Recently in Sexuality Category

Misty Irons reposted the "gay lifestyle" of the (In)Famous SMT.  After reading both her post and his original, I decided I wanted to make a similar post and offer some commentary on the underlying topic.

So an average weekday looks like this for me:

7:00am:  The first alarm goes off.  I hit the off button.
7:30am:  The second alarm goes off.  I hit the off button.
8:00am:  The third alarm goes off.  I hit the snooze button.  I keep hitting it each time it goes off.
8:30am:  The third alarm won't let me hit the snooze button any more.  I turn it off and get up.
8:35am:  I wash up and get dressed.
8:45am:  I check email, visit my social networking sites, and read my favorite blogs.
9:20am:  I hop in the car and head to work, stopping at the 7-Eleven to grab something to eat and something for lunch.
10:00am:  I arrive at work.  I spend the next eight hours attending meetings, writing code, answering emails, and fielding the occasional technical question for the sales team.
6:30pm:  I leave work.  If it's open, I run to Psychic's Thyme and hang out with friends for a bit.
7:00pm:  Dinner time.
8:00pm:  If I'm curently dating someone, I ask my boyfriend if he's free.  If so, we get together, watch a movie, talk, make love, and cuddle.  If I'm very lucky, we spend the night sleeping in each others arms.
8:00pm:  If I'm single or my boyfriend is busy, I check email, respond to any outstanding ones, read blogs, do some blogging of my own, and/or or work on my writing.

In my life, there's no such thing as a typical weekend.  I may go see my parents for the weekend.  Or I might head up to Toronto for a dance class and a show with Marina for Saturday.  Or I might go back to Psychic's Thyme to hang out with friends.  I may go to dinner with friends.  I may go dancing Saturday night.  If I'm dating someone, I may spend time with my boyfriend (going to a movie, staying home and cuddling, making love, talking, going to a party together, whatever).  Trying to fit that into a single "daily schedule" would be impossible.  There's just too many possibilities.

What inspired me to write this, however, is that I've notice something about many "gay lifestyle" posts:  most of them say absolutely nothing about sex.  In many cases, that's perfectly understandable.  There are a lot of gay people out there who are not sexually active for one reason or another.  They may simply be too busy right now for a sexual relationship.  Or they may be waiting for that one special someone they want to spend their lives with.  I totally get that and respect that.

What I don't get or respect, however, is the underlying message (or so it seems to me) that the only way to prove that all gay men spend their weekends at the bathhouse or bring home a different guy every night is to show that we're not having sex at all, or at least hiding the fact that we're having it.  I'm sorry, but "total celibacy" and "having 100 sex partners every year" are not the only two possibilities.

In many ways, I'm reminded of the first American Pie movie.  I loved that movie because it was a great commentary on the pressure (heterosexual) guys feel about having sex in their teen years and how it can become an obsession.  The other thing I like about that movie is that the way the "quest to lose their virginity" ends differently for the various main characters.  Two of them end up having what basically amount to random hookups (though the one ends up falling in love with his partner and marrying her in future movies).  One ends up having sex with his long-term girlfriend (who breaks up with him in the next movie).  And the fourth ends up in a relationship and he and his new girlfriend decide to put off having sex for a while longer.  The movie ends up demonstrating a diversity of responses to human sexuality.

I think we need more of that in the gay community and how we present ourselves to the outside world.  We need to get rid of the "celibacy/promiscuity" dichotomy altogether.  There's a far more complex range of choices when it comes to human sexuality and human sexual behavior, and I think we need to start demanding that our detractors acknowledge that in our own communities.

I won't pretend I'm a sexual prude in order to get acceptance.  But that doesn't mean I'm totally devoid of a sexual ethic or standards, either.

