Auld Lang Syne

Tomorrow is my anniversary.

I met my partner at a New Year’s Eve party last year hosted by a mutual friend. When he walked through the door and I got a first look, I couldn’t stop looking (yes, this is kind of cliché, but indulge me). Who is this handsome man, I thought? I made sure to make my way over to have a conversation, and the rest is history (my last cliché, I promise).

An old friend from L.A. just last week asked me how serious I was and if I was in love. It’s definitely for real and for the long-term, I told her. I thought it was a strange question. After a year, would she think I’d still be dating someone casually?

But the question made me reflect on ways this relationship is different.

In my previous relationships, I pretty much had a “take things one day at a time” mentality. I didn’t project far ahead, partly because I was protecting myself. I have had the rug pulled out from under me more than once, so it was safer not to pin hopes on an ideal that could easily be dashed. Moreover, I’m an independent person with so many other things going on already – career, writing, friends, family, social outings, church, etc. A man was never needed to fill the space or be the missing piece of the puzzle – two phrases that make me vomit when I hear them being used.

And whether it was cynicism and/or pragmatism, I flatly believed nothing was forever and it was ludicrous to have expectations and set myself up for failure. After all, life happens as you're making plans. A man here today can easily be gone tomorrow.

My thinking has changed, though, and I've adopted a fresher perspective before I knew it. Finally, I felt comfortable imagining a partnership 5, 10, 20+ years down the road. I realized I can have my long-term goals of my career and such, and know my relationship can fit into that.

I have more of an acute sense of longevity and what work may have to be done to attain a goal I routinely scoffed at. I feel like whatever changes life brings, I can grow with my partner. And there’s not a fear a long-term relationship will reap mendacity, complacency, and resentment. It can bring constant discoveries, new adventures, and happiness if we allow it.

After many months, I began referring to my boyfriend as my partner to most everyone. I did it without thinking and can’t even remember when I started. ‘Boyfriend’ sounded too temporary, even teenager-y. The word partner just felt right.

This all makes it seem I never had great happiness, respect, honesty, communication in my previous relationships. I had most of those qualities in various degrees, but it all never seemed to come together until now.

It also makes it seem like the relationship is perfect, but it’s not and we’ve had a few hiccups along the way like every other couple. When you have two different people, you have challenges and embark upon a learning process.

The key is knowing that I can’t control my future, but I can control my viewpoints, priorities, and goals. And I can reach for the brass ring without worrying about doubts and “what if”s holding me back.

So I will ring in 2009 counting my blessings like before, but realize the great potential of what lies ahead. I can’t wait for the second anniversary

Secret Santa

Someone once said you spend Thanksgiving with the people you want to, and Christmas with the people you have to. You’re blessed if those two audiences are one in the same.

For me, the gatherings are almost always different for each holiday, but it’s not due to drama. It’s mainly because a) I prefer not to leave town on Thanksgiving (the day before is the busiest travel day of the year and I like my sanity), and b) I have such a big family on both sides, I rotate my destinations to try to see everyone.

Most of my friends have asked if my partner is going with me back home to L.A. He’s not, because of his work schedule. But my family knows about him and many will eventually meet him. Most of his family now knows me, and I spent Thanksgiving with all of them and enjoyed it.

But many gay couples will never have to think about this scenario. Because one is a secret from the other’s family.

An informal survey across my friends reveals something remarkable: many of them have not told their families about their long-term relationships, even as they hit the 5-year mark and beyond. So you can guess the holidays are resolutely a separate affair for them. But does this kind of arrangement devalue the relationship?

Family is tricky in of itself, let alone when you bring a boyfriend or girlfriend to the equation. You feel like you spend a lifetime learning the complicated rhythms and personalities of your family members, and how they can be incorporated into your life. And your plus-one may not be able to blend into that scene well. That alone can make someone hesitant to bring in a veritable in-law.

Some others have a more tangible fear. Their family may consist of conservatives, religious or otherwise, who would virtually disown them for their gayness. Or maybe the family is abusive or dysfunctional to where they don’t want to bring the unsuspecting partner into a dark milieu.

But an informal survey of friends and acquaintances doesn’t uncover such drastic scenarios save a very few exceptions. It frankly seems to be an extension of how out they are in general, and how comfortable they are making their homosexuality known.

My question, though, is how long can you keep your partner from the family, or be hidden from your partner’s family? And what purpose does it serve in the long run?

I can see if you’ve only dated someone several months, and don’t know the long-term potential. You don’t want to do the family rounds and then break up shortly afterward.

For me, keeping a partner in the closet for a long time is putting fear, pride, and a desire for acceptance above your relationship. And is that the priority list you want? Conceivably, a family member can scorn you for your career choices or your style of dress. So are you going to keep everything you think might elicit the slightest bit of disapproval away from the family to “keep the peace”? When does it stop?

When I bring this argument up to a few friends who fit the scenario, they bristle and see the words “closeted” and “fear” as judgmental. Their ears hear me saying that they are cowardly wusses. It’s complicated, they say, and I wouldn’t understand. One friend years ago said that it’s “not important” his family knows. Another unabashedly said he would never introduce a boyfriend to his family to avoid a sense of shame and discomfort that would be generated, even if it meant losing that boyfriend eventually.

Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve met many men who are out to their friends, and maybe even co-workers. But family is still put behind the great wall, essentially creating a double life. One argument is you can get new friends, but not new family members. So even if prejudices fuel tensions and divides that may arrive due to sexuality or a relationship, it’s better to avoid that situation. Blood is thicker than water.

But if your long-term partner is as important in your life as a parent or sibling, why keep those important parts painfully separate? Sooner or later, there has to be a breaking point. I mean, will someone tolerate a 10-year closeted relationship? Will you be age 50 or 55 before you officially out your relationship? And isn’t that a teeny bit ridiculous?

Oddly, I know situations where one is out, but the other is not. So while the couple is enmeshed with one family, you only hear crickets on the other side. I can’t help but think that eventually the out person is going to feel resentful and throw down the gauntlet.

Sometimes, outside factors motivate outing the relationship – a prime example is if one or both has children. If the other person is serious, you scarcely can spend time with the kids and leave out the significant other.

If someone is bent on having separate holidays and separate lives, I can’t convert them. But they’re missing something good. Why talk about the turkey dinner and the glee from unwrapped gifts over the phone, when you can be there in person?

Eight Is Not Enough

In the aftermath of California voters barely passing Prop. 8, which shot down gay marriage, many of the pundits seemed to dwell on one fact: nearly 70% of Black voters in the state voted for the proposition.

My first thought was disappointment that so many of my own people pulled the lever against a right I, and other LGBT people, should have had in the first place.

But in all the sniping from some White gay leaders who were infuriated that one minority group couldn’t understand the perspective of another minority group, and with all the grousing from some Black gay leaders that there are bigger priorities in life than marriage, there’s a lesson lost.

We’re not communicating with and reaching out to each other before crucial decisions are made. And as a vote from the DC City Council on gay marriage will be coming up in early 2009 in a city that is 60% Black, we need to do this like yesterday.

First, the Black vote fixation was myopic. Apparently, some people didn’t realize that upward of 80% of Republicans, conservatives, white evangelicals, and weekly churchgoers also voted yes on Prop. 8. The initiative would have passed, albeit barely, even if not a single African-American had shown up at the polls. Besides, Mormons pumped $20 million into the “Yes on 8” campaign, so it’s safer to say they really tipped the scales.

The morning-after chattering confirmed that a crucial problem was messaging and outreach. Apparently, the African-American outreach from mostly white gay groups was sorely lacking. There were a couple of town hall meetings in the state and an urging of the NAACP to issue a press release. Uh, that’s it?

Imagine if you had large numbers of LGBT campaign organizers approaching churches, community centers, civil rights groups, nonproifts, colleges, and local leaders to discuss the benefits and importance of gay marriage and to offer to hear out and dispel myths and worries. Imagine if you had a series of town hall meetings in which gays of all races and ethnicities discussed in detail the discrimination they faced in health care, employment, education, and the like. Imagine a scene where Black gay couples with children discussed the legal hurdles and challenges to their parental rights to various audiences (Remember there are still states, like Florida, Utah, and Arkansas, where gay adoption is illegal.)

A good friend in L.A. who has marched in protests in the aftermath of the election believes this idea is rather naïve. In his mind, there is nothing anyone can say or do to persuade a homophobe, particularly a Bible-thumping one. I’m not so sure. You can never convert everyone. Some conservatives will never, ever believe global warming exists, for example. But putting a human face on an issue can change some hearts. It’s not so easy to condemn neighbors, metaphorically and literally, who live, work, eat, and go to school just like you. (Besides, if Americans gave up on an idea because it would be met with some resistance, we wouldn’t have declared independence from England or created the Civil Rights movement).

But my friend did bring up a good point. In general, there are relatively few out, prominent people in the Black communities, whether they are in entertainment, business, politics, or sports. We don’t have our own Elton John, perhaps because fear of backlash and rejection have allowed timidity to govern, instead of courage.

When comedian Wanda Sykes publicly came out after the election and declared she had a wife and she was angry about Prop. 8 setting us back, I was proud and pleased. But quickly, I also thought, “Where the hell was she before Nov. 4?” Wouldn’t it have been great is Sykes and other celebrities also went around to stump against Prop. 8. And what about high-profile Black heterosexuals who are gay-friendly providing a voice? On that front, things were eerily quiet, and that’s a shame. And I think it cost us.

