Undressing you with my eyes

I was talking with a friend the other day, and something he said about having inappropriate thoughts got me thinking: do I see an attractive guy and undress him and get all naughty in my head? I realized...I don't think I do. Or if I do, it's rare. I don't, it seems, undress people with my eyes. I see a hot bod in fitted clothing, and I might think it'd be nice if that clothing weren't hiding their physique, or that they'd be fun to make out with if we had a connection and they were attentive and creative enough to be good at it, but I don't really go off into fantasy land, frolicking all nekkid and frisky or having them give me a saucy striptease. Nope. I mostly just think of them in aesthetic terms, in a way.

Admittedly, I occasionally see someone I just want to keep admiring. Every once in a while, I might get a bit "in the mood" when a hottie's using the exercise equipment right in front of me, and oh, too bad, I just can't help but enjoy the tight butt and well-defined lats in front of me. But do I envision him all nekkid? No. I'm pretty darn sure I did as a teenager, though. A lot. Yeah, I remember doing it, now that I think about it. I'd see an attractive guy and immediately start envisioning what he looks like shirtless, imagining the definition and smooth skin hidden under his shirt, flexing and...heh, silly, horny teenage years.

I'm not sure what's changed, or exactly when (probably by my early twenties, I think), except I now have a more complete, satisfying view of what attraction's about and...hm...I wonder if part of it is that I allow myself that emotional/complete attraction now, rather than just separating and sexualizing the physical attraction component. I mean, maybe I was just plain hornier back then (let's be honest, I just was because...teenage guys: 'nuff said), but I think there's more to it. Before, in my mind, it was about body curiosity and physical appeal or jealousy because I never allowed myself to even begin to think it could ever be about more with a guy. There was therefore no hope of finding an attractive guy I could actually be with because that just wasn't an option I believed in, and there was no chance I was ever going to actually touch a male body in the way I longed to, so it was therefore easier to ignore personality traits in favor of focusing solely on the physical and sort of obsessing over what I believed I could never, ever have, even if by choice.

By now, I've had some really attractive guys kinda put it on the table, so I figure if I really wanted to just touch and be freaky with a hot bod, I probably could. And I've made out with someone who had a kind of body I always was really turned on by but who was not a match for me, personalitywise. So maybe it has to do with the fact that while I would love to find someone with an amazing physique, an adorable and hot face, and a sweet, intelligent, loving, warm, kind, and otherwise "good" personality, who shares my values and principles, if I have to sacrifice some of the muscle tone and perfect skin, that's a totally fair trade for being with a good person, and it kinda puts it all in perspective for me. There's something about having been with someone with whom I felt so at home and secure and satisfied that no amazing physique could possibly make me want to express sexual intimacy outside of that relationship, and I recognized a hot bod when I saw one but had no desire to play with it. Now, I'm not with anyone, and I still raise my brows in approval at a hot physique or wonder if they're as ripped as their clothing makes them look and wryly wish to find out, but undressing them in my mind...? I don't think I do...at least not consciously or more than very rarely...

So am I weird? Do most of you readers out there actually "undress" hotties in your minds? Is it any different from when you were a horny teenager (for the males)? Hey, now, stop snickering. I'm so curious to know what other people's experience is, not to "trigger" anyone but to identify whether I'm weird, or others have experienced similar shifts, or whether such shifts are connected with experience and views of sexuality, etc. Thoughts? Experiences? Saucy stories? ...OK, that last one isn't really...um...well, OK yeah if you have one. No, no, keep it clean for the benefit of my more white-knuckled readers...if there are any left at this point. *wink*

Yes, please

Speaking of crushes on Henry Cavill, he's slated to be Superman in the next iteration. I think I approve.

Manfast undermined

I've decided it's best for me to be single for a while, and I've been feeling good about that decision. Minimizing that distraction in my life may, I'm hoping, help me focus on what I need to: finding work, figuring out what I want from life independent of companionship over which I may or may not have much control, determining a career path, becoming financially stable again, finding community as needed, etc. Some people can do all of that and date, but for now, I see a personal need to become my own sort of monk.

But some little tyrannical part of my brain is staging a coup as it faces entering the romantic desert. The gym and streets and cafes have magically filled up with attractive guys. When I got back onto a dating site (I deleted all pics and info on my profile a few weeks ago) to check a message from a friend, I took a few minutes to look at profiles I'd previously bookmarked and thought, "Wow, there were some interesting guys in here I had forgotten about and never contacted because I was busy replying to messages from people who had contacted me. I was going to contact them when I felt ready to really start actively dating. But no, I'm not dating, so close the site and forget about it. You have bigger fish to fry." And I felt resolved and confident about letting go of the search for a while, even for a couple of years. And then an attractive, nice-looking, interesting-looking guy who shows signs of possibly being 'family' walked by. Yeah? Well, I'm not falling for it. *whimper*

Well dang, this feels a bit like back when I wasn't going to ever date guys and was going to be open to a relationship with a girl. For a long time, I've not really thought a lot about it. So there's a hot guy. Great. He's not gay, so no point in flirting, just appreciate and move on. Done. No big deal. If he seems gay, great, maybe a bit of eye contact or something, give him a boost, but I don't hook up with random guys from the gym, so admire and move on. Done. No big deal. After all, if I wanted to just have some fun with a hot guy, I have several options on that dating site who have made it pretty clear they're game, but that's not what I really want, even though part of me desperately clamors to keep itself alive.

Then the voice in my brain: "OK, so I'm not going to get emotionally wrapped up with someone, but what about just finding friends, and maybe some of those friends coming with recreational benefits? I mean, I've kinda been there before, and if both parties understood that's what it was, and you didn't have the whole conflicted Mormon thing mixed in, maybe it'd be fine. Most people live that way, right? Why impose the need to label a relationship or get emotions entangled with a little affection and fun?" Uh-huh, then I remind myself who I'm talking to, and I think of how grateful I've been that I haven't gotten caught up in that way of thinking despite nearly doing so, and I think of how great it was to be with someone who I was confident wasn't in it primarily for the physical because we were waiting until it was "right" and we had a great time together without leaning on physical stuff, and what affection we did show really felt, to me, like it was special between us, and that's what I really want sexual expression to be about for me.

The voice insists: "OK, that's what you want, but maybe there are different kinds of relationships, and it's OK to save physical expression of a special nature in the special relationships and let it be just for fun in others. Maybe it's OK to not ascribe all kinds of meaning to physical expression when you don't need to, as long as you're being safe and not risking your health." *sigh* No, I have to admit what I want and what I believe will help me build relationships worth building even if I don't necessarily see the alternative as inherently "wrong" or "evil".

Is my increased perception of attractive guys the product of facing a desert in which I won't have an outlet for flirtation and of subconsciously recognizing with dismay that I'll not be enjoying any romantic physical affection for a long, long while? Is it because I've been so disinterested in attraction with anyone else since the breakup that now that it's coming back, it feels more magnified again? Is it "temptation" whispering its dark seduction? Is it a non-warm-fuzzy truth knocking gently which I'm reticent to embrace, as I have been in the past with other concepts I eventually had to accept as true even if I chose not to live them, myself?