This afternoon, I decided to go to the psychic fair at the Henrietta Holiday Inn. While there, I decided to get an aura portrait reading (that's where the psychic sketches the colors in your aura and explain what they mean and how it's affecting your life) by one of the people there. The theme of my reading was that I need to begin working more on integrating my spirituality into the rest of my life. This wasn't a surprising message, because I've been getting it from different angles. In fact, over the past couple of weeks, I'd say the gods have gotten more aggressive about this message. In fact, I think they've gotten to the point where they're basically saying "do this or we're going to do it for you."

For example, a couple Saturdays ago, Marina invited myself and Rudi (a former dancer in the company) to come to her home for lunch after the beginner's jazz dance class. While there, I mentioned that I had to run to Psychic's Thyme at some point that afternoon. Of course, the other two asked me what that was, so I told them. I ended up telling them about my spiritual interests, which fascinated both of them. I ended up telling them about a couple of my experiences with seeing spirits (to my credit, I'm getting better at being open about the fact that I'm developing my abilities as a medium). By the end of the discussion, they both decided they want me to give them a reading after next Saturday's class. And Marina has gone on to tell at least one other person (a student in her intermediate class) associated with the company about my interests. I suspect that by the time she's done, everyone in or associated with the company will know. Hopefully, they're all as open-minded as Marina and Rudi were. (Actually, I'll be happy as long as no one tries to perform an exorcism on me.)

The second example of this came during this past week. When I got a break from work, I decided to quickly check my site stats for this blog. While checking them out, I discovered that someone visited my site from work on Thursday afternoon. I was quite surprised by this, and quickly confirmed that it wasn't a visit I made myself. As I dug into this (I even downloaded the server logs for that day so I could check the parts of my domain that my two Sitemeter accounts don't cover), I discovered that my visitor must have found my site at least somewhat fascinating. While they read only a couple of archives and two individual posts from this blog, they also visited my Dear Lover, Journey (I guess I'm out at work now!), my main site, and my photo albums.

I'm not sure how they found my site. The logs indicate there was no referring site, which suggests they typed the address in directly. I asked the two people at work who I thought it could be, but they admitted that they didn't even know I had my own website. So I'm completely mystified. I really don't care that someone from work read it all. They didn't really find out anything I'm trying to hide. (I'm smart enough to avoid posting anything I want to keep secret.) Though I do hope that they talk to me about it at some point. I'd like to know who it was, especially considering the significant amount of surfing they did.

So yeah, it would seem that everything in my life is coming together. I think I'm okay with that, though. I'm just a bit shell-shocked.

The question for this post comes from Rygel:

Why do you try to reconcile your spirituality with your sexuality?

The short answer to this question is that I had no other choice that was ultimately reasonable. I am both a spiritual person and a sexual person. There's no escaping that fact. This means that when confronted with these two aspects of my choice, I had four basic options.

The first option was to ignore or repress my sexuality and focus on my spirituality. I actually tried this approach through various methods for over a decade. It not only didn't work, it completely backfired. It drove me to such depths of misery and despair that I almost self-destructed. So I eventually gave up on it.

My second option was to completely walk away from my spirituality and focus on my sexuality. I suppose there are those who might argue that this is exactly what I did, since I left Christianity. (More than one person has accused me of walking away from God because I felt it was more convenient to "live with my sin.") I respectfully disagree with them, as my choice to follow a Pagan path was much more complex than that. But at any rate, the idea of rejecting spirituality altogether was simply not an option for me. I've always been a spiritual person, and I couldn't imagine my life any other way.

My third option was to accept both my spirituality and my sexuality, but try to keep them divorced from each other. I'm not really sure how this would work or what it would look like, but again, I also know this would not have worked for me. I want to be a whole person, and living a split life where half of you is compartmentalized away from the other half does not make you a whole person. Furthermore, given the nature of my spirituality, such a dualistic approach to life would simply not work. I serve a goddess who sees spirituality and sexuality as a beautifully blended and related whole. (In fact, this is such an essential part of my faith that I once wrote an article titled "Sacred Lust.")

That left only the one option for me. My sexuality and spirituality had to come together, embrace one another, and find a way forward as a united whole.