So there’s some blame to go around. But the key is there was little dialogue between communities on the campaign trail. People were either suspicious of the other or took things for granted. Now that D.C. will be in the middle of a national debate on gay marriage soon, we should be in a position to do things differently and set a better example.

I read this week in the Washington Blade that some DC gay leaders were looking to connect with Black groups and leaders, straight and gay, to help elicit support for gay marriage if it goes to a referendum vote like in California. They’d better do it fast. Prop. 8 was a wake-up call, and we can’t be caught sleeping at the wheel.

No Longer a Prince Among Men

What do you do when a hero of yours – an icon, for crying out loud – not just has feet of clay, but also brain of Jell-o?

I’m talking about Prince, one of the most brilliant musicians of our time and still so, I must grudgingly admit. But if you haven’t heard, he thinks gay people are kind of disgusting. He said the Bible opposes homosexuality and God has said “enough.”

In an interview that appears in the Nov. 24 edition of the New Yorker, Prince talked at length about his Jehovah’s Witness faith. When asked for his views on social issues--gay marriage and abortion--Prince tapped his Bible and said, "God came to earth and saw people sticking it wherever and doing it with whatever, and he just cleared it all out. He was, like, 'Enough.' "

My first reaction when I read this was not anger, but laughter. After all, this is a man who:

1) Has worn high heels, make-up and flamboyant, often sequined, clothes that at one time had the butt cut out of them.

2) Wore a Speedo on the cover of his 1980 Dirty Mind album, which featured a song that fantasized about him having sex with his sister (in the appropriately tiled song, “Sister”).

3) Has sung frequently, exhaustively, and graphically, if imaginatively, about sex.

4) Has fragrantly played with sexual and gender roles in his performances and music, one-upping David Bowie and Madonna. (Safe bet that he’s had a sexual encounter with at least one man.)

5) Has had sex with numerous people, numerous times.

Apparently that Prince is behind us and lo, a new one has taken his place. But does religious faith mean he has to turn into a hypocritical homophobe? I grant anyone the right to change his or her values, lifestyle, and belief system if it edifies peace of mind and quality of life. But that person doesn’t have to cast aspersions on those he or she still considers in the wilderness.

Prince has basically ascended to a higher moral level and has ruefully peered at those behind the pearly gates he shut behind himself. And the whole “people sticking it wherever and doing it with whatever” quote. That’s something base and ignorant, and it sounds like it’s coming from the mouth of a seven-year-old – or Fred Phelps.

This article made me think what would happen if one of my gay male friends, a consummate partier, changed his ways due to faith, a partner, etc., and he proceeded to strike out at those who used to be like him. It would rub me the wrong way. I’d appreciate and respect his new life. But that kind of judgmental thinking doesn’t do anyone good. The “moralists” feel superior and the “heathens” feel lacking.

The ideal in life is that each of us becomes responsible and accountable for his/her own life without telling others “the way.” Besides, who decides what the way is, and couldn’t there be more than one way.

Prince doesn’t have to worry about fallout from this article. He has his millions, musical legacy, and mansions to cushion him against any blows. (Although I wonder what his music industry and Hollywood friends have to say about an anti-gay tirade).

But he lost the respect of one die-hard fan. I’ll keep all the CDs and downloads, but the thrill is mostly gone.

Porn To Be Wild

OK, we have the love that dare not speak its name. How about the hobby that dare not speak its name?

I’m talking about porn. Very recently, the idea, and even the word itself, have come under some attack.

First, there’s the Kevin Smith movie Zack and Miri Make a Porn. Several cities, including Philadelphia, banned outdoor advertisements of the film because 5-year-old Mary Beth may see the word on a billboard and ask Mommy what that means.

Last month, Australian researchers claimed a link between clinical depression and an online sex life, after stating in part that, "1,325 men from the U.S and Australia were surveyed about their Internet sex habits, which might include trolling for porn, participating in online chats, or doing things with webcams."

And there’s this crazy, extremist group Stop Porn Culture that uses a traveling road show that displays over a hundred extreme hardcore images to tell us that porn is harmful. They perpetuate myths and unsubstantiated claims that all porn – even though they are bent on only showing the extreme stuff (without requiring ID to see this little exhibit, mind you) – is responsible for exploiting women, providing dead-end economic choices for young girls, fostering racism and sexism, and being a causal factor in rape, child abuse and domestic violence. Oh, yeah, the group claims every porn actor ever has been abused as a child. (The group sheepishly admitted it had no proof or studies to back this up).

To rebel against the porn assault, I promptly went to Hot House Entertainment and stocked up on six DVDs and bought 15 hours worth of streaming video – just kidding! But the hullabaloo made me think if porn has a negative or harmful side.

I watch porn now and then. It’s a casual and fun diversion that is akin to flipping through nudie magazines. I like seeing good eye candy and the physicality turns me on and occasionally has given me a few ideas for real life. It’s never replaced my sex life. And when I’m satisfied in my sex life, I tend to seek it out a lot less. I prefer the real thing.

But what if some of us who watch porn on a regular basis get really caught up in it and it does affect our sex lives. For example, watching impossibly buff bodies and seeing impossibly big dicks and impossibly toned bubble butts may make real men seem impossibly disappointing. And could one get to the point to where when having sex with a lover or partner, he fantasizes more about the guy in the movie than who he’s with?

And what about couples to where one wants to use porn as part of the lovemaking on a regular basis? Is the porn just merely in the same category as a bubble bath, soft music, and silk boxers – something to get the mood going – or a necessary part of the engine to keep things going? And does it make the couple dependent on porn? Who’s to say porn can’t merely be a sex life enhancement, just like certain toys?

And do those who can spend an hour, or two, or three at a pop exploring different sex sites just having fun, or does desperation and loneliness propel them? The Australian study broadly paints online enthusiasts as sad loners. But that can’t be the whole story.

It’s a hard thing to draw a line on what’s healthy vs. unhealthy sometimes. You can’t judge solely by time spent or fetishes enacted. For me, the litmus test is addiction and dependency. Porn is just like alcohol or many other things of that nature: you can enjoy it without it being harmful. But too much too often can affect health and behavior and give it a disproportionate place in your life that muscles out other people and bigger priorities.

Hopefully, any individual or couple is attuned to comfort level and the place porn – or other things for that matter – plays in their lives. It can be very fun or it can make you dependent, and affect your well-being and relationships.

I hope none of us succumb to the porn-is-bad, judgmental generalists I describe above, though. They’re just as bad for sex as the worst-case pornography scenario could ever be.

Voting For Change

We did it!

Barack Obama will be our next President! I’m already planning where I’ll be planted on the inauguration parade route.

But the refreshing thought of a progressive Democrat dismantling the conservative and devastating Bush regime made me wonder. Will DC feel gayer now?

People who are from DC or who’ve lived here more than a decade tell me that under the Clinton years, DC distinctly felt freer and more liberal. Bill was never quite the P-FLAG-equivalent politician (he did after all sign the Defense of Marriage Act), but he denounced discrimination and homophobia – more than any other president ever did. And his White House made small but meaningful gestures like recognizing the gay community through official resolutions.

You know W. stopped all of that. And those same people I talked to said that antagonism filtered downward and somewhat stained their optimism. Things just felt different.

But Obama is ushering in new way of thinking and riding a wave of a public seeking a sea change. It’s not a leap to suggest that the actions of policymakers have some influence on how we feel about ourselves, our relationships, and our status as a sexual minority without many rights shared by heterosexuals. We can pretend like our daily lives don’t hinge on who occupies 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, but that’s not so.

Think about it. While Bush was in the White House, many officials in his administration were unabashedly conservative and anti-gay. And in the 2004 election campaign, Bush’s architect Karl Rove and his minions shied away from real issues and pumped up the “threat” of gay marriage and other bullshit red meat for the conservative base. We had leaders occupying our own city, denouncing us.

Considering we now have elected Obama and a Democratic majority in Congress, there will be more policymakers merely miles or minutes away from us who will be more respectful of the LGBT community and responsive to our demands.

A real test for DC – and the clincher – will be early next year, when a gay marriage bill is likely to be approved by the D.C. City Council as early as April 2009, according to local activists and City Hall insiders. Apparently, the vast majority of the council would approve such a measure and, most important, a Democratic congress would be less likely to intervene and overturn that.

Imagine the country’s capitol approving gay marriage, especially as it looks like California’s Prop. 8 squeaked to a victory and (for now) will ban gay marriage in the biggest state. DC would enter an exclusive club and I’m convinced would set the tone for a re-thinking of homophobia and a realization that gay marriage and other rights for us are not a breakdown of the family, but creation of full equality. Such a victory would make me a prouder and happier DC resident.

Over the years, several people who have hailed from Philadelphia and even New York have told me that they see DC as a more gay-friendly city, in terms of little gestures like seeing two men and women openly hold hands.

But come Inauguration Day on January 20, we could begin to be even more gay-friendly on a deeper level. Hopefully, we all just won’t be holding hands. We’ll be changing hearts and minds.

The Audacity of Nope

You have to wonder. When they were mere nobody high school lads growing up, were perennial heartthrobs like Brad Pitt, Denzel Washington, and Mario Lopez already 10’s? Did they have first dibs on the head cheerleader? Did they create their own social caste? And did they not once experience rejection?

That last question is fun to transplant into the gay dating world, where looks are king (or queen?) and there is a firm pecking order when it comes to available men. Someone – and I’m not exactly sure who runs this thing – has created strict rules governing appearance and accessibility. Lines are drawn on how attractive you are and who you are allowed to approach.

