The Ukrainian parliament could give final approval next week to a bill that aims to outlaw “pro-homosexual propaganda” - any “positive depiction” of gay people, gay pride marches, or even the screening of a film like Brokeback Mountain. - BBC News
So there’s this programme on British TV called Grand Designs, in which they follow people who are building their own dream home. Tonight’s episode featured a lesbian couple. And there was no fanfare, no anything, they just said Diana and Christine are building this home. Like it was nothing out of the ordinary. And I just thought yeh that’s SO how it ought to be. Complete acceptance. The editorial treatment was no different to when they feature an MF married couple. GMH. If they can be on mainstream telly without anyone batting an eyelid, then guys we’ve cracked it. The world is seemingly comfortable with non hetero couples. We are getting there. Isn’t that just so cool?
Met a lovely guy last night and I was trying to work out whether he was gay or not. He was talking.
THIS IS WHAT HE SAID:
“We’re going for a bike ride around Cape Horn.”
THIS IS WHAT MY BRAIN THOUGHT HE SAID:
“We’re going for a Bi Pride around gay porn.”
Damn I need a lobotomy!
So I was out tonight at a pub with live music. And the place was just full of beautiful people. Attractive guys here, attractive girls there.
And sometimes I think it would be so much easier if I was on one or the other side of the fence. Like if I was only attracted to men or women, not both.
But I’m not. I’m not just attracted to one gender. Which I am usually cool with, but sometimes it’s just a total headfuck.
Me: Large whisky please.
Me: I’m sorry?!?! Oh the whisky! Yes please.
Me, barman and bloke standing next to me: LAUGH!!
Men! Not interested in seeing your bits - seen it all before. But the face is so important in determining attraction. Wish all the idiots on these cruising apps would get their heads around that!
I have this app on my phone called Grindr. It’s a gay dating/ hookup site. Now I’m not into no strings sex with strangers, I use it to meet friends and dates. But the saddest thing is that about half of the guys on there refuse to post a face pic. Torso or no pic, most of them.
Which implies that they are afraid to reveal their sexuality.
I feel for these guys. They are terrified that their lives will be made hell if they come out. Like their natural sexual preferences are something to be ashamed of.
I’m out, and the response for me has been overwhelmingly positive.
I really hope that these people who are hiding can have the strength and courage to stop hiding.
And damnit they might be really fit and I might want to meet them!!
So I play guitar and sing at open mic nights. But I have this new toy, called a cajon (pronounced cahhon) which is basically a wooden box that you sit on and bang the front to make a drumming sound.
It is awesome on its own. But the best thing is the innuendo potential. The compere introduced me as having “this big thing between his legs” (nice one, I’d not thought of that one!). And friends who were playing their sets and wanted me to play along with them said: “Al, I want you to bang away for me.”
When a friend plays it for me during my set, I gleefully announce that “It’s a pleasure for xxx to be sitting on my instrument,” usually followed by “And I love it when they start banging away on it!”
But you know what is the coolest thing? Most people at these open mic nights know about my sexual orientation. And they play up to it with typical British innuendo in a playful, non offensive, accepting kind of way. They are cool with what I am, and they know that I can take a joke because they are clear to me that they are accepting of what I am. The same jokes spoken in a homophobic manner would hurt, but I know these people well enough to know that their humour is accepting, loving and playfully endearing.
I love the crowd of friends at open mic. They accept me for who I am. They know that I can tell the difference between a comment intended to hurt and a joke intended to accept and welcome.
The lovely thing is that they all accept and do not discriminate against me because of my sexual orientation. I know that their humour is entirely meant with love.
And yes, I love sitting on a big instrument and banging away on it ;D
Don’t know why I love this photo so much.
I do. It’s a vision of pure contentment.
Thislemonjust looks amazing. They don’t exist, do they?
OK, so I get the impression she kind of knows that I am not just attracted to women. Last time we went shopping, there was me cooing over all the shabby chic furniture, and walking out with foofy scatter cushions and some very feminine vases.
She’s seen the way I dress, and she’s seen all my metrosexual male grooming products. Along with umpteen other clues.
And the last time I went to see her, she commented on my hair. “It reminds me of that pop star,” she said. “You know, the gay one?” and she laughed. Which might have been her way of saying ‘Al, it’s OK. After all these years, it’s OK and I want you to be happy being you’.
But still it’s going to be so hard to actually tell her what I’ve been hiding for so long. Even though she is unlikely to have forgotten. Roll back nearly 20 years and I still remember the fireworks when she read my diary. (I love my mum but I still can’t forgive her for that.)
My diary (hey I was young, teenagers keep diaries!) not only contained details of the drugs I had taken, but also my sexual experiences. With men as well as women.
Fair play for getting mad about the drugs. I agree with you now about the drugs. But the anger about sleeping with men, the vitriol. That will never leave me. Ever. And it shaped so much of my life: it made me move to live somewhere far away, and it also made me fear coming out to anyone. FOR ALMOST 20 YEARS.
Since then, she has only ever known me to have girlfriends. She doesn’t know about the part of me - the natural need and desire in me - that loves men, which has never left me.
But the time has come when I can no longer pretend. I can no longer try to erase or hide a part of me to please another. Even my mum.
I have to be brave and tell her that it has never gone away. It is me, and it always will be.
It will be the hardest thing I will ever have to do.