Gay Pride Doings

THE BEST LAID PLANS

Okay, these are two things I don't usually do on this blog, run sexy photos like this one of these two leather guys kissing, and talk a bit about my personal life. But what the hell?

Gay Pride weekend didn't quite go off the way I intended it would, but what can you do? I think the Gay Pride March in New York is extremely important, but I can also be a little cynical about it. I wonder how many of those marching -- or parading -- go right back in the closet as soon as they get home. Still, at least it's good that they "come out" for that one day, though preferably we'd all be out 365 days a year. How else will people learn who and what we are?

Despite this cynical feeling I was going to march but a very close elderly friend of mine asked if I would accompany him to the PRIDEfest on Hudson Street instead -- the march would be too much for him. I agreed, but on the Sunday in question he didn't want to go out in the rain. Well, when you're elderly I say you've earned the right to say, fuck it, I don't wanna go and that's that! But by the time he'd come to his decision the march was nearly over.

It's too bad the PRIDEfest --due to permit hassles and so on -- had to be held the very same day as the March. The rain came and went but it was not a terribly festive event, at least when I was there. There were the usual booths selling food and other items like are featured in every other street fair. The thing that made this one different were that now and then there'd be a booth from GMHC, the New York Blade, Human Rights Campaign, and so on, and if some people from small towns were able to gain info and insight from these booths, I guess the PRIDEFest served its purpose. I saw none of the promised street entertainers but at least we were spared mimes (sorry).

So that night I was all ready, willing and able to party. I made new friends, saw old ones, and re-connected with some people I haven't seen in a while. I had a great time all told, although there were "incidents" in every bar I went to.

Down at the Dug Out at the bottom of Christopher Street I ran into a guy that I was supposed to have a date with on Friday (we'd met some weeks earlier in a bar). Unfortunately, there was some confusion and misunderstanding and it never came off. He was not too thrilled with this development -- neither was I, of course -- and I wanted to sink into the floor with guilt and slink out the back door. Still, it was odd. He said he had the use of a friend's apartment for the night and wanted me to come up. Instead of simply giving me the address and apartment number -- which, after all, would be the usual thing to do -- he told me he'd meet me on one of the four street corners nearby, this on a busy Friday night on one of the busiest intersections in Manhattan. It just seemed weird to me, and it seemed even weirder when he later told me that he did this because "I didn't know the address."

"But you told me you were calling from this friend's apartment?" I said. How could he not know the address? And there was some other stuff relating to this, none of which made much sense.

You see, I figured either he was blowing me off ("Gee, I guess we must have missed each other in the crowd") at best or at worst something else strange was going on. Was there even an apartment? Did he have the friend's permission to use it? Was I being overly paranoid? Possibly. But I decided not to go.

"I waited for 45 minutes!" he said. "I checked out every cab! What's wrong with meeting someone on a street corner -- You could go to an apartment and get jumped by four guys!"

I apologized profusely, wishing I had handled it all better, and knowing he had instantly classified me as "asshole." I mentioned a terrible thing that happened to an acquaintance of mine a few years ago. Still, I wish he had accepted some responsibility for what happened. I asked a number of people about it and everyone told me they also thought that meeting at an intersection when there was an apartment waiting seemed a strange thing to do. I had suggested to him that we might have a drink or two at a bar beforehand, but he said if it was up to him he'd rather we just get down to business. As one guy said, "it's like he didn't want to be seen with you in any bar where people knew you."

Too bad. He's probably a perfectly nice fellow, an attractive man, but all I can say is if I was as anxious as he says he was to get my hands on somebody I would have made damn sure I knew the address and the apartment number and told my date to ring the buzzer at the prescribed hour. But maybe that's just me.

Anyhoo, the next incident was at Ty's bar. My favorite place, it's generally a no-attitude bar and that's one of the things I like about it. Tonight, a few fellows brought an Eagle/Aren't I wonderful? attitude with them, these absolutely massive men brushing past everybody without even bothering to say "excuse me" as they stepped on your feet and practically knocked the drink out of your hand, not bothering to turn sideways or something so that they could walk on by without knocking into you.

Then there was the bathroom monitor, some guy I guess they hired for the night to direct the customers into which bathroom they should go. (Don't ask me why. We've never needed a bathroom monitor before.) Talk about attitude -- this guy had not a trace of friendliness about him and this in a bar where the staff is very friendly and down to earth.

To cap it all, I was cruised (I think) by a guy with a really bad pick up line: "I love my wife."

Well, then, go home to her and leave me the fuck alone. Yes, it was my umpteenth married homosexual talking about how he loved his wife (but was probably not in love with her) but absolutely hungered for a man. Conversationally, I asked if he might be bisexual, and of course he seized upon this, but we both knew he was homo, not bi, and that whenever he has sex outside of wedlock it's with a man. (You see, it sounds much better to say you're a "hip" swingin' bisexual than a pathetic old-fashioned closet queen.)