Do most missionaries preparing to serve have to keep reminding themselves of the purpose for locking their hearts, which works for a while, but then they see a hottie and have to shake it off all over? Ha, no wonder some of my comps were such drooling messes sometimes.

So here I am, re-training myself to acknowledge how nice and intelligent and physically attractive a guy seems but trying to train my brain not to look at anyone as a potential dating prospect and moving on with my business. This will probably be helpful if I decide I want to pursue one of those procreative companionships that are all the rage in mohodom. Maybe my manfast will lead me to a healthier, more hopeful relationship down the road, or maybe it will make me a simpering, withered, sexually repressed ball of awkward, or maybe it will ready me to have my eyes more open for attractive women. Or maybe it'll last for another few months until I meet the next irresistible prospect. Shoot, this is gonna be a challenge. Life needs challenges. Bring it.

Wreck

So much for nothing to say. Angst and pain and loss make for an effective verbal laxative, eh?

I'm not gonna hide it. I'm not going to pretend I've kept my chin up and maintained a positive outlook. I'm a wreck. But I've had OK moments and down moments. I've been among the living, not holed up and refusing to eat or bathe. But I've been breaking down almost randomly here and there. Sunday was hard. Monday was actually relatively good. I think the tears only came briefly maybe half a dozen times that day. Yesterday was possibly the worst day so far for various reasons. Maybe the pattern makes me due for a decent day today. I've only broken into tears once so far this morning, right when I woke up (which I think has been the case every day since Saturday night).

I ache to my core for what was lost so suddenly. I don't believe it needed to be lost but understand, to an extent, why it was. It was a short-lived relationship, but we spent a lot of time together in that short span and made a lot of memories, and it was getting steadily better (I thought), and though I'd had doubts about whether we were right for each other in some ways or whether it could possibly last or whether family matters were worth sticking through, I had decided to weather those doubts because the essentials of a quality relationship were there, and most of the relationship was just beautifully uplifting, productive, and, I think, mutually beneficial. As I stuck through those doubts, they had begun to resolve, and I was feeling really good about where we were going and glad we were moving ahead healthily and slowly but fairly steadily. I had ample reason to believe he felt the same, but I may have been missing something. It seems odd to me that I'm so broken up over something I suspected might be coming, in a relationship which I considered walking away from a time or two myself. I think part of that is that I compounded my emotional investment and risk by sticking with it and discovering that my cold feet were probably fear of things becoming "too good" between us and knowing how much it would hurt if he were to change his mind at some point, which I knew was a possibility, and with the decision to see it through despite the risk, I made myself that much more invested...and vulnerable.

I feel like a newly-found "home" was yanked away. I felt "at home" with him from the beginning, a feeling which was increasingly and consistently present throughout the time we dated. That's a rare quality, I think, and one I value. The loss accentuated my worry that it will be extremely hard to find someone with whom I feel so at "home" who will want me back, especially for more than an experiment or stepping stone, despite whatever they say to keep me around while they're figuring that out.

I hope the many sweet, happy, laugh-inducing, thoughtful, meaningful, and touching memories I have from the relationship won't be lost in my confusion and anger over how he ended it, as I hope with fervor that they aren't looked back on with contempt or shame or dismissal by the one with whom those memories were so lovingly made. I fear that he will think of what we had as nothing but a passing fancy, a mirage, the silly playthings of a relationship which can't possibly fulfill despite what he told me during the time we were together. Had he not decided it wasn't an option for him, I imagine the kind of relationship and life we could have built as being something most people envy. I know that sounds overly romantic or silly to say after only three months, and that may be. But I can only hope that, male or female (again, a discussion for another post), I find that again.

I've fantasized about some future day, when experiences have been gained and theories explored and changes made, when we'll come back together and resurrect what we had with renewed perspective and commitment, but I mourn it all over each time I remind myself I don't at all believe that will happen. And part of me isn't sure I want it to, but that may be defensiveness, not wanting to be burned again.

I'm fighting a sense of betrayal, irrational though it may be, towards the many friends whom I've kept close who are part of the system which lured away the one in whom I was so invested, in whom I'd knowingly taken such a risk. I feel like they unnecessarily robbed me of my greatest hope for a meaningful relationship by framing it disingenuously with their theories, and I don't feel safe with them right now because of it. I know they aren't responsible for his choice to pursue something I didn't know he would find so seductive, but I still feel like they're implicit and know they will be the ones offering him support for having made "the right decision" and entering the "right path" (i.e. the one away from me), adversaries to a relationship which brought me such joy with someone I cared so much about. It's like battle lines have been drawn, and our abstract differences have now become concrete in a very real and personal way. And for now, I don't have the strength to "get over it" or step back from it and be objective. Yet my anger has, in moments, mingled with sympathy for his parents who probably struggled with similar feelings towards me when he chose to be with me in the first place and, in their minds, give up exaltation.

I feel like everything I'm doing in life absolutely pales in comparison to the development of a relationship like we had but more sustainable, so a feeling of not only homelessness but purposelessness has set in. I know I need to be productive and contribute in meaningful ways to society and to individuals in my life. I want to find meaningful work, preferably some that pays well, though pay seems ever less important over time, and I want to find meaningful and engaging opportunities for service and civic engagement, but I also have this overarching sense that there's not enough time in life to do everything I want, and if I had to choose one thing to accomplish, it would be to have a quality relationship with a great person and hopefully raise children or otherwise make a difference, and let the rest come into place around that rather than having to "fit" a relationship in somewhere. Feeling hopeless about being able to do that thing which matters most makes everything else seem piddly. But as I recover emotionally, I'll probably experience renewed drive to engage myself.

As I write this, I'm feeling increased hopefulness and motivation. I expect this feeling will wax and wane. I guess getting some things off my chest and putting thoughts in semi-coherent form helps with that, as does a full night's rest (though interrupted once) for the first time since the break-up, not to mention a couple of no-holds-barred emotional releases yesterday. I think I've hit the bottom and am on my slow way back up. We'll see. It's time for some changes, and I'm feeling ready to do almost anything at this point (disconnect from certain friendships in order to 'move on', pack up two suitcases and head to Europe for who-knows-what, jump into school somewhere, see a career counselor, date women to be done with all of this social pressure and self-doubt baggage, even *gasp* go to JIM just so people can no longer say "he can't credibly criticize something he's never been to" and because I expect it could be an interesting learning experience even if it has nothing to do with 'healing' masculinity or 'resolving homosexuality'(as I suspect), etc). And as they teach in places like Evergreen Conferences, it's best to act quickly while your resolve is fresh and emotions are high because that perpetuates the commitment and creates a sense of value before rationales and doubts (or valid, rational counterpoints) develop.

Maybe it's time to try being more...impulsive.

...in which O-Mo announces he's going hetero.

