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.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
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.
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.
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