The Vagina Monoblogues

First of all, thanks to everyone who pointed out my ignorance of the female anatomy. It turns out that piss does not come out of a woman’s vagina, because the urethra is separate from all that other plumbing. Or something. Anyway, Keithers sent me this lovely illustration, which would be enough to make me gay if I weren’t already. Or maybe I’m just saying that because I’m gay.

But enough about vaginas. Please?

Thanks.

Dean took my thoughts on gayspeak and ran with them to places I wish I’d discovered first. As usual, he’s thought about the things I wish I’d thought about and written about them with elegance and intellectual incisiveness. That’s why they pay grad students the big bucks. (Okay, okay, stop laughing! It’s just a saying.)

These two accounts of a chance meeting four years ago absolutely gave me tingles and a whole lot of hope. It makes me think of something that someone’s mother (not mine) once said, and it’s among the best advice ever given: “Go! You might meet someone!”

Finally, Mike has written a quite beautiful and heartfelt entry about Buffalo; I think it’s one of his best blog entries ever.

Never a dull moment here at The Tin Man. Last night I received the following e-mail in response to my latest post. Here it is in full. I won’t use his real name since I didn’t ask. The first paragraph is what he quoted from my post.

********
Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2001 23:58:35 -0400
From: __________ <____ @paxemail.com>
To: fois25@yahoo.com
Subject: Your latest post.

“Sitting next to our table was this Adonis eating lunch by himself. Oh my God. He was blond with incredibly clear skin, and he was massive; his smooth muscled arms were rippling beneath his tight white t-shirt, which was tucked into a pair of tight blue jeans. I couldn’t take my eyes off him during the meal. He was so hot that I was actually still thinking about him during the concert.”

How disgusting! We’re talking a GUY talking about a GUY! I can cope with gay men until I start thinking about what they do….putting one guys dick up inside the anus of another man. How gross! (Not to mention un-natural.) No wonder AIDS gets passed around with guy’s cocks constantly ripping anal fissures inside the anus of other men. Easy mix for blood, sperm, and an entry into your bloodstream! This was a disgusting post as it got me thinking about just what it is faggot’s actually do with each other. Do you talk like a fag? I have always been curious why – if it is truly biological – why gay men have to throw in that feminine flaming voice. Back when gays were “in the closet” they didn’t have that! But now, since you guys feel so “accepted” you flame with that sick, girly, sing-songy voice that makes those who hear it want to turn and vomit. REAL men don’t suck dick. REAL men want hot young blonde FEMALES. AND, they want to place their penis within the walls of a nice, wet pussy – not force it in the exitway for SHIT! God, that’s gross.

********

Here’s what I wrote back this morning. (As usual, I had verbal and mental diarrhea.)

********
________,

Thanks for writing.

From the tone of your message, I’m not sure if you wanted a response or if you just wanted to express how you feel. At any rate, I figured I’d respond. I see that you have a PAX e-mail address, so I’ll assume that you have strong beliefs. I will tell you what my own beliefs are. I did not ask you to write me, but I read your message, and I ask for the same in return. If you are right, you are right, but I ask that you keep an open mind, even if only for a few minutes.

First off, you have every right to find gay sex disgusting. Nobody is telling you to have sex with a man. You are a straight man and you like women. I am a gay man and I like men. Live and let live. This is America. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

You asked me, “Do you talk like a fag?”

Are you asking, do I talk with an effeminate voice, with a lisp, that sort of thing? The answer is no, I don’t. Actually, I would venture to guess that a majority of gay men don’t talk that way either. A majority of gay men are indistinguishable from most straight men in the way they talk. And to be honest, personally I tend not to be attracted to effeminate men. Some gay guys like effeminate men, some don’t; it’s really a personal thing.

“I have always been curious why – if it is truly biological – why gay men have to throw in that feminine flaming voice. Back when gays were ‘in the closet’ they didn’t have that.”

I’ve actually wondered about that very same question. I tend to think homosexual attraction is mostly biological — there have been genetic studies that provide some evidence for this (the book “The Science of Desire” has an overview of the genetic research). Others say it’s psychological or environmental, and others think it’s a combination of factors.

You ask, if it’s biological, why do so many gay men have effeminate voices? I have no idea, to be honest. But how come so many gay men do *not* have effeminate voices?