That's it. I've been meeting a few gay dudes, mostly online through a compatibility dating site or what I call "the gay Facebook". Admittedly, it's only been half a dozen or so. But suddenly, I meet a friend of a friend (my preferred way to meet someone), and the bar for quick and natural connection, complete with attraction, has been raised above anything in recent memory, let alone among the gay dudes I've been meeting, and who was it? It was a conflicted moho, the punk. My idea of who's right for me may shift with time and experience, but forget it: it's too late. I give up. It's over. Bring on the women now that gay, non-LDS men all pale in comparison to yet another attractive, conflicted moho. Gosh.

Yep, I'm going hetero. If I met and married a woman, my family and friends can be more fully happy when I get married without that "oh, we're so happy you've found happiness even though we wish it had been with a woman and didn't eternally damn you from the highest kingdom of glory". And I wouldn't have to struggle with all that "rights" hooey and wondering how we'll have kids, and who would be legally able to adopt them, and whether they'd stay with their daddy if their other daddy died, etc. It's just so much to take on when you're not content with the carefree Gaga-worship life. With a woman, I don't have to be a pioneer of social change or live in a way that brings inherent stress and complication to my life and that of my theoretical future family. I could have my own biological children with a wife whose biological children they are, too. It'd be the "natural" way, filling the measure of our creation, taking joy in our posterity, yadda yadda yadda. None of this heteronormativity within a homosexual context blah blah blah.

Heck, maybe I'll just start going back to church while I'm at it and go back to being the good LDS boy who "just hasn't found the right one yet". It'd certainly be easier on my social life and help me meet people who share my values, even if many do primarily because they'll be ostracized or disciplined if they don't. Some of them are sincere and would live similarly without the watchful eye of accountability to an institutional patriarchy and nosy neighbors. And I could have ready-made community waiting for me wherever I go again, people to help move, etc. That'd be nice, right? Cute little invitations to ward events taped to my freshly painted door, people who come to my home to share a message I've already read and act interested in whether they can do anything for me once a month, casseroles brought to me when I'm injured...it's quite lovely in some ways. I could get used to the whole "God" thing again, and LDS theology. I did it for a few decades, I could go back. It'd be nice to tell myself some of the more hopeful ideas are true. Oh, and I could stop mentally replacing the words "God" and "Christ" with "Truth" and "love", and replacing "commandments" and "church standards" with "true principles" and "wise decisions" when listening to talks to make them applicable. I'd have doctrinal and cultural clutter to deal with, so I'd probably have to be a closet cafeteria mormon, one of those who believes the "core" doctrines but isn't so sure about the peripheral stuff, even the stuff the current administration doesn't consider at all peripheral, but I could swing it. It might be worth having a community of that sort again.

Yep, I give up. This whole "gay" thing is too much work, too much stress, too few predetermined, neat and tidy formulas. It's like living post-dictatorship: nobody likes the discomfort of self-determination and lack of governing rules to make life's decisions simpler, nor the difficulty of changing one's ways of thinking to fit an entirely new system or way of doing things. It's too much for what it's worth to find a hypothetical Mr. Right who probably doesn't exist except as an LDS guy who similarly can't stay away from the church and therefore won't commit to a relationship with another man. I suppose this means I'll be filling my Sundays with meetings, my days with scripture-reading, and praying hard to get a testimony again. I'm sure I can muster more convincing and poetically intense feelings I can call "the Spirit". I've done that before, too: I know what a "burning testimony" feels like. Maybe I was right to think it was divine, after all. I could try to re-convince myself of that. Maybe I'd be right. After all, better to play it safe and avoid the whole damnation thing in case it's real. Fire insurance. And I wouldn't have to be as judgmental as I used to be. I could be one of those "cool" mormons, maybe.

And now that I've experienced compatibility and attraction with both guys and girls, I know what to look for in a possible relationship with a woman, so I have that going for me. Maybe I'll go to JIM for extra measure and let them bring out supposedly repressed memories of daddy issues and masculinity-diminishing trauma. "Whatever works" to make me feel more ready to tackle a woman with my newfound, raw masculinity. I'm a warrior, hear me roar.

Plus, this way, I can flirt with other mohos, and they won't be as wary of me because I'll be one of them again. And even if I'm fooling around with other good LDS guys, I can call it "slipping up", repent, and be seen as a hero for "trying so hard to do the right thing" because my heart will be in the right place if I'm repenting sincerely. With more church leaders moving away from Pharisaical rules-based ministry, focusing instead on the intent of the heart, it's maybe easier to have your cake and eat it to. ...Has anyone else wondered if that expression even makes sense?

Gosh, it's a tempting prospect. Seductive. Little voices whispering, "Come on, you know it would be socially easier, everybody's doing it, it'll make life so much simpler, it's what you always wanted growing up, it keeps your relationships more harmonious, you never know when the right woman may come along..." What a relief, going hetero and/or moho again. I'll let you know how it goes. *mischievous wink*




Note: This is all meant to be light-hearted, so hold your horses with your righteous indignation and untwist your knickers. No, I don't think every gay guy who returns to church or hopes to marry a woman does it for these reasons. I do think some or many do bend to these reasons, whether they realize it or not, mingled with other reasons and often convictions, and they must find better, more lasting reasons if their resolve can be maintained and a happy marriage made. But that's for them to decide, not me. And no, I'm not "going hetero", even though I am open to a relationship with a woman if all the essential elements are there between us (a longer story than I care to explain here and now). I'm merely voicing some thoughts about a struggle/tension between what feels and seems right and what seems familiar and comfortable...from a different angle than I might have a couple of years ago.

And seriously, I need to stop meeting mohos who unexpectedly blindside me with their attractiveness but are still too recently coming to terms with things...which is probably part of why they're so attractive--they haven't done the whole Catholic-schoolgirl-gone-wild thing yet and bought into the lies so many gay circles shove down newbies' throats about what "being gay" means or requires... *le sigh*

Adorable and Hot

Few people pull off both adorable and hot at the same time. But Color Splash's David Bromstad just does. And he does it with such positive energy! I really enjoy his personality on the show and love a lot of his work. He seems like a fun and talented guy. I don't think we'd be a good couple (so sorry, David), but I still have a bit of a crush on the guy, not gonna lie.

Just makes you want to both pinch those cheeks and get busy...on some quality home improvement projects.

Crushables Update

Two long-standing mini-crushes I've been watching a bit of lately (on SNL and Ugly Betty):

Clearly, I have a bit of a thing for cute-nerds. I think Henry Grubstick's uptight accountant personality would grate on me after a while, but I find his nerdy, honest simplicity very endearing. Seth Meyer's dimply snark on the weekend update makes me grin with delight and shake my head at how taken I am with him.


Two new mini-crushes I've just discovered in the last week on The Doctors and Dead Like Me:

The latter clearly fits into my tendency towards a certain "type" with his slightly awkward appearance and quirky personality, but the doctor kind of breaks from that. Every once in a while, I'm a bit smitten by an all american jockish type if he seems like a nice and fairly intelligent guy and has cute expressions and a pretty lean build.



