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Happy Go Lucky Gay
Of course I've always wanted to write stories that reflect my real self. I'm gay. When I was in college I was voted the class clown. I was flamboyant in my own secret way. That's why I can't understand why my gay writing had turned out to be this melancholy, dramatic, sentimental, sad, and introspective drag. No romance here. No love affairs. No daily visits to gay bars and bath houses. No Saturday 'all you can drink' nights. I am pretty much sterile. Very clean. Very untouchable. When you see me in the bar, I am the Queen standing in a corner surveying her subjects. I don't approach people because I expect them to approach me. At my age however, no one really bothers with me. After forty five years, I never learned to fall in love and sleep with somebody beside me on the bed. At nights I turn to my right side and long for somebody to hug while sleeping. Then I turn to my right side dreading the thought that the same person might fart or snore or scratch his genitals and I would scream, kick him off and would never, ever let him sleep on my bed again. I am that bad. I tend to suspect that the angels and principalities in heaven have decided since my birth that I will never find a lover, meaning, a lover that lasts more than thirty minutes with me. Of course I ain't dry. I have had relationships lasting between 5 to 30 minutes tops. That was the time of my youth when my hormones, mainly testosterone, were raging. That is no longer true nowadays. I stay awake at nights wondering -- am I really gay? How can I be gay when it seems I am dead. For six years I've done nothing but work and, I never really had a gay social life. More precisely, I never had a social life at all. Can I be gay without the 'gay lifestyle'? Shouldn't I belong to the rainbow society, with metrosexual looks and artistic tastes and clothes and shoes with designers' name? My gay friends are partnered now in blissful domestic life and I surely hear about their ups and downs. Oh yeah, they want to make sure I am Sahara. And they are Tropical paradise. I know, I just bow my head in graceful acknowledgement of their happiness. I have no ups and downs to share except my skin allergies and miserable running races. They are all experts of American Idol and Queer Eye for the Straight Guy or the latest beauty pageant results and the latest gay-related shows. My only input is my adoration of the movie Legally Blonde. Every week-end they acquire new friends of art and fashion and beauty. They all go to Brazil or Canada or some other weird city around the world for some hard core and sexy good times. They all meet up with the high caliber gay sisterhood of New York or Los Angeles or Chicago to celebrate their lives and accomplishments. Why, even the gays who do housekeeping during the day in my hospital have the most classy gay nightlife at the end of the day. Even Manuel who has no car finds fulfillment the way he finds restaurants. Me? Nothing. Look at me, I am here, at seven in the evening, typing this miserable post. What kind of gay am I? Can I be gay without the 'culture' of gayness? Is it normal to live a monastic existence, even believe that Christianity, despite its dysfunctional system and teaching, is possible for me? Is it possible to live mainly for quiet reading and writing and quiet running and working outside of the current 'gay lifestyle' and still be gay? Is it necessary to find a lover or a partner to be officially labeled gay? I always have these stupid questions because I am so unsure about being gay now at my age. There are always two voices that fight for my attention whenever I am alone. Like tonight, one voice tells me to get out of the house and find some 'sexually' stimulating activity outside, my hormones aren't depleted yet. Then the other voice counters, saying, hormones are meant only for biological purposes and the energy is better spent by using the brain. I am always confronted by these two sides of a coin every time. Should I find a lover? One voice says No, the other says Yes. Should I go partying? One voice says Yes, the other says No. Should I stop working everyday or be vacationing perpetually? Should I watch TV or read a book? Should I run outdoors or go to the gym? And on and on and on. You know what, I've chosen to ignore these voices. One thing I learned as I got old is this -- your self is the only entity that can tell you where you should go and what you should do. Personal conflicting moral questions will be answered by the Self. And the primary task of Self is preservation. Choices will be decided by that. One of the worst sources of my feelings of inadequacy as a gay person are the gay persons around me. For many years, I used them as my guide, the measuring rod of my life. When they get flustered because a lover is angry, I feel like I should be flustered because of my lover too, which is non-existent in the first place. When they come visit me all so beautiful after botox and facial surgeries, I sense I am incomplete because I should be as pretty as they are. When they regale me with their tales of adventures in far-away lands, where men drop like rain and they're all ready to die tomorrow because they've tasted heaven, of course I turn green with envy, especially when I counter their tales with my tales about running half-marathons. Half marathon my ass, they say, don't you know what the sun and the pounding and gravity do to your skin? No wonder you look much older than your age. You sag, baby. Whether this was stated in jest or not, it hurts. But life is life no matter from what vantage point you look at it. I am one of those who survived through the years with my sanity intact, good health and a major sense of accomplishment in family life. I never really lost my friends, even those I consider my lovers have just moved on, they never abandoned me. They are still around but I choose not to get entangled with them too much. Right now, romance is my least of concerns. I am different from every body and may be very difficult to live with. I choose not to be sad - I may be lonely but never sad because I have no time to get sad. Work and fatigue make sure that sadness never descends upon me. Nowadays I simply move around - I run in the parks, drive to places that make me happy like bookstores and gadget stores. I read books related to my profession. I also read fiction and watch Netflix via computer. I never watch TV. Occasionally I update my websites and I am hoping I'd find more days off to write more stuff. Finally, one more semester and all the kids I put through college are done. All the graduates have passed their boards and are working now. All of them seem to be happy with their prospects in the future. All of them are no longer the children tugging at my pants asking me to take care of them. Just the thought they made it through and now are happy makes me the happiest gay uncle anywhere in the world. Return to Home |