I'd like to preface this post with a warning that it will contain some frank sex talk. While I certainly don't consider what I'm about to say explicit enough to merit an NC-17 rating, I also respect that it might make some of my readers uncomfortable. As such, I would encourage everyone to use their own discretion while deciding whether to continue reading or skip this one.

Now that I'm home and had some time to think about it, I decided it's time to return to Barbara (unfortunately, her blog is marked private, so it'd do my readers no good to link to it) and her excellent question:

What is a childhood memory or even that has shaped your life in a significant way (either negatively or positively)

I suppose some might choose to pounce on the fact that the vast majority of the memories that rushed to my mind when I read this question related to sexuality. To be honest, most of the prominent memories from my childhood -- especially those that I consider somehow significant -- really do have to do with sexuality. I make no apologies for it. And while I feel I don't need to justify it, either, I will point out that when you're at war with your sexuality, it does tend to consume a considerable portion of your life.

At any rate, the memory I decided to focus on was of the day I first found out that there was such a thing as sex between two men. I was in the eighth or ninth grade at the time (I can't narrow it down any better than that), and I and the rest of my peers were sitting at our desks in English class. I'm not sure whether the bell to signal the class was starting hadn't rung yet or the teacher had to step out for other reasons. For whatever reason, however, we were left to our own devices, and numerous conversations were going on about the room. I was only peripherally involved with the one occurring one row from my desk, though I became interested in it. At one point, the others mentioned a rumor that two guys from school (one in our grade and another a couple years behind us) had been caught "screwing" each other.

At this time in my life, I was extremely naive when it came to most topics about sexuality. This is something that greatly amused some of my classmates, I think. So when I actually asked what it meant for two guys to "screw," one of my classmates described the basic concept to me in a tone that would best be described as a cross between amusement and disgust. I was both fascinated and disconcerted by this discovery. I didn't really understand how the mechanics of such an act worked, and I wasn't inclined to pursue the matter any further, given my classmates' obvious distaste for the subject.

So in a single moment, I learned three things. The first thing that I learned was that it was possible for two guys to sexually pleasure each other. The second thing that I learned was that most of my classmates found the very idea of doing so disgusting. And of course, the third thing that I learned was that unlike my classmates, the thought of having such an experience absolutely fascinated me.

At one point after this conversation, one of the boys from the rumor (the younger one) and I were in the same Boy Scout troop. I remember stealing quick looks at him and thinking about that conversation back in English class. Again, I found myself fascinated with the whole idea. I even considered ways I might get him alone to see if he'd be willing to fool around with me. I never did, though I'm not sure whether it was more due to the fear of rejection or due to the knowledge that doing so could prove to further set me apart from my peers and stigmatize me. And of course there were the religious issues.

So there you have it, during a single off-handed conversation in English class, I both got my first clue that I like guys and learned that many people felt this was something to be ashamed of.

Tonight, I rented and watched a copy of Rock Haven. This movie is the tale of young man, Brady, who moves to a new town (I get the impression it's actually a small island off the west coast based on clues from the movie). Brady is a quiet young boy raised in a conservative Christian environment, planning to head to Bible college at the end of summer. However, Brady's plans and life become quite upset when he meets his new neighbor, the nineteen year old Clifford who comes from a non-traditional background (his mother appears to be a part of the New Age movement). As the movie progresses, the two boys become friends and fall in love. Indeed, the entire plot revolves around Brady's struggle to come to terms with his feelings for Clifford in light of his faith.

Let me first say that as I've lived some aspects of Brady's life, I am struggling not to be too critical of the movie. The writer, director, and actor set a monumental task for themselves by taking on the challenge of trying to portray this subject matter in a seventy eight minute movie. There is simply no way for them to truly portray the struggles -- not to mention the intensity those struggles reach -- in such a short amount of time. If I were to measure their portrayals against my own experiences without considering this fact, I would have to call the movie a complete failure. However, given the time constraints, I admit that they did a fair job.