It sounds like a demented LGBT version of “Mean Girls,” but that’s the way it goes. Perfectly nice-looking guys get rebuffed by prettier boys who assume they’re better and deserve better. And woe to some of those whose body types and looks are more like Joe the Plumber. And look at how many of us decide whether someone is “in our league” or if we qualify to be “in his league.”

I thought of this during a recent outing with some friends. One of the friends – a handsome and single professional – saw a muscular work of art walk in the bar and so badly wanted to talk to him. But my friend didn’t because he just assumed he would be rejected. After all, this guy was a pretty musclehead and he probably just wants another pretty musclehead. It was a little disturbing to see my friend shortchange himself and what he had to offer under this disturbing dating matrix we fall under.

And the whole thing works in other ways too. I’ve seen plain-looking men refusing to even talk with other plain-looking men because they have their sights set on the hot ones. One former acquaintance, who was OK-looking and overweight, complained about going to a bar and seeing guys who had hot bodies but busted faces. He was a lot more John Goodman than John Stamos, yet he looked over his own lack of perfection while expecting that perfection from others. He lamented that he probably got a lot of no’s because he was fat, but he also admitted he would not date someone who wasn’t thin.

What a conundrum. The 5s and 6s think they are better than their peers and want 9s and 10s. Of course, the 9s and 10s won’t even think about 8s and under. Hell, many of them only want 10s. Some of the 7s and 8s are perfectly happy with other 7s and 8s, but some of the 7s and 8s have a nagging feeling they can do better and ward off the advances of their peers. But even the rejected 7s and 8s won’t dare approach the 6s and below. They have a reputation to keep, and what will people say?

Yes, I know this is not universal law and some of us have taken the red pill and left the disturbing dating matrix, choosing to approach people with respect and, more important, respect for themselves.

But you gotta admit that there are too many of these ratings and appearance rules. We don’t know who started it, but we’re playing along. I’m guilty, too. I’m not a shy person, but on a few occasions in the past, I was intimidated by someone’s body or good looks and I simply admired from afar. And who’s to necessarily say those men wouldn’t have gone out with me?

Some friends have been paralyzed by constant rejection and they have recalibrated their social manners and expectations to fit “reality.” I don’t see that as a very healthy development, but I guess it’s pragmatic. I think someone needs to recalibrate the 1-10 scale. We all could get better results.

Separate But Equal?

The idea of gender wars dawned on me as I sat last weekend to watch one of the movies that was part of Reel Affirmations, the LGBT film festival in DC. A man took the podium to briefly introduce the movie. He said something to the effect of, “Enjoy the show, gentlemen.”

Here’s the problem. There was at least one woman in attendance, and she was sitting in my row. I looked over and she just laughed it off. It was easy to see that because the movie was male-dominated, the speaker assumed the audience was all gay men.

I could give the speaker grief, but who can blame him? Socially, LGBT men and women segregate themselves. It’s like we take great pains to create our distinct spaces and never the twain shall meet.

Reel Affirmations always supports this. How many times have we men looked through the festival guide and immediately skipped over films starring women? One year, I suggested a lesbian-themed movie to a friend while we were sitting in the audience waiting for another movie to start. He responded with a “Yuck!” and seemingly ignored the lesbian behind him who could have beaten him up with one hand tied behind her back. But many women are guilty, too. If it ain’t The L Word, they ain’t going!

To some degree, separation makes sense. I largely think of bars. After all, men and women want very different things. And yes, perhaps there are quirks and facets of gay male life that lesbians aren’t frankly interested in, and vice versa. I understand issues of interests and preferences

But that doesn’t explain why you’d be hard pressed to go to restaurants, movies, museums, almost anywhere, and see a group of gay men and women together. Most gay men I know – and I’m including myself – have few if any lesbian friends. And the same goes for gay women.

This shows that there is pervasive gender segregation in the LGBT community. My volunteer work, including the mixers my group sponsors, is really the only time I see everyone fraternizing. And even then, there’s not full integration. Often, many of the volunteer groups I join to help out a particular cause are 90-95% men. One time, I helped out at the Mautner Project just for a change in scenery.

Frankly, many gay men and women don’t care about this. But in my mind, separation can breed animosity, distrust and misunderstanding. Considering that we’re a persecuted minority, is it healthy for the genders to so willfully separate and refuse to integrate? Don’t we need to be, or at least feel, more united?

My theory is that a lot of us don’t start the gay journey determined to cut ourselves off from the other gender(s). But as we venture out to bars, clubs, and parties to create a social network, we tend to stick to a familiar path. If our social life foundation starts in a gender-exclusive environment, it probably doesn’t branch out too far from that. A lot of gay men, for example are just satisfied with other men and the requisite fag hags. If you mention lesbians, you get eye rolls or ugly faces.

I’m going to challenge myself to be more inclusive in my social circle. Just watching and thoroughly enjoying the new liberal star Rachel Maddow on MSNBC, I became an instant fan and found myself thinking, “I’d like to be friends with someone like that.”

But I also have to overcome attitudes. Just look how I started this column with the idea of “gender war.” I guess I assume gay men and women will be perpetually at odds.

You Just Keep Me Hanging On

According to Newton’s First Law of Motion, inertia means in part, “A body at rest tends to remain at rest.” It makes me think if Newton also had good insight on relationships.

A couple of friends are going through relationship crises, and the odds of them remaining with their respective partners for long are slimmer than the girls on the new 90210. But perhaps what strikes me the most is that they are in situations where they knew long time ago things weren’t working, but they just don’t act even as they become more miserable.
So why do people remain in bad situations longer than they should?

Madonna and Guy Ritchie announced their split today. However long trouble was brewing, they finally saw it wasn’t worth staying together. But many others don’t follow suit.

So far, my longest relationship has been a year, so this whole phenomenon of being months, or years, past the due date has escaped me if only because of my lack of longevity. But, as a good friend recently pointed out, I also follow my bliss. If I’m not happy or fulfilled, I’m out. I put time into at least seeing if an issue(s) can be worked out before I see an endpoint. But sitting through a bad relationship is like sitting through a bad movie and staying until the credits are over.

One friend in this situation has practically checked out because he realizes he and his partner want very different things, can’t realistically reconcile their needs, and bicker incessantly. But do you think he’s had the sit-down with his partner on if they realistically make each other happy, and if not, how they should end things? Nope! I ask him why he just lest time goes by as if nothing is wrong. I can practically hear the shrug on the phone when he responds repeatedly, “I don’t know.”

Another friend knew shortly after her marriage she made a mistake. Well, it’s more accurate to say she knew before the ceremony. But she’d known him for years, the biological clock was ticking, and she thought she could deal. She can’t. She has never once brought up separation or divorce with her husband, though.

I suspect it’s the whole idea of “Better the devil you know, than the devil you don’t.” You can find security and familiarity even in unhappiness, and sometimes those traits are preferable to the unknown. Being single, even with the promises of freedom and a fresh start, seems scary because you don’t know when or if you’ll find that happiness you’ve been seeking with someone (again). And some people equate longevity with a sense of satisfaction. Regardless of the quality of the relationship, they feel there’s something to be said for having someone who can take care of you if something bad happens or at least will be there when you get home.

Also, even amid the overwhelming issues, there’s this realization that of the love and history with a partner and it feels painful to see that go, even if it’s in the best interest for all involved. I’ve talked with divorced or split-up people who see their break-up as a loss of an investment. Just like with today’s plummeting stocks, there is a nagging feeling that you must hold on to them because they could come back better than ever, and you’d be sorry if you let them go and miss out on the returns

I saw too many marriages in my family where the spouses were not truly happy (and I wondered if they even liked each other). The logical part of me wondered why someone would spend years or decades with someone and be resigned to lack of fulfillment. The unhappiness I saw made happiness a priority I refused to sacrifice.

And I suppose that’s the litmus test. Happiness. Despite relationship issues everyone has, the ideal question to ask is, “Can I remain happy or get happy again?” None of us should be afraid to ask the question and, most important, we shouldn’t be afraid of the answer.

Bailouts and Earmarks - Dating Style

In the idealism of romance, one is tempted to think superficial things like money don't matter. After all, it's about love and good stuff like that, not the cars, the bank account, clothes, shoes, and job title. Although with this crappy economy and Wall Street meltdown, money seems to be what a lot of us are thinking about even if it's the fact we've been losing it.

Even though it's not a pleasant thought, money can make a difference. Whether you date or meet someone who makes considerably less, or considerably more, you can't overlook the fact that financial differences can affect the tenor of a (potential) relationship.

I'm going to be frank and say I avoided broke-asses in my singledom. Period. Notice, I didn't pick a certain income level that I expect, even though I'm a professional who makes good money. I mean men who perpetually seem to be in financial turmoil.

I've met many men with various jobs who suddenly get anorexically thin wallets when a date is planned. I've suggested such relatively cheap things as a movie or a Mexican place and got responses such as, "Well, I have a financial situation," or "Not until after the first of the month."

That was cue for "Seacrest, out!" If you didn't have an extra 20 bucks at any given time, I was gone. Considering I'm in my 30s, I couldn't help but think the other guy - assuming he's around my age - could't handle his business. And I pay for things on a date because I want to, not because I have to.

My cold realism originally didn't mesh well with my egalitarianism. I want to think that we are all equals with things to contribute in very different ways. But I unabashedly steered myself to professional men. So did I unfairly marginalize six-pack Joes unlike Sarah Palin?