Not even all straight men speak the same way. Some speak in a really butch voice, while others speak in a more neutral voice. Which of them is more of a man? I even know a few straight guys who have effeminate voices. I think the way people talk is explained by environmental factors, but I think sexual attraction is explained by biology. You’re free to refute this of course.

You say that back when gay men were in the closet, they didn’t speak in effeminate voices. Actually — if you read some Edmund White — especially “A Boy’s Own Story” or “The Beautiful Room is Empty” — he writes about gay men in the 1950’s and 1960’s, and even back then, there were gay men who were effeminate. There are lots of men who talk that way and just can’t help it. It’s not that gay men start speaking in effeminate voices after they come out of the closet — some gay men just speak that way from the time they’re kids and still hide the fact that they’re attracted to men. They just can’t help but speak that way. I don’t really know why. But again, I think the way people speak is tied to psychology and environmental factors.

“No wonder AIDS gets passed around with guy’s cocks constantly ripping anal fissures inside the anus of other men. Easy mix for blood, sperm, and an entry into your bloodstream!”

You are right on that point. HIV (the virus that causes AIDS) is spread much more easily through anal sex than through vaginal sex. That’s why it’s so important to use condoms during anal sex, whether a guy is sticking his cock up a man’s ass or a woman’s ass. Unfortunately there are still people who don’t. But I think anyone who has anal sex had better use a condom if he or she wants to remain healthy.

“REAL men don’t suck dick. REAL men want hot young blonde FEMALES.”

Actually I have to say that you’re wrong on that point. What makes a man? A man has an XY chromosome and a penis and testosterone. That’s about the only thing that defines a man. Within the category of men, there is wide variety. After all, there are more than 3 billion men on the planet.

And there are actually plenty of big, buff, strong, tough guys with beards and muscles and hairy bodies who talk like truck drivers and love to watch ESPN but who also like to take it up the ass or fuck guys up the ass. You may not believe it but it’s true. Are they real men? I don’t think it makes sense to define a real man by who he has sex with.

“AND, they want to place their penis within the walls of a nice, wet pussy – not force it in the exitway for SHIT!”

And the pussy is the exitway for piss, so I don’t see your point.

Look, I don’t expect to change your beliefs, but I know there are people out there who have concerns about gay people and their desires. I honestly think the best way to answer those concerns is for people to discuss these things. Gay people and straight people should both take the time to listen to those who feel differently from them. People of all types should truly listen to each other. Everyone is entitled to their beliefs, of course, and I think the best way to test one’s beliefs is to discuss them with people who disagree.

The fact is, I’m attracted to men, sexually and emotionally. I’m visually attracted to the curves of a fit man’s body, to his muscles, to the smell of a well-groomed guy, to a man’s good looks. And it’s more than that. I am sure that when you are in love with a woman, it’s about more than just sex. It’s the same with gay people. It’s about who I want to settle down with and care for someday. It’s about what a guy is like on the inside as well as on the outside.

I don’t know why I’m gay, and it doesn’t really matter why. It’s not a good thing or a bad thing. It’s just who I am. Heck — half the human population is attracted to men, so it’s not exactly unusual. And more than 90 percent of the world is straight, and it will always be that way, so why not just be satisfied with that, and live and let live?

Thanks again.

********

A little while ago, he wrote back:

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Jeff,

Okay, I am still put off by gay sex. However, I must say I am surprised at your measured and well tought out response. I will ponder. By the way, you mentioned the Pax e-mail address. I was confused what you meant by what you said about since I had a Pax address I must have strang feelings. I found them through a “free web-based e-mail” page full of links and love the simple interface. I haven’t the foggiest what Pax is. So, I went to their home page and checked it out. Now, I see why you might have thought that it had something to do with my note. In fact, It didn’t. In fact, I am not a Christian, I do not believe in “God” and my motto is: “Faith in Humanity – Not in Gods and Dollars”…..
I read my e-mail again and I realize I was totally out-of-line. I really was.
I am not sure what the attraction is – it seems different for sure, but who the hell am I?
Sorry if I hurt you in any way. I feel ashamed at this point and don’t know what else to say.
Have a good week, Jeff.
______

********

Makes me feel better about having written this.