I think that one of the things the movie did quite well was to demonstrate how lonely this struggle can be. As Brady first reacts poorly to Clifford's advances, Brady realizes that the "problem" lies within himself and he feels drawn to Clifford despite what he believes about such attractions. And yet, he realizes that there is no one he can turn to. He suffers through this alone. Certainly, he goes to the pastor of his church a few times to discuss Clifford, but he takes care never to tell the pastor the whole truth. I recognized this self-editing and self-imposed isolation all too well and found myself thinking of my own past.

The movie also does well to demonstrate that this struggle ultimately affects everyone around Brady. Clifford finds himself facing a new challenge each time he comes into contact with his love. Brady's mother confesses that she can feel the walls building between herself and her son. Even Peggy, the girl that Brady's mother tries to fix him up with (with the help of Peggy's own mother, of course) is the occasional target of Brady's frustrations.

I did feel that the movie lost me after Brady and Clifford spent the night together. Perhaps it was because my own life took a different path (I actually clung to my first lover for dear life out of a sense of desperation), but Brady's choice to seek help afterwards just seemed ill conceived to me. It seemed too unreal to me for Brady to lay in bed with another man and talk about being safe, yet turn around and decide to abandon his love and try counseling after a single conversation with his mother. Perhaps if the movie had done more to re-instill the sense of guilt over a couple more scenes, it would've made more sense to me.

I will say that the conflict between Brady and his mother was well done, (though not as well as the conflict between young Aaron Davis and his mother in Latter Days. The scene where the two talk in Brady's bedroom after he announces he's not going away to get help was truly touching and showed the pain of two people who love each other facing off from immovable points of view. Of course, I particularly loved the extra touch where Brady announced to his mother that he forgave her.

The other part I loved about the exchange was when his mother told him that he was making the biggest mistake of his life by staying. Brady simply responds by noting that he has already made the biggest mistake of his life (presumably letting Clifford fly to Barcelona to live with his father). I think most of us who went through a period of denying our sexuality can identify with those sentiments. I know that as I watched this movie, I found myself thinking of my teen years and what I might have done with them had I come out to myself sooner.

Matt over at InterstateQ has an update on the recent doings of Michael Glatze, former editor of Young Gay America and now happy ex-gay. Apparently, he's been sending an email to various gay bloggers, the full test of which can be found courtesy of Good as You. (Other bloggers, like Brady, have received the same message as a comment on their blogs. Being the curious sort, I decided to read this mass mailing. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Part of me wants to laugh because of how ridiculous the whole thing is. However, the part of me who realizes that Mr. Glatze likely believes the things he's saying wants to cry. At any rate, I had to comment on a few comments in this "email."

Think about that; you could – really – be a man or a woman! Not a strange creature… but, real!

Apparently, Mr. Glatze has confused sexual orientation with Gender Identity Disorder. The fact that I am romantically and sexually attracted to other men does not negate the fact that I am a man myself one iota. If Mr. Glatze felt that his homosexuality made him "less of a man," then that is unfortunate and something he should have sought to rectify. But I find his desire to project his lacking sense of masculinity on me or the rest of the gay community at large.

Gay Identity has been packaged and fed to you...

Actually, gay identity is something that I came to understand myself. In reality, I grew up knowing nothing about gay identity. In fact, I didn't know there was such a thing as same sex sexual activity until seventh grade. (And believe me, it wasn't presented to me in a positive light by any stretch of the imagination.) No, the idea of sexual orientation as an integral part of identity was something I didn't learn about until well into adulthood, after many years of trying to change or ignore my feelings and desires.

...those angry voices in your mind, planted there by Satan, might scream and judge and ridicule...

This may be one of the most bizarre statements I have heard in a long time. To suggest that there are voices in another person's head -- angry or otherwise -- seems absolutely strange. I find myself wondering if Mr. Glatze makes this suggestion because he has angry voices inside his head. After all, it is common for us to assume that everyone thinks and feels exactly like us. If that is the case, then Mr. Glatze has my deepest sympathy. Because if he's been dealing with angry voices in his head, he has much bigger issues to face than the question of his sexual orientation. I merely hope he gets any hope he might need.