The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized it's not really just someone's social station or income bracket, but their behavior. I've dated men that I knew made less money then me because of their profession, but there weren't any problems because they had life goals and managed whatever they had well. We went out normally and things were equally paid. My feelings about financial discrepancy only loomed large when I thought about the big picture.

One ex bothered me because he was older and practically lived hand-to-mouth in a studio. But the thing is he had no desire for a career or even wanted to imagine what he could be doing in five years. No direction, ambition, or drive: I have those things in spades. He anticipated being taken care of. That's one of the main reasons I broke it off. I want a partner, not some who doesn't bring much to the table.

But I've had it the other way: dating six-figure-plus men whose income intimidated me a little. Sure, it's nice to be treated to a show at the Kennedy Center or a French dinner, but I didn't do that on the regular. I didn't like the idea of remotely being a kept man or not contributing enough. I dated one lawyer who liked to wine and dine and would refuse me to chip in anything. At one restaurant, I grabbed the check from the waiter to head him off.

A good friend has a boyfriend who makes mucho dinero. The boyfriend is so used to the finer things he'd suggest fancy weekend trips and foreign vacations as if he were ordering a pizza. And my friend had to gently remind him that while he made good money, he just couldn't do anything at anytime. And my friend refused to let the boyfriend just pay for it all. So they worked out a system to where costs are shared and traded.

And it reminded me that those who do make a lot more money also can be put in a difficult situation. Should they be expected to scale back the fun things they like to do to accommodate the comfort of the other who doesn't make as much. And if the well-to-do men have to end up paying for most things, does that lead to a sense of resentment - or entitlement? And if we're talking about two men - creatures with a healthy sense of pride and control - does constant financial bargaining take it's toll?

My partner is a professional who's conscientious about finances, so I scored big time. Our income levels are different but our thinking is the same in terms of sharing and striving for equality in contribution.

We can act like money doesn't mean anything, but if we've ever asked for a raise, pined for a nice car, or figured out how much to save for a house and retirement, we obviously care about finances. And why wouldn't that concern creep into our relationships?

"Money doesn't matter" is an ideal, but may not hold up to pragmatic living. Ask someone who used to work at Lehman Brothers.

Come Out Come Out, Wherever You Are

When Clay Aiken broke the news to People magazine last week that he was gay, my initial reaction was laughter.

What’s next, I thought. Brooke Hogan issuing a media advisory announcing that she’s stupid? George Clooney holding a press conference to declare he’s marriage-shy?

And then Lindsay Lohan confirmed her relationship with DJ Samantha Ronson in a radio interview last week. I checked my calendar to see if this was Celebrity National Coming Out Week. It wasn’t. But the rash of declarations made me wonder if they have any influence of regular Joe and Janes who are still firmly in the closet.

I have several gay friends who are not out to family, most friends, and/or co-workers. What’s more, many will stay that way indefinitely. The reasons vary. Some worry coming out will end relationships with conservative loved ones. Some want to stay above identification with the gay world or what people perceive that world to be, so it becomes an image issue. Some just see sexual orientation as a privacy issue. Others think making a declaration is tantamount to making a fuss and if they date the same gender, so what?

I don’t automatically knock reasons because each person’s situation is particular and what may seem illegitimate on the outside may not be so in one’s reality. After all, my coming out was a process. I revealed my orientation to various people over a period of time, starting with ones I assumed would be the most open-minded. And I’ve never been a Michaelaneglo Signorile type, wanting every LGBT person to be out if not at first by choice, then by force.

But I can say that being closeted for me was living a double life, and it became wearying to edit myself in certain company, change pronouns (or evade them), nod at untrue assumptions made by people, or uncharacteristically close down upon questioning. I became different versions of myself, and I wanted it to stop.

Besides, doesn’t not being out have a root in a fear and shame of gayness? And isn’t omission of an important fact lying? My belief in this rankles some of my closeted kin because they see it as harshly judgmental. They see it as I’m essentially calling them spineless wussies who care too much about what other people think, and the truth is trickier than that.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the vast majority of these people are older than me (sometimes more than a decade). They still remember when the American Psychological Association had homosexuality on the books as a mental illness, and coming out led to forever dissolved relationships. It still happens now but perhaps at lower rates now that gays are an inescapable influence on and presence in mainstream culture and there are more progressive minds out there.

But being out changes minds. I’ve experienced this firsthand as my being gay has forced some family and a few friends to rethink things. When an issue becomes personalized, things are taken to a new level. This hit home as I work on a story about religion and sexuality. One source discussed how a gay Christian just being out in a congregation (no politics or declaration, just being honest) can itself have an impact with that person’s family and friends, as well as fellow members who may not so easily demonize gays when one is sitting next to them, worshipping the same God and giving the same tithes.

The personal experience is what led Aiken to decide to come out (publicly). He told People he didn’t want his newborn baby to grow up and feel it was OK to lie or hide things. If he was worried about losing fans or getting angry e-mails from homophobes before, he's not anymore.

Perhaps the question we all need to ask is what’s really at stake from coming out and what's the benefit of remaining silent? I got over the fear of losing people. I want people in my life who support me and accept me for who I am. The rest can drift because if they don’t edify my life anyway, why be so worried about their absence?

Being closeted in different degrees may or may not generate a sense of turmoil for said person. I just hope whatever the scale of coming out is for each person, that the person has peace of mind.

The Sexual Board of Review

"Never give a damn about my reputation

I never said I wanted to improve my station

And I'm always feelin' good when I'm havin' fun

And I don't have to please no one

And I don't give a damn about my bad reputation"


Joan Jett sang that with gusto some 20-plus years ago, and I believe she still means it. But some of us do care about our reputations, particularly when it comes to bedroom performance.


This whole thing popped into my head when I remembered a time recently when I ducked into 30 Degrees here in DC to have a drink. When I was upstairs on the dance floor (when the place actually had decent music), a group I was with nudged his head toward one of the bartenders, a pretty-boy type whose muscular body popped out of tight jeans and a T-shirt.


"I knew a friend who slept with him and he was lame in bed," he simply and brutally announced.


We all looked at the barkeep with a mix of pity and disappointment that Emmy viewers must have had last Sunday for the sucky five hosts. I bet you 50 bucks that if any of the guys in this group was propositioned by the barkeep, they'd demure because of hearing this latest review.


The looming thought I had was the fact that I heard shit about a stranger's sexual ability. He didn't know me, but I sure heard about him. What if there were mitigating circumstances like maybe the barkeep was drunk and wasn't his best? But the criticism was out and it stuck. This bartender had a reputation - fair or unfair.


I had a second looming thought. What did some of my ex-lovers think about me in bed, and exactly how many people did they tell and how positive or negative was the review? Are there people out there I don't know, but who know me, or rather heard of me and what I do or did or didn't do? As much as I like to declare I don't care what people think, I kind of do on some matters and this is one of them.


In one situation, it got back to a friend that one hook-up praised me. Any anger for indiscretion qucikly sunbsided into mental chats of "Yes! I'm Da Man!!" In another case, though, a former friend told a current friend that I must not be versatile based on what he heard from this one guy I was with briefly. As if just one night told everything about me. I was miffed.


I'm not above helping to cast reputations. I told plenty of my friends about one guy who had the tiniest dick I'd ever seen and another guy who just lay there like a sack of potatoes (this one, I pointed out to my friend when we came across him in a bar). Now my experiences with these and a few other guys were not pleasurable, but that doesn't mean they are terminally bad in bed. Who's to say that they haven't hooked up with someone, and there was magic?


I firmly believe in the idea of a unique sexual chemistry between two people that goes beyond body type and looks. I've been with pretty boys where the sex was mediocre and okay-looking ones who knew how to push all my buttons. It's just the vibes and how the stars align. It's not always about pure technique, which can't be completely ascertained in just one session anyway.



Yet we get sucked into assumptions and classifications. And since sex talk moves as fast as the best gossip, we can find ourselves with a reputation - good or bad or alternating between the two.


Is it wrong to tell my friends what happened with that guy last night? Nope. Is it wrong to create a picture of potential and ability from a moment or moments and sell it as gospel. Yep. Perhaps the guy with the bartender was a lousy lay himself and he just cast blame instead of looking at why he didn't have a good time. Who knows?


But the human nature dynamic duo of judgment and pride makes us vulnerable to what people say and believe. We're like those Broadway actors who claim they never read reviews - the comments get back to them anyway and they are affected on some level. And since we men give virility a prominent place and use that to judge our (and each other's) manhood, a little gossip here and there going the wrong way can cast a reputation with an oppressive shadow.


Those who can win a gold medal in sex each and every time don't care because they bring it with confidence and the reputation will be a positive one. And there are ones, maybe in the spirit of Joan Jett, who do their thing and don't fixate on what is said about them, because no one's opinion is more important than their own. In the big picture, both types are rather lucky. A review doesn't matter because they already have decided who they are.

Hello and Good-Bi

Sept. 23 is Celebrate Bisexuality Day, so in advance I throw some parade streamers out to the bis.

However there are some of us in the gay world who act like the B in LGBT doesn’t exist, or rather we wish the B didn’t exist. You’ve heard the line snorted by a gay man or woman, “Bi now, gay later.”

The assumption is bisexuality is used as a safety zone where the person in question
acknowledges queerdom just enough to reap the benefits of gay culture but keeps a foot
in heterosexual waters to curry favor with straights and appear “not really gay.”

