Two Kinds of Gay Men

I think there are two types of gay men in this world: the kind who idolize The Ladies on the Lanai ("The Golden Girls") and those who prefer their peaches from Georgia ("Designing Women"). While I am a fan of both shows, I lean more toward the Sugarbaker sisters, Mary Jo, and Charlene. (Okay, and Anthony, too, and Bernice.) I'll admit that the show did start to go downhill once the core four began leaving and were replaced. I still find the later episodes entertaining, but they've definitely lost something (i.e. Delta Burke and Jean Smart).

So I was watching a rerun the other night as I ate my dinner. Ironically enough, the network formerly known as Pax--a fairly conservative, values-oriented, vaguely Christian station--has been showing two episodes at 7 and 7:30 Eastern time. This particular episode was the one where the ladies agree to decorate the funeral of their friend dying from AIDS while Mary Jo is caught up in a PTA debate about handing out free condoms.

Now, first, I have to note that this episode was from 1987, a full 20 years ago! Let's give it up for them portraying an AIDS afflicted gay character as more than a scary, contagious monster at a time when most of the general public was probably unaware of it. They addressed how he communicated the virus, which obviously tied in with the PTA plot. They presented the other side's argument, but used humanity to sensitively convey their message and put a face with the disease. The inevitable ending was a moving finish to an episode still poignant two decades after it was first aired.

What really makes me love this series so much, though, is its ability to have me laughing one minute and crying the next. I can think of so many instances when I've run the gamut of emotions (when Suzanne becomes a foster mom for Li Sing, when Suzanne goes to her reunion with a few extra pounds, when Charlene has her baby at the same moment Ruby Dee dies and goes to meet Dolly Parton in Heaven). That's a quality I love in sitcoms, which is probably why I like "Scrubs" as much as I do, too.

So which camp are you in: GG or DW?

I Now Pronounce You Offensive

I want to boycott that new movie with Adam Sandler and Kevin James, the one where they pretend to be a gay couple to get marriage benefits. I want to boycott it for two reasons (based solely on the previews, I should add):

1. It's unrealistic. It's set in New York, so they're not going to get any benefits by getting married because they can't get married.
2. It stereotypes gay men for the purpose of laughs, as if we're the joke of society.

Okay, three reasons:

3. It just doesn't look funny.

I was at the movies a couple weeks ago with Charlie (yes, we've been spending a lot of time together), seeing "1408" when the preview for this piece of crap played. We were seated behind two couples, the males halves of both being large and burly. I'll do my own stereotyping and say they were your typical outer borough blue collar guys. That's just the vibe I got. And, of course, they laughed heartily at the parts that really were not funny to Charlie and I. We looked at each other and rolled our eyes, silently agreeing that this was not a movie that we wanted to see or even remotely approved of.

I'm pretty surprised that I haven't heard of any gay rights groups getting up in arms over their depiction of a serious community-wide struggle as a source for comedy. It kind of sickens me a little.

Granted, I haven't seen the movie and it very well may have a pro-gay marriage message, but the concept and the previews and the commercials all smack of exploitation and marginalizes the issue. I'm curious if anyone else has had this reaction or if any of my gay readers plan on seeing the movie.

Apologies (or: Everything is Sort Of OK Again)

Only about 10 minutes after I posted last night's rant, I got a series of text messages from Charlie asking if I was mad at him and if we could talk. I told him we'd talk in the morning, but he called and left a very apologetic voicemail anyway.

I slept for only about 3 hours as I had a lot on my mind. He called again around 10:30 in the morning, but I hadn't had breakfast, so I wasn't up for talking just yet. I called him back an hour later and we had a long talk about what happened. Basically, once his trick left, he felt really bad about abandoning me and assured me that he's never done that with anyone before. I clued him in to my neuroses and social anxiety and told him I was more hurt than mad. The time I spent thinking about what he did calmed me down, and I know that his leaving had nothing to do with me and choosing a blow job over a friend. Things kind of snowballed and he was thinking with his dick instead of with a rational mind. I got it and I couldn't really hold it against him, especially after he was so apologetic. It's really just the reality of going places with guys hotter than yourself*; they get more attention and sometimes force you into the shadows. Idon't like it, but I understand it.

I opened up to him about everything I wrote in last night's post about how I felt and how I distort things in my own mind. I told him I needed to find a therapist to work through my shit--btw, does anyone have any recommendations for a good gay or gay-friendly psychiatrist/psychologist in New York City?--and I don't think I scared him away. We decided that he would never make me do something I wasn't comfortable doing and that he's usually very conscientious about sticking with the friends he's with. I still worry I might be a downer, but he also told me he would never think that of me.

We both find each other oddly comforting and trustworthy and can seem to talk about things with each other that we wouldn't with other friends, which is ironic since we've known each other for like 3 weeks. The open lines of communication and honesty in our chat this morning was really good, I think, and it's another thing I don't really have with most of my friends. Maybe this will be that one friendship that I've been sorely lacking in this city.