I know, in my heart, that all homosexuals desire to be free.

The thing that Mr. Glatze fails to understand is that many of us are free. The problem is, he chooses to see a non-heterosexual orientation as something that holds us in bondage. He is welcome to that opinion. But to assume that we share that basic viewpoint with him on any level and therefore desire the "freedom" he's offering is both foolish and rude.

This man's letter demonstrates everything that is wrong with the ex-gay movement.

Once again, I find myself looking at the calendar to find the words "April 1st" written in simple letters. And once again, I find myself thinking about the special significance those words have for me. For those who may be new to this blog or my life, those words mark the anniversary of the day I came out to myself and a very good friend. And while I stated last year that I'm not big on commemorating yearly anniversaries of "life-changing events," I've decided that I will make note of this particular anniversary again this year. Perhaps my opinion on such commemorations is changing, and this will become a normal practice for me. Or perhaps this is just one more of a tiny number of exceptions to that attitude. In the end, it doesn't matter. I simply feel called to write this post, and I will do so. I'll worry about the implications some other day.

Part of the reason I feel particularly called to do this again this year is that this has been a year of changes for me, sexuality-wise. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm still a raging homo with an attitude. I sincerely doubt that will ever change. But over the past year, I think I've gone through some growth periods that will ultimately allow me to express my sexuality more freely and comfortably. So this anniversary post is about reviewing a few of those changes.

I think the most notable change came around my thirty-second birthday this past June. I spent the weekend hanging out at the psychic fair that the POC did. I spent both days ogling the cute guys that walked through and talking about them with a friend the entire time. Now, this isn't entirely a new practice for me. However, it was the first time I've done so without trying to be a little discreet and worrying about whether the guys I'm checking out noticed. As this particular weekend went by, however, I became less and less concerned about anyone noticing. I got bolder, and probably more than a little out of control by the time the event was over. I remember one friend sat by me and commented that if I kept making some of the sounds (mostly a very interested "hmmm" sounds), people were going to realize what I was doing. In that moment, I realized that I really didn't care if they did. I figured if some guy realized I was checking him out, he should feel flattered. And if he was really flattered, he should come over and say hi!

That same weekend, my attitudes about myself and my body started to change. I began to realize that I really was a good looking guy. I also realized that I needed to come to believe in myself as a sexually attractive man, despite my own hang-ups about my body-image. Since June, that's been a highly common theme in my life, and I've found an increasing ability to look in the mirror and smile, knowing that there really is a good looking guy smiling back at me from that reflective surface.

Of course, my recent relationship, though terribly short-lived, also helped me in that realm. The young man I ended up getting involved with went through a great deal of effort to pursue me (though not as much effort as the next one may find necessary, as I've now found the bliss of being pursued) gave me the first inkling that yes, there really were guys out there who could also see my allure. And despite my sadness over how things went, that realization is something I continue to carry with me, and hopefully always will.

The other major change in my life has been Journey, of course. The past year has involved a germination process which ended in the site's release just this past month. However, the idea for the book can probably be traced back to this past summer as well.

One of my greatest goals since coming out has been to encourage and help other gay and bisexual people in their own self-discovery and coming out process. It's a goal that I first reached towards just a year or two after my own coming out when I wrote a moving essay encouraging others to accept themselves for who they are. To me, Journey is an extension of that same effort.

I originally started formally collecting notes for Journey and even writing a very rough draft back in October. I still have the journal I used, and have even referred to it to see if I missed anything when writing the pages for the site. Back then, I had planned on turning Journey into a book, which had no title. It wasn't until events in March convinced me that a website was the preferred medium for the project.

