Filed by Trevor at 11:52 pm under Fightin' Words, Gay Agenda, Gender Identity, Homophobia, Love
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“You’re such a sissy! What are you so afraid of? Then love the front of me, honey!” — Hedwig

I’m a total hypocrite. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I can say whatever comes to mind and you will know that we both have permission to take me with a grain of salt.

I dislike being gay. I realize that if I were a celebrity and had said this on national television, GLAAD would denounce me and Exodus International would use this as apparent proof of the feelings of self-loathing inherent in my deviant lifestyle, but as it usually is, the truth is much more complicated. I am not ashamed of the fact that I am romantically and sexually attracted to men, and I am not ashamed to be truthful about this. So I amend my statement: I dislike that being gay prevents me from having close, non-romantic, totally platonic friendships with straight men without the lingering suspicion that I am harboring much deeper feelings. I would even go so far as to say I hate this fact. In short: I want to be just one of the guys.
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Filed by Chelsea at 11:58 am under Gender Identity, Pop Culture, The Media
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I’m currently reading Maureen Dowd’s terrific 2005 best-seller Are Men Necessary?: When Sexes Collide.

Dowd is a gender/political columnist for the New York Times, and her book is witty, engrossing, and very well-researched. I may have a crush.

In addition to the evolutionary/biological tidbits I am picking up (some scientists believe that all men will be sterile within 125,000 years!) (within my lifetime, a lesbian couple will be able to conceive a child by implanting DNA from one egg into the other egg–no sperm needed!), Dowd has a lot to say about dating, sex, and post-feminism gender games. Fascinating stuff.

I shall here quote from Chapter Four: Why the Well-Hung Y is Wilting, Even as the X is Excelling. In this part of the chapter, Dowd confronts the oft-lamented double standard whereby men who sleep around are seen as studs, and women who do the same are labled sluts. It’s been talked to death, of course, but I particularly like this quote from Natalie Angier’s book Woman, which I guess I’ll have to pick up next (as soon as I finish reading that book I lifted from Lucas’s NYC apt without his knowledge):

“Women are said to have lower sex drives than men, yet they are universally punished if they display evidence to the contrary — if they disobey their “natural” inclination toward a stifled libido. Women supposedly have a lower sex drive than men do, yet it is not low enough. There is still just enough of a lingering female infidelity impulse that cultures everywhere have had to gird against it by articulating a rigid dichotomy with menacing implications for those who fall on the wrong side of it. There is still enough lingering female infidelity to justify infibulation, purdah, claustration. Men have the naturally higher sex drive, yet all the laws, customs, punishments, shame, strictures, mystiques and antimystiques are aimed with full hominid fury at that tepid, sleepy, hypoactive creature, the female libido. “
…
“Would a man find the prospect of a string of partners so appealing if the following rules were applied: that no matter how much he may like a particular woman and be pleased by her performance and want to sleep with her again, he will have no say in the matter and will be dependent on her mood and good graces for all future contact; that each act of casual sex will cheapen his status and make him increasingly less attractive to other women; and that society will not wink at his randiness but rather sneer at him and think him pathetic, sullied, smaller than life? Until men are subjected to the same severe standards and threat of censure as women are, and until they are given the lower hand in a so-called casual encounter from the start, it is hard to insist with such self-satisfaction that, hey, it’s natural, men like a lot of sex with a lot of people and women don’t.”

Heady stuff. Smart, too. I’ve always said there’s no such thing as “casual sex,” but these ladies say it better. You can link to Angier’s article, Men, Women, Sex, and Darwin here and you can get Dowd’s superb book here. If you’re so inclined. By which I mean female. Because, let’s face it, I don’t think many of you (hetero) guys are clamoring to see yourselves painted with her brush. Though, in one of my favorite quotes in all literature, Dowd admits, “I don’t understand men. I don’t even understand what I don’t understand about men. They’re a most inscrutable bunch, really.”

Filed by Trevor at 8:09 pm under Gender Identity, Pop Culture, Social Issues
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I really couldn’t care less about Sanjaya Malakar, let alone American Idol as a whole, but I was wondering when the gossip rags — or People in this particular case — would start going after him regarding his sexuality. Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, it has officially begun:

I’ve always gotten along with girls better because I was raised by women. I got teased in school because people figured I must be gay because I understand women. I think that’s why guys didn’t like me - because I got along with girls so well. When I went up to girls they would give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek like I was their gay friend. But I was the straight guy that understood them.