I’m feeling really good about humanity today.

The Party

I got home from RJ’s big bash after 4 in the morning, went to bed around 4:30, and then, for some stupid reason, I woke up at 7:45 and couldn’t fall back asleep. Great. On a weekday, when I really need to get up, I can’t, but on the weekend, my body’s just rarin’ to hop out of bed with the early morning birds. I think my body and I need to have ourselves a little talk.

So I’ve spent the entire day exhausted. This afternoon I met up with UrbanPlanner to see the Beaux Arts Trio, which was fabulous, despite the fact that I nearly fell asleep several times. I have a thing for chamber music. A chamber piece is like a conversation among friends: there’s one instrument per part, and you can listen to the interplay among them. A piano trio, you may or may not know, consists of a piano, a violin and a cello. The Beaux Arts Trio has been around forever, and the pianist, Menahem Pressler, is this cute rotund dwarf with a very expressive face; he’s so much fun to watch. The concert was terrific, made up of works by Haydn, Beethoven and Schubert.

We had lunch beforehand at Junior’s in Grand Central Station. Sitting next to our table was this Adonis eating lunch by himself. Oh my God. He was blond with incredibly clear skin, and he was massive; his smooth muscled arms were rippling beneath his tight white t-shirt, which was tucked into a pair of tight blue jeans. I couldn’t take my eyes off him during the meal. He was so hot that I was actually still thinking about him during the concert.

But anyway, you don’t care about this, right? You want to know about the party.

RJ and his roommate were super hosts. There was plenty of alcohol, a huge spread of food, a great apartment full of interesting people. These two know how to throw a party, and it was great of them to open their home to all of us horny homos.

It was a blast to meet some more fellow bloggers. First, there was the dashing and droll Troy. Then there was the joyfully charismatic and charming Sparky, with whom I talked for quite a while. (You can read Sparky’s account of the party; he’s totally pegged the embarrassment of explaining to someone that you’ve met the person standing next to you because you both have blogs.) And finally, of course, there was our host, whom I’d already met a few weeks ago — RJ, the man with the deep blue eyes and the heart of gold.

As for me, I was bubbling over with neuroses at this party. I’d been looking forward to it all week, but by the time Saturday evening arrived, my excitement had turned to nervousness. Could this party possibly meet the expectations I’d created in my mind? Would I meet someone for a hot one-night stand? Would I meet the love of my life? I’d pegged all my hopes on this party; I’d made it out to be the only social event of the entire spring season, the only opportunity to meet people between now and the time the leaves start to turn orange again. You can’t function well under that kind of pressure. Something has to give.

I wore the wrong shirt. I should have worn my black t-shirt. Instead I wore a dark blue short-sleeve cotton button-down shirt over a white tee. I was surrounded by all these gay men wearing tight t-shirts with short clingy sleeves to show off their upper arms, and I felt slightly out of place and unattractive. I saw potential targets, but nothing happened. I even would have slept with the guy with the black t-shirt and the big arms whom Sparky knew, the self-described “power bottom,” even though the guy was sort of weird. Jeez — you know, when it comes down to it, I really am a horny bastard. But I think I have to work on my vibes. Either I didn’t give off “have sex with me” vibes, or people just didn’t find me attractive enough, or maybe they weren’t horny. I was wearing the wrong shirt, or I should have worn my contacts instead of my glasses, or I shouldn’t have had a goatee. Although to be honest, most people left without a warm body for the evening. And you know what? That’s really all I wanted. Sex would have been great, but not necessary; most of all, I just wanted to cuddle up with someone warm.

My insecurity built over the course of the night. I was one of the last people to leave. I was feeling rather down on myself for various reasons, and I was feeling some things that were confusing, things I don’t think I want to go into here. I walked out onto the street and wandered around the East Village for a few minutes, trying to be all poetic, filled with hopeful visions of walking around brooding until the sun rose over the Brooklyn Bridge, just like a movie. But I was too tired to act out a drama on the streets of Manhattan, so I turned myself back around and walked the several blocks to the PATH station. Shortly thereafter, I got home and went to bed, and shortly thereafter, I woke up, exhausted.

That pretty much brings us full circle, doesn’t it?