"I love my wife," he repeated. "What do you want me to do?"

I wanted to say, just leave me alone, that's what you can do, but before I could tell him I didn't want him to do a damn thing but go, he disappeared into the crowd, which is what married homosexuals always do when they meet someone Out and Proud who are in no mood for their bullshit. He wasn't celebrating Gay pride by coming out or getting past his shame over being homosexual, he just wanted to get laid and go home and lie some more to his wife.

Up at Boots and Saddle near 7th avenue, there was a lively, affectionate crowd. It's becoming a fun place again. Then suddenly I turn my head and find myself staring into the face of The Malevolent Munchkin of Christopher Street. How ironic to find him there on Gay Pride Sunday. Apparently he was working at some place across the street and was on a break or something. The last time we faced each other he was trying -- unsuccessfully -- to throw me out of the bar (he no longer works there) because I supposedly said something he didn't like. (Imagine, bartenders who want to monitor your conversation and insist you leave because they don't like what you're saying! And no, it wasn't because I had too much to drink, because you can practically be lying on the floor at Boots and they'll serve you.)

Mercifully, the munchkin took one look at me and went outside to chat with one of his former co-workers, now the manager. I used to be fond of the munchkin, but when someone I'm nice to treats me like shit I write them off at least until they apologize.

Munchkins! Married Homosexuals! Angry Intersectionists! Big Rude Guys with Attitude "straight" from the Eagle!

You never know what or who you'll run into on Gay Pride Sunday.

"Invisible" Cruising

A few months ago I was in one of my favorite bars when a guy asked me if it were a leather bar. I quickly told him this place was more of a cowboy/bear bar and that he should go up to the Eagle on 28th street for the full leather experience. He thanked me and headed for the exit. I then noticed that an acquaintance I'll call Peter, who was sitting nearby, was giving me a really dirty look. I figured it had nothing to do with me, and an hour or so later he seemed perfectly friendly.

The next time I went into this bar, Peter was there and called me over. "I have a bone to pick with you," he told me. "You told the guy I was cruising to go up to the Eagle." Oops. Now I knew what the dirty look was about. Because I'm a nice guy (most of the time) I apologized to Peter, but afterward I wondered what the hell I was apologizing for. First of all, why didn't he simply say to the guy, "Hey, I"m going up to the Eagle, too -- wanna share a cab?" (Not that I can see Peter, a kind of theater queen, in a leather bar, but who knows?) Is it my fault if he didn't think fast or was afraid of being rebuffed?

But the amazing thing is that it didn't even look as if he were talking to the leather guy, let alone

cruising him. Yes, this was another case of what I call "invisible" cruising. And it works this way.

Guy # 1 sees a guy he's attracted to -- guy # 2 -- in a bar. He figures that as the evening progresses he'll eventually work up the courage to go and talk to him. He's marked guy # 2 as his target -- in his mind if nowhere else. But before he can actually make his move, another guy -- guy # 3 -- goes over to the first guy and begins cruising him. The third guy, in all innocence, is only trying to get a date like everyone else is, but guy # 1 immediately hates him for getting in the way. Poor guy # 3 has earned guy # 1's eternal enmity, especially if he scores with guy # 2. Some of these invisible cruisers never actually cruise anyone, they just assume the psychic waves they're sending out will force the guy, X-Files-like, to come over and say they wanna fuck them.

For heaven's sake, I can see someone getting annoyed if someone horns in when you're trying to cruise someone, but if you're sitting across the bar only thinking about it, all bets are off. And the amazing thing was that I wasn't even cruising the leather guy myself -- (hmm, a missed opportunity, because I recall he was rather hot) -- nor did I walk out the door with him and head up to the Eagle (which, frankly, is what I should have done, and boy would Peter have been pissed off then)!

Peter was plenty pissed off anyway. He sidled up to me that next time and said "People think I'm a nice guy, but if someone gets in my way, I destroy them, do you hear me, I destroy them!"

Okay.

Brrr -- was I quaking with terror or what? What would he do -- slap me across the face with a script? Now I liked Peter, but I thought he was behaving ridiculously, and I found him about as scary as Truman Capote in a muu muu. He was acting like he hadn't a date in years. I'm not saying that that's true, but if it is there's not a damn thing I can do about it.

So the next time you see somebody glaring at you with a look that can kill and you have no idea why, consider the possibility that at some point you innocently interfered with their sit-on-their-ass invisible cruising. While the rest of us actually put ourselves on the line and cruise, risking rejection -- nothing ventured, nothing gained -- these Invisible Men hate us for doing what they only dream about.

Married Homosexuals

I was at a friend's birthday party a couple of weeks ago and one of his old college roommates was there. He talked not so much about his wife -- who was not present -- but a lot about his daughters, whom he seemed genuinely proud of. He seemed to be a nice, rather attractive fellow in his fifties -- and as gay as a goose.

