In this funny YouTube video, SMBC Theater spoofs people who believe you can bargain someone’s sexuality.
It’s pretty funny, and the father is quickly persuaded to bargain into homosexuality.
Sodomy and Cocktails? Okay, I’m In!
Reply
Tag Archives: being gay
The Right to Love: An American Family–Movie Trailer
Below is a trailer for a documentary set to release in 2012. It chronicles the fight of one gay couple as they struggle to battle Prop 8 in California. Amidst the turmoil of the struggle for Gay Marriage Equality, this gay couple fights back through home movies, showing that they are no different than any other married couple.
In Search of a Fruit Fly
For those of you who don’t know what a “fruit fly” is, allow me to explain.
Quite simply, a fruit fly is a less insulting term for a “fag hag” or a gay man’s female best friend. Most grown women don’t appreciate being termed a “hag,” and many find the term “fag” to be an insult; thus, the term fruit fly was born!
Now, you may be wondering: why am I searching for a fruit fly? Don’t most gay men have those in abundance?
While this may be generally true, for me, recently, it’s not. I have had many fruit flies throughout my life. In high school, I had more than my fair share. If any of my high school female friends are reading this, then you might have been one of my fruit flies, especially if I helped you get over every single heartbreak you suffered, or if we went shopping together at South Park Mall in San Antonio, or if we were each other’s dates to school dances. You know who you are!
I also had quite a few fruit flies in college as well. We hung out, went to clubs, and drank together–sometimes excessively, but you were always safe with me, and I always got you to your dorm safely. It’s what a good gay does for his fruit fly!
However, most of those women (and myself included) didn’t get to enjoy the full aspects of the relationship because, well, I wasn’t out of the closet yet, so all those women were unofficial fruit flies for me.
Since coming out, I’ve had two “official” fruit flies, who still mean the world to me–Teresa and Jill. Our times together will forever remain close to my heart.
I remember first meeting Teresa at a mutual friend’s house. We bonded over American Idol and playing board games. And when we were teamed up together on the same team, no matter what game we played, we destroyed our competition. We were like Will and Grace, but better! And, yes, we were just as competitive as the characters from the show. If we played, we played to win!
I met my next fruit fly through a co-worker, when he brought his wife to the first dinner for faculty in our department. When I laid eyes on Jill, it was love at first sight. She was sassy, confident, and stylish. She was a horror movie fanatic as I was, and we made a weekly ritual of watching bad horror movies and eating junk food, much to my husband’s chagrin. (He hates scary movies!) To this day, all we have to do is mention Erin Moran’s death scene in Galaxy of Terror, and we bust out laughing. Most people we know hated that movie. But to us, it was small screen gold!
Here’s the clip if you’re never seen it. If you aren’t a fan of gore, just skip it and keep reading.
Sadly, those women moved out of my town with their husbands and the children that arrived shortly thereafter. Our bonds are still sacred and still in tact. I love those women as much now as I did when we were at the height of our fruit fly/gay man relationship. The only things that separate us are the miles between us. Nothing more.
It has been quite a few years since I’ve had a fruit fly, and these days, I find myself missing the special relationship that only occurs between a gay man and a straight woman.
My husband has a fruit fly, well, quite a few actually, but there is one fruit fly (as always), who reigns supreme. To keep my dear husband’s relationship with all his fruit flies from buzzing into discord, I shall not name names, but she knows who she is! I see the relationship they share, and though I’m loathe to admit it, I sometimes get jealous–not because he has that special relationship, but because I don’t.
And, it’s something I want to have again.
So, I write this post almost like a summoning spell (yes, I watched “Charmed” and loved it!), hoping by sending this out into the universe that it will work its magic and bring to me my newest fruit fly. A woman who has spunk and independence. A woman who meets the criteria set on the movie poster that is the featured image of the post. She should be irresistible, witty, and refreshing! A woman who loves to watch scary movies, eat junk food, share secrets, play board games, and be the heterosexual yin to my homosexual yang.
She has to be somewhere in this city, and I have to hope that she’s out there searching for the fruit that has been missing in her life!
My Coming Out Story: In Honor of National Coming Out Day
Since today is National Coming Out Day, I wanted to share my coming out story. Some of you already know the fine details of this event, but there are others out there who might find the story enlightening and there’s even a chance that my story might find the ear of someone who could possibly benefit from it.