This last one isn't as much a crush as a heart-rate enhancer or somewhat of a knuckle-biter, primarily because of the only context I've seen him in, but I would probably look twice if I saw him walking down the street, unless he seemed cocky, in which case I'd roll my eyes and move on because I do that. Regardless, I certainly keep watching the same 4 1/2 minutes with guilty relish:

Happy Friday! I'm off to enjoy the sun and fresh air!

Soap Studs

*TRIGGER ALERT*

WARNING TO PRESSURE-COOKER GAYS AND SEX ADDICTS: Read no further if you are prone to give in to uncontrollably lusty thoughts or compulsive behaviors upon seeing attractive physiques in acrobatic splendor. Although, if you do fit into that category, it's probably too late, the curiosity is killing you, and you are already unable to click away, and I therefore have your porn binge and/or Craig's List cruising on my head now. Thanks a lot.


What kind of sorry excuse for entertainment is this show someone posted on Facebook last night? I mean, a bunch of ripped, shirtless, wet young guys acrobatically contorting and climbing on each other in homoerotic ways under the guise of theater? Psh. I'm going to view it again while shaking my head disapprovingly to show my disdain for such flaunting of fleshy feats.

It's a darn good thing we don't have such a show in, say, Salt Lake. If we did, we'd probably have sacrament meeting talks about not attending. And you'd have that awkward single dude in your ward trying to organize a young men's outing to go see it. "Soft male" husbands in buttoned-up cardigans and neatly combed hair telling their wives they've heard it's "an impressive show of acrobatic skills" as their wives skeptically shake their heads with furled brows and refuse to go, not knowing quite why they so vaguely but sharply fear their husbands seeing it. No, it would rock the boat too much.

OK, upon second viewing, I have decided it is "pretty cool" (read "I've had time to quell and cover for my self-loathing fear of finding it dang hot in parts and talked myself into seeing it as quality entertainment based purely upon its artistic and athletic merits, the lack of clothing being a practical need and incidental to the greater production"). If it's still running the next time I'm in Berlin (read "the first time"), I don't think I can pass up a show that combines so many of my favorite things: acrobatics, theater, gymnastics, baths, wetness, and...Germans. *cough*

For those of you who are in the category I described at the beginning of this post and are feeling triggered: quick, sing a hymn and picture the temple and hope it doesn't backfire by sexualizing the hymn and making you think of hot guys the next time to see the temple. ...I've always wondered if that happens to some.

Delighting in Gap Displays

We've all seen them: the beautiful people Gap pays big bucks to model their clothes and make us all hope we'll look more like them when we put the same clothes on (somehow, it just never quite works for me...I must be wearing them wrong).




Sometimes, the much-larger-than-life pictures make me really struggle not to bite my knuckle hard when I walk in to the store. Upon seeing this one, I maintained my composure, whimpered, and went about seeking a shirt.




But what caught my attention even more were the large pictures above the different cuts of jeans, with models showing the respective fit of the jeans and labels describing them:

Authentic: a "must" in...jeans. You can see to the left is "Standard". BORING.



Bad news. Stay away from this one.



I don't know why, but I felt keenly disappointed by this one.



I don't know why, but I felt giddily motivated by this one.

FYI, "Easy" is my favorite. ...style of jeans... *cough*


OK, so "Easy" is my least favorite cut of jeans. I prefer low-rise, slim-thigh boot cut on myself with a 29-30 waist, 30-32 length, depending on the brand. You know...in case any of you are looking for a home for really sexy jeans you don't wear anymore (big thanks to my former roomie for my best-fitting pair of jeans, which aren't, incidentally, boot cut). See, I have trouble finding some that really fit nicely, and I've discovered costliness makes little difference. In fact, the more expensive ones seem to most flatten what little I have of a butt. Express, so far, shape my tukus best. It's late. I'm tired and oversharing. Time for bed. Good night.

Struggling

After reading about how yoga can cure homosexuality, I figured I should finally give it a shot.

Maybe I'll sign up for a JIM weekend while I'm at it.

And sever all ties with homosexuals (that should leave me with about two friends locally).

And give my heart, might, mind, and strength over to Dr. Robinson.

Oh, and avoid the gym for a while. ...and BYU.

And not watch Will & Grace anymore. Or Gay, Straight, or Taken. ...or Ugly Betty. ...or Brothers & Sisters. ...or The Bachelorette.

And start dressing in baggier clothes like I used to. No more fitted stuff from Express and Banana Republic--we all know how subversive to heterosexuality they are.

And go back to pretending I don't notice the hot shirtless guys all summer but instead looking everywhere but at them so as to not give myself away but all the while glancing back to sneak secret peeks at their lean, glistening physiques and telling myself it's not sexual but an intense curiosity and a jealousy because I really just want to be like them, not "get with" them.

And junk my movies which show gay characters in a humanizing, normalizing light. No more The Family Stone for me.

And work on being less selfish and narcissistic because selfishness breeds homosexuality.

And recognize that the notion of same-sex relationships working long-term and matching the intimacy and personal progress of mixed-sex relationships is a farce and is inherently impossible because of the nature of homosexual/homoromantic attraction, even if society adapts to foster same-sex commitment.

And frame my attractions to men as the sexualization and distortion of identification and connection needs while framing my attractions to women (there are some in here somewhere, I'm sure) as God-given and totally hubba hubba.

And make more straight friends to establish healthy, non-romantic male bonds, thereby increasing masculine identification and removing the stumbling block which prevented the natural development of heterosexual feelings in adolescence.

And read scriptures and pray and go to church and write in my journal...

And ask nice, young, LDS ladies out weekly to establish habit and become accustomed to interacting with women on a potentially romantic level again. After all, dating isn't meant to be fun: it's meant to be a way of finding a compatible partner who...

*Note to self: also make an effort not to say things like "Compatible Partners" when speaking of women...terribly self-defeating...*

Gosh, no wonder people "struggle" so much with gay-to-straight conversion; it might even be harder than heathen-to-Mormon conversion! Those of you who say you have tried and failed obviously just weren't working hard enough. Freak! I'll start tomorrow, maybe...

Seattle Pridefest

Warning: to my readers who are easily triggered into internet activities they want to avoid (i.e. viewing pornography) by pictures of scantily-clad people, I recommend reading with images turned off or skipping this post. There's no actual nudity, but there's some lack of clothing in several shots of people playing in the fountain.



So...I went to Seattle Pridefest since I was in the area. I was looking for something to do on such a beautiful day, a couple of friends were going to be there, and I figured there'd certainly be an entertaining photo op or two, so I went. Most of the stuff usually associated with Pride disgusts me. The sleazy flirtation, trashy costumes, tasteless kitsch, crude immodesty, celebration of cheap sex...I don't care how mainstream some people seem to have themselves convinced it is or should be, I still think certain attitudes and behaviors about sex and relationships are disgusting, cheap, trashy, and degrading, not just "different". But long story short, and justifications aside, I went, and maybe partially because I wanted to ogle some hotties...is that so wrong?

