admits that these people are subjected to a great deal of hate, but he doesn’t spend much time trying to understand the impact this has had on their lives. He doesn’t spend much time exploring why these people are overweight. He fails to make the connection between the contradictory messages he encountered at the convention and the bitchy way the participants sometimes treated one another to the defensiveness of gay men and the bitchy way they sometimes treated one another pre-Stonewall. It goes right over his head. And he doesn’t understand why they won’t admit that overeating is bad for your health, take some responsibility, overindulge now and then, but eat more salads and baked chicken like he does…because their problem couldn’t possibly be more complicated and harder to solve than his, right?

For his chapter on Pride, Savage went to an LGBT Pride event. If you think he’d show some sympathy in this chapter, you’d be mistaken. He was harshly critical. Savage claimed that in years past, LGBTs might have needed their egos boosted, but these days it’s a lot easier to be queer. (Keep in mind this book was written in 2002, before marriage equality, before DADT repeal, before Lawrence v. Texas.) He spends some time talking about how predatory some gay men are. He talks about the “freaks” and he uses the word “faggot” repeatedly. He goes into detail about Pride-themed butt plugs, and he’s rather sarcastic about how one attractive, well-off gay couple can’t explain to him to his satisfaction why they need and still participate in Pride.

It’s true Dan Savage isn’t guided by the same dogma and mindset of the Religious Right, but I think he has more in common with them than he’d care to admit. He is often smug and even self-righteous. When he doesn’t understand something, he becomes argumentative and judgmental. He seems to be blissfully unaware of how caustic his remarks can be. I don’t sense a lot of warmth or affection for others. I simply don’t find him very likable. I wouldn’t want to share an elevator with him. Not because I’d be afraid the cables would snap. I wouldn’t want to feel the negative energy radiating off of him. I’ve been around people like him before. They look at you with cold eyes and judge the fuck out of you. They think they have a perfect right to do that. You don’t have to be a Bible-thumper to be a prick.