You see, I knew I was gay from a very early age. (Doesn’t that always seem to be the case?) Even before I actually knew what being gay was. I didn’t know what my attraction to those of my same gender meant. I only knew it made me different from my friends who lusted over Farrah Fawcett on “Charlie’s Angels” or Lynda Carter from “Wonder Woman.” I liked Farrah and Lynda too, but for different reasons. Farrah’s hair was awesome, and I secretly wanted to make her feathered locks my own. I also thought Lynda looked stunning in that star-spangled bathing suit. Secretly, I wanted to wear it, along with the red thigh-high hooker boots, tiara, bracelets, and that darned lasso that made everyone tell the truth.
But I just knew it was wrong. Why? Everyone around me told me so!
At school, there was nothing worse than being called a “sissy” or “fag,” and I did my best to dodge those labels like a dodge ball at gym class. But they followed me no matter where I went. After all, I hung out with girls and had tons of girl friends but no girlfriends. I tried to get girlfriends, so I could be like the other boys, and I even managed to snag a few. (Go me!) It just never felt right. Still, I hoped that if I found the perfect girl, she could make it all go away.
My family tried to butch me up. Whenever I acted too much like a girl (singing Olivia Newton-John songs, watching musicals, and hating sports), they told me to stop acting like a “sissy.” Hearing those words from your family is harsh. It made me feel defective as if there was something intrinsically wrong with me.
I know they didn’t mean to hurt me; they were trying to make me stronger, trying to make me fit a mold that society had already pre-set for boys. I needed to be strong, have thick skin, and relish in all things rough-and-tumble. And since I wasn’t living up to that ideal, they believed it was their job to try to cram me into it. This was the 1970’s after all (God, I’m old!). Life was a bit different in terms of accepting diversity than it is today.
I hold no grudge against my family. In fact, I love them with all my heart. Raising a child isn’t easy, and as we all know, no instruction manual on child rearing really exists. They did the best they could at the time and worked with the information they had.
They have evolved a lot since those days and so have I.
Back then, I waited for the girl who would make me straight, and I eventually thought I found her. Four years after meeting her, we were married.
She was, and still is, a wonderful human being. She has been far better to me than I have any reason to hope, but the love I felt for her couldn’t stop the secret from gnawing away at me from the inside. For years, it slowly consumed me from within until I turned into someone I didn’t even recognize.
When I looked in the mirror and saw who looked back at me, I didn’t recognize him because he wasn’t the real me. The real me existed somewhere deep within, and I had never even met him. The realization caused me to spiral downward and it also coincided with the arrival of my daughter into my life.
I questioned my ability to be a good father, to teach her to love and respect herself when I loathed and hated the very breath I exhaled.
So to be true to me and to be a better father to my daughter, I revealed the truth to my wife, to my family, and to my friends. Imagine Hiroshima after the Anola Gay fly over and you will understand a bit about what ensued.
Naturally, the news devastated my wife and ended our marriage. That part of the coming out was the most difficult because I broke the heart of someone very dear to me. To have the person you devoted your life to suddenly admit he’s not the person you thought he was isn’t easy. In righting my world and taking the necessary steps to be the person I needed to be, I also destroyed hers. I will forever live with that guilt, for I truly had no intention of hurting her. However, if I didn’t accept the truth, if I didn’t acknowledge the secret, I doubt I would be typing this blog right now.
Today, though, my ex-wife and I are better parents and friends for both of us accepting the truth and moving on.
Telling my mother was its own momentous event. When I finally worked up the nerve to tell her, through tears, that I was gay. She said, “Is that it? I thought you were going to tell me you had cancer or were dying? I don’t care if you’re gay. I love you.”
Those words meant the world to me. As a single parent, my mother was my entire world for much of my life. To have her turn her back on me would have been devastating. When she didn’t, when she proved to be the woman I knew in my heart she was, I was free to finally be the man I was meant to be.
After my wife and mother knew, the rest was a piece of cake.
My family, while stunned at the revelation, didn’t care. In the immortal words of my grandfather “blood is blood.” What more was there to say on the subject? It was closed.
For my friends, a lot of them were shocked. Some knew it all along.
At the end of the day, I realized it was no big deal. This big, awful monster that I had made my sexuality out to be turned out to be nothing more than a bump in the road. As my therapist at the time told me, “sometimes the things we fear the most turn out to be nothing to fear.” When she first uttered those words, I thought she was crazy. Now, I see the wisdom.
Fear kept me from being me all those years! Nothing else. Once the fear was removed, everything else fell into place.
I have a daughter who loves me (and whom I adore more than life itself). She doesn’t care that I’m gay. All she cares about is that I’m her Dad, that I help her with homework, drive her to school and dance class, and spoil her rotten!
I found a husband who is a wonderful man and who loves me despite my warts (and there are many!) I also have two great step children, who could care less about having two gay dads. It’s a non-issue for them.
