Love in the Time of Influenza

I do not get Folk'ed.

There is a thick soup in the air.

A yellow nausea that tiptoes into my space and drips all over my head, coating me in its contagious goo.

Yes, it's love in the gay world and it's cheap, free for all.

As a man who loves men, it is difficult to pigeonhole myself into a comfortable cubby that will satisfy everyone.

I do not join Pride Parades. I am not out, to a good degree and some argue that I send gaydom into the Dark Ages.


Well, Hallelujah!

Just because I don't wear my rainbow armband, doesn't mean I don't care about gay rights and all that; I do. However, just like my friend said of her religion, spirituality is not something to be displayed, it's private like dirty underwear.

While I wouldn't go as far as alluding to my spirituality as dirty underwear, but my sexuality is definitely dirty underwear.

I dare not display it, but I am aware of its existence. I acknowledge its importance and role in my life. I choose not to "display" it for various reason which I will not necessarily discuss today.

I do feel that any need I feel to ascribe to a gay lifestyle is quickly quashed by my own person. I never feel truly comfortable with other gay men. To certain degree, I do, but another not quite. This is a bizarre turn of events because I fancied myself a trailblazer in my age group.

I was quite young when I had come to terms with my sexuality and had gotten involved with someone seriously. I came out to my folks (and we all know what kind of drama that entails) and have done my little evangelization of gay rights.

So why am I in the closet? The funny thing is is that I'm not really in the closet. I act the way that I do because that's just who I am. Geeky and not quite fabulous. Friendships with other gay men don't really last. Backbiting can get even the best of them and many are quite fleeting.

Hence, I begin to think about the feasibility of the possiblity of finding love again. Frankly, things are looking bleak.

Gay love is a seasonal infectious disease, it can have terrible symptoms, but at the end of the day, most cases of it are shallow and simply disappear over time.

There is virtually no permanence. How can there be permanence when the entire dating game is plagued with superficial demands?

What is the currency of love nowadays?

1. gym buff. so much for average schmoes like me. why is it that every gay man on fashionable tv looks like the cast of Queer as Folk? the obsession with looks is frankly scary. maybe i'm just insecure. yeah, i'm insecure. what chance do i have?

2. location. are you strategically located to be loved? what happened to crossing the ends of the earth for love? chivalry is dead? not if it never existed. chivalry in gay relationships is merely a fantasy played out in bed as foreplay.

3. the right cellular phone. shallow, but people actually do care about this. quick, right on the money, easily accessible.

4. my humps - my lumps. well-hung we all need to be. sexually-gratifying. of course this is important, but to be rejected.

5. numbers - the right numbers, the right stats, the right height, the right salary.


Should I submit my resume the next time I court someone? I'll have a biopsy as well while I'm at it.

After all this is making me sick.

Love these days hits hard, leaves many empty handed, like we've never been loved at all.