Author Archives: Tin Man

I Joined Twitter

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Despite what I said, I opened a Twitter account last week. It was an impulsive decision — I thought it could help me be more social by giving me a quick way to tell people that I was up for going out and doing something on the weekend. Or I could use it in some sort of quasi-Dodgeball way to find nearby friends if I’m out and about.

I still haven’t written a Twitter post, but the account is there.

The problem is, I like to have all my web thoughts in one place. There must be apps that let you cross-post to WordPress, Facebook and Twitter. Or maybe I could set up a sidebar on the blog that will display Facebook/Twitter posts? Anyone know if that’s possible?

West Wing Meets Real Life

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“What is this, a ‘West Wing’ episode?”

— David Axelrod to Rahm Emanuel, in this article about Obama and car industry:

A half-hour into the meeting, an aide entered the Oval Office and slipped Mr. Obama a note informing him another meeting was to begin. The president told advisers he needed more time to decide Chrysler’s fate. He then headed off for a day consumed by a new strategy for Afghanistan, a threatened rocket launch by North Korea and the evacuation of a flooded Fargo, N.D. (“What is this, a ‘West Wing’ episode?” Mr. Axelrod recalled asking Mr. Emanuel.)

Looking

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On the subway this morning a big freckled bicep stared at me. It was attached to a polo shirt tucked into a pair of black pinstriped dress pants. The owner’s hand was holding onto a metal bar, and as the car lurched and he tried to hold on, his arm flexed and the bicep turned into a tricep. I was trying to read a magazine article about Zen and psychoanalysis, but the arm was inches from my face and just an eye-dart away from the words I was trying to focus on. I didn’t even have to move my head to look. I couldn’t focus on the words.

Manhattan was filled with legs this weekend. Legs in shorts. Calf muscles narrowing into ankles and disappearing into sockless sneakers. The weather was beautiful. I spent chunks of Saturday and Sunday in Riverside Park, sitting on a bench, doing the crossword, reading a magazine, constantly distracted by attractive people — or at least by the hope of seeing them.

The eye is the most sexually stimulated organ. I see a hot guy and I

can’t…

stop…

staring.

I stare like I’m about to go into solitary confinement, like it’s the last hot guy I will ever see. I look away but then I have to look back.

You know the experiment where the rat keeps depressing a lever because it provides pleasure? It’s like that. My eyes just keep looking, as if looking were a series of discrete acts, little pulses of looking instead of a wave of vision. With each stare, my pupils dilate and I commit a crime.

Several years ago I was having a conversation with a friend in a restaurant and I couldn’t keep my eyes focused on him because hot people kept walking past and I kept staring at them. He finally called me on it. I was embarrassed but also kind of proud and tingly.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m like this because I spent so many years trying not to look, trying to will away my libido. Other times I wonder if I just have a high sex drive.

That doesn’t mean I want to have sex with every gay man I know. Just because I want to be friends with a guy doesn’t mean I want to have sex with him — even if I find him attractive. There’s a lot to be said for platonic friendships between gay men, and I’ve been trying to cultivate those lately.

I don’t have enough friends — people to do fun stuff with. I’ve taken the Myers-Briggs personality test a couple of times, and both times, I came out almost balanced between introverted and extroverted, albeit slightly more introverted than extroverted. Sometimes I see myself as a shy extrovert; I wish I had more people in my life, but I get hindered by fear.

As a gay man in a relationship, I sometimes find it difficult to cultivate friendships with other gay men. Sometimes I worry: does this person think I want to have sex with him? And sometimes I worry: do I want to have sex with him? Where’s the line between friendship and flirting, and between flirting and more? Flirting is fun, but straight guys don’t have to worry about flirting with their buddies.

How do I not act too aloof but also not act too come-hither? How do I telegraph the complexity of what I’m feeling when I can’t even grasp it myself?

This is why I shut down and don’t have enough of a social life.

Well, that, and I’m not good at making plans.

Ahhh, spring.