My family loves me, my friends accept me, and my colleagues (who were stunned at first) don’t even bat an eye about it now.
So for anyone out there still struggling with coming out, know that life does get better. I know coming out stories are not always like mine, but they can be. Even if yours isn’t, being true to yourself is the best thing you can do for you.
After all, when you look in the mirror, you have to be happy with who you see staring back at you. For the past almost ten years years, I’ve never been happier. That’s worth any price.
The Truth About Twinks
This posting is part II in my series explaining the various subgroups in the gay male culture. Today’s topic is the Twink. (To read Part I: A Reference Guide to Gay Bear Culture, click here).
For those of you who have ever wondered just what a twink was when your gay friends talked about one, this post will hopefully clear up your confusion and give you a basic understanding of those gay boys who fall under the twink classification.
A Group of Twinkies
Definition of a Twink: Men (or boys) in the gay community who are rarely above 30 years old. Many are slender if not extremely thin and often lack body hair and rarely, if ever, have facial hair (as opposed to the bears, who are considered their polar opposites). Traditionally, these gay men most closely represent the stereotype of gay men as being “queenie” or “effeminate.” They are often portrayed as wild partiers, who are either still in the closet, newly gay, or still struggling through coming out issues.
Characteristics of a Twink: Twinks suffer from a bad reputation. Beyond having to deal with the “queenie” or “effeminate” stereotype, as a group they are often known for being drama queens, rude, snotty, and dumb. In fact, the term twink originates from a popular junk food–The Twinkie. The comparison connotes that twinks are only for short-term consumption and not a long-term relationship. (This is an unfair description, seeing as how most of the men in this classification are young and should be having fun and enjoying life.) Additionally, the comparison also points to the often sun-kissed skin most twinks have through either excessive sun worship or frequent visits to tanning salons. Like Bears, Twinks tend to travel in groups, and while not as physically dangerous as a pack of Bears, they are known for razor sharp tongues capable of verbally ripping anyone to shreds. Unless you can verbally spar, don’t enter into a word war with a twink.
What Do Twinkies Do in the Box? Like Bears, Twinks are more than just what a few individuals enjoy. However, there are some standard past times of this younger set of gay men. On average, clubbing ranks among the highest. Walk into any trendy gay hot spot, and you will find groups of twinks twirling on the dance floor or luxuriating in the VIP section. The drinks of choice are typically fruity and vibrant in color, such as a Cosmo, or low in calories like a vodka and Red Bull. Most twinks are obsessed with fashion, music, popular trends, hooking up, and coming out. And, due to their age, most are enrolled in college.
Twink Wrapping: Twinks enjoy shopping for the latest youthful trends. They frequent stores such as Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister, or American Eagle. While they enjoy the finer fashion designers–Armani, Prada, and Hugo Boss–their lack of sustainable income (unless they come from money or are attached to a wealthy daddy-husband), means they typically cannot afford to splurge their college funds on fashion. Whether the outfit is high fashion or not, you will be hard-pressed to find a twink not dressed to impress, whether it’s Friday night at a club or Sunday morning brunch. The world is their runway. And like most models, it isn’t uncommon for a Twink to forego food in favor of looking his best. Many will often engage in crash dieting to achieve the desired lean and waifish look.
Types of Twinks: Within this category, you will also find a few subcategories that also fall under the larger Twink classification.
- All-American Twink represents the epitome of popularity and physical perfection. He is extremely athletic and his hair is always perfectly manicured.
Zac Efron--All American Twink
- Beach Twink refers to the type of younger gay male who spends his days at, you guessed it, the beach. His hair is typically almost platinum blonde from sun exposure.
- Gaysian is a twink of Asian descent.
- Gym Twink are those boys who live at the gym. Unlike the traditional twink, their bodies are not lean or waifish. Gym Twinks strive for muscle definition and will not break if handled roughly.
Taylor Lautner--a Gym Twink example
- Twunk is a pejorative remark describing an older man trying to be a twink. This type of gay man is typically between the ages of 28-40, who still shops at Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister, or American Eagle. Also, in efforts to reclaim lost youth, a twunk frequents tanning salons, wears clothing at least two sizes too small, and sometimes indulges in Botox or plastic surgery. Men who fit this definition will often lie about their age and will create drama if they hit on you and you reject them.
Twink Admirers: Individuals who seek the company of twinks have their own classifications as well.
- Daddies represent the older men who pursue younger men for sexual and/or long-term relationships. These men typically support twinks by paying their bills and their rent all in the hopes of stealing some of the youthful energy the twink possesses in abundance.