Here's what I found:


Big, Wet Dance Party

Around 2:15, I arrived at the International Fountain near the towering Space Needle at the Seattle Center, which is an epicenter of post-parade revelry with blasting, pulsing music and tight crowds watching people dance in the water spray in a huge bowl.




My Close-Up

As I stood on a bench, talking to friends on the phone and trying to locate them across the crowd, a middle-aged gay couple walked in front of me, and one of the guys pointed his camera right up at me and snapped a shot. I didn't know whether to be flattered or offended, so I chose to be oblivious.


Freaks and Hotties and Normal People, Oh My!

Freaks and hotties, that's admittedly probably what my four friends and I were scanning the crowd for. There were many "normal-looking" people there, and I found myself trying to resist the urge to only take pictures of the more outlandish ones, but let's be honest: they make more interesting subjects. So keep in mind that photos you see of Pridefest may, in fact, not quite accurately represent the general crowd there but probably highlight some of the characters unique to that crowd. Anyway, we found many costumed characters from the parade, hoards of dancing, gyrating bodies, children running around in the water, several sets of bare breasts of the female variety (yes, non-offensive nudity is legal in public parks in Seattle), and...oh my...Hottie McHotterson dancing in the fountain with...booooo, a girl. And...double boooo, kissing her. The hottest guy there was hetero. Figures. I gotta be honest, the percentage of hot gay guys in Seattle is lower than in Utah, in my opinion.








A Nipple Nudge

I felt a fleshy tickle on my left arm as we moved through the crowd. I turned my head to see with whom I was playing bumper bodies, and my line of vision was filled with voluptuous mounds of skin-covered fatty tissue, and I realized I had been brushed by the enormous, bare breast of a large-and-in-charge woman who was apparently slightly more comfortable with her body than I was and politely twisting her torso slightly away from me so as to not nipple-nudge me again. I thanked her with a total evasion of eye contact and a face distorted in disbelief as I forced myself not to completely write off any possibility of heterosexual functioning later in life should I choose to pursue that route. My first adult contact with a naked breast wasn't what I had imagined it should be, and I was dismayed that would likely be my only frame of reference for it. Eyes forward, I glimpsed another set of pastied parts which elicited just enough curiosity to hint at an ounce of hetero left in me.









More Freaks and Hotties

As we moseyed around the fountain to the booths, I couldn't help but grin at the outlandish outfits (or lack thereof), hair, costumes, and body piercings which one expects to see at events like this, particularly in Seattle. I also couldn't help but notice some quite attractive folks, though I wasn't interested in making eye contact or flirting. I wasn't in the mood. Not there. Not then.


Mesh-and-Leather-Clad "Sisters"

I lifted my camera to my eye to take pictures of some of the "sisters" from the parade (which I had skipped), and one stopped to say, "You know, I'm tired of everyone taking my picture. Can I take yours? Can I just take a picture of you guys?" I saw reason in this request and handed my camera over to the nice, mesh-clad drag queen, who snapped several photos of my buddies and me as his two cohorts wandered around behind us and diva'd their way into the background.











Information and Education

At the booths, I picked up some brochures about adoption (from an organization for non-traditional families), knowing my rights (ACLU), Seattle's AIDS walk, Hepatitis A and B vaccination on-the-spot (there are free clinics here), HIV vaccine trials, immigration equality, Seattle's PAWSwalk (Progressive Animal Welfare Society), and Bumbershoot 2009 (there should be some good artists I like this year). I also stopped by the Alaska Airlines booth to enter to win free flights and picked up some 15% off coupons. I was tempted to snap a picture of the well-build model standing in skivvies on a pedestal in the underwear booth, but I opted against it despite his obvious invitation to be seen and ogled. My favorite booth was possibly the Gourmet Blends booth with balsamic vinegars and oils, primarily because I got samples. Trust me, a bit of bread with vinegar on it is far more useful to me than a fake tattoo or a condom. They had a really tasty black currant balsamic which I decided I must have in my kitchen, though I had no money on me, so that will have to wait.


Gay JIM

I stopped out of curiosity at the QCamp booth when I asked one of my buddies if he'd heard of it, and he said a couple of his friends had gone and that it was kind of maybe like JIM but gay-affirming. I was skeptical and amused, so I had to ask some questions. The fellow fielding my questions was totally cute in a mildly socially awkward way (I mean that in the nicest way possible, I guess), and he won me over when he declared his distaste for promiscuity and sleaze. We had a brief conversation in which I surmised that this camp is possibly mostly for people who need some help making social connections and a bit of hand-holding for establishing quality connections with others. Maybe. I also decided it was most likely not remotely similar to a gay version of JIM. But he was cute and endearing, and I resisted the urge to pinch his cheek and make an "oh, you're so precious" face at him before moving on.


Fruity Old Men and Lesbian Gangstas

After the booths, I decided I'd had my fill and headed back to my car. However, the spectacle of the fountain and the fact that I was waiting to hear back from somebody before going to my car combined against me, and I sat at the edge of the fountain and snapped some shots of the most entertaining dancers.












On my way out, I passed two girls and a guy with a little girl running around. After I'd walked past, I heard the guy say, "You're so cute. You know that? Hm? You know that?" I wryly grinned as I pictured him talking to the cute little girl and her shyly smiling. Then one of the girls said, "Hey, you hear'm?!" I turned to see them all looking at me expectantly. I smiled as I kept walking and said, "Oh, well thank you!" Not knowing what else to say, I gave them a nod and kept on towards my car, shyly smiling.

Strap Me Down!

No, that's not an invitation to get frisky. It's a plea to help me preserve my virtue. I love how these moments come when I'm least expecting it. At a gym in Seattle. Or at BYU concerts. Or at local theater productions. ...I apparently have had it bad. I present the following evidence:


EXHIBIT A - Pretty-eyed gym boy

Working out at a gym on Broadway in Seattle (gay neighborhood) a few weeks back, I was rotating between a couple of machines. While returning to the chest press machine, I stopped upon finding it occupied by a good-looking guy with short brown hair. He pulled out his earphones and said, in an adorably gay but not-too-effeminate way, "Oh, I'm sorry, were you using this?" I smiled and nodded, saying, "Yeah, but I was thinking of using one with more freedom of motion anyway, and you've got it set up already, so don't worry about it." He apologized again, and I went to the machine I'd been thinking about using anyway. As I finished my set, he rounded the corner and, standing near my machine in front of me, waited for me to finish. I pulled out my headphones, and he said, "Hey, I changed it all back to how you had it because I kinda felt bad for taking it from you, so it's ready for you to use if you want to go back." As he said this, I looked into those gorgeously clear, blue eyes which seemed to attest to his sincerity, and I thought, "I think this is where I'm supposed to say you're sweet and you have beautiful eyes and would you like to have dinner sometime?" Instead, I thanked him kindly, and he smiled and sort of hesitated before walking away, possibly because it was obvious I was on the verge of saying something else but held back.