Writing Journey has been a journey in itself. Indeed, it's become part of the very journey I'm writing about, just a later part of the story. It's given me many chances to look back at many of the struggles I've faced and wounds I've needed to heal and gauge my progress. In many cases, it has been exhilarating and shown me in concrete ways just how much I've healed in grown. In some cases, it's served as a somewhat painful reminder of those areas where I still need to work. In the end, I find myself wondering who will benefit most from the project when all is said and done. Those I had in mind when starting it or myself?

As I sit here today, thinking about all of these things, I find myself filling with a peaceful contentment and glowing pride. While I never saw it during most of the past twelve months, I can consider these things and realize that I've done a lot of growing in the past year. But more importantly, I can see the next layer of foundation that I laid to continue that growth process over the coming year. So my contentment and pride are ultimately married with a sense of anticipation and excitement for the next stage of the journey. Is there a better position to be in than that?

Last night, I did something I haven't done in a long time. I wrote an erotic story. I think the last time I did that was back in 2005, maybe even 2004. I forgot just how much I enjoyed it. It's a way to really express myself. And since it's about the only sexual outlet I have right now (well, other than the obvious one), I think I'll be making use of it more often.

As a result, I found myself in a rather mellow mood. I came home practically floating. And that's even after writing another rather personal part of Journey!

The singleness thing is starting to get to me again, though. The problem is, it's difficult to go through all of this intense self-exploration and revealing such intimate parts of myself, only to know that I don't have someone to share them with in that special way. I'll manage, though. After all, I really do want someone special, and not just someone I can make use of. That's not my style, and I've felt guilty the few times I even came close to doing any such thing.

I'm also feeling pretty vulnerable right now, which is both good and bad. It's good, because I like that my feelings aren't locked away, wishing desperately to get out. But at the same time, it also means I'm vulnerable. And that's scary.

Today, while recuperating from whatever illness beset me late yesterday afternoon, I decided to watch But I'm a Cheerleader, which is possibly one of the cheesiest movies I have ever seen. This is a movie that tries to play off of every stereotype of gay men and lesbians they can think of. And amazingly, it works in this instance.

I think the reason it works for this movie is because it's a movie about a group of young people who have been shipped off to some insane camp to turn them all straight. The camp attempts to do this by teaching each teen to break away from the queer stereotypes and try to act more like tha "proper" boy or girl, based on gender stereotypes we've all heard.

I think part of what makes the whole thing funny, if a little scary, is that based on some of my own investigations of groups that try to turn gay people straight -- including one book I read while back in college, such programs really do put a significant amount of stock in such stereotypes. Suddenly, being a straight guy is as much about being able to talk cars and sports as it is about who you want to cuddle with. (And we won't even mention all the other things we want to do together!)

I think I find this mentality particularly strange because there are certain stereotypes I fit that have nothing to do with the fact that I'm gay. For example, I absolutely stink at sports. Whether it's volleyball, baseball, soccer, football, or any other sport you can name, I'm lousy at it. However, that's because of how my brain chose to adapt to the fact that I lived the first twenty eight or so years of my life with a lazy eye. Having your entire perception of the world shift to the left or right by a couple inches at a critical moment tends to make catching, hitting, or kicking a quickly moving object quite the challenge. Being gay has nothing to do with it. It's just one of those odd coincidences.

And that's the problem with such stereotypes around gender and sexuality. They completely miss the bigger picture.

Tonight, I wrote the next chapter in Journey, the one that talks about my first attempt at love, or something that I thought resembled love at the time. Surprisingly, it was a pretty easy piece to write. Of course, it helps that I've written about that relationship elsewhere before. (In fact, I may dig up those old diary entries and look into supplementing what I wrote tonigh with some of their content.)

Of course, this marks a point in my story that has me somewhat afraid. This is the point where I start talking about my experiences prior to 1996. It's time to delve back into some of those emotionally trying times, and the things my psyche did to survive my youth. And it's appropriate that I start writing about these things at this juncture. After all, it was towards the end of my relationship with "Chris" that some of those things started coming back to my conscious attention. Indeed, they contributed to the rapid decline of our relationship, as I was forced to deal with emotional wounds I had hidden for years.

