Enthusiasm of inexperience

I haven’t been there as much as I’d like to have been, and I haven’t done that, at least not enough to call myself comprehensively experienced. More than one forever-gay friend has told me my enthusiasm would easily outstrip my experience and they were correct. I was forewarned…but I haven’t let that slow me down.

Instead, I’m like that kid in a candy store where I want to sample every sweet-tasting candy stick in those tall glass jars behind the counter. The clerk warns me all that candy will damage my teeth and even wiser counsel suggests I will spoil my dinner. I don’t give a tinker’s damn about dinner in the short run; there is no question that I am a total slut for immediate gratification. I almost always fill up on appetizers…or candy, as the case may be.

I approach my quest for experience with an enthusiasm seldom even remembered by those who long ago allowed wonder and novelty to fade. My newfound sexual liberation and empowerment manifest as freedom to meet and enjoy the company of men on a level I never previously imagined…and I’m diggin’ it. Does this make me overly promiscuous? Well, perhaps not overly; maybe just a little bit.

Promiscuity carries with it numerical requirements better realized in a bigger pond. Thus, my enthusiasm is constrained by geography, which I believe is keeping me out of trouble. Given my inexperience and apparently boundless enthusiasm, I undoubtedly would land myself in less than savory circumstances. Regardless, I’m always looking for ways to increase my travel budget because the best candy stores are some distance away.

If all these metaphors are confusing, I’ll try to be clear. Compared to many, I am a relatively inexperienced, newly out, gay man. Yet my enthusiasm is that of an adolescent. In seeking to broaden my experience, if I didn’t live at the head of the draw I would be considerably more sexually active.

As it is, I travel to meet male friends. Therefore, I have plenty of windshield time to ponder and fantasize my actions, and my carbon footprint sucks. But I am one enthusiastic lover after the rubber leaves the road and the engine is ticking as it cools. There I go with the metaphors again.

Thousand-pound gorilla-Part I

Monogamy, my failure to sustain it, has caused me nothing but trouble throughout my life...think track record. I have attempted heterosexual monogamy since puberty and failed miserably. That is very possibly because I was attempting heterosexual anything. My failure caused pain for both my erstwhile partners and for me. Self-imposed pain is mine to deal with, but I cannot so easily dismiss pain I caused others…think bad karma.

Entering the seventh decade of my life, my impulse is to eschew monogamy altogether. That impulse flies in the face of conventional wisdom which dictates that as we age, we must have a partner to take care of us. I am luckier than most in that I believe I have a safety net. They say it takes a village to nurture a child; I hope it also takes a village to nurture an old dude.

That said, I must identify characteristics of a relationship that I do want. Internet hook-up sites abound with relationship descriptions and acronyms: no strings attached (NSA), long-term relationship (LTR), closed-loop relationships (CLR) for married men, fuck-buddies, friends with benefits and the rest. Since monogamy doesn’t blow my skirt up, which of these suits me?

Furthermore, since I started writing this, events outpaced me. That is to say, I started about monogamy--or not--but before I finished writing, I expanded my understanding of what gay relationships can be. Now I must apply new considerations; with new understanding, should I, would I, could I be monogamous?

I think down the road, maybe so. But admittedly monogamy is not who I am right now, nor is it consistent with my progression out of the closet. It would be self-defeating to jump into monogamy before I learn more about who I am as a gay man.

Conversely, being a gay boyfriend with someone whom I care about could be the most fulfilling relationship a gay man could experience. I would be foolish to deny the wonderful potential such a relationship represents. It would depend on a lot of stuff I don't as yet understand.

I have no doubt that things will proceed apace, but I know the thousand-pound gorilla won’t long remain, sitting out there in the middle of the room.

Go figure

Given my enthusiastic progression from bisexual to homosexual and the ever-insistent nature of my sexuality, I shouldn’t be surprised at my single-minded pursuit of life and lifestyle. Given no choice in being gay, I am not immune to unbidden eagerness in suiting action to genetics. Katie, bar the door.

At some level, coming out of the closet is its own motivation. I was surprised at one point, that in order to legitimately claim my homosexuality I felt I had to indulge my same-sex attraction as often and as expansively as possible. In other words, if I am to say I am gay, I damned well better get out there and do gay.

That in itself is a challenge and demonstrates a frustration with which I have long been familiar. Partners with the same enthusiasm don’t exactly flock to my door. In that light, I continually feel over-sexed. My father told me that when I reached this age, rampant sexuality would fade. But he was wrong. I am one of those people who always think about sex, and continue to enjoy it with substantial physical passion.