I sat there as he walked away, wondering if that's how it works for most people. I always thought it was weird that people just met each other in random places and asked each other out. I have guy friends who have seen girls on BYU's campus and eventually gotten the nerve to ask them out. Weird, I thought. I would prefer to meet someone through friends. But now I found myself wondering, "What harm would dinner be with someone you met someplace like the gym? At least you know you have one thing in common, to some extent. If it's terrible, you'll probably never see each other again, or even if you do, it's no big deal. It was just one date. And he really did seem like a nice guy. If I were at BYU, and he'd been a girl I was pretty sure was LDS, I would've had the green light from just about anyone. But he's probably not LDS, and those bosoms, though shapely, were definitely not attached to a woman, so many of my family and friends would be decidedly non-excited to here about the nice cutie I met at the gym. Oh well, they're not to blame for my lack of action. I'm a big boy, and I decided that on my own. It just would be nice to think the people I care about would be excited for me meeting potentials, but I understand it would be hard for them to be, and that's gotta be OK. I can't expect them to do all the understanding while I refuse to try to understand their perspective, especially since that's been my perspective, too, and could be again."

But moving on from those heavier aspects, I just smiled that I finally understood the inclination to ask someone out you don't have prior experience with, because their eyes seem sincere, and nice, and they are attractive, and they're obviously at least a little considerate, even if it is just with the hope of winning you over, and you'd like to find out if what you've seen is a facade or if there is someone interesting behind those initial impressions. I told myself, "First, you're just in town temporarily, so there's no point if you're not just looking for some fling or a hot makeout, which you're not, and second, you're not ready to ask out some guy at the gym with all the other stuff that's up in the air right now in your life. File it away, remember it, but don't act on it for now." I sighed and muttered a slightly longing farewell under my breath to the pretty-eyed boy who was now doing splits while stretching in the next room...which caused me to again quickly remind myself of all of my reasons for not pursuing it...while taking a couple of deep, calming breaths.


EXHIBIT B - The Cutie in B18

I went to see a couple of friends perform in a BYU Combined Choirs and Orchestra concert. An old friend from the college years who now lives here accompanied me, and she and I sat on the second row, right towards the middle. As we scooted in past people, I saw that our next-seat neighbor was a rather attractive-looking fellow, but the seat on the other side of him was available, so I figured his wife or girlfriend would be back at any moment. I sat down next to him and noticed he was reading a book. I thought about asking him about the book because it looked non-ridiculous. Then I thought, "No, you're here with a friend, and why strike up a conversation with some strange guy next to you when you haven't even gotten to catch up with her yet like you want to? Besides, would you be asking about the book if you didn't think he was attractive? No, you wouldn't. What are your motives, here?" "Ugh, why do you have to be so practical?" I grumbled to myself. And I turned and talked to my friend.

During the performance, my friend and I enjoyed picking out our favorites from among the men's choirs. Not incessantly. Not derisively. Just comparing notes and preferences. I liked the tall guy with sort of spiky hair near one of my friends and the other Peter Priesthoody one on the right. She liked the short-haired one up towards the back and the muscly one towards the middle. Good times. But more than that, the music was beautiful, and the performances were, as always, polished. Great show. "...maybe that guy next to me is watching his girlfriend or wife, and that's why no girl has come to sit next to him?" I thought. I checked his hand. No ring. "There's hope!" I thought. "No! Stop it. Wishful thinking, dude. He's watching his girlfriend. Stop trying to make every cute guy gay. Besides, look at those socks...he's not gay." Because I'm against stereotyping, right? *rolling eyes at myself*

After intermission, part of the show involved the choirs surrounding the audience. As I scanned my gaze from backwards over my right shoulder back to the stage, I briefly paused the scan on his face to get what glimpse I could more directly...and our eyes met. "OK, what was that? He was totally looking at me when I looked at him. Was that the 'I think you're family' look, or the 'I think you're hot too' look, or the 'stop looking at me, you disgusting homo' look?" I couldn't tell. It had been too brief, though I had to admit it seemed most like the "family-to-family" glance. I had a flashing image of kissing his kissable lips and tracing his jawline...ugh, why? No, bad me. It was a slightly strange experience, sitting there in the concert hall next to an old friend from pre-out days, watching a friend I used to be very attracted to on stage, sitting next to guy I wanted to ask out, with Elder Oaks of the Twelve just a few rows back waiting for a revelation from God that a nearby priesthood holder was lusting after the boy next to him and needed to be stopped by having Sister Susan W. Tanner, also a few rows back, come talk to him about the virtues and beauty of young women. OK, that was it. That was a mood-killer. Leave the BYU boy alone.

As we left, I noticed his white shirt had an embroidered design on it, floral if I remember right. I could still strike up a conversation. The glance, the lack of date, the shirt...no, on second inspection, I decided he was really young for me (not to mention I was probably too old for him to be interested even if he was into dating boys), and I wasn't looking to make new friends, and I certainly wasn't looking to find a date, so I let it go. Then he took out his cell phone and started talking. My friend and I looked at each other in the cattle-drive hallway exit, and we said, "Yup, that just got rid of any doubt." We laughed, and I sighed that the ordeal was finally over.


EXHIBIT C - Shirtless Wonder

I went to a play a friend is in in the Salt Lake area. Now, there were one or two fairly attractive cast members, but one in particular caught my eye. My friend who went to the play with me and I commented to each other that we were trying to decide if he was as attractive as he seemed. I was leaning towards "yes", but I just wasn't sure sometimes if I would think so without the make up and in person. Maybe a different hair cut? I wasn't sure. But one thing I did know: this kid made me wanna make out. A little bit. Then came the shirtless scene. I try not to be shallow. I like to think I'm not too swayed by a hot body. But I turned into a hormonally-crazed teenage boy at the sight of his rather lean, well-formed physique, so much that I held myself back from rushing the stage to get in on the action. I don't know who picked our seats, but I have a bone to pick with them. We were definitely on the wrong side of the stage. Mostly only his back! Why?! "Turn around, dangit! Face us! Up here! No! Writhing on the floor shirtless, all flexing and sweaty, and all I can see is your leg? I was robbed!" OK, it was at this moment of frustration when I realized I was pretty much being ridiculous. My friend ask if he should hose me down to cool me off. I insisted I'd control myself and laughed at myself, thinking, "This is why people tell you you just need to get some action."

After the show was over, I was talking with my friend who was in the show, and he just confirmed that the object of my admiration was actually a really nice guy. Dang it. That never helps. If you tell me he's a dirtbag, I'll just enjoy the eye candy and be done with it, but a nice guy? It's harder to just "get over" nice guys who are hot. But surely he's straight, so that always helps. Except...wait...after the show, there he was wearing...no...jeans that definitely not only showcased his physique rather well but looked decidedly non-hetero. Could we have a not-yet-out one here? I overheard a conversation among cast members about how difficult part of the scene had been when sexy-man was wrestling with this other guy and had pinned him down and... At this moment, the friend I'd gone to the play with leaned in towards me and said, "How're you doing? Doing alright there?" I turned beet red and started laughing at the comedy of what my face might have looked like while I was hearing this and probably subconsciously wishing I were the one getting pinned.