Quite a few gays have told me bisexuality is a bullshit concept, plain and simple.
Basically, the skeptics insist bisexuals are really gay but either confused or cowardly for
not completely being “on our side” or “one of us.” And I think that’s what the fuss is about. A sense of (dis)loyalty appears to be at stake.

I’m one of those legions of men who, shortly after coming out, did use “bisexual”
because it seemed easier and didn’t sound as drastic. I got over that in, like, two weeks. I
knew who I was but just needed to couch my language in new territory. I have been on
both sides of the fence but I never truly straddled the fence.

So, yes there are truly gay men and women who use bisexuality as a cloak, whether out
of fear or self-hatred. But I’m convinced that some self-proclaimed bisexuals are the real
thing and are truly oriented to the two genders.

Full disclosure: I have a couple of friends who are bi. And, yeah, I didn’t understand it the first time either. I had no scorn or animosity, just a little confusion. I thought that having a lasting relationship would be fairly impossible. Wouldn’t someone with a man after awhile get a hankering for things only a woman has, and vice versa? And as someone who has had no sexual longing for a woman during his gay adult life, it was hard to imagine switch hitting. For me, it can only be men all the way.

But one of my bi friends just explained that she ultimately is attracted, sexually and otherwise, to the complete package (er, person) and it’s more like her receptors are more wide-ranging that most other people’s. And she promises she’s not just being greedy.

But the fact that she explained her orientation reminded me of many times I had to defend my sexual orientation, whether it was people charging me with “choosing” this lifestyle or berating me for being a “woman-hater.” They couldn’t understand what I was about and found it easier to attack and deny me.

So aren’t we doing the same thing when we sneer at bisexuals? Just because we may not get it 100% doesn’t mean that the orientation is invalid or nonexistent. It just means that we may not fully understand that perspective and it’s OK. And theoretically, why should we be so caught up in what someone else does in the bedroom?

Besides, I don’t necessarily see bisexuals as having a charmed life despite having a bigger dating pool. For many straights, anyone who isn’t a heterosexual is “the other” and is treated as such. And because some gays shun and disrespect bisexuals in many aspects in life, some bis can be without very many advocates and true friends. They may date both ways, but they get the missile fire both ways too.

It’s awfully hypocritical for gays to judge bisexuals when they resent being judged by heterosexuals. The B got inserted in LGBT for a reason, just like the T did. We all may have discrete struggles, but we all have the same challenge of fighting discrimination big and small and getting the world to see our identity as true and valid.

So on Sept. 23, even if some of us don’t completely understand the bi world, perhaps we can at least acknowledge the authentic bisexuals and their pride in who and what they are.

Grand Old Party Poopers?

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Guess Who's Coming To Dinner

Picture it. August 22, Miami Beach.

Ricky Martin rushes to the penthouse suite where he agreed to meet Anderson Cooper for a fancy dinner and a nice long talk. To make up for being late, Ricky paid for a bottle of Dom Pérignon to be brought up. After a meal of filet mignon, lobster tail, asparagus tips, jasmine rice, and crème brûlée, they relax and chat.

"This is my last time for a vacation before the Democratic convention next week," sighs Anderson, kicking back in a recliner. "These South Beach Latinos are wearing me out."

"What clubs have you been meeting these boys at?" asks an incredulous Ricky as he poured another glass of champagne.

"Are you crazy? An assistant scouts them out, makes them sign confidentiality agreements, and whisks them through the freight elevator. I can’t critique Obama’s speech and be in a picture on Perez Hilton with white drops coming out of my mouth."

"I hate him! He’s a pretend Latin. And he’s always giving people like you and me shit."

"It’s not just him. It’s all these damn journalists and activists saying we’re cowards for not coming out. Well, their careers may have been made on being gay but it could derail ours. Look at big-mouth Rosie. Even she waited until her talk show was off the air before she became the raging lesbian. She’s no fool."

"I’m sooooo glad she got rid of that blog. Ugh!"

"And the Advocate pissed me off for putting me and Jodie Foster on their cover." Anderson interrupts his huff to order another Dom Pérignon. "I hate the games the gay mafia plays. I mean Jodie did it right. She never talks about her personal life. She’s not scared, she’s private just like me. Otherwise, they force you to be a spokesperson."

"I hate that whole, ‘Well if gay teens see prominent and successful out celebrities embracing their sexuality, they will have role models to encourage them to be who they really are and it will make homosexuality more accepted.’ Role model, schmole model. It’s not our responsibility to change attitudes. We’re entertainers."

"Um, you are. I’m a serious journalist."

"Ok, Mr. ‘Look at My Muscle Shirts During On-Location Assignments.’" And your memoir that avoided mention of any romances? Who do you think you’re fooling?"

"You should talk! Remember that picture of you and that other guy in bikini briefs doing push-ups on the beach? And when’s the last time someone saw you with a woman? By the way, getting that girl years ago to say you were a 10 in the sack? Puh-lease!"

"Hey, beards do no harm and keep up the fantasy. At least I’m not Usher and marry one."

"Stop being a bitter queen! It was one weekend and he never promised you anything."

"Whatever. But seriously, man, I have to shake my bon-bon for the ladies. I can’t be queer. Most of them will stop coming to the concerts. Even Luther Vandross kept the ‘she’s in his song right up to the end, God rest his soul. I just imagine the panties that girls throw on stage are 2Xist boxer briefs and I’m fine."

"I’ve done so many stories about victims of different types of discrimination in all parts of the world. My work speaks for itself, so why do I have to? I deserve some props!"

"Right! Remember when I applauded Christian Chavez of the Mexican band RBD for coming out last year? No one gave me a fist bump on that, either, even though that took guts. I spread a message of tolerance for God’s sake! I do my part."

"You know, I have to admit I’m jealous of people like Neil Patrick Harris and T.R. Knight. They come out and people applaud them for bravery. But it’s different for us."

"People don’t appreciate what we do. We work long hours, cultivate an image to satisfy our bosses and the public, and force lovers to be invisible players in our double lives. That’s a shitload of pressure and responsibility."

"You said it, papi. If I have one more fight with a boyfriend who complains I never take him anywhere so we won’t be seen, I’ll just spit."

"Do what I do. Keep their butts in the mansion with delivered food and DVDs. Let them do the club and party scene on their own time."

"I imagine you’re at home a lot now that you’ve got those twin boys. They’re so cute!"

"Thanks, silver fox. We have a play date with Jennifer and Marc and their kids tomorrow. My babies haven’t slept through the night yet. The nanny has her hands full as we speak."

"I know it’s a little tacky of me to ask but did you…"

"Oh, God, no! Surrogate all the way. How could you even think I’d go there? Yuck! Besides, my man would be jealous, especially since he helps with the kids and all."

"Your man?" Anderson raises his eyebrows. "You bitch, you never mentioned anything about a boyfriend all this time! How could you leave me out of the loop?"

Ricky drains his glass and his ears perk up when the bellboy rolling the champagne cart knocks on the front door. "Just like you, Andy, I’m private. Don’t take it personal."

Spanish Fly

Leave it to that cinematic trickster Woody Allen to make me think I was only going to see a breezy romp about a ménage a trios (well, four technically) and then give me some weighty relationship issues to ponder.

I went with a friend to see "Vicky Cristina Barcelona," a story about two aforementioned women who vacation in the aforementioned Spanish city and simultaneously get involved with a sexy painter who has a crazy ex-wife (the latter two become a two-for-one deal).

Cristina and Vicky are archetypes on the surface, but they have traits and distinctive views on relationships that can be found among us. Cristina is impetuous, passionate, and afraid of boredom. She’s had many short relationships that burn out. Hmmm. Sound like any gay man you know? Vicky prizes stability among all else, perhaps even true happiness. The viewer quickly gets the sense her lawyer fiancé was a pragmatic choice, not an emotional one. Those women – and men – are certainly out there.

The movie is imperfect, but I like how it shows the drawbacks of the relationship mindset that each woman swears is ideal (at least at first). Cristina dives headfirst into an affair with the painter and even when the ex-wife shows up, the three become a unit sexually and otherwise. OK, Scarlett Johansson (Cristina), Javier Bardem (the painter) and Penelope Cruz (the ex-wife) together? It can hardly get more exciting than that. And Cristina seems to do nothing but take scenic pictures, make love and drink wine.

But for Cristina, even that unusual arrangement turns ho-hum. If this isn’t exciting for long, then what is and can be? Cristina reminds me of that old joke about gay men in L.A. They’re all 10s looking for 11s. Cristina is Exhibit A of Restless Bed Syndrome. Victims set themselves up for possible long-term unhappiness because side effects include constantly thinking something better will come along and they’ll miss it.

They fancy themselves as chasing happiness and not settling, but the upshot is that they never can be satisfied for long (or perhaps don’t allow themselves to be). What if, in the course of this chase, the runner passes out of exhaustion or runs by the mark s/he really needs? In my singledom, I had some Cristina-esque moments. I hated routines and got bored easily. I was worried a lot more about settling than being hasty with dating choices.

Vicky is the other side of the spectrum. Sensing chaos from a life unplanned, she seeks solid long-term relationships with no bells or whistles. The painter’s bald offer of a weekend getaway with clear intentions of bedding both women offends Vicky. First, she’s engaged. Second, it’s illogical and unsafe to get involved with a stranger. She sees Cristina’s eagerness to say yes as another "crisis" that Cristina creates for herself.

