Some things never change...

Most gay men tell how they knew their sexual inclinations early in life. I certainly knew mine. I was attracted to girls, but intrigued by boys and their parts so much like my own. Oh, I knew alright. I learned the word that best described me was "bisexual," and I reveled in its simplicity and the sexual freedom afforded to me.


Embellishing my obvious departure from the norm, I figured at least half of "bi" was "homo" and used that appellation to avoid getting shot to hell in Vietnam. In order to convince anyone else I was queer, though, I first had to convince myself...which was not at all difficult. Besides, I knew I really was queer, and who wants a queer in the army? I was doing them a favor.


Having previously enjoyed only schoolboy sex, though, I knew I had to experience the whole gamut of gay sex, and set out to accomplish just that. And of course, it worked. I now knew I had it in me to not only experience homosexual sex, I also knew I enjoyed it ever so much more than I expected. I was hooked and getting queerer by the day. I had no trouble convincing the army shrink I was too queer for cannon fodder.


Some years later, still clinging firmly to bisexuality but always slipping to an extreme on the scale, I more completely immersed myself in being gay. It was a time before AIDS when gay contact could be promiscuous, anonymous and so hot as to transport and transcend. It was also a time when homophobia was the paradigm and resided as well in my own head.


And so for some time I kind of forgot about all that hot male sex and committed to embrace by the opposite gender. But that wasn't to last. Oh no, because deep down, I knew...

Truth behind the windshield...

Coming out can be no easy task for anyone; I am no exception. Difficult as the process is, my newfound freedom is liberating. I figure the process must take place slowly; telling only a few close friends identifies who my closest friends really are.

I've learned not to spread the news too far too fast. It is self-indulgent to dominate conversation with my own stuff. I told one old friend and asked him not to tell his wife, even if she threatened to break his fingers. He told her, though, because he knew if she discovered it in a roundabout way, she would break his knees too.

The first thing his wife did was run to the phone to tell folks I’d just as soon hadn’t heard the news like that. But that's part of the deal with coming out. It is easy to lose control of information. My friend explained that although coming out liberates me, it also places responsibility for the information on whomever I tell. I can only hope in the long run truth enhances his understanding.

I've found it's a lot easier to tell women than men because it pushes men's buttons and I never know which way they are going to jump. I told one woman, an old friend I knew was lesbian. I figured she would commiserate and could give me advice.

"Well, I guess you'll be coming down to the Front Range pretty often," she observed. "There aren't a whole lot of gay people up here in the mountains."


At first I thought I could meet men of similar persuasions without travelling, but that hasn't proven to be the case. It takes 8-10 hours round-trip to get to the city, depending on weather over the Continental Divide. A quick hookup doesn't seem appropriate, which among other things, argues for a longer-term, more lasting relationship...wherever.


Well, I guess it's time to go gas up the car.

The age thing...

It is difficult to get a handle on gay and old, because both are hard to come to terms with individually. Aging is as hardwired as sexuality. When I was young, I was confident my adventures were the sole province of young men. If I thought about it at all, I labored under the misconception that when I grew old, sexuality would not be an issue. Sieze the day, I figured, and get it on...which I did.

Some men know they are exclusively gay all their lives. Some recognize their capacity for bisexuality; my sexuality fluctuated over years between bisexual and gay. Over the past few years, though, gay pegged the meter and now I self-identify as exclusively gay. That recognition landed in my life with both feet; it's not all bad, just a little overwhelming.

In the old days, an older gay man was a pariah, a troll, an old dude looking to get off with young guys. Had we but stopped to consider, old dudes aren't doing anything different than young dudes. We liked young dudes when we were young; why the hell shouldn't we like young dudes now? While some have an exclusive preference for young guys, I enjoy being with someone who shares my interests and is aroused by the sex. Old or young, for me arousal is key.

The bottom line is karmic. Young guys should realize they too, will someday be old queers trying to hook up. Chances are they won't all suddenly become heterosexual. Although difficult to accept when young, elderhood is common ground for all of us.

We gay baby-boomers are about to impact the American demographic; the groundswell for gay marriage is an example. It will be another couple of decades before we fade. As gay men gray, perhaps age discrimination will subsume in diversity and arousal will out. Arousal isn't everything, but...

Who, what and why...

I articulate this first effort with care. Yes, it will be a bit edgy, as might be expected from a gay man coming out of the closet for the second--presumably last--time in almost sixty years of life. Coming out is a real process this time; journaling is part of that process and blogging is part of the journal.

How do you come out of the closet twice? First time around, I didn't know I was in a closet and so never made a conscious effort to come out. Back then life was simple and I always took my, uh...diverse sexuality for granted. I was what I was. But then time and life changed, and without knowing it, I stepped into the closet and closed the door.

Every gay guy who has spent time in the closet lives with the duplicity of his action. Whether or not he acknowledges his own homosexuality, he knows something is different. Homophobia is pervasive, worst of all in his own head. If he chooses to come out or otherwise gets kicked out of the closet, it is difficult but liberating.

I suppose it is my karma that gay as I am, and since I didn't have to sweat it the first time, it is appropriate that I come out now. This time it isn't simple; I enjoy--if that is the right word--thirty years of added perspective. There is a lot to think about and although I am mostly loving the honesty and liberation, it isn't all smooth sailing. I don't take any of it for granted. Some of all that will cross these pages.