- Fag Hags are girls who typically are only friends with gay boys. They accompany them to clubs and help their gays sweep up their broken hearts. It is a relationship that is sacrosanct, often more meaningful than most sexual relationships the gay boy or hag are currently involved in.
Twinks and those that gravitate toward them are an eclectic group of individuals. If you’re looking for someone to party with or who knows the latest fashions, find yourself a twink BFF. They’ll have you dressed to kill and party ready in no time.
Top 5 Reasons People Choose to be Gay by FCKH8.com
I ran across this video from an activist organization aptly named FCKH8. (Visit their website by clicking here.)
The video’s message is strongly worded and if you are easily offended by vulgarity, then you shouldn’t watch it, and, well, if you are, you probably won’t be reading this post anyway, so my warning is probably moot.
What I find promising about this video is what it tells me about our future. The video stars many younger people (and by that I mean younger than someone of my almost forty years). These youth are angry, and they are taking a stand against the people who continue to spread hate and intolerance in our country. By taking this campaign under their wings, they have assembled merchandise to be sold in support of FCKingH8 and raised awareness about how hateful many conservative politicians and religious sects are being, in other words the individuals and organizations that have grown stagnant and resistant to change.
And their audience isn’t me or you or those in charge. They are speaking to the youth of the nation, the twenty something and younger crowd. They are speaking to the future leaders, and they use language and images that appeal to the younger generation’s mindset.
Their voices are crude, and their demeanor is flippant, but their message is clear. For them, the time for hate is long over, and since they will be taking over the country and the world when the ultra conservatives retire and/or die off, they are letting the nation know that when it’s there turn to be in power, our nation will be what our forefathers wanted it to be–a place where the downtrodden and the outcast are welcome and embraced with arms wide open.
If you like this video on Facebook and tweet it on Twitter, their campaign will donate up to $10,000 for organizations that help GLBT youth, a worthwhile endeavor indeed. So view the video, like it, tweet it, and share it.
Before you click, be advised one more time: many F-bombs ahead!
A Tale of Two Gay Camps
Like most southerners, I do my best to remain polite. It’s the proper thing to do, and it was how my mother and grandmother raised me. Speaking your mind, especially if the comment was unkind or cruel, was just not allowed. However, my southern upbringing sometimes conflicts with the blunt vitriol many gay men use like a battering ram. Like a gay Sybil, I remain in conflict with my two personalities.
Being polite and telling it like it is constantly war within me.
So, today, I shall simply let facts speak for themselves. No judgments. No critiques. No vitriol.
Gay Campground in Poconos
I came upon photos of Camp 2011 in the Pocono Mountains, which is in Pennsylvania for those who are a tad geographically challenged. It was a 3 night party, filled to the rim (oh my!) with barely clothed, almost perfectly sculpted manflesh. Events such as mud wrestling, dolphin riding (on dolphin floats in the pool, for those of you who really needed clarification), dancing at a foam party (a dance floor filled with, you guessed it, foam!), and a score of other activities awaited the campers who decided to pitch their tents at the campsite for the weekend.
DJ’s spun dance beats, disco lights lit up the campground at night, and drag queens strutted on stilettos. Even some adult film stars (that’s the southern way of saying porn stars), such as The Maverick Men (site NSFW) attended the event.
The party was even hosted by Aussie Bum. I love Aussies and their bumwear! Who doesn’t?
Needless to say, it looked to be quite the party. I wouldn’t know from personal experience. I wasn’t there in the foam dancing, or in the mud wrestling, or on the dolphin riding (OK, that just sounds wrong).
You see, as you may or may not already know, I don’t live up north. I live in the south, deep south, like deep in the heart of Texas south, where meat is a vegetable, men adjust their crotches in public while chewing tobacco, and pick up trucks are not only the rage but sport rubber-made testicles. They even have a website where you can purchase them!
A common sight in south Texas
I know. It’s extremely sad.
We don’t have camps like the one in the Poconos, but there are gay campgrounds here. Yes, even in the red Lone Star State of Texas. I’ve even been to such a campground, and let me tell you, it’s a tad different from the one with the foam party, DJ’s, and porn stars. Now, I promised no judgments and to let the facts speak for themselves, so I’m going to remain a true southern gentlemen.
Here are the facts of the southern gay campground:
Throughout the year, the southern campground I’ve visited on more than one occasion hosts theme parties for Memorial Day, July 4th, Labor Day, and Halloween. Attendees don’t have perfectly sculpted bodies. This is Texas after all, where grease and fried foods reign supreme. The lack of perfect bodies doesn’t bother me. I’m not perfect, and in fact, I’ll admit to feeling like the Belle of the Ball when I’m at the campground. It’s a feeling I could grow accustomed to!