*I don't think I'm terribly unattractive--actually, I muse most rush hours that I'm more often than not in the top five cute guys in any given subway car I ride in--but when I get around a bunch of gay guys in a bar or club or other gathering, my self-esteem is shattered. I can't talk to people for fear of rejection because I'm no longer good looking. I become quiet and taciturn so that I don't draw attention to myself and my mediocre face and physique. Perhaps it's a form of body dysmorphia; that's something I need the psychiatrist to diagnose.

The Good Friend

I know that the main reason behind my blog change was to eliminate the repetitive whininess of my posts, but I'm a little drunk, so that's kind of moot now.

No, I'm not even tipsy, which makes the story that much sadder.

I just had one of the worst nights out ever, and I've had some pretty bad ones before. So I need to share, vent, get it off my chest.

Last weekend, my friend Charlie (with whom I had gone on one date, after which we decided there was no spark and we would be just friends) called me, and we both wanted to go dancing soon. We agreed on Thursday night--tonight--because neither of us have to work tomorrow. So I met him down in Chelsea near his apartment, where, I should note, a friend of a friend was obviously trying to avoid me, and we went for drinks at G.

We ultimately planned on going to Splash, so we left after a couple drinks and some frank, open, share-only-with-close-friends conversation and establishing that he wanted to get lucky and I just wanted to have fun. We decided to dance some before getting more drinks, and he noticed a fairly cute guy dancing with his big girl fag hag, who, it should be noted, looked like she was not having a good time. He thought the guy would be good for me, but I wasn't impressed by his looks. Not ten minutes later, he sauntered up to the guy and started dancing (read: grinding) with him, leaving both me and the big girl fag hag on the sidelines to only look on in mild disgust as they began to make out and finger each other on the dance floor. I quickly turned away and ordered a $3 Long Island iced tea and drank as I danced by myself.

After a bit, Charlie came back to me, ordered a drink, and told me he kind of wanted to fuck the guy. I, being the good friend that I am, said he should. Before he took two sips, he was back dancing/making out/dry humping the guy. Oh, but wait! It gets worse.

In a short break, Charlie had the balls to go up to a cute guy standing alone near me and tell him something starting with the words "my friend," and a point at me. It was clear he suggested this cute guy talk to me, and he eventually did. We engaged in small talk briefly, and he told me straight up he was looking for someone to hook up with. It was pretty obvious he wasn't interested in me, though, especially considering he then ditched me without even saying, "Nice to meet you." Seconds later, he literally disappeared.

So then Charlie came back to me dancing alone at the bar with the go-go boy's crotch hovering a couple feet above my head, and said they were going to go downstairs for 10 minutes, but he'd be back. I, being the good friend, told him again to fuck the guy, and expected him to return with it out of his system and we would be able to have some fun for the rest of the night.

Half an hour later, they came back upstairs and Charlie asked me if it would be okay with me if they left and went back to his place. I, being the good friend, of course, said it would be fine, I'd finish my drink and leave. It was midnight after all, and I had gotten some action of my own before meeting up with Charlie, so I wasn't about to cock-block.

But still.

I downed the rest of my Long Island, weaved through the crowd on surprisingly steady legs (I'd had 3 of those and a rum and coke at G), and sulked my way back to the subway.

Now I'm home, not drunk, not horny, and on the verge of tears because I obviously have psychological issues to deal with. I really need to find a mental health professional to work through this with me. Charlie did text me to say thank you, but I still feel like crap.

Utterly worthless crap.

I mean, what does it say about me that my supposed "friends" would rather get some ass than spend a few hours dancing with me? That they would leave me alone in a bar where they have already forced someone to talk to me, where they know I'm shy and unable to approach people, and where they know I'm unhappy?

It's pathetic. It's embarassing. Now I know why all of my true gay friends are partnered already. They wouldn't ditch me for a mediocre looking power bottom.

Charlie said he would call me tomorrow, and I really should tell him how I feel. No, I will tell him how I feel. It was not cool, no matter that I said it was. I'm pissed at him, I'm pissed at myself for taking this so personally, I'm depressed that I can recognize I have a problem--ok, problems (neediness, low self-esteem, nonexistent confidence, social anxiety, to name a few)--but I don't know how to conquer them, and I'm generally disappointed in the way the whole night unfolded.

But here's the dilemma again (isn't there always one?): I like Charlie. I enjoy talking to him and spending time with him one-on-one. However, now I know that our personalities are so different that I doubt they're even slightly compatible. If we ever do anything more than talk, it'll always end the same way. Either I'll hold him back from doing what he wants or he'll force me to do something that I'm not comfortable doing. I can tell already. Friendship should be a compromise, but I still think that we're too far to the extremes to be beneficial to each other. I might have to just let him go.

Which sucks because I'm really lonely and he was at least there. Where are all the good friends like me?