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.