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Stories from a man who fails to meet media expectations of what it means to be gay:
white, frivolous, over sexed yet sexless, shrill, single, stylish, a clown, unimportant, et al.
lunes 01/05/2004
Five possibly not entirely random memories (including a rough estimate of when the event occurred):
One (early seventies):
When I was five or thereabouts, I was the ring bearer at my prima Anna�s wedding. I have forgotten most of the wedding day itself, but I can clearly recall an earlier day coming back from a tux fitting with her and some other members of the wedding party. They were going to drop me off at her parents, and then head off to a new indoor mall. These college aged folks spoke about how they wanted to walk through the mall because it was so large, imposing, cold, impersonal, and alienating.
I remember wanting to go with them because it was bound to be more interesting than an afternoon with my tia. I also remember thinking that my cousin and her friends were over reacting about all this dark oppression stuff because it was just a mall.
Two (later eighties):
I rode on top of an elevator cab in a certain building at a certain college campus late one night with my boyfriend of the time and his friends, because that�s the kind of thing that engineering students do for kicks. Getting on top of the cab involved some maneuvering, but it was easier than I had imagined. It was interesting in a way, and it was also exciting, mainly because we would have all gotten into trouble if we were caught.
We sat there cramped, and not succeeding at being quiet. At one point a professor walked into the elevator I was on top of. I saw him look up at us through the slight gap above the door. He didn�t say anything, and rode down to the ground floor as if everything were completely normal. I assumed that he was used to idiotic college kids and their idiotic stunts.
Three (mid eighties):
One year at Long Beach Pride, back when it only occupied part of the small park across the lagoon from Shoreline Village, I was walking around, looking at various booths when I came across a guy selling magnetic earrings. For the life of me, I could not figure out the concept of using magnets so that a person could wear earrings without piercing their ears. It also did not occur to me the advantages of aiming such a product at potentially closeted gay men.
After explaining all this to me and seeing that I was somewhat embarrassed by my thick headedness, the vendor came round his table and gave me a hug.
Four (later eighties):
I was sitting in my car parked at the Disneyland parking lot awkwardly hugging my then boyfriend. The hug was awkward because the car was a manual, and the gearshift was in the way. Although not quiet as much in the way as it had been a few minutes earlier when we were having full on car sex. Contortionist nooky had not been our intention. We had actually gone back to my car to take a break and possibly make out a little bit, but one thing lead to another, and well, it was a good thing I was young and flexible.
We sat there holding on to each other for a while, and then headed back into the park to watch his friend in a parade.
Five (mid nineties):
I was at a party in Silverlake hosted by a friend Carl and his then partner Ramon. Towards the end of the evening, when the party was winding down, and there were only a couple of people left, Carl told me that I should date his friend Pedro. I had met Pedro at a previous party of Carl�s, and while he was a nice enough guy, I had no interest in him. Instead of discussing my lack of interest, I mentioned the more pertinent and obvious obstacle to this dating suggestion, mainly that John and I had been a couple for a while, and I wasn�t looking to end the relationship.
Carl started a long monologue explaining all the various and sundry reasons that John and I weren�t a good match, including that I inevitably went to Carl�s dinners and parties alone, because John rarely felt like going. After a while, he switched tracks and started listing all the reasons that I would be good for Pedro, including that Pedro needed someone to keep him his place, and I was the perfect candidate to kick him the ass whenever needed.
I sat there and guessed that Pedro mentioned in passing that he thought I was cute or something. Carl probably took this knowledge and in a typical Carl fashion ran with it, trying to match up two of his friends, whether it was a good idea or not.
As he went on and on, I allowed myself to wonder for a moment if what he was saying made any sense. Should I leave John? I decided that even though we had had an argument earlier that week, and even though John still did not have the decency to stop being stubborn and admit that he was wrong and I was right about whatever it was that we were fighting about in the first place, I didn�t want to leave him. Even though I may not have exactly thrilled by the two of us at that moment, I knew that things would get better.
I also let myself wonder just why it was that several of Carl�s reasons for me to hook up with Pedro had a somewhat violent edge to them. We would be a good couple because I could easily dominate Pedro?
Considering that conversation, and a later confession about some of their early dates, it didn�t exactly surprise me that there were some issues with violence when Carl and Ramon broke up a few years later. Well, at least it was not as surprising as the news that Carl had started dating women afterwards.
More later,
nico
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