But then Vicky unexpectedly falls for the painter and sees the Spanish exotic as more virtue than vice. Her fiancé never makes her feel special or even notices how the flamenco guitar music floods her face with emotion. He’s busy talking about golf and apartment hunting. She realizes that maybe she was dumb for doing the "smart" thing and marrying a well-to-do but unimaginative lawyer. Is stability worth unfulfillment?

If you actually read the Q&A that comes with Metro Weekly’s Coverboy Confidential layout, you’ll see that the most common response for biggest fear is "being alone." And that fear propels the choices some of us make. We’d rather have an unsatisfying or just bad relationship than none at all. Men and women with much going for them fall into this trap. Another person supposedly provides the needed support system, but how much support comes from a failing system?

You can imagine Vicky making a list of suitable traits for marriage and deigning her man worthy. A laundry list of features is nice for computer shopping, say, but not necessarily for man shopping. What about desire, instinct, and flexibility of expectations? The painter makes Vicky see things she willfully overlooked for the sake of order.

The movie does miss the boat on one thing. The implication is that you can either have a life of boring monogamy or fleeting free love – someone needs to tell Woody the ‘60s are over. There is such a thing as a relationship that offers serious commitment, yet has romance and passion. (I have one, and so do some of my friends).

And that big-picture idea of a relationship can make you happy and keep you covered, even when the rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain.

Oh Come All Ye Unfaithful

Oh, Johnny boy, say it isn’t so.

It’s funny how infidelity is as old as the hills and yet, there’s always this gasp when you hear about a famous figure – in this case John Edwards – who cheats and gets caught. Most of us have been touched by it, whether instigator or victim, so why the shock and awe? I’m more interested in what we nobodies, who would never be profiled in The National Enquirer or on Nightline, think about it and why we (don’t) do it.

Many years ago, I was very black-and-white about cheating. My line of thinking was if my significant other was unfaithful, I would end the relationship. It’s a violation and breach of trust. I still believe that last part but, just like many things in life, my thinking has evolved with experience. Cheating is still a difficult thing to deal with, but I’ve learned there are many layers underneath that motivate our actions.

We men have largely been taught to think the worst of ourselves when it comes to sex. I’ve heard my mother, aunts, cousins, sisters, female friends or girlfriends complain with some variation of "Men are dogs," "Men are weak," or just an exasperated "Men!"

A sense of fatalism can quickly develop. Many of us feel we have a license to cheat because that’s what men do after all – instant self-fulfilling prophecy. Many of my male gay friends and colleagues seriously think monogamy is not possible and have never had a monogamous relationship. It’s hard to fight against stepping out if you assume it is expected or inevitable.

As plenty of straight men cheat – some can argue they have taken it to high art – a conundrum bedevils gay men, I think. Part of our identity is our sexuality. Heterosexuals aren’t defined by their sex partners as we are because gays are "the other." Sex playing such a prominent role in the culture provides wrinkles and more than a little insecurity. For a lot of us, our value and self-worth come from our sex appeal – how many men we can attract, get, and please. Being committed to one person can suddenly seem a little oppressive. The desire to be noticed and wanted feeds our ego and vanity, and trouble may follow.

I’ve never cheated on anyone because I couldn’t stand being disloyal or deceitful. But part of staying faithful has been outright forcing myself to keep the big picture in hand and not assuming I’ll be good just because I love my partner. I’ve scaled back going out to clubs, and avoided chat rooms because I’m not going to willfully create a situation that will be that much difficult to get out of. Without my asking, my partner took down his online profiles and even avoided the showers at his gym because of that same mentality.

An informal survey of some friends who had a relationship over the last several years that involved cheating revealed few cases of breakaway lust, like going away on a business trip and getting seduced by Doug in accounting. Most were in situations with looming unresolved and/or uncommunicated issues that led to seeking solace or escape in straying. In a case where I was cheated on, we were clearly at the beginning of the end and he checked out.

Infidelity is no longer an automatic deal breaker for me. Sure, I’d be sad, hurt, and angry but it depends on the situation. If my partner has a one-time fling and can be honest about his mistake and show contrition, I don’t think I can throw it all away. After all, one of the measures of a man is the ability to admit when he’s wrong and do what it takes to be right again. And besides, one mistake does not represent anyone’s full character.

Now if someone were to have an affair(s) or stray multiple times, that’s different. It’s continuously diverting some affection, attention and work from our relationship elsewhere and it’s sacrificing not just fidelity but faithfulness in the concept of "us."

I’m not sure what John Edwards was thinking. His admittance of narcissism made me think the usual politician’s mea culpa was now a breath of fresh air. Then he wanted to make me knock the fresh air out of him when he stressed his dalliance happened when Elizabeth was in remission for her cancer – as if it makes it all better. He became preening and calculated, and his glib answer made it all seem so simple.

But Johnny boy, it ain’t simple.

Unease With Disease

OK, the lecturer/father/disciplinarian in me is about to come out and it won't be pretty.

Well, the news isn't pretty. Updated analysis released last weekend by the Center for Disease Control found there were about 56,300 new HIV infections in 2006 (the most recent year for which data are available), about 40% higher than CDC's long-standing estimate of 40,000 for each of the last several years.

The caveat: According to CDC, the number of new infections likely was never as low as the previous estimate of 40,000 and has been relatively stable overall since the late 1990s. But there are disturbing trends among men of color. Blacks accounted for 45% of new infections while Hispanics accounted for 18%. Keep in mind the general population for both races is much lower.

I'm sure part of that is attributable to declining funds for public health and prevention, but let's face it - a very substantial part of that pie is risky behavior.

A scroll on Craig's List, Adam4Adam, Gay.com and a host of other sites confirms that too many of us are being deadly complacent. I'm so tired of seeing all these guys who want to bareback still. Barebacking?? I mean, really. I'd like to ask these guys if they'd want to try running across I-495 at 5:15 p.m. to see if they can dodge the cars.

Maybe that's just it. STDs just don't seem that scary anymore. When you see pristine, young faces on advertisements for HIV drugs, it's easy to think any virus or disease can be contained. Any bad result can be fixed with a shot or a pill and you can go back to what you were doing. The vision of a haggard, sunken-cheeked Tom Hanks languishing in his deathbed in Philadelphia seems antiquated now.

I have been amazed at how many sexual partners in my past were ready to make a move without condoms. Perhaps they just saw a (outwardly) healthy, professional man and automatically assumed I wouldn't be "the type" to do anything foolish or "have something"? If that's true then why do the knuckleheads turn around and then do something foolish? I’ve remained STD-free but I could have been lying about my status to them for all they know.

True confession: I’ve been lax (i.e. condomless) twice (outside of a monogamous relationship) and thus can be categorized as a temporary above-mentioned knucklehead. I chose to continue to be swept up by the moment. But I shouldn't have, out of principle, and I have never made that mistake since.

I have several people in my life who are HIV-positive. In three cases, I discovered a pattern of unsafe sex in their lives. I like to consider myself nonjudgmental but, admittedly, my initial feeling was deep disappointment in them. But I soon realized their lives have changed forever and no amount of lecturing from me can make them feel worse than when that nuclear bombshell of a discovery resonated inside their heads.

Part of the problem is a lack of education, considering I still come across some guys who assume a top can never get HIV, for example. The other pieces include a myth of infallibility ("I’m young, dammit, and can always win Russian roulette!") and this sense of inevitability of STDs, just like some of we African-Americans think we're fated to get diabetes, not realizing how much of that we control in diet and exercise.

Another thing is laziness. I didn’t consistently ask about STD status every time, so I got complacent even with the glove on. And some of us are so focused on HIV, we may be ignoring the consequences of other unprotected acts apart from penetration and other, more easily-transmitted diseases like syphilis and hepatitis.

If disturbing trends like these don’t make us ditch this ludicrous abstinence-only sex education habit the Bush administration is intent upon pushing, I don’t know what will. Sexual behavior is so complex that young and older adults need comprehensive education and real conversations about what is out there and how we can enjoy our sexuality in a healthy way.

OK, lecture’s over.

Living In Black and White

Well, this has been a week for me to reflect on my people and my orientation simultaneously.

I have been reading the Washington Blade’s series on perceptions of gays among members of African-American communities. Apparently, a survey says African-Americans are by far the least tolerant racial group when it comes to homosexuality.

I also heard the feedback of a good reporter friend who attended last week’s UNITY, a national gathering of minority journalists that was in Chicago. Apparently, the National Association of Black Journalists, which largely started up UNITY, scuttled an attempt yet again to allow entrance to the National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association. Apparently UNITY is only for ethnic and racial minorities, not sexual ones.

First, let me get the disclaimer out of the way. Every perceivable group of people has members who are anti-gay. Homophobia, just like the DL, is not an exclusively Black thing. And I sympathized with a Blade letter to the editor from a Black reader who felt the whole series magnified a generalization that most Blacks are provincial bigots while every other race else has “progressed” and is cool with Will as it is with Grace.

But let’s also get a little real here. Stereotypes have at least a grain of truth and there’s no exception here. As someone who has befriended, dated, and worked with people of every imaginable ethnicity, race, color, and creed, I do have to say that my own people seem disproportionately opposed to, or at least uncomfortable with, homosexuality.

One episode that leaps to mind happened at an African-American Student Union meeting I attended as a college freshman. Following a rash of hate calls and other incidents, students from a gay group visited to see if they could join up with AASU and other groups of color to do something, assuming one minority group sympathized with another. Well, it degenerated into name-calling (one Black student actually used the words “fags” and “dykes”) and repudiation from a student’s mother, declaring the gays should be ashamed for their audacity. A near–unanimous vote shut the door on any alliance.