Yes, I know, if gay guys can be very masculine, straight guys can be kind of "girly," I suppose. Still, something told me that this guy was essentially -- well I really can't say "gay" because he's not exactly out and proud -- but I can say homosexual. Since he has children which I assume are his own one could get technical and call him "bisexual," but I don't think that was the case. I felt sorry for him, depressed by him, and irritated by him all at the same time.

I have met a lot of married homosexuals (as opposed to married gays or gay couples who are married). I would say that one in four men that I meet and have met in gay bars have either a wife, girlfriend, or fiancee. I'm not talking about so-called "straight" guys but guys who are actively cruising for sex partners.

Now the politically correct view of bisexuality says that bi's do not need to have sex with both sexes, only that they can have sex or fall in love with either a man or a woman. Which is -- if we accept this -- why I see these guys with wifes and kids who cruise gay bars as being married homos and not bi's. Presumably a bisexual man who's fallen in love with a woman can be satisfied by her alone (unless monogamy is simply not natural for him, which is true of some gays, straights, and bi's), but if he is driven to have sex with men, then it's probably because his homosexual impulses are stronger than any attraction he has for his wife. He is not "bi" -- he is gay (or would be if he ever came out).

Cornell University did a study of married homosexual men (there are married lesbians as well, of course) and found that they all had serious self-esteem issues stemming from childhood which made it impossible for them to "take on" society, as it were, by being openly gay and equally impossible for them to fully accept their sexual orientation. Sad.

Yes, this is still going on all these years after Stonewall.

In my twenties and later I would occasionally wind up with a man who turned out to be married. There would be this picture of the wife and kids in the bedroom, and the guy was almost always a bit arrogant, conspiratorial almost, about who he really was and what he really wanted. ["Yeah I'm gay, too." Well ... ] Gay Pride did not enter into these guys' way of thinking. They were either suffering so much internalized homophobia that only the sex urge got them out into the gay bar -- where they'd look right or left before exiting or entering -- or else they felt the wife and kids routine would get them farther in their chosen career. They weren't "conflicted;" they knew they were homo -- they just didn't care about using a woman as a beard. A typical example of this kind of person is Jim McGreevey. [Let me make it clear that I've never slept with Jim McGreevey!]

I don't recall if I'd give them my Gay Lib rap. Probably not. It seemed too hopeless and they wouldn't listen. I did not like helping someone commit adultery, although I could have argued that if it wasn't me it would have been someone else. Then there was the night I slept with a guy who in the middle of sex shouted out "Yes! Yes! It's men! Men! Yes, yes, yes! Men!" I thought to myself, "yes, men are great --I'm pretty great (my egotistical twenties)-- but what's up with this guy?" What was up is that I later found out that he was just about to get married. [Don't know if that wedding ever took place or not. It probably did. Maybe I wasn't that great.]

I don't feel sorry for former New Jersey governor Jim McGreevey. He came out of the closet because of circumstances, not because he'd suddenly developed a conscience and a sense of gay pride. He treated his wife like crap, and I'm of two minds about whether or not she knew he was homo (let's not call him gay at that point). Some women do feel a man can "change," especially if she sees him as being bisexual. But it's just as likely that, like many other wives, Mrs. McGreevey hadn't an inkling. Understandably hurt and bitter, she's bound to get tacky and homophobic in her tell-all book, so what exactly has Mcgreevey done for us all? Nothing but started a round of stupid, stereotyping jokes. Yes, there he is -- smug jackass Jay Leno, who hasn't got a clue about any of this, laughing at the very notion of any woman not knowing that her husband was gay.

Yet many of them don't.

I have met other, more positive "married homosexuals" but this was after a sense of pride [or at least a deperate need to be true to themselves] brought them out of the closet. They were no longer married homosexuals, but gay men. Some remained friendly with their ex-wives; some did not. Some wives came to accept and understand --- bless 'em -- some did not. Most of these guys were genuinely conflicted; they did not neccesarily view their wives as beards. Some of them may have been bisexuals who ultimately realized that they leaned strongly in the gay direction. Whatever the case, whatever the initial pain and disillusionment for their families, they were all the better for it.

So there I was at this party, and the activist in me wanted so badly to say something to this poor married homosexual, but the only time I got him alone we talked about Edgar Allan Poe.
(Wouldn't it have been funny if instead of Poe we had talked about Oscar Wilde?! Talk about openings!)

I settled for giving the fellow a big wink as I walked out the door. I'm convinced I'm going to run into him at the Eagle some night. [Okay, maybe not the Eagle. Maybe Marie's Crisis -- if I ever went there. Besides, nowadays he'd probably be there with his wife!]

Things seem to go in cycles. I'm running into a lot of "married homosexuals" in gay bars these days as I did years ago. Gay pride has never taken such a beating. So many guys want to have sex with other men -- they just don't want to be "gay." Occasionally I get cruised by one of these guys.

Curiously, they're almost always bottoms.