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1:46 p.m. - January 23, 2003
A friend's newly-released CD is garnering praises and he sent me a (gratis) copy because (a) It frees me from the shame of waiting in line with teeny-boppers and (b) Means I have to listen to it. He knows me well. First impression on the CD cover is a slight chuckle because damn does he look - fruity. But this is the irony because he came out to me a short while ago and while I haven't seen him since we graduated in 1997, I can only say People Change and he's changed. Makes me wonder how many other gay guys were lurking around my conservative, Christian, alma mater. I was oblivious. No, not exactly. There was the sophomore French minor when I did the practicum (glorified tutoring, that's all) and while I couldn't identify the label then, I know it now - flame, flame, flame. (You know, as an aside, I'm thinking I had quite a bit of direct teaching experience while an undergrad. I lectured for American Government, French 1-and-2 thousand level, African Lit, and the three years teaching composition. Huh.)

The gay thing is on my mind, can you tell? I must remind you that I don't generally respond to emails so give up the fight; more than a handful of people are a bit (a) put off; (b) offended; (c) cluck their tongues at my insoucient stereotyping. Gay guys are not solely about sex... at least not after the relationship has ensued. Okay, okay, that's too much tongue-in-cheek. You, you, and you are the exceptions and let me wallow in stereotypes. If it's meant to be, I'll find a masculine, regular, "straight-acting" (Jesus. What a connotation) guy who hasn't slept around and isn't into Pottery Barn and American Idol... Or whatever else is airing this week. Yes, Floodtide, it's hyperbole. But there's a serious hypersexualization of the morass that poor judgment and even poorer analysis considers a community - a non-chalant partner play - and while I've never been to a gay bar or a gay club, I've been exposed to enough already and that was a surfeit in itself.

Eh. I just don't want to think I'll be like every other gay guy I know, that's all.

Bother. I can't think and this entry like old spaghetti, of which I have much in the refrigerator.


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