What is Wrong with the Gays of Today?
Kumusta Tita Slut,
I'm tired of being gay. I’m so exhausted of the standards that we as gay men have placed on ourselves. I'm tired of having to look a certain way. I’m so over the "conformity" of being gay.
I had a thought earlier today that I may be asexual. I don't particularly get horny enough. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy sex. I’m as gay as they come — pun intended — but I sex isn’t that important to me. I think I’m just tired of the bullshit that we have to go through to get laid. If I hit up a fuck buddy and asked if he wanted to fool around a bit, I wouldn’t expect him to ghost me after he says he’s also horny. I mean that’s not asking for much, right? I call out men whenever they play their little games - I wasn't going to play it. I'm over the "what are you into" and the “masc” and “pnp?” Like use something a bit more original.
I'm tired of being ghosted. I'm tired of flakes. I know part of it is that I am middle-aged - I'm not as attractive as I once was. I'm also overweight which people don't appreciate. I don't feel any different, I just don't really feel any need to have sex or to pursue a relationship. I don't know if this makes sense.
Sorry. I feel like I’m talking out of my ass here and there’s not really a question. But if this does make it to your eyes, any insight would help.
Warmest,
Geriatric Queer
Hey GQ,
Mmm, a letter filled with gay rage and just a touch of flawed insight. You’re so thoughtful to share your homosexual exasperation with me. I appreciate it!
There’s a lot to unpack here, and thankfully I have enough travel experience when it comes to unpacking and emptying out my shit on the floor of the hotel room. First, it doesn’t really sound like you’re asexual. Maybe you meant to type that as “a sexual” because you seem to enjoy fucking considering that you get horny and you got a fuck buddy. Although from the sounds of it you might need to find a new one if he’s ghosting you. That’s just rude. Leaving a man with blue balls is definitely some form of gaslighting. I’m not sure where that’s written, but it’s definitely grounds for at least scratching his car.
Second, I would have to agree with you on the whole gay culture thing. You gays make me so tired with your twink and otter and chaser labels. I should call PETA on y’all for giving associating sweet innocent otters with us. There’s no way in hell that a gay man can be as loving as two otters who hold hands while they sleep to keep from drifting apart. No wonder the synonym for tired is “fagged” because that’s what I am. Fagged by fags.
Listen, GQ, you don’t have to conform to any sort of label to be gay. There’s no one way to be gay. Didn’t we spend all these decades fighting for gay rights so that we can break away from the mold and fight the status quo of cis-hetero-normative society? I’m fighting because I wanna be able to turn down blood banks because I want to, not because I’m gay. Fuck your transfusion, Brenda from HR who wouldn’t approve my time off.
You may think that you’re not asking a question here, but from what I’m getting I think a deeper, more subconscious question here is How? How do we find authenticity in a space where everyone is inauthentic? How do we learn to leave the burden of past pains which hinder us from present growth? And how do we tell greedy bottoms to stop being so clingy after one night? I might not have an answer for that last one. God himself might not either.
I think that it’s perfectly natural for your sexual needs to shift and evolve as you age, GQ. You say you’re middle-aged, so nobody should be expecting you to fuck like a high schooler pumped full of raging hormones and a limber wrist ready for the chicken choking. While I do find it odd that there’s so much focus gay men have placed on sex as a form of currency in our village, I do understand why. It’s because sex between two men was demonized for so long. And it still is. So it is with righteous felicity that we shove our cocks in each others poop chutes as a form of political rebellion raging against the anti-sodomite machine. But anal sex isn’t the only way to be gay. Not every gay guy is in to anal nor should they be. It’s a lot of fucking work. Yet another reason why I’m tired.
You also mentioned that you’re overweight and that people don’t appreciate that. I would challenge you on that. I’m not exactly sure what you look like since no picture was provided with this letter. Maybe I should start telling readers that they gotta include at least a dick pic. Hmm. Anyways, being overweight is such a weird thing that we’ve come up with as a human race. Who gets to say what a healthy weight is? Lots of Olympic athletes are heavy, but damn are they healthy. I know you’re writing about the amount of fat reserves on your body, but that’s not a bad thing! Bodies come in all shapes and sizes, and what’s great about that is that there are so many guys who love different shapes and sizes. What was that rule you kids say? Rule 34? If it exists, someone probably jacked off to it? Guess I’m trying to say is that someone is probably feverishly masturbating to the thought of you right now, GQ. Isn’t that flattering?
I think the thesis of your letter is more a call for action for self love than anything, really. Our identity, values, sexual tastes, and interests are just some of the malleable parts of our personality that change with time and evolution. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting sex. There’s nothing wrong with aging and packing on a few extra pounds. What I hope you take away from this response is that you are allowed to be happy on your own however that looks to you. So long as it’s authentically you. Have as much — or as little — sex as you want. Don’t fall in to peer pressure. Dress however you want, eat what you enjoy, and live your life to your standards. I feel like I’m regurgitating cliches, but aren’t cliches grounded in some sort of truth? They’re cliches for a reason.
As you continue to explore your queerness, may you explore it with virtuous aplomb and throw caution to the wind. Unless your back starts to give out. At which point, just explore from the comfort of your recliner.
Mahal kita,
Tita Slut