Ah, the bittersweet refrain of nostalgia. I used to say those exact words, and save for the “straight” part, they were true. After attending the Björk concert at the Red Rocks, my pet phrase became “I was the only straight guy there!” It was my comfort, my reassurance. And like you, Sanjaya, I had many female friends in high school who turned to me for advice on various matters — of course, being the flute section leader in the marching band helped out with that quite a bit. Want to know why you understand women so well? You’re both attracted to dudes! Saddle up, tiger — it’s never going to stop. Do yourself a favor and learn a lesson from Clay Aiken: denying it repeatedly despite mounting evidence to the contrary only fuels the speculation and heightens the attention on the matter. An appetite for pussy does not a true man make; you will soon come to this realization and all of a sudden the constant need for rationalizations will stop.

But Perez, if you’re reading this, as much as I agree with you — call off your dogs. He’s 17! A kid who’s out at that age is quite remarkable; just think how much more difficult the circumstances are for someone that young who is, at least for the moment, the focus of oppressively heavy media attention. The more he’s badgered about his sexuality, the more vehement his denials will be come and thus the deeper he will climb in the closet. We all know he’s gay; give him time to make peace with himself. We all had to go through this process, and as a gay man yourself it is imperative that you exercise some measure of compassion.

But once he hits his mid-20’s, he’s fair game. I mean it. Anyone who’s not out by then needs to be, for the good of his or her soul and the world. In the meantime, Sanjaya, hie thee to Seattle, where the alcohol (and ensuing same-sex experimentation) flows like water. This too shall pass, and when it does, you’ll be receiving the Vanguard Award in no time.

Provided, of course, that you refrain from Gayken’s brand of latently-Christian homophobic remarks. Then you’re dead to us.

Filed by Trevor at 2:05 am under Gay Agenda, Gender Identity, Pop Culture
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Last night I headed out to Silverlake for the Ian Harvie Show at El Cid. Come on — Margaret Cho, Ian Harvie, and Jeffery Sebelia all in one place at one time? Hit it.
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Filed by Trevor at 8:02 pm under Gender Identity, Social Issues
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I’m a fairly isolated person. Not exactly anti-social, but I’m also not the sort of person with a throng of drinking buddies just a phone call away. In this way, I suppose I’m not your average gay guy. I don’t work out, I’m not a neat person by any stretch of the imagination, I don’t have anything waxed (but I do get my eyebrows threaded on a regular basis), and I hate clubs. And for some reason or another, I don’t get along with other gay men — I have no clue why. I’m the only gay man in my restaurant, which is shocking in and of itself. The intern minister at church is gay, and even in that case he tends to talk to me like someone was paying him to. So now I’m beginning to think I need to give women a try.

Anyway, I watch LOGO every so often, particularly when the Outlaugh Festival or Wisecrack is on. The other night I had Doug Holsclaw on in the background when all of a sudden my head jerked up in response to something very, very familiar. Now, usually when I hear a gay comedian refer to “we,” I roll my eyes at the description of any number of things I absolutely cannot relate to, but I was delighted to hear something that rang incredibly true:

“I’m a certain type of gay man — I dislike most everything and everyone. And the word hate doesn’t quite do justice to my feelings, you know what I mean? Somebody says, ‘Oh, did you see the new Tarantino film?’ ‘I despised it. It was vile.’ Vile is another gay word. ‘I sat next to this vile woman on the bus. It was abhorrent. She was atrocious. I was livid.‘ And have you ever gone to dinner at a restaurant and the waiter says, ‘Would you like some ground pepper on your salad?’ ‘I detest ground pepper. I loathe it with every fiber of my being. But thanks for asking!’”

My face lit up with recognition — I even did the gay gasp. Those are my words! Could it be? Do I actually have something in common with other gay men? Does this mean I don’t have to go to the dark side to get a date? Look out world, I’m a bitchy queen with a good vocabulary!

So why doesn’t this help any?

Filed by Trevor at 8:32 pm under Gender Identity, Social Issues
7 Comments

Spring Break is officially here for the local school districts, as evidenced by the unusually large influx of teenagers into my restaurant. Which, of course, means hamburgers all around. having your ass ridden for nine Coke refills, and a sad pile of coins left on the table in their wake. And it doesn’t matter how old you are, really — even the greenest of servers knows you’re in trouble when your guests start asking you how much the lemonade costs. Joy.

But today, one such table gave me pause. Three of them. Couldn’t have been any older than 14. Accompanied by a disproportionate number of Macy’s shopping bags, it was a guy and his two lady friends — clearly a gay-in-training and his two fairy godmothers. Of course I didn’t think this immediately, but all it took was his smooth-as-cream demeanor as he ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri and I knew I was in for an experience. Really, it made me sad I don’t have a younger brother.
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