The themed weekend parties typically last a couple of nights. Events such as costume contests, barbecuing, and swimming in the above ground pool fill the day and evening. It can be quite relaxing, which I assume is a nice change of pace from all the dancing, wardrobe changing, and hair re-stylying that likely occurs throughout the day at the campground up north. In Texas, you can simply come as you are. Which is nice. At times. Sometimes it’s okay to dress up a little. (oops, I promised no judgments, just facts).
So, back to the facts.
Events are typically relegated to board games, meals with all the fixin’s (I wonder if they eat at the Poconos camp), and chatting poolside with music blaring from someone’s iPod. No DJ comes to spin the discs for us.
Gay campsite in Texas
Unfortunately, Aussie Bum doesn’t sponsor the themed parties at my campground. I doubt those Aussie Bums would be able to find it. Even GPS devices have difficulty plotting a route along the winding roads that look like they’re leading to Camp Crystal Lake in those old Friday the 13th movies instead of a pride flag waving gay campground.
Beggars, however, can’t be choosers. While my southern campground is nothing like its sister (well, sister might not be the correct word. Maybe second cousin twice removed better fits their relationship), I still am grateful for its existence.
There may be no foam parties, or DJ’s, or scores of perfectly sculpted manflesh, but good guys go to this camp. I enjoy their company over a board game, or while tossing about the horseshoes, or even lounging in the pool. It’s a far more relaxed campground than the one I described earlier. You come as you are and you’re treated like family. You don’t have to be perfect, and you don’t have to be popular. You just have to be you.
In the grand scheme of things, who could ask for anything more? Well, if we’re asking. A few more perfectly sculpted bodies would be nice. An occasional DJ and even a sporadic foam party would make me happy too.
But no place is perfect, I suppose. Not the high intensity camp filled with dancing, debauchery, and divas or the more sedate Texas camp complete with cozy, carefree camaraderie.
All in all, they both sound like heaven to me! So I guess sometimes holding your tongue and being polite allows you to see the good in everything. I guess Mom and Nan (my term of endearment for my grandmother) were right all along. As usual.
Laboring for Provincetown
As my family of five prepares for the relaxing weekend that is Labor Day (yeah right!), I can’t help but think about Provincetown, Massachusetts. (The picture to the left fails to capture its beauty although it makes a good attempt).
For the uninitiated, Provincetown (or Ptown, as those who know her well call her) is a place unparalleled on Earth. When one reaches its shore, either by plane, ferry, or car, the sense of freedom and acceptance one receives here can’t be explained in words. In fact, words are simply not enough. But I will do my best to make my point.
Imagine a place where the stresses and cares of the outside world unfasten themselves from the yoke tied around your neck. Envision a setting where people are friendly and mean it. Picture being in a crowd of people and never once feeling alone.
Many of my non-gay friends often wonder: what’s so special about Provincetown (or Providence-town as many of them call it. Provincetown isn’t Providence, Rhode Island, but few see the difference!)
But I’m eight tracking here.
My non-gay friends cite various paradises they’ve visited. Hawaii. The French Riviera. Costa Rica. The Bahamas. In all those places, they’ve released their stresses, said goodbye to their cares for a few days, and made friends with many happy people.
And I’m happy for them. We all deserve those places.
But for those of us who love someone of the same gender, few places exist where we can truly be free.
I’ve been to Hawaii, Costa Rica, and many places around the world too. The beauties I’ve seen there have truly been exceptional. I certainly don’t deny that. But what my “non-gay” friends have difficulty understanding is that Ptown is where “being gay is normal.” It’s where I can walk hand-in-hand with my husband and kiss him without fear of reprisal. It’s where I meet other gay people like me, who are professional, educated, and just plain fun. In Provincetown, I’ve created so many friendships that I know will truly last a lifetime, despite the distances that may separate us.
So with the coming of Labor Day, which is the last hurrah for Ptown’s tourist season, I think of my friends that I’ve just left and will see again next year. To the Townies who I’ve grown to love–Maria, Michele, Earl, John, Kevin, and Bosco, I look forward to sharing more meals with you next year and probably a few drinks too!
To all my other Ptown friends Mike, Chris, Ron, H.L., Tony, Jerry, John, Gary, Brian, and Mike L., I can’t wait till we trek to tea and spend our days sunning, chatting, and dancing. I’m counting down the days until we are reunited.
And as always, when it happens, it will feel like no time has passed between us at all.
For those who think I’m naive, I know Provincetown isn’t perfect. No place is. But it comes as close to perfect as any place can get. Blemishes exists, but I don’t see them. You always look past the faults of those you love.
And Provincetown, I love you!