living.in.technicolor

Lately I’ve been seeing a lot of white-Asian gay couples/dates like in SGV and Little Tokyo. I wonder if it’s racist to assume that either has a fever for the other. After all, they might actually like each other beyond their skin color and not based on presumptions from porn. That is, unless my initial assumptions are right.

I personally find it really attractive when a gay guy plays with kids. If I had a baby maker, it would definitely stir up the estrogen. As long as he’s not a pedophile.

I admit that I’ve noticed you around at the Sunset Rec pool before so when you asked me with a smile if I wanted to go ahead of you (even though you clearly belong in the faster lane), I was quite dumbstruck. My nervous smile and blurted answer, “No thanks, I’m just resting,” could barely contain my (sexual) attraction. I hope you noticed that I was swimming at top speed when I did go ahead of you later on. May we keep running into each other during our summer swims and continue to strike up conversation.

Best regards,
Ryan

PS: Take care of that sunburn on your back.

Someone I had met at a party asked me if I had a boyfriend a few days after meeting him. Apparently, others had asked him if he knew and having just met me, he didn’t know. I told him I did and asked why no one bothered to ask me. He said that gaysians won’t flat out ask. I was flattered but it made me wonder if I was acting like I didn’t have a boyfriend and if that was the reason why that had happened. In retrospect, I don’t think I was acting flirty at all; I just wanted to be amiable and make/strengthen friendships old and new.

I don’t make it a point to say I’m taken unless I’m asked. I think it’s a weird thing to put upfront unless things are going in a flirtatious direction. Not acknowledging that feels like a recipe for drama. Still, I’ve noticed that the moment I say that I have a boyfriend or that he’s with me, things go south. I get the impression that I’m less interesting because I’m taken. Maybe it’s in my head but it’s hard to not read cues like that. Soon, things go into how long we’ve been together, how we met, and the energy kinda just stops.

I admit that I use my boyfriend as a crutch during social settings more than I should and those suspicions about the stigma haven’t helped with making new friends. Being introverted and shy, I gravitate to the person I’m most comfortable around and it’s hard for me to break out of that bubble when we’re talking. People aren’t willing to turn a conversation into a threesome, especially when two people are acting like they’re the same person. In turn, it makes it hard to branch out and make new connections.

I should probably try being my own person during situations like that. I shouldn’t hide behind my boyfriend. I can talk to other guys and maintain a respectful distance. I don’t have to have nights out on my own all the time. I just need be more honest with myself and with others.

It’s funny to think that I’ve spent more time with my family than any other group of people in the world. I grew up around them. They understand my strange traits and habits. They’re used to me. And yet, my sexuality has been a big gray area for them, an elephant in the room that’s becoming harder for me to address as time goes by. I’m not out with them and I don’t know when the right time for that will be.

My family found out I might be gay in a rather traumatic way. When I was in middle school, I used to have a stash of gay porn pictures I printed from the Internet. Up til then, I had been looking at stuff online and being secretive about it. I kept them in a folder and one evening, it happened to be on the carpet for some stupid reason.

My parents found it and immediately started questioning me about it. They asked me what that was, why it was filled with pictures of burly men giving each other blowjobs and other things. I lied that I was “curious,” that I was interested in how men looked and not in a sexual way. They didn’t seem to believe me. My mom was the one doing most of the yelling. She yelled that my sisters could have found it, that they didn’t understand. My dad, on the other hand, was largely quiet and later left the room.

Ever since then, my parents have been largely quiet about what team I play for. My mom asks now and then whether I’m gay or not. I don’t answer her directly and often change the subject. My dad never asks or acknowledges it, at least not to my face. In a way, I think finding out those pictures broke his pride and I feel a lot of guilt about that. This year, I tried to get their approval to let me move in with my boyfriend, when he moved down here. I think their anger and disapproval was less about me wasting money and more about having to acknowledge what I am.