But perhaps more often – and I feel this acutely with some of my family – there is a code of silence. There’s no obvious vitriol but an unwillingness to ever bring it up. I’ve seen how family members ask straight relatives who they are dating, etc., but there’s stony silence with me. They’d rather not know. And few are willing to debate or discuss things like gay marriage. It’s like, “By the way, how about those Lakers?”

My theory: Much of it likely comes from the role the church has played in many of our lives. Like I explained to my partner recently, the Black Church has been a cornerstone of community and way of life – not just something done for a few hours every Sunday. The civil rights movement sprung from the church, as well as many of our recent leaders and spokespeople. There is a rich and impressive history. But that same church (I mean some people, not God or Jesus) casts a long shadow. Even if someone these days isn’t a regular church-goer, the lessons and the culture shape his or her attitude on issues.

And unfortunately, a disdain of homosexuals has been a lesson that has been pushed in many of our pews. In my old church, gays were “sick” and needed prayer, help, and/or the Holy Spirit. The pastor would sometimes express these notions when they weren’t germane to the sermon, as if the congregation needed a refresher course on Moral Majority 101. Many other Black friends and relatives have reported the same things even, as we all laughingly point out, many of our churches had musical directors and/or choir members who were very much “family.” Few of my friends of other races, even coming from conservative congregations, have heard anti-gay rhetoric coming from the pulpit.

I wish I had a dollar for those, even non-regular churchgoers, cling to homophobia because they were taught homosexuality was wrong and, well, you know what the Bible says. God isn’t a refuge but a cover for moral indignation and bigotry. And that bleeds into a sense of internalized homophobia and self-hatred I see among many non-straight brothers. And that in turn affects the quality of relationships, our treatment of each other, and our self-worth. Being out and proud seems to be an affront to our elders and culture, so being closeted is easier and safer. But that just lets outsiders define us and devalue our relationships, continuing the cycle of dysfunction.

Will new generations turn the tide in perception of gays? I hope so, as I see a lot fewer people younger than me shaped by the attitudes of old. We need to go forward. I’m tired of looking back.

Abstinence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

Imagine sex.

Now imagine not having sex. On purpose. For over three months. And did I mention you were in the prime of your life in this scenario?

Try to wipe the incredulous grimace or frown from your face. One young New York City man is doing this as we speak. But perhaps his endeavor will teach a lot of us something about sexuality and the emphasis gay culture places on it.

New Yorker Vince Sandoval started a blog called “Better Than Sex: Or Things To Do In New York City Without Sex.” [Go to http://betterthansexnyc.wordpress.com/] He details daily activities, many of them offbeat, which range from silent dates to museum jaunts to dressing up as a fierce female soccer player. The common denominator is that he’s not having sex. Even the cuddle party he just went to and chronicled outlawed dry-humping.

The Manila, Philippines, transplant moved to NYC just a few years ago but he quickly grew tired of the casual sex and drug use that was sometimes very pronounced in the gay world, wondering of anybody wanted to actually date – sober. Vince likes having fun just like anybody else, but wasn’t there more to do besides trick, barhop, and shop?

“The culture here was so different and felt increasingly empty,” he said. “I wanted to step back from that and see things from a whole different perspective.”

So he got the idea of having a 100-day sex moratorium. But why not make it fun and do new, often-unexplored things in New York? His adventures have also included going to a Turkish bath and city hall to see if he could spy a marriage ceremony in progress. The day Vince went he actually was asked to be a witness to the wedding of an Irish couple.

“In New York, you can have the time of your life,” he said. “I wanted to show people what the city has to offer. It’s been a whole exciting adventure.”

Vince’s female friends thought it was a cool idea. His gay male friends either thought he was sneaking sex on the side or just went crazy. It’s funny how Vince’s pledge of temporary celibacy, which admittedly was tested during the summer’s Gay Pride with its many shirtless and sweaty studs, seems so outrageous to many of us. If a gay man tells someone he waits until several dates to have sex, there usually is an involuntary rolling of the eyes or a chuckle. Some of us think the very idea seems so quaint – and lame.

I’m now happily in a committed relationship. But when I was single, I was very, very single. I never really thought about why. We can’t deny some force mandates and cajoles us to believe casual sex is a requirement, something we’re “supposed” to do and will be judged harshly for if we don’t. I remember an ex-boyfriend berating me on vacation for not hooking up with someone yet after a few days. Can I sightsee first, please?

But is it possible to have a healthy sex life, without sex seeming to be the most important thing all the time? I’m in a glass house and will not throw stones by suggesting a limit or cap on activity. We all have needs. But if our social lives are very sex-centered, it’s worth asking the why. We may find it’s a fear of commitment, or the maintenance of an image or reputation, for example. And are those good things to encourage?

What I figured out is that a key is balance. Is 90% of my free time in a bar or club trying to get laid? Or am I also doing other things with my time? In my singledom, I dated a lot. But I also wrote fiction, volunteered with charity groups, traveled, attended concerts and theater, read lots of books, visited museums and galleries, hiked, and watched movies.

And like Vince told me, it’s nice to spend some time having witty repartee with someone than just figuring out if you will be going to your place or his. Our biggest priorities, even when sex is among them, don’t take up all our time, attention, and space. There’s room for other things so we don’t lose perspective. Vince left me with these words:

“When you really make the effort and separate yourself from mainstream culture…you can find something else you can be passionate about.”

Kissing A Fool

(Note: I was on vacation last week so I post this a day early to atone)

Every so often, a musical artist will come along and sing something that’s supposedly controversial and s/he gets kudos and attention for being “edgy.”

Katy Perry is one of those artists. If you don’t know the name, you surely have heard the song, “I Kissed a Girl.” I’ll admit it’s catchy, although she ripped off the exact same title from singer Jill Sobule, whose 1995 song authentically raised eyebrows for its time.

On the surface, Katy seems to be celebrating same-gender intimacy, trying on the veneer of the high school outcast rebel who boldly walks on the wild side and doesn’t give a damn what her classmates and teachers think.

Instead she’s indulging in a few of the hoariest gay stereotypes ever.

The hook, always the easiest part of a song to remember and sing along with, just describes a girl buzzed on alcohol who hopes locking lips with a cherry-Chapstick-wearing hottie doesn’t make her boyfriend mad. And she takes pains to emphasize she’s “not in love.” But the second verse is what really bothers me. Check it out.

No, I don't even know your name
It doesn't matter
You're my experimental game
Just human nature
It's not what good girls do
Not how they should behave
My head gets so confused
Hard to obey

Where do I begin?

On the surface, it’s tempting to applaud a presumably straight singer for “daring” to sing about a gay kiss. We’re assuming she must be cool with it – and gay people – if she sings about it. Artists like her sneakily advance our cause in the pop culture realm, and thus the attitudes and social mores of the general listeners, by trumpeting girl-on-girl action like it’s not a big thing, so some might say. She may even be a Girl Power advocate – an honorary Spice Girl.

But dig deeper, like a college writing teacher used to beseech to me and my classmates. First, I am so over seeing gays and lesbians reduced to experiments and games from those who want to test drive all afternoon but not sign the lease. This makes gays seem like an exotic adventure and worse, an overcoat that can just be slipped on and off.

That kind of mentality fuels the false thinking that gayness is not an orientation but just a lifestyle that can be temporarily adopted or chosen, which is still the way of thought by several family members of mine even as they say they accept me.

And what is it with this not being how “good” girls should behave? Sure, let’s paint lesbianism with a forbidden shade, as if it’s a gasp-inducing, OMG sin to share a same-sex kiss. Even as Katy purports to be liberated by the experience, she confesses to be scandalized by it at the same time.

Being edgy means behind ahead of the curve, not woefully behind it. Nowadays a same-sex smooch is merely a secondary plotline on Gossip Girls and likely the main reason viewers flock to MTV’s A Shot of Love with Tila Tequila. Of course there is always homophobia and backward thinking, but the currency of presenting things like this as shamefully illicit has long dropped in value.

Of course Katy Perry fans can argue that she (and the songwriters) is only presenting the kiss as a shock to show how ridiculous it is to place a sense of scandal on same-sex intimacy, thus making regressive souls re-think their assumptions and prejudices.

Look, I don’t know the girl. But I feel confident enough to bet $1,000 she’s not that clever and subversive by half. What’s more likely is that she and her record company wanted to release a tune with a title they knew would pique curiosity – and attract airplay and sales.

After all, the video conveniently declines to actually show her smooching an actual girl. So she’s big and bad enough to sing about it, but becomes too timid to actually show it. Whatever.

Flirting with gay territory has brought Katy a hit. Now I’m waiting for a song that describes a same-sex relationship with truthfulness, humor, depth, and cleverness and presents it as completely normal.

Now that would be edgy.

The Binds of Matrimony

Take off the earrings and smear on the Vaseline. It’s gearing up to be quite a fight.

I don’t mean Obama vs. McCain, Christie Brinkley vs. her ex, or even Lauren vs. Heidi. I mean the Focus on the Family-type moralists who will do all they can to convince enough California voters in November to defeat gay marriage, a right the California Supreme Court granted in May.

The Court’s historic decision puts something in the grasp of Golden State gays and lesbians that many assumed would always be out of reach. Think of the lesbian couple in their 80s who were the first in the state to tie the knot after 55 years together.

My gay partnered friends in my home state are thrilled about our legal victory. So when are they going to get married? Um, maybe never. So what gives?