The more I act out, the more I want to act out. Such gusto is forgivable, unless of course, I carry it to extremes. Intellectually, I recognize extreme as a slippery slope. In every other respect, especially carnal, I like sliding down hills. My sexual appetites are strong and, uh…eclectic. Given my penchant for what feels good, moderation is a challenge.

I tried to explain this to my friend Joe: the more I get the more I want. He laughed and told me I would mellow out. Damn, I thought, I don’t want to mellow out. I spent 20 years in a closet trying to be mellow. What I have learned in my accumulation of years, is that time flies. I want to get it on.

Being and acting…out

There is a big difference between being gay and acting gay. In Coming Out: An Act of Love by Rob Eichberg, one correspondent said, “I can choose to act gay, I cannot choose to be gay.”

Being gay is something we come to terms with in our own heads. Most gay men know of their same sex attraction early in life. They acknowledge they are gay, and recognize they will be gay during their lifetimes. The first step in coming out as gay involves admitting one’s homosexuality to one’s own self. This step was easier for me because I recognized myself as bisexual and loved it. Homosexual was a refinement that has increased and decreased over time.

Acting gay—acting out—isn’t necessarily about assuming effeminate mannerisms and speech, or dressing and otherwise carrying on flamboyantly. Acting gay is the act of enjoying sex with other men, the proof in the pudding. It is the physical, intellectual and perhaps spiritual attraction. It is the actual carnal act of enjoying sexual relations with another man.

Acting gay is a choice. As many gay men do, we can suppress our urge to act gay and stay in the closet. Even admitting to ourselves and others that we are gay, for whatever reasons, we may choose not to indulge our same-sex attraction. Alternatively, we can make the choice to act on our attractions, to seek and enjoy sex with men.

For me, acting gay was obvious, exciting and by no means difficult. At first, during my second coming out, I felt guilty about having sex with another man. Then I said to myself, “It’s okay; this is what gay men do. I am gay so I can accept and enjoy this pleasure.”

The dichotomy between being and acting is perhaps more poignant to a married man coming out to his wife. For example, after anguish and soul-searching, he can finally admit his orientation to his wife. The wife can accept that her husband is gay as long as he remains faithful and doesn’t act on his inclinations. He can be gay, but he can’t act gay. Depending on the individuals, the nature of their relationship, and boundaries and logistics they define, this can be tortuous or liberating.

One friend advised me on coming out, that once the door was cracked open I would come out with…uh, enthusiasm. That advice has proven correct in being and acting, out and sometimes loud. Actions speak.

A matter of scale

Lots of folks, both homo and hetero, believe bisexual doesn’t exist. Homosexuals believe bisexuality is a phase on the path to realization and enlightenment as homosexual. Heterosexuals believe same sex attraction at any level is homosexual. If a man maintains a relationship with a woman while experiencing—resisting or enjoying—attraction to his own gender, he is deeply in the closet, hiding his orientation behind her skirts.

Bisexuality therefore, is bête noir to both camps, claimed by neither, accepted by none. Yet bisexuality seems a more natural manifestation of human sexuality than either exclusive extreme. It opens the field, doubling the number of prospective partners and greatly expanding potential pleasure.

Two sex researchers recognize a sexual continuum with heterosexuality at one end and homosexuality on the other. Alfred Kinsey wrote, “Males do not represent two discrete populations, heterosexual and homosexual. The world is not to be divided into sheep and goats. It is a fundamental of taxonomy that nature rarely deals with discrete categories…The living world is a continuum in each and every one of its aspects.”

The Klein Sexual Orientation Grid developed subsequently by Fritz Klein takes into account that many people change their orientation over time. He believed the concept of sexual orientation is an ongoing dynamic process, an experience to which I can thoroughly attest.

My most recent evolution from bisexual to gay might be seen to support the gay idea that bisexuality is a transitory phase. Instead, I hold with Dr. Klein that my process changes over time. Although I never have been and never will be exclusively heterosexual, I know damned well bisexual is as much a part of me as homosexual. My dreams tell me so.

Just as I was getting ready to post this, I found a great documentary on bisexuality. The entire movie is over an hour long, but worth a look if you have the time: http://www.logoonline.com/video/bi-the-way/1616890/playlist.jhtml.