I’m only out to one of my sisters, who’s probably found my Internet history telling. When I told her about my boyfriend, she didn’t seem pleased. The first thing she asked me was, “Can you not be gay?” as if I had chosen to be this way and that it would be simple for me to not be. Since she said that, I haven’t been close to her and I haven’t talked to her about my relationship. My other sister is a lot younger and I suspect she already knows but she hasn’t confronted me about it.

Since then, my mom has told me, in light of my frustration over my applications, that she loved me and that she would no matter what I did or what I was. I didn’t know whether that meant that she had come to accept the idea of me being gay. My parents have met my boyfriend and have even let him stay over. Still, I feel really unsure of how to do it or when.

Part of me wants to move out so I can continue pursuing the other half of my “double life.” Part of me wonders if being gay is actually choice. Part of me feels really disconnected from my other gay friends and the community because I am not out with friends or family and that I’m more cowardly for it. But the silence is deafening and it’s hard to hear what I really want in the midst of it.

Sometimes, I think about Alice, the only girl I seriously considered dating. We went to the same school in 6th grade, then through high school and college. When we first met, she said that I used to take her pencils and not give them back. Later during the semester, I found out that she liked me. In a way, I liked her back, unsure of how the heterosexual narrative of romance would play out. We probably would have gone out if my parents didn’t send me to a different middle school.

When we met again in high school, she had grown up into a pretty girl with an eager smile and we became good friends again, in spite of the awkward break from before. I think it was assumed that I would eventually ask her out again. She sometimes made me elaborate cards, folded notes and CDs for me, which I was often unsure how to respond to. I don’t know what people whispered about us but I imagine they were guessing about what our status was.

It put me in an awkward position though. At the time, I was starting to come into my own about my sexuality. I was undergoing my phase with a succession of crushes with guys named Aaron, which became increasingly obsessive over the years (a topic for another time). I became emo and temperamental. I don’t think she understood my frustration and would comfort me nevertheless. Still, I didn’t know what to say to her about it and kept my sexuality a secret from her.

When we started college, we saw less of each other. We met up occasionally to go to campus movies like Spirited Away (her first Miyazaki movie) and Pride and Prejudice. I remember one occasion where she showed me her dorm room, and I think she expected me to make a move (like a held hand or something) but I did not do anything. Eventually, she got another boyfriend through her Christian groups and moved to New York for nursing school. We haven’t talked since.

Sometimes, I think about Alice and how she’s doing, but I’m not sure what to do. I wish that I was able to return her affections. I wanted to like her back for her kindness but I did not desire her. In retrospect, the right thing to have done would be being honest with her about myself. Even in college, I should have apologized for leading her on for so long. Perhaps one day, when I’m older and more comfortable in my skin as a gay man, I will do it. I’m glad to see that she is happy and accomplished, with her boyfriend and her career. I just hope I can be just as happy.

I think the main reason why I’m gay is that I don’t understand guys.

I grew up really shy with few friends so an understanding what goes on in the heterosexual male mind never clicked for me. On the surface, boys seemed preoccupied with the female body, video games, and sports; things that I’ve never connected with. My relationship with my dad was (and remains) awkwardly strained so I’ve never figured out his way of thinking.

Gender stereotypes aside, I also didn’t have much of a male role model for most of my life. Instead, I idealized masculinity based on my impressions of it. I wanted qualities like strength and confidence because at a young age, I was aware that I was skinny and short. I thought that if I could attract a desirable guy who exuded those qualities, it would mean that I had those qualities as well. I wanted men so I could be a man.

Masculinity still confuses me though. I realize that it doesn’t matter if a guy is gay or straight; the gender and its associated qualities remains an enigma to me. Both sexualities have a certain guardedness that’s hard for me to break through. Add the fact that I’m not an naturally friendly person and it makes for awkward social moments. I may not be a skinny boy anymore but I still have a ways to go.

Photo credit here