tic-tac-tOH!

The green ones to the gay community have a bad habit of giving themselves away far too early. They may be able to trick you for a little while, but there are always tell-tale signs that expose them for what they truly are – inexperienced, sex-charged ultimate virgin 9000’s.

Contrary to popular belief, kiddies – being of the same sexual orientation as another individual, doesn’t exactly spell out your storybook ending. Personally, I’ve encountered hundreds of other gay men, and I’m still waiting for that sure-fire Prince Charming and my happily ever after. I’m sorry if it crushes your dreams to learn that you probably won’t find your husband at the tender age of sixteen – that’s just how it is, folks.

I wish somebody would explain to me the logic behind these people who mentally construct a future with someone upon introduction, based on common-ground in which gender you prefer to copulate with. I’d understand if us queers were an endangered species, and finding one carried with it the same excitement and rarity as a winning lottery ticket – but boys, seriously, look around – there are plenty, and believe me, most of them you will have no desire to erect anything with, let alone a white picket fence.

When I was sixteen, I participated in a regional high school drama festival (note for the desperately alone: CRAWLING with fags), and it was there that I encountered an individual whom I’ll call Devon. We met in a workshop and were introduced by a mutual friend, and we shared a number of common interests – obviously we both enjoyed the stage, we were both abnormally tall, and we were both gay. However, as far as I was concerned, that was that – you can never know too many people.

That particular year I was struggling with high school math. Funny, to this day I still can’t find ‘x’, but I never seem to have any trouble finding ‘O’, which to me is FAR more relevant. Devon happened to be a strong math student, and offered to help me out prior to an exam – which, I accepted. Fast-forward a couple hours later, and we’re sitting on his couch, and he’s staring longing into my eyes with his hand on my leg, leaning in for that magical first kiss. Except, there was nothing magical about me packing up my books, running out the door and self-teaching myself in place of the imminent rape I managed to avoid.

From that point on, I learned to view forwardness and directness in a completely different light. If someone you barely know seems far too eager to help you out with something, chances are they are needy and desperate and rife with ulterior motives. Where this ‘I’m gay, you’re gay, let’s go out!’ mentality originates is unknown to me. Perhaps it’s personal insecurity, or a prolonged history of repeated rejection – which, I can’t help but think could be avoided if they’d just simmer the fuck down and slow up at the yellow light.

The laws of attraction still apply, and, like any relationship, compatibility is a far more complex equation than simply finding ‘x’. They are multi-faceted and complicated problems that simply can’t be solved by looking them in the eye – it requires a little more work than that. If not, why wouldn’t we just pool all the gay people together, pick a number, and ta-da! No more singles, no more dating, you’ve found ‘the one’. But where would the fun be in that?

Picture a happenin’ downtown club, filled with all kinds of guys and gals – when, out on the dancefloor, an eligible bachelor approaches a pretty girl, and says ‘are you straight?’. She says yes, and he replies with ‘me too, let’s get married and have a vanload of kids!’. Rather than planting a kiss, she’d plant her foot in his groin and serve him with a restraining order faster than a Peregrine falcon. Yet, comparable scenarios take place on a daily basis on the gay scene, and it perplexes me as to why.

I’ve throughly enjoyed the time I’ve spent testing the waters in search of someone right for me. I’ve found a few solid candidates, but for one reason or another, they’ve fallen off the radar. At the moment, I have one in the running, but even in the middle of a full-blown relationship, when we are living together and spending nearly every waking moment in each other’s presence, I still don’t know if he’s got what it takes to love someone like me ’til death do us part. Ultimately, it’s impossible to tell for sure, but you decide to go with the best possible choice. And for me, such a title doesn’t, and never will, come easily – and neither should it for you.

Of course, don’t you all set off in search of that perfect, dreamy mathematician to live out the rest of your days with. I don’t necessarily care if you can’t find my ‘x’ right off the bat – find my O first, and then we’ll talk.

~ by glamnesia on August 24, 2008.