It’s a painful but necessary duty. Part I || Part II
As I explained in Part I, I could say that I came out when I was eight, except I was never in. I was a flaming little faggot kid, not this bristling hunk of pork jowl manhood you see today.
I had my first sexual experience at twelve, and it was a gay experience, which was what I wanted, and I instigated it. I instigated it. I’m not advocating for gay sex at twelve, or at all, and no, I would never have sex with anyone underage, ever; I’m just telling you what happened.
No one forced me, or corrupted me or turned me. I was not guilty or upset or traumatized. I don’t suffer from PTSD or have nightmares about the ugly old German guy who jerked me off.
Sorry. The lucky ugly old German guy who jerked me off.
I was over the moon. High-fives woo-hoo way to go buddy ecstatic. That’s the way it was with me. I’m sorry if that doesn’t fit into your narrative of shame and control.
In Canada, where we pride ourselves on not being crazy hysterical Americans and on our pragmatic mindset, Cheryl Gallant, Conservative M.P. for Renfrew-Nipissing-Pembroke, stated her belief that the Liberals, and progressives in general, were “seeking to normalize sex with children.”
This is because the Liberal party want to impose the same age of consent for both gays and straights. It’s almost like she doesn’t think that gay sex is equal to hetero sex, or thinks that it’s unnatural and something children shouldn’t know about! And reading the subtext, we can divine that she conflates “sex with children” with gay people, i.e. gay men (because, again, Queen Victoria).
Children do need to be protected, and gay men are not who they need to be protected from. Children need to be protected from people like Cheryl Gallant.
Protected doesn’t mean misinformed or uninformed: kids need to learn about sex and about their bodies, they have a right to this knowledge, at an age-appropriate level.
Children do need to be protected: Children should not be hit or abused under the pretext of “punishment”. That’s assault. Studies show that children’s minds are warped when the very people they count on for protection turn against them. Their minds melt and warp. They are a risk for substance abuse, depression, suicide, abusing others. All because some asshole parent hits them. Don’t assault children!
Children do need to be protected: Canada has unacceptably high rates of childhood poverty and hunger. How much do we really care about kids and how much is the current hysteria around “pedophilia” just a smokescreen for something else?
The gay man / pedophile myth is the lie that won’t lie down and die. And the current QAnon surfacing of the pedophile trope has two vectors: one is the gay man / pedophile myth, the other is the “blood libel”, the myth originating at least as early as medieval times, that Jews kidnapped and murdered gentile children and drank their blood (q.v. Pizzagate). Right wingers thus have a handle on two handy ways of committing scripted violence.
For the past few years, and by design, I’ve had sexual encounters almost exclusively with str8 dudes, whatever straight means in that context. And they are so much more fun than gay guys, whose insistence that drag is the ultimate expression of gay culture I find banal and tedious —as much as I revere and kiss the hem of every brave drag queen who ever brought us freedom; but who at the same time exhibit their desperate need for validation by straights by heaping scorn on the outlaw / outsider status that is the whole reason those epigenetics were triggered and we were born gay in the first place.
Straight dudes just shoulder the burdens. They’ve been taught since birth that they can’t show emotion, then we get confused and upset when their tenuous masculinity is threatened and they behave like assholes.
But we make them into assholes! We strip them of their emotional birthright then expect them to understand respect, non-means-no, gender fluidity, women’s reasonable and long-overdue demand for social and economic equality; climate change for heaven’s sake, but they can’t understand, because we’ve denied them the necessary emotional intelligence.
Male identity is fragile enough on its own without making it impossible for men to self-reflect, understand their part in the oppression of gay people, women and everything else in their oppression portfolio, then improve.
Tips for Str8 Dudes Hooking up with Gay Dudes
Because They Want a Decent BJ for a Change
(a.k.a. “Questioning”)
Please do not ask, “Do you have AIDS?” Are you clean” or “Any STD’s?”