I find myself in an interesting position. I want to go there, yet part of me dreads it. I'm not entirely sure why. I suppose it's in part because I'm afraid of what pain I might still find there. Will I be fortunate and only find the kind of "ghost emotions" I experienced when I wrote about the weekend I came out? Or will I find something more difficult to deal with?

Of course, there's also the fact that I'll be sharing some deeply personal things. And a much as I feel I need and want to do so, I have to admit the idea still scares me in some way. I won't let that stop me, as I feel it's right to press on. But perhaps a bit of tenderness towards myself as I work through this part of the story is in store, all the same.

The other evening, a friend and I got into a discussion about coming out. He remarked that he had met a number of older gay men who seemed to be of the opinion that coming out makes all of the struggles with one's gayness disappear, or at least become insignificant. He told me that this attitude bothered him, because he didn't feel that was the case at all. Listening to him, I found myself agreeing with his point of view wholeheartedly. Indeed, I found the claims made by these older gay men (and bear in mind that these "older men" actually fall in my age range) to be astonishing and completely unhelpful. I emphatically told my friend that I felt the attitude these men had expressed was complete garbage.

Now, don't get me wrong. I think there are a great number of benefits to coming out when a person is ready to do so. (I also think that coming out is a process that involves degrees and situations rather than an all or nothing thing, but that's probably best left for another post.) Coming out to myself, ending the denial, and allowing myself to be the person I knew was inside of me has been one of the greatest gifts I have ever given myself. And allowing myself to share that person with those people in my life that were important to me allowed me to save a lot of time and energy that I would have otherwise wasted by trying to hide who I am and worrying about what might happen if anyone ever found out my secret. And I suspect that my friend with whom I had this conversation would agree with everything I've just said.

But to say that all problems surrounding one's sexual orientation will fade away once one comes out just isn't realistic. In fact it's a lie, and one that could deeply hurt someone who doesn't feel this fictional release of all troubles upon coming out. And to me, spreading such a hurtful lie to another person is reprehensible.

Truth be told, as wonderful as the coming out process is, it's only the beginning of a larger process. And for many of us, that beginning is the equivalent of opening floodgates and letting out a whole world of hurt and confusion we need to deal with. I can look at my own coming out experience that took place almost eleven years ago and the rough road it started me down, and the very lie of these older men's claims makes me wince.

Coming out means coming to terms with who we are and allowing other people to see who we are. In many cases, the whole reason we need to come out is because we've been denying or repressing who we are -- often for years. That takes its toll on a person, and quite often, coming out also requires us to face the results of those years. It's one thing to accept who we are, but it's completely different thing to come to love who we are. Sometimes, it means rebuilding our self-perception from scratch. Sometimes, it means learning that we really are deserving of love. Sometimes, it means struggling to live in an adult world while having the emotional maturity of a young teenager. Sometimes, it means coming to terms with an unconscious mind that only found it possible to express your sexual feelings through violent dreams and fantasies. The list is potentially endless.

Perhaps some people really do have less emotional and identity issues to work through after coming out. Perhaps they never denied or repressed their feelings as totally as others of us. Or perhaps they really can heal instantly. But not all of us are like it. To us, facing and admitting our sexual orientation -- whether to ourselves or to others -- is merely the beginning of the next stage of a difficult journey, not the end of one.

I think one of the truly frustrating things I've had to face over the past several days is the realization that as far as my journey of sexual self-discovery has come, I still have further to go. Worse, I've discovered that some of the lessons in that respect were not as well learned as I would like to think. I find myself looking at a refresher course.

One of the more painful lessons was that I need a certain amount of security and safety built up to truly express myself sexually and feel comfortable with sharing that part of myself with another person. This isn't exactly news to me, as I've always known it on one level or another. But the past several days have reinforced that truth, and reminded me of some of the costs that can result from allowing myself to ignore it. And while I certainly wouldn't change any of the mistakes I've made recently, I can honestly look at them and acknowledge them as mistakes.