At one point thereafter, I was introduced to sexy-man and his friends, after hesitating but deciding, "What the H, why not say hello and possibly defuse this tension I'm feeling?" I was caught a bit off guard by his enthusiasm in shaking my hand. I tried to tell myself it was all self-flattery, but I could swear his eyes went directly to me, and he nearly knocked over his female friend to reach out for my hand. Friendly guy. Then he asked if he knew me from somewhere. I felt like saying, "Are you coming on to me?" or maybe, "Well, um, not unless you remember me from a couple of hours ago when you were hiding just offstage (above stage, to be exact), and I was looking up and fantasizing about you looking down and making flirtatious eye contact with me..." I know, I'm ridiculous. It was out of control. I wanted to find any sign to confirm he was gay and could be even slightly interested. We had a good, brief chat, and as I drove away from the theater, still cooling down from all that worked up energy, I realized meeting the shirtless wonder had, indeed, defused much of the tension. Thank goodness.


SO WHAT?

What's my point, you ask? I'm not sure. But combine these incidents with the random glances and attractive guys at the cafe, the gym, other theater productions, at friends' gatherings, or in our housing complex (well helloooo, cute neighbor who I could swear couldn't stop smiling slightly for no good reason while talking to me--no, stop, stop making everyone gay and interested), and I've decided: either my resolve is being tested as never before by satanic visions, or this is what happens when you're on your way to becoming a 30-year-old virgin (AKA sexual pressure-cooker), or it's early Spring and everyone's appetites are in full evolutionary swing, particularly mine. All of the above? Ah, hell...strap me down now, please.

Hypersexual Stint

In The Beginning...

When I first started meeting other mohos, it was all level and chill. We got along, no real drama, no pairing off, no awkwardness, mild flirtation was all in good fun. Then along came the one who was more "my type". And I crushed, and he crushed back. There was some pairing off. There was some awkwardness. Flirtation was no longer just fun; it was going somewhere. We decided it couldn't. We backpedaled. We got through it. My first mutual attraction with a guy, but not his. I found it easier to "move on" than he did. I could chalk it up to "I'm new and impressionable." He probably had fallen a little more eyes-wide-open than I had, so even though I truly cared for him, it was somehow easier for me to be pragmatic and practical about it: "we didn't want a relationship anyway, so we just have to turn that part of it off as much as we can."

Moho Supernova

Then I moved to the epicenter: Utah. I went to the Matises' and met dozens of new people, many of them attractive young gay guys close to my age. Go fig. At first, I was very reserved. I didn't know what to expect or whom to be wary of. I stayed a bit aloof, observing. I didn't want to "meet someone" or have another flingy thing. I just wanted to see what it was about, maybe meet some quality friends.

After the first couple of times going to the Matises', and feeling somewhat settled into social circles in Utah, I jumped in and flirted. I realized I could catch some people's attention, so I tried just to see if I was right but wasn't about to do anything about it. I knew people were watching here and there and might think me to be a wolf in sheep's clothing, but I thought, "What's the big deal? Have some fun and relax, and people will see you don't have to be sleeping around to be a little flirty and fun and comfortable with it." It was almost irresistible, this newfound ability to experience and even create sexual tension and flirtatious energy for the sheer fun of it, though I tried not to be whorish about it. I wonder how it was for my more established friends to watch me acting like a kid in a candy store? Were they disgusted? Slightly embarrassed for me? Understood it's just what many of us go through? Whatever they thought, I didn't much care because I was just doing what felt right at the time and enjoying the ride.

Looking back, I think I treated some good relationships dismissively to an extent because I was so distracted by the enjoyment of this enticing, flirty new world that I focused excessive attention on meaningless interactions that weren't going anywhere productive rather than working on developing lasting, meaningful friendships. I've never really been casual about friendships, and I don't think I was even during this more flitting, social butterfly time. But what I have done is ignored the more stable, deeper friendships because I know they'll just be there anyway, and all the new budding friendships (often with a hint of romantic and/or physical attraction) are just so fun that it's hard to resist.

Cuddleslutness

Then of course there was the grand new world of cuddling...with everyone! OK, not everyone. If I was honest with myself, I had to admit that I generally cuddled with people I at least saw as somewhat attractive or adorable. But hey, it's all in good fun, no big deal, as long as it just remains innocent. It felt nice to connect with people in a way I'd never allowed myself to. And I'd never really gotten into much trouble cuddling someone. I could control myself, so others could, too.

In hindsight, there were probably situations in which my cuddle-lust made things awkward for others. I'd cuddle someone in the presence of a friend who wanted to cuddle but wouldn't allow himself, so he may have been quietly tortured. I'd cuddle someone who someone else in the room wished they were cuddling. I'd cuddle someone who felt more of an attraction than I did, challenging them to keep emotions or hands in check while I was blissfully unaware of their conflict. But I was too busy enjoying it to even notice. I like to think I would've cared had I noticed. But I wasn't all about other people and their feelings then, though I've never been totally nonchalant, I don't think. But it was mostly about fun. Besides, what are you going to do? Live in a convent or monastery to avoid emotional awkwardness? No, you adjust and deal with it.

An "Ah-ha"/"Hubba Hubba" Moment

One day, at the gym, I was looking around specifically to find the hotties, to scope out the tightest physiques. No, I intended not to take them home and play with them, and I was not about to pursue anyone in the locker room...ew. But hey, looking and enjoying was another thing, and I did it...almost incessantly. After twenty-some-odd years of forcing myself not to look because it might make me gay, I guess it's natural to soak it up. I don't think I was staring at people like some sort of creep, just taking in eye candy where I saw it and quietly raising an eyebrow or laughing at my own horniness.

I knew, at that time, I felt somehow "different" from how I'd been most of my life. I realized that I was not exactly seeing "people" around me. I was not seeing humanity. I was seeing flesh. Hot, sweaty, sinuous, sexy sexy sexy flesh, sometimes with a cute smile or dreamy eyes to boot. Before I'd "come to terms" with my sexuality and "allowed" myself to look and be attracted, I would look around a room and yes, notice some hotness, but I also focused on the person, who they are, how they acted, whether they seemed nice, genuine, in need, or sincere. If they didn't seem like someone I'd like to get to know, the hotness melted away. Now, I was skipping the eyes and apparent personality traits and going right to the pecs, the hair, the abs, the jawline, the butt... I felt almost perpetually intoxicated with sexuality. And it felt empowering and virile.

Looking Upon the Heart...Or the Butt

I knew, intellectually, that if I was going to find someone with whom to have the quality relationship I really wanted (particularly if it were to be with a girl), I needed to stop looking around with my lustful eyes and starting seeing souls, not just bodies. I needed to look into people's eyes and see who they are, not just at their shapes to see if I wanted to bounce pennies off of them. But despite that intellectual realization, I also realized I finally felt "normal" in a way, and I shrugged and thought, "It's not like I'd ever go fooling around with some random guy from the gym. I'd have to have a real connection of some sort and would still be monogamous. So what's the harm in looking around for the heck of it? I may not be looking beyond the surface most of the time, but I know it's the personality that matters most." But I realized that was something I was now having to force myself to remember instead of it being my natural way of seeing people.

