Like any good blogger, I’m going to cheat you out of a post today with two magical blogger tricks. First, I’m going to schedule something to publish a day after I write it, AND I’m going to recycle something written a long time ago! Hahahaha!
I am taking the bar exam in t-minus 10 and a half hours, and will be in the throes of it when this is scheduled to appear online, so, you’ll have to excuse me, but I’m busy.
Judging by reader comments, what to me was an oblique reference to youthful ignorance struck a nerve, and so I thought I would reprint something from blog-land two years ago:
it has come to my attention that there are gay men out there who don’t feel as though they have much in common with the larger gay community. they turn on the television, see a leather daddy with a pink fanny pack and a pair of assless chaps, and think, “that’s not me!”
so to all the high school wrestlers, football players, fraternity members, swimmers, and altar boys, i say woe to you and your feelings of underrepresentation. because when i turn on that television, and i see that leather daddy with that pink fanny pack and that pair of assless chaps and leather boots and nipple piercing and back tattoo that says “SEX PIG,” i think to myself, “damn, i hope i’ll look half that good when i’m in assless chaps!”
thus i say to you, you men out there still buying into this whole dichotomy between masculinity and feminity, when you turn on that television, and you see that man, you know, that leather daddy with the assless chaps and pink fanny pack and leather boots and nipple piercing and back tattoo that says “SEX PIG” and shaved buttcrack and cockring and pink feather boa and neon-green silk g-string, i hope you’ll see someone you want to be: someone who doesn’t care what the rest of the world thinks, someone immune to society’s prejudices, someone unafraid to cross boundaries. at least, in regard to fisting. they’re probably pretty closed-minded to everything else. i hear they hate black people.
Last part purely silly of course, Atlanta is more of a race blender than anywhere else I’ve ever been.
Anyfuck, you can imagine my shock when I saw in an internet forum my brainchild being used as an example of gay people successfully emulating straight people:
For those embarrassed for themselves or others by the Gay Pride Parades/Activities, direct your friends/relatives/acquaintances to this site on gay rock climbers.
Let them see that, yes, gays can look just like them too, even though it’s not necessary that we all look/act the same. No boas, feathers, underwear showing or prancing angelically.
It might help them to realize that we all come in different packages
I agree with the final sentiment about different packages, fine, but the only thing stopping me from raining down fiery, bloggy judgement on the condescension adhering in the phrase “prancing angelically” and the bit about embarrassment is that, of course, I used to feel that way myself.
Those were younger days I choose to forget about. THOSE WERE THE DAYS I SPRAYED BETA ABOUT CLIMBS THAT I COULDN’T EVEN DO.
Beta, unless asked for, is verbal rape. AND I WAS A SERIAL RAPIST. I also thought of myself as a top, but I think that was genuine. I think it’s like the earth’s polarity and every zillion years or so it just reverses.
Anyway, I’m all better now, climbing in drag and keeping my beta to myself.