As I sit here and think about this, I find myself considering the various reasons why I took things too fast. After all, there are more than one, each influencing my decision-making process. Some are quite simple, such as the fact that at the time, things just seemed to be too right not to make the choices I did. Then there's the fact that the past nine months have involved a process in which I've been rediscovering just what it means to me to be a sexual person -- the person that I am. So when the opportunity to explore that more experientially, it only made sense to do so.

But it also reminded me that I need to be the person I am -- even the sexual person I am -- on my terms. I need to first create an environment and a relationship in which I'm comfortable exploring. I forsook building up to that place of comfort and raced ahead because it seemed like the right thing to do. And as a result, I've been reminded of why I shouldn't do that.

Hopefully, I remember and exercise better judgement the next time I find myself faced with such choices.

My friend, James, once commented to me that in our society, masculinity is a terribly fragile thing. To underscore his point, he offered an example: “If a guy likes flowers, it’s automatically assumed he’s gay.” I’m certainly inclined to agree with James on his observation, but I also have to admit that I find myself wondering what being gay has to do with one’s masculinity. After all, I’m gay, and I consider myself 100% male. My masculinity is not up to debate.

Because of this conversation, I started wondering why this idea that gays are inherently “not masculine” comes from. And while I considered all of the stereotypes which are the source of James’s lament, I decided that the matter had to go deeper than that. So I dug deeper, and realized that the real issue is deeply routed in how our society – and especially the men in it – have viewed sex in general over the past few decades.

Sex and sexual prowess has been the primary determination of a man’s masculinity for quite some time, now. Indeed, the only other factor of masculinity that even comes close to degree of importance is athleticism and physical strength. To comfirm this, one merely needs to go back to the high school locker room and pay attention to the two things that teenage boys brag to each other about: How great they did at the last game and what girl they “bagged” over the weekend.

When you look at it from the most common view in our society, sex is all about the man. The man is the active partner, doing his thing to the woman, who is often seen as just laying there and letting him go at it. If she gets any pleasure from the experience, that’s fine. But even her pleasure is often seen merely as a sign of the man’s prowess and ability in bed. After all, anyone who watched the episode of Seinfeld where Elaine tells Jerry that she always faked orgasm whenever the two of them had sex knows that Jerry was far more concerned about how this demonstrated a lack of his own skill in bed than any sincere concern for Elaine’s lack of pleasure. Based on my own observations and conversations with people, I think it is safe to say that this is a clear case of television portraying a strong cultural trend.

But obviously, this paradigm only works when the sexual activity in question involves both a man and a woman. When you introduce a sexual situation which only involves men, this paradigm less becomes comfortable. Suddenly, rather than the activity being all about the man and the woman being a more-or-less passive participant, you have two men. Under this paradigm – and it is only natural for us to try and squeeze any situation into our current paradigm because we are comfortable with it – you are left with the problem that suddenly, one of the men must become passive and let it be all about the other man. Suddenly, a man has to subject himself to the needs and whims of another. This is a scenario that most men in our society cannot comprehend, and it makes them uncomfortable.

This passivity is something which men in our society have been taught to avoid as a rule. Indeed, in this sense, the idea of passively submitting to another man’s sexual prowess also collides with the competitive, athletic, and physical strength components of our understanding of masculinity.

Interestingly, some society’s – and even some segments of our own society – have dealt with this dissonance to some degree by only ostracizing gay men who take on the “passive” role in male-to-male sex. In our society, you can see this by the fact that many men seem to be disgusted by the idea of “taking it up the ass,” but remain relatively quiet about having anal sex with a receptive partner – male or female.

The solution to this, of course, is to develop a new paradigm of human sexuality that does not rely so heavily on a strict dichotomy between passive partners and active partners, as well as coming to appreciate the importance of a receptive – be it actively receptive or passively receptive – role in sex. Not only will this help undo the divide between masculinity and homosexuality, but it will force us to further explore a broader and deeper understanding of masculinity.