“I don’t think it’s for me,” said one of my dearest friends who will soon be celebrating seven years with his beau. “It’s something that never really crossed our minds.”

And considering that he and his boyfriend don’t even live together yet, he added, “It’s going to take us some time to get comfortable with the idea of getting married.” (His gay uncle, partnered for 16 years in Oakland, isn't getting fitted for a tuxedo either.)

Another good friend scoffs at the idea that gays and lesbians must run, not walk, to the nearest church or courthouse to enter into an institution in which heterosexuals still manage to produce a divorce rate that hovers at nearly 50%.

He’s been with his partner eight years and they enjoy rights under California’s domestic partnership laws. He doesn’t need “a piece of paper” to legitimize the relationship.

A lawyer acquaintance has been with his live-in partner for two years and, you guessed it, has no marriage plans. He is thrilled with the state’s ruling and figures the more straights see gays as neighbors, co-workers and now married folks, the more they see us as just like everyone else.

“It’s nice to have this ability. But perhaps the biggest thing is having the right without necessarily having to exercise it now,” he said.

The door to an important right is open but some of us are opting to not walk through it. On the surface, it seems almost illogical to not take advantage of this opportunity. But our history and place in society provides answers that have a lot of nuance.

First of all, if more than half of California voters pass the anti-gay marriage November referendum, then the rug would cruelly be pulled out from under us, perhaps indefinitely. And even if gay couples who wedded before the vote can legally retain those marriage rights, those rights feel perishable.

Second, many of us grew up assuming marriage would not be an option, so we conditioned ourselves to not calculate that into our lifetime goals. Suddenly having this opportunity option throws a lot of us and it feels like learning to walk all over again. Few of us have gay marriages to use as models for our unique circumstances, so marriage still feels alien. For many of us, living together is our marriage and it’s enough for us.

Third, this country has allowed religious institutions to shape and define marriage both as an institution and as a ceremony, and we know how much these institutions typically just love our kind. My boyfriend pointed out that marriage should be first and foremost thought of as a civil right for everyone. The equation of religion makes marriage understandably unpalatable.

Fourth, some of us – likely more gay men than women – enjoy sexual and romantic freedom from heterosexual conventions and spurn the notion of marriage and/or children as the “inevitable” next step.

Lastly, like the lawyer told me, “Marriage is a very big commitment.” Just because someone has been with his/her partner for x years doesn’t make marriage right or best for them. Look at straight couples who’ve spent many years together before marrying or opting not to get married for whatever reasons.

Besides if gays get married solely because the option is there and they like the idea of shoving a marriage certificate in a homophobe’s face to prove they are on equal ground, then those rewards are limited. Marriage can’t force validation and respect from society.

Because if my boyfriend and I could legally marry in California and bring those rights back to DC, we would still feel unsafe holding hands in certain neighborhoods and still get stares from people as we did looking at the cherry blossoms last spring.

So if you don’t see a gay man or woman jump into planning a wedding, don’t assume he or she is afraid of commitment. The marriage right is important because it is wrong for us to be second-class citizens. But the plunge should only come because a couple truly wants it.

Politics of Position

Virgil is enduring a tedious conference when a respite comes in the form of a flirtatious fellow businessman. Soon, the two are in a hotel room alone and the mystery man makes a move. Virgil resists, but is tempted because his new pal is offering to bottom - something Virgil hasn't gotten in elephant years because his boyfriend is a total top.

These characters are in author Michael-Christopher's novel From Top To Bottom, featured at this year’s Black Pride literary program. But they exist in real life and represent a quandary in dating and hooking-up: Are neon signs on a total's ass that flash "exit only" - or "entrance only" - indicate mere preference or a selfish nature? And how much does the choice of a total (fill in the blank) result from fear, insecurity, and/or stereotypes that may be undercutting our sexual identities and experience?

Politics makes strange bedfellows but the politics of positions can make frustrated bedfellows, too. How many times have two totals of the same persuasion met each other and hit it off famously, only to instantly go their separate ways when they both find out they're "tops" or "bottoms" because God forbid either makes any detours on the Hershey Highway.

Some of us get caught up in roles that we quickly decide we must play. Some total tops get off on the idea of being "masculine," being in control or having power: You know how we men like our control and power. And some total bottoms feel like they can't be aggressive or they want to be the nurturing, compliant one (although in reality, an active bottom has a lot of say in what happens and how). Stereotypes? Yeah, but they hold at least a grain of truth.

A man I dated (very briefly as you'll see why) endured heckling from his brother about gays and only chose to defend himself when the brother made a joke about getting it up the ass. Sensing his manhood was mocked, he responded indignantly, "I never would do that." And when I switched from Girl World to Man Land almost a decade ago, I let my first boyfriend exclusively, ahem, take the lead because I wasn't completely confident in my newfound sexuality.

A friend of mine claims he is a total top because bottoming doesn't get him off and adds it has nothing to do with avoiding "being submissive." He would only consider flipping with a partner as an anniversary present. So basically my friend's future boyfriend can only be sure of getting a Benetton gift certificate.

Christopher, the author, came out 20 years ago in New York City, and firmly remembers position as being a non-issue. Most people weren't hung up on it and didn't ask. Magically, they let nature take its course. "It wasn't such a deal breaker and point of negotiation like it is now," he reminisces.

But perhaps it's our rush to peg people that contribute to the politics of positioning. Think about it. Many of us try to size up someone just by figuring out where he buys his jeans or who he's with on a dinner date.

And the rise of Internet dating and sex seems to parallel the position quandary. Most sites ask you to identify whether you're top, bottom or versatile, and so already you're putting your self in a box, as you advertise yourself to your metro area no less. And how many times has someone saddled up to you in a bar and soon tries to figure out your "classification?" I've been asked about being a top or a bottom before my HIV status or job.

True preference and personal taste are legitimate things. But if we're not acknowledging the mentality and influence that go into our decisions – and we're limiting ourselves and our lovers to one role perhaps because "that's the way it goes" – is that really making the most of our sex lives? I think some of us will eventually be like Virgil – imagining what we've been missing and why we're doing it to ourselves.

No Country for Old(er) Men

Age ain’t nothing but a number. Well perhaps it’s also a deep bias.

There’s a movie that just opened in Manhattan last weekend that you may find very interesting. The documentary "Chris & Don: A Love Story" traces the relationship of two men who started their remarkably public Hollywood romance in the 1950s. But there’s something about the story that’s even more eye-catching. One was 18, and the other was 48 when they met.

The younger man was artist Don Machardy and the older guy was writer Christopher Isherwood. The relationship lasted until Isherwood’s death in 1986. Great story. But I bet that couple would face as much judgment now as they did back then.

Admit it. If you see a couple where there is a 20-something guy and one in his 40s or 50s, preconceptions immediately crop up in your head. The old fogy is a sugar daddy and/or chicken hawk with an insatiable appetite for young flesh and recapturing his youth. The twinkie is a feckless user with a daddy complex who wants to be taken care of.

Now I’ll admit it. If I’m approached or ogled at by a man who’s clearly 15-plus years older, I’m appalled. I want to swat the back of his hand with his AARP Bulletin because I see it as predatory (it’s funny how an aggressive guy my age or younger wouldn’t automatically elicit the same response.). And I assume he just goes after young guys all the time and I don’t want to be his prey.

I dated briefly a divorced man with two children who was in his 40s. He was attractive and I didn’t mind. But once we went to a restaurant and he held the menu, I dunno, eight feet in front of him to read it. And the reality hit me and he suddenly seemed so…old.

A good friend who’s just north of 40 had to deal with a lot of ribbing from me and some of his other friends when he had a string of dating these late-teen, 20s dudes. Please, I beseeched, find someone who can legally drink. And shoot for someone who can legally rent a car by himself.

Age may be the gay community’s strongest bias in terms of dating, maybe even more than race, which is already a biggie. In part, it’s because those who disparage age differences in couples are rarely corrected or admonished. Compare that to the reaction toward a friend or acquaintance who condemns an interracial couple.

Many of us just can’t believe those May-December couples are together without a suspect reason, fetish, or complex we are allowed to sneer at. After all, what can a hypothetical 25-year-old have in common with a hypothetical 45-year-old?

A middle-aged Brooklyn man I talked with recently told me about his boyfriend, 20 years his junior, and said the age difference is not a problem or a real factor in why they got together. He said they have in common hobbies and, more important, values. He considers himself very social and active and appreciates men who can keep up. His boyfriend values maturity and hates the rigors of the club and bar scene.

Besides, the picture can get nuanced. One DC guy just north of 40 actually complains about younger guys who approach him. They always seem to be flaky twinks who look to older men like him for stability and security instead of establishing those things themselves. Another 50-plus DC man feels assumptions about his motives, hobbies, sexual abilities, etc., are instantly made just upon seeing him.

It’s funny how older, straight men going after younger women are hardly ever shamed (although single women their age may resent a shrinking dating pool because of this). It’s probably because they have very visible role models. Jack Nicholson, Michael Douglas, George Lucas, and Warren Beatty have all dated or married women a generation younger. Yet notice how 30-ish T.R. Knight and his 19-year-old beau have raised eyebrows and inspired some guffaws.

I’ve realized that with the older man I mentioned, we had very different lifestyles. I liked to stay out late and go out to different places. He was a low-key creature of habit, and well-retired from the club scene. But I’ve seen men his age who could keep up with me.

And I realized I generalized too much about age, despite how open-minded I thought I was. And if I ever see "Chris & Don: A Love Story," I won’t snicker.