“I don’t think I’m very good at gay… I used to sit there and watch [the Mardi Gras parade] and go, “Where are the quiet gays supposed to go?” I still do.
“… the pressure on my people to express our identity and pride through the metaphor of party is very intense. An afternoon of that … [and] I need to express my identity through the metaphor of a nap.”
– Hannah Gadsby. “Nanette.”
What does it actually mean to be gay—aside from being attracted to other men (which I tend to think of as the defining criteria)?
It’s a question I’ve been asking myself the last couple of years, in part because my brain is incapable of not overanalyzing everything.
Thankfully, society seems to have firmly settled opinions on this for me.
According to mass media, in no particular order, gay men:
- Are extroverted, gregarious, youthful, and always happy, and ironically witty. They especially love clubs. And dancing. (So much dancing.)
- Go to the gym, are underwear-model fit, and are comfortable stripping to their Aussiebum briefs/jock strap in public. Especially at the club or pride.
- Speak in a higher pitch, often reminiscent of speech patterns and inflections of teenage girls.
- Love pop music, especially dance music (e.g., Madonna, Carly Rae Jepsen, Cher, Gaga, etc).
- Have location-based dating (i.e., hookup) apps (e.g., Grindr, Hornet, Scruff, Jack’d, Recon, etc).
- Are rapaciously flirtatious, unabashedly promiscuous, attracted to all [physically fit] men, and sort neatly into the categories of top and bottom.
- Walk quickly and with excellent posture, are very tidy and smartly dressed, and are often more than a little eccentric (which is why they can’t sit properly in chairs).
- Can plan your wedding, organize a brunch, and redecorate your apartment in a single afternoon.
- Belong to at least one kink community. (Leather is a given since every gay man owns a harness, armbands, and tight black t-shirts.)
- Primarily have open—or monogamish—relationships (because #6).
Of course, these are stereotypes.
As such, they do not accurately reflect individuals or an entire population.
That said, as with most stereotypes, they exist partly because there are gay men for whom many of these are true. (Also: gays make great supporting characters.) But many of them do have a basis in the history of gay communities, especially leather and bars.
They also present a wee brain teaser to those of us who are trying to figure out where we fit in all this, and who often wonder “where the quiet gays are supposed to go”.
For me, I’m largely incapable of flirting, partly because I’ve no patience for the subtle rituals men (especially gay men) perform when they’re interested in someone.
Mostly because my style is so distinctly German.
Ditto patience for clothing or grooming habits that take more than two minutes.
Mostly, I just don’t care.
Meaning that it’s difficult to find where—and with whom—I might fit.
This past weekend, as recounted in the last post, I was surprised to find myself both attracted to and flirting with a guy at the gaming mini-con. Granted, we were both pretty inebriated due to a miscalculation of 1) the amount of food I’d had that evening and 2) the strength of an alcoholic beverage a friend of mine had made.
Also, the guy in question was married and avowedly monogamous, even as he was coming to terms with the possibility of being bisexual.
There were a number of reasons why I was surprised at suddenly being attracted to this person and experiencing over the next day or so what can be described as a crush. He wasn’t my usual “type” and was also, for all intents and purposes, unavailable.
In hindsight, that was perhaps what made acknowledging that attraction so easy—the low risk it ultimately presented.
Again, it wasn’t sexual; it was probably more aesthetic or emotional, and even a little romantic. Our deep conversation allowed for a space of vulnerability to open up, where it was safe to acknowledge that I was attracted to him. It’s a bit hazy who first admitted it, but it’s the first time I’d done that in a very long while.
It was kind of nice.
There are moments when I miss sex, of being intimate with a guy. These are moments when I question if I’m truly on the asexual spectrum, but on further reflection, sex has always been secondary to connection, like a palpable extension of the emotional bond that exists between us. Of course, that’s only happened a handful of times, but it was always intense.
Those times also amounted to just a moment in the woods.
That’s part of what frightens me so much about attraction based on past experiences: their one-sidedness. What puzzles me about so many gay men is their casual attitudes towards sex, as if it were just another fun activity—one guy’s much like any other. To be fair, this is probably men in general, though exceptions (as usual) abound.
But, at least outwardly, there seems to be little ruminating or emotional fallout.
I get so caught up in what everything means, whether or not we mean something to each other now, the nature of the new context (if one exists), and if I’m ever going to even find someone with whom I’m compatible.
It’s all a bit of a mood and fun killer.
A healthier, less tortured way of approaching last week’s flirtation may be as practice: just a simple step towards easing back into dating. Because if a partner and emotional connection is what I want, that won’t happen if I just complain about being lonely.
Learning to hear and acknowledge my inner voice’s worries and fears of disappointment would certainly help allay anxieties.
Approaching it in an experimental manner might also be healthier: setting aside biases, setting expectations low, and simply exploring what’s there rather than worrying about what might happen—not to mention trying to make something happen.
Plus, being less resistant to experiencing attraction sounds less tense. Simply noticing when it’s happening without judging it.
(It also makes me ponder whether I really need a boyfriend or if a small group of guys with whom I had an intensely close bond would be enough.)
There’s also knowledge of what didn’t work the first time around: that I was “trying” to be gay, following models set by others for how gay men were supposed to behave rather than following my intuition.
I can find my own way of “being gay.”
a hard and a rock place 
“It also makes me ponder whether I really need a boyfriend or if a small group of guys with whom I had an intensely close bond would be enough”.
I honestly don’t think one can develop a healthy romantic relationship with another man until one has learned how to develop healthy, emotionally connected friendships with men. Learning the intimacy (and casualness) of close friendship is (IMHO), a necessary but not sufficient first step towards one day having a healthy relationship with a partner.
At least that is my experience and I see a lot of my growing up in your writing.
And I like the Zennish conclusions by the way. I think you are moving in the right direction.
I’d agree with all of that, Paul, especially the need to learn the art of friendship before delving into anything romantic. For me, I think any strong relationship has to start with friendship anyway and grow from there. There has to be a firm emotional foundation laid before anything else can develop. The challenge for someone like me is how sex-driven gay culture seems to be and finding someone who doesn’t expect that right away. Not entirely sure how to do that though…
I’m not sure there are working formulas for these things. It all really depends on what you want and your particular circumstances. I’m terrible at friendship in general, but I’ve discovered I can be a really good friend/partner to one person. I can be friendly to more people, but my focus is limited to one. I’ve tried to expand on that, but it doesn’t work anywhere near as well as if I just accept that “one” is the right number for me.
I think having a limited bandwidth for how many people one can really focus on describes me as well. And it’s probably a matter of what one really needs as far as relationships go. Some of us only need a small group of close friends rather than a bevy of acquaintances. I also feel that there’s a fair amount of shame heaped on introverts for not being more gregarious and outgoing, as if there’s something wrong with us for preferring depth over breadth.
And wouldn’t it be great if we could quantify relationships and cut out all the uncertainty? 😆