First time out

By the time I was eighteen, I was easily aware of my attraction to both genders. My same sex attraction never bothered me because I never self-identified as homosexual. My attraction to girls—my bisexuality—somehow eliminated guilt and discomfort I might have felt about being attracted to boys. I was so comfortable in my bisexual skin.

At any rate, I spent my teen years enjoying more male sexual contact than female because I was not very successful at attracting and dating girls. Furthermore, I attended an all-boys school where contact with girls was limited. Other boys undoubtedly developed strategies for attracting girls; I developed a game plan of sorts for initiating encounters with other boys. At that level, I liked boys more, but at the time I’d have enjoyed more heterosexual encounters.

Before I was eighteen, I had already experienced “adolescent” contact with several different boys, but recognized that I would have to lose my virginity to a girl. Naturally, this prospect excited me, and in my sixteenth year I pursued my goal with single-minded enthusiasm. Now attending a small co-educational boarding school, I established a relationship with a female student, and eventually consummated the act.

I remember my first heterosexual “lovemaking” as unpracticed and hurried fumbling in the dark. It was probably little different from anyone else’s first-time adolescent fumbling. The deal, however, was done, and I wore my new status with pride among my peers.

No question: I liked the sex and wanted more. The short story is that my girlfriend and I continued our trysts until we got caught and expelled from school. I finished high school at a public school where I enjoyed the cachet of mystery and rumor that surrounded me. The irony is that I got in more heterosexual trouble throughout my early life than I ever did homosexual trouble.

At eighteen I entered college at a time when the Vietnam War was sucking up young American men like a bellicose vacuum. A couple of years later I succumbed to a lifestyle that had little to do with academia and lots to do with skiing and partying. I dropped out of college which put me directly in the crosshairs of conscription and a potentially one way ticket to Vietnam.

I avoided the draft by being gay, which was my first trip out of the closet. I told my father, equivocating that I wasn’t really homosexual, and that I was only claiming the orientation to avoid the army. Still, I said the words out loud; the army psychiatrist believed me and wrote HOMOSEXUAL large across my paperwork. And I wasn’t even ashamed as I walked to the door past the drill sergeants and the poor saps headed for basic training and Vietnam.

I suppose it’s also ironic that calling myself homosexual led to my first overt and complete sexual congress with another man. I was always bisexual, never exclusively heterosexual, but now utterly and absolutely homosexual. It’s been a long, strange and I think unique trip. I wouldn’t change a bit of it.

Gay pride

I reconnoitered. I like knowing the ground before I enter a situation, especially one involving thousands of people. Denver’s PrideFest 2009 anticipated attendance by upwards of a hundred thousand people at Civic Center Park. Before I become part of a crowd like that, I want to know where stuff is located before it gets difficult to find.

I attended PrideFest on advice from my friend Brian, who recommended it as an essential component of my coming out. At first I didn’t understand why gay pride is so important, and thought it enough just to say I was gay. Now I enjoy greater understanding; enjoy is the active word. Being gay means helping other gay people come out of the closet, to accept themselves and expand that acceptance to family, friends and community.

My first impression on walking into Civic Center Park was of homeless people inhabiting whatever shady and comfortable places they could find. They contrasted sharply with more well-heeled vendors and gawkers like me. My thought was that homeless people don’t have the luxury of celebrating their sexuality; they’d be happy celebrating something to eat.

When I returned to the park the following morning, homeless folks were not in evidence. They were replaced by a full throng of gay and gay-friendly people browsing booths now stocked with all manner of services and merchandise. There were petitions to sign, causes to join, message tables, animal care and adoption offerings, psychic prognosticators, music and hundreds of mostly yummy food booths. Gay pride was paramount; diversity was the name of the day.

But the most striking thing to me was that here there weren’t—didn’t need to be—any closets. Everyone, from gawkers and tourists to vendors and practitioners, were either gay or gay-friendly. They assumed I was gay or that I accepted gay as viable identification and lifestyle. Freedom and authenticity were liberating. I could be who I am and meet with not just acceptance, but approval. I wandered among my tribe.

Although I had fun almost beyond description, my experience of “outness” and continuity taught me being homosexual is my personal orientation. Being gay, however, brought me together with a community of like-minded people. It was inclusive, enclosing and accepting; it was all okay, it was all good.

We gays have come a long way in terms of public acceptance of homosexuality. A hundred thousand gay people and allies walking openly and blatantly through Denver streets, demonstrates that times have changed. Yes, as a community of gay souls we still have much to do. We may not have it all, but as community we have it all together. Boy did it feel wonderful.