I felt a tinge of disappointment that I might be reducing the people around me to objects of lust just as I'd hated other guys doing most of my life. I could no longer scowl at guys who didn't seem to grasp that a quality relationship does not necessarily begin with "I'd tap that" but instead only look for hotties because I was doing it, myself. Then again, most guys in their twenties probably aren't even interested in healthy relationships. They're interested in playmates and getting laid. Oh my gosh, was I on the path to becoming just another clueless, relationship-stupid dude?

Playing the field is a natural step to getting to know yourself and others and gaining skills for a longer-term relationship, but does playing the field mean dating people based mostly on sex appeal and finding out if they're real people underneath, the reverse of what I'd always thought appropriate? I'm pretty sure playing the field should still be with people you want to talk to, not just lick. But playing the field could include having a little sexual fun along the way, right? And I certainly wasn't getting any younger. Look at me, I'm still alright for my age. It'd be a shame to lose all of my attractive, energetic years without ever putting all of this to use. Am I really going to miss out on experiencing the heights of sexuality until my youth is spent or, worse, I've lost my body entirely? And what if there's nothing after death? And I never experienced that kind of intimacy with someone? Wait, was I really asking myself this? "Who have I become?" I wondered, "Just another guy thinking with his crotch?" And I laughed and shrugged because dang it, after twenty-some years of being so practical, I was allowed a little relaxing of the ol' laces, as long as I didn't ruin my integrity (i.e. act against what I believed for the sake of what I wanted) or hurt people in the process.

Looking For Love In All The Wrong Places

I always knew, in the back of my mind, I did NOT want to become like all these guys I saw around me cruising gay dating sites or MySpace for hours, looking for hot guys I might want to date or hook up with. If I were ever going to date, I wouldn't want to talk about my dates only in terms of how good-looking they are or whether they're good kissers or good in bed (straight and gay guys alike do this) but rather talk about their actual, personal qualities. I did not want to join what seems a frivolous, empty world of models and hook-ups and drunken clubbing and orgies in the mountains. And I couldn't imagine looking at relationships, even casual dating, as anything other than personal and at least somewhat substantive, but I've never been ready to decide to have a "real" relationship, either. That made it tough to even think of having the fun I thought I'd like to have. Curse my inability to be more casual with relationships! Why couldn't I just see making out like I saw flirting: something you do that's fun but doesn't have to go anywhere or involve "real" emotions?

Sobering Up

After a while, probably somewhere around a year, I realized that I was not portraying and magnifying the parts of myself I most valued and respected, and I had "had my fun" enough to sober up a bit. Realizing that I didn't want to dive into the realm of sexual experimentation or actual dating helped me realize there was only so long I could play around before I was known far and wide as nothing but a tease. I was very glad I hadn't crossed certain boundaries in certain moments of abandon that would not have matched the nature of the relationship, even though I had really wanted to. I admit part of me still wonders, "what if I had _____ when I had the chance?" but I'm still glad I didn't, given it might have inaccurately shifted my perceptions, been against my beliefs, and put someone in a tough situation I didn't want him to be in (either ecclesiastical/academic sanctions or lying about it to avoid them).

Stop the Insanity

I started changing my habits, once I was actually ready to let go of the "fun" of them. I flirted less. I had come to realize a couple of things: 1) I flirted as a way of "toying" with the idea of more without actually following through, and 2) some of the people I flirted with actually intended to follow through, unlike me. I decided I didn't want to send signals that misrepresented my own intentions or messed with anyone else's emotions. I'm not on a total flirt fast, mind you, but I am more discriminating. I started cuddling less: physical affection often promotes development of attractions and passions I didn't want to develop, either in myself or in others, unless we intended to do something about it, which I did not. I hadn't been sufficiently sensitive to that. I decided to keep cuddling to a real, friendly expression of affection and connection with people I'd known for a while and with whom I felt fairly certain things wouldn't get complicated. I've fudged that rule here and there, but in general, I'm more judicious. Sometimes, I've momentarily questioned my wisdom when I've passed up the opportunity to be pressed up against hotties I didn't feel close to but who appeared willing. Dang.

I also decided that at the Matises', for example, I'd look for someone who looked sort of quiet and alone, someone I wasn't at all attracted to but who obviously could use someone to talk to them. I used to be so sensitive to the underdog, the outcast, or the shy kid. But I'd gotten caught up in less significant, more self-serving interaction as a habit. I also made a point to reconnect with those people with whom I felt I had related in important ways. And life started feeling more whole again as I started acting not out of attraction but out of compassion and as I tried to not just follow my natural inclination to talk with cute, fun-looking people but to act deliberately and try to find worthwhile, meaningful interaction.

Another "Ah-ha"

Well, the other day, I looked around the gym, and I realized I was seeing people, not shells. Don't get me wrong, I still notice the hotties and bite my knuckle at times. Hey, it's gotta be done. But it's not the same. I think I'm coming to a confluence of the two. Perhaps it's because I never let myself fully jump on the flesh-focus bandwagon and tried to keep that in check. Perhaps it's because I'm feeling in need of quality connection myself and am therefore more sensitive. Perhaps it's because not long ago, I fell for someone I probably wouldn't have looked twice at on the street but for whom I nonetheless felt so much affection and even passion as I got to know him, and it was hit home that I would never trade a person I loved for a shell that turned me on. Perhaps it's just the natural course of things for someone my age, with a decreasing sex drive and diminished "newness" in this whole "Whoa! I'm attracted to men!" thing. But whatever the reasons, it felt really good to feel more human again.

And the Cycle Continues...

I look around and see newbies going through similar phases. We all seem do to it differently and on different timelines. Some seem to embrace the hypersexuality as what they believe they've been all along but were just stifling for the sake of fitting the mold or playing by the rules they never really believed anyway. Some seek out short-term relationships based on a high schoolish, hypersexual approach rather than acting their age and seeking out long-term relationships, even though they claim to want more. Some go full boar into sexual experimentation, sometimes as uber-sluts, sometimes monogamously, and then decide it's not what they really want and go back to a more tempered, personality-focused approach, sometimes with dating guys, sometimes with dating girls, sometimes only with friendships because they aren't ready to decide what to do or have decided to embrace celibacy. Some experiment even less than I did but let loose with flirting and maybe a cuddle here and there, and that's enough for them to figure things out. We all have our processes, I guess.

I do figure I have some more adolescence to work through. Sometimes I wonder whether I have yet to go through more phases, like maybe a "college" phase of sexual adolescence, with more temptation to face, more beliefs to sort out and sift through, and more decisions to make. I just count myself lucky that my sex drive is likely only decreasing from here. As for you late teens or early twenties folks going through all of this, all I can say is good luck, boys.