First off, “AIDS” stands for “Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome.” This was the name scientists came up with when they thought the disease was caused by poppers and other “lifestyle choices.” As soon as HIV was discovered to be the cause, the term “AIDS” should have been retired. You can ask, “Do you know your HIV status?” Otherwise, contrary to what you may have heard, gay men were never deployed in Vietnam as a handy, low-budget alternative to napalm. We’re just as germ-free as you are, dude.
Do not ask me if I will wear lingerie or panties and bra.
If you like, I can cut holes in my wife-beater so my nipples stick out. I think that’s a generous accommodation.
Do not say, “I want you all to myself” or use the word “cuddle”.
Cuddle in my world is spelled “e-transfer to Royal Bank of Canada”.
Do not say, “I’m worried about being recognized, so could you be on your knees, with your back to the door, blindfolded?”
Let me get this right: You want me to be blindfolded with my back to the door as you, a str8 guy I’ve never met, comes in and gay-bashes me with a baseball bat. (You have just experienced my famous “imagination for disaster” a.k.a. fun-hating common sense.)
Fear of being recognized in my living room invokes the “nudist colony analogy”: if you’re at the nudist colony, and you meet your friend at the nudist colony, then you’ll both find out that you’re both nudists. What you should really worry about in that moment is your hot cup of coffee.
Do not tell me you “don’t have any gay friends”
because I may rupture my pancreas with laughing. Every str8 guy I’ve had fun with for the past six years has said the same thing, which kills me, because half of you probably work in the same law office and the other half in the same auto repair shop, fixing the lawyers’ cars.
Do not ask me to, “Take a picture of your hole and send it to me on WhatsApp.”
The last time I tried that I dropped my Samsung Galaxy in the bath, seized up in “Plough” position and damn near drowned in eight inches of sudsy water.
Try explaining that to the first responders, who I managed to call just before I went under and are threatening to stop coming if I do this one more time this week.
Also try explaining that it was a pocket dial to everyone in your contacts, including Twitter and LinkedIn, when they ask why you sent them that picture of your hole.
What are you into, I asked a respondent to my ad.
“I love to be lick and suck, [sic] front and behind (!) and I love to take time to explore your body”
Explore my body? What am I, the Himalayas? My body is distressingly standard, I’m afraid. No one’s going to be calling out, “Hey guys, over here—I think I struck oil!”
There was a slideshow I saw this week, outlining things that a real man can’t do. Eat dessert was one. No, order dessert. Seriously. He can encroach on yours, but any man who orders dessert is suspect.
But the one that got me was: wipe his ass. Yep. Because a real man wouldn’t spread his cheeks and risk touching his own asshole with the toilet paper.
I wish I was making this up.
I guess he just lets his underwear do the absorbing…? I’m sorry that you’re reading this during your lunch break.
I can, with sorrow and the scars of experience, attest to the truth of this. Guys: If you wonder why girls aren’t going down on you more… this is the reason. Give it a rinse, Murgatroyd McGraw!
A Muslim twink—oh, I get around—once told me,
“We think you in the West are disgusting, the way you just give a little wipe with some tissue. We wash ourselves every time.”
It’s always interesting, as the dominant race, to hear the feedback from those we oppress, which I can do on a regular basis, because my ad draws a disproportionate number of Muslim guys from the Middle East and Pakistan. Although, trust me, I’m not complaining, I had thought Islam to be firmly against man-on-man sex. And though officially that may be, in practice there is turning of a blind eye to certain necessities.
My friend explained, “It is a male society, women are not seen in public the same way as in the West. Because women are not available, young men usually have their first sexual experience with another man.”
Equally interesting is to hear the oppressed engage in their own oppressions.
I’m thinking of yet another young Muslim guy who came round for fun and games last year. He wanted to invite someone else, but when I suggested a buddy of mine who was Black, he demurred.
“Oh, no,” he said. “I don’t like Blacks. You see, I was once mugged by a Black guy, so ever since then I’ve been traumatized and I can’t be around them.”
“I see…” My blood approaches boiling point at overt racism and the concept that I can’t have agency in my own home.
I continued, “That’s a good point, because, honestly, I was traumatized by 9/11, so I think I’ll pass on today.”
Sometimes just the look on someone’s face makes the struggle all worthwhile.
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