Hello my lovelies… Today I wrote an essay about gay men and the pursuit of beauty. It will go live on my friend Matt Comer’s blog on Thursday. It is the last of five essays dealing with dirty little secrets in the gay community. I am not going to post it directly here. Rather, I’m going to post links on Thursday to his site, so that you can see it within the context of the greater whole.

I have to get ready to leave for an extended trip to D.C. tomorrow, and I don’t anticipate having much time to write; however, I wanted to just take a moment to say that I’m feeling better. Sorry for the rant, but despite the over generalities, I think I made some pretty salient points. So, the entry wasn’t completely for nothing.

At any rate, I will add the links on Thursday, but between now and then I’m taking a break. I’ll be writing while I’m in D.C., so I look forward to hearing from you all soon. And I look forward to seeing my D.C. friends soon!!

Well, boys and girls… how about that rant yesterday? Whew. Well, I feel better…

But now I need to take a moment to come back to center and recognize that although there are people who (without necessarily planning it) frustrate, anger, and hurt me, there are so many others who soothe me and make me feel loved. Thank you for your many kindnesses…

Before I got sidetracked by a thoroughly discouraging week in Atlanta, I was sharing excerpts of my favorite novel, “The Last of the Wine” by Mary Renault. Here we see Alexias (the narrator) with his lover/friend Lysis preparing for the battle that would ultimately dislodge the The Thirty (a group of tyrants who were put in control by the Spartans after Athens was defeated in the Pelopennesian War). This selection is relevant to me just now, because it offers a nice prayer that reminds me (in a way) of the Serenity Prayer:

Just before the trumpet, Lysis and I stood on the walls, and looked down the Cleft of the Chriot, to see Athens shine, clear gold picked out with shadows, in the slanting winter sun. I turned to him and said, “You look sad, Lysis. It has been good here, but we are going to be better.”

He smiled at me and said, “Amen, and so be it.” The he was silent for a time, looking out at the High City, and leaning on his spear.

“What is it?” I said; for my mind was full of memories, which I felt he shared.

“I was thinking,” he said, “of the sacrifice just now, and of how one ought to pray. It is right for men setting out on a just enterprise to commend it to heaven. But for oneself… We have entreated many things of the gods, Alexias. Sometimes they gave, and sometimes they saw it otherwise. So today I petitioned them as Sokrates once taught us:

‘All-Knowing Zeus, give me what is best for me. Avert evil from me, though it be the thing I prayed for; and give me the good which from ignorance I do not ask.’”

Before I could reply to him, the trumpet sounded, and we went down to the gate…

It is time to look for a day job to supplement my dance income. I’m tired of depending these last six months on the whim of patrons. This week has been the single worst I’ve had in nearly a year… It’s so bad that I’ve considered some options that, for me, aren’t options. And, to top it off, there’s a long-standing issue that is coming more to the fore as the economy goes from bad to poor…

There is a particular fetish that has been built up to the point that it is endemic amongst gay men, and, to be frank, it’s completely pissing me off. It’s particularly bad in Atlanta. And I’m going to rant about it. And if you don’t want to read it, then you better come back another day. Because I’m just about to the point, after several years of brushing it off with “Well, everyone has their preferences,” of telling gay men to go fuck themselves.

People want what they can’t have.

Bullshit! They want what they’ve been told they want.

Gay men have been programmed by a homophobic society to believe that straight men are the pennacle of sexuality/sexual desire/atractiveness (which fits, given that this affords preference to the heterosexual men who create and reinforce this ludicrous supposition). Gay men have been damaged by this homophobic society to the point that they can’t even be nice to each other, because we haven’t been given the opportunity to learn how to conceptualize anything beyond the stereotypical hook ups that straight men corner us into accepting as our lot as the dysfunctional perverts they think we are (and which we’ve too often become). Also, because there are no institutions that empower same-sex desire/love/relationships that balance out the institutions that disempower same-sex desire/love/relationships, there is no wide-scale acceptance amongst most gay men that it’s even a true possibility. No, it’s not enough that a few states in New England have finally legalized gay marriage in the last year or two. So don’t even put that up as an argument, or I will have to slap the taste out of your mouth.

And so, here we are. Left with the self-loathing homophobia that powers gay libidos. All these gay slots and tabs looking for straight counterparts. Well, excuse me, but fuck you. BrokeStraightGuys.com? Fuck you! FirstGaySex.com? Fuck you too!

I was told to my face last night that if I “were to just be a straight guy” I’d be “perfect” and then this patron “could finally get a lap dance” from me. Go get therapy, asshole. That says a whole lot more about you than it does me.

And since I’m being completely honest here:

1. Straight men ARE obtainable. Look around, you stupid fags! Seventy-five to ninety percent of the men in gay porn are STRAIGHT. The same proportion are straight in gay clubs with male dancers. Don’t delude yourself anymore. For being unobtainable, they sure look pretty obtainable to me with their legs up in the air. “I’d have to get alot of money to do anything gay.” Oh? What does this mean, breeder? That you think it contemptable, nasty, dirty, perverted? And so then, stupid fags, HOW IS IT DESIREABLE TO SEE A STRAIGHT GUY DO THAT WHICH HE HATES? How does this build up your gay identity to demean a straight man who is only tolerating your loathsome self because of money? And you think that’s hot? You think it’s hot to see a straight dude cringe with pain and disgust as he’s getting ram-fucked for $x??? You’re worse than the straight guy. Get out of my sight.
2. If all the straight men in gay adult entertainment were removed from it, the industry would be bereft of talent, because there wouldn’t be hardly anyone left doing it. And do you want to know why? Because YOU keep buying into the utterly fucked up notion that straight men are better than gay men.
3. Here’s a wake up call: Most of the breeders you give all your money to walk away from you, removing their smiling faces from your presence, and then go talk shit about you once you’re out of earshot. Period. End of discussion. I have held my tongue for a very long time, but I’m about to the point of calling them out when they talk shit in front of me about YOU. And if that doesn’t work I’m going to go to the patrons and tell them what is being said about them. I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to put up with this anymore. I think it’s fair to level the playing field: I’m just an undesireable homo? Okay. Fine. Well the straight guys are dickheads who generally despise you, even though they’re the ones “lowering themselves” in the first place. Now who’s more desireable? Oh? It’s still the straight guy? You know what, I don’t want your money after all. Use it to get some Zyprexa. You need it.
4. To deny you are oppressed is to aid in your oppression, but to pay for your oppression with your own effort and resources renders you a slave. A fully neurotic slave. Get therapy. (Get that Zyprexa I just mentioned.) Get a life. Get out of my face.
5. “But I like men who act like men.” You’re going to say that to me?? Right into my motherfucking face?! Fuck you! How about I punch you in your goddamned mouth for saying that to me? Would that make me butch enough to get a lap dance out of your pansy ass? Nevermind, I don’t give lap dances to fags. Only straight guys. There, how’s that? How stupid does that sound? Now try hearing it from the other direction, and think about why I’m so pissed.
6. The straight entertainers will NEVER be yours. Not even sexually. It doesn’t matter how many times you pay to touch them. It doesn’t matter how many times you pay to suck their cocks. It doesn’t matter how many times you pay to have sex with them. It doesn’t matter how many times you pay for anything. You are paying for their tricked-out rides, for their girlfriend’s boob job, for their steroids, for their babies, and for their contempt. You are wasting your time, money, and hope when you give them to straight men. I’ve been saying this throughout my entire blog, even going back to almost the very beginning with “Gay men fawning over straight dancers.”
7. You are far, far, far, far, far more likely to get your cock in a straight guy’s ass at Swinging Richards than a gay one’s. If you hear of someone getting bareback fucked in VIP, who is it? One of the gay dancers? No. Never. Not once in two years have I seen a gay dancer get fired/suspended from that club for having sex in VIP. So then, here’s where the logic loses its legs: If straight guys are so fucking unobtainable, why are they the only ones putting out? You think you can go to Blake’s and pick me up for free on a Wednesday night? Fuck you, you’d better save up your money to buy one of the unobtainable straight guys you like so much, because you’ll NEVER get this proudly flaming fag to do in VIP what those nasty straight tricks do as their default setting. Who’s unobtainable now, asshole?

Youths seeking to make gentlemen of themselves should take care to avoid dissipations, wasteful expenditures of time and resources; frivolty, which leads only to a limpid spirit; and trivial pursuits, as they are the height of selfish preoccupation with matters of no consequence. – Unknown

Okay, I admit it: That isn’t a “real” quote by some hardnose from the 19th century. I just made it up. But it exemplifies the attitude of a particular prude with a forced British accent who came into Swinging Richards last night.

“Would you like a private dance?”

“I don’t like to spend money on just anything. I have several trips planned. I part with money with difficulty, but you’re very sexy,” he said as he groped my chest and arm.

“So, you just told me that you have alot of money, that you spend alot of it, but only on yourself, and that you are, therefore, here for the free show.”

“No, that’s not true! I gave that stripper a dollar a little while ago.”

“I hope it’ll cover his rent while you’re in Majorca.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to sound greedy, but money is valuable! I don’t like to be frivolous.”

“I think you just dug a hole that you have zero hope of getting yourself out of. I wrote a blog once entitled ‘Your dollar is worth about 88 cents to me.’ You should read it.”

Stupid.

My friend David, who often manages the door at Swinging Richards, made a comment this evening that made me pause for a moment. He’s attracted to one of the dancers on a romantic level, but said, “Rule #1: Don’t date strippers.”

“Why do you think I’ve been single so long? You say you shouldn’t date a stripper, but I don’t think strippers (in general) should date anyone. But why do you feel that?”

“Aside from the the obvious, I think dancers forget the value of a real relationship.”

“You think we don’t know how to accept anything from people anymore, not even compliments.”

“Exactly.”

And he has a valid point. I was at a birthday party last weekend, and I was being inundated with compliments from strangers. I wasn’t at work. I had literally just gotten off the plane from San Diego less than an hour prior. I was tired. I wasn’t thinking about being on my best behavior. And so I often just half-smiled and nodded as an overly-relaxed gesture of thanks.

One guy snapped me out of my stupor: “You’re an asshole.”

“What?!”

“I just paid you some major compliments, and all you can do is nod your head and look at me with pity?”

Wow. I’d not realized I was coming across that way. It definitely wasn’t intentional. Between that experience and David’s comments, I am realizing that there is a catch-22 going on here. Without compliments I have no external basis for feedback. But compliments individually are becoming more like white noise, especially the ones that seem like empty flattery. Sincere compliments I am still able to absorb some, but as awkward as it might sound, I’d really like it if people would talk TO me instead of AT me.

Some people, who will pointedly refuse to empathize with this “problem,” will say, “You get compliments at all. Stop complaining. There are people who get too few or none.” Yes. This is true, except I’m not complaining or bemoaning. I’m simply recognizing a side effect of this career (and I think all jobs jade us in ways particular to themselves): I have been suckled on compliments/flattery for so long that most of them fall flat. If a stranger forgoes introducing himself, jumps right to flirtation and flattery, and drops compliments overly easily… well… I’ve (without intending it) started giving them the priority I would give anyone at work who wants to talk but doesn’t commit to getting a dance/VIP: I smile, nod, and move quickly to other thoughts.

As much as I have enjoyed adult entertainment, it really can manifest some fucked up psychology.