R.P. Andrews's Blog, page 50

“I want to have love once in my life.”

“I want to have love once in my life.”



So sighed a buddy of mine in his sixties at dinner the other night. He had had a few budding romances over the years but none of them clicked. Either they found someone “better” or, in the end, just didn’t want to commit.

I’m sure many guys, and girls for that matter, str8 and gay, share what l’d call the Marty Complex. Marty was the name of a character in an early teleplay and later a film that won its lead, Ernest Borgnine, an Oscar. It’s about a very ordinary kind of guy, a butcher, and his quest for true love which he thinks will never be his.

Hey, l myself feel that way. I’ve been in a relationship more of convenience than love for decades and still fantasize that He will suddenly come along and make me feel twenty five all over again.

But why do many of us never find Him or feel we’ve settled just so not to be alone?

Are we looking in the wrong places?

Are we waiting for perfection?

Are we waiting for something that doesn’t exist?

Are we unwilling to overlook a guy’s shortcomings or recognize our own?

Do we demand too much? Or not enough?

Do we live in some kind of romantic novel mentality and can’t recognize day-to-day living with another guy isn’t always a Made for Logo movie?

Do we think a relationship is all about great sex and fun times?

Are we unaware of our strengths and only morose over our shortcomings? Or do we think no one is quite good enough?

Do we set ourselves up for failure by always falling for a guy who’s transparent, irresponsible, shallow or hooked, thinking we can change him? Or are we that guy?

Are we willing to compromise some of the time or do we compromise too much?

Do we mistake lust for love?

If the sex isn’t perfect every time, do we feel it just ain’t gonna work?

Are we control freaks? Or not assertive enough?

Do we try to understand and meet his needs, or are we only concerned about wanting him to meet ours?

Do we fantasize about having an LTR but in reality would actually prefer being alone?

In the end, is the world always shitting on us or are we the problem?

And even if we are the handsomest, most personable, most understanding and most loving guy in the world, most times we know deep down meeting Mr. Right is still a roll of the dice.

Ben Carson and Company Are Dangerous – For Us

Ben Carson and Company Are Dangerous – For Us

Why do I say that?

Point 1:

Despite a lackluster performance in the last Republican candidate debate, Carson remains number two in the polls. That’s because he’s the wet dream of the extreme Conservative arm of the party, the Tea Party. He’s black, which means he may garner the minority vote that the Republicans lost the last election to, even though as a retired pediatric neurosurgeon who’s run nothing and is vague as hell in his policy statements, he has more in common with the One Percenters than the average African American. Plus he’s among the most homophobic of all the current candidates who thinks we enter a voting booth at thirteen and choose gay as our sexual orientation. He also is no scholar of the Constitution and thinks that only a God fearing Christian should be President. My prediction: at the very least, he becomes the Party’s Vice Presidential candidate.

Point 2:

John Boehner, the Speaker of the House who just resigned, may have been no bastion of liberalism, but the Tea Partiers practically came when they heard he was leaving and will do all they can to replace him with a super conservative on their wavelength, if not one of their own.

Point 3:

It looks like moderate centralist Hilary may have cooked her own goose with her email server scandal and possible mishandling of Benghazi. And while l would still vote for her, her attempts to come across as just one of the girls like her recent stint on Jerry Fallon have rung hollow. She still sounds and looks aloof and elitist. So could Bernie Sanders, a self-avowed socialist, who’s giving Hilary a run for her money in the polls, win the Democratic nomination? Can you honestly see the majority of Americans voting for a Super Liberal? I don’t know about you but l’m a middle class taxpayer first, tired of being squeezed in the middle, and a gay man second.

So what does this all mean? If a Conservative or Super Conservative homophobic Republican becomes President and is backed by a Super Conservative Republican dominated Congress, watch all the benefits we’ve waited for so long come under scrutiny and possible “revisionism.” (Look what they’re doing to abortion rights.) Remember, too, most of our battles have been won in the Supreme Court and with at Ieast two justices, one liberal, the other the perennial swing vote, ready to call it a day, the next President will have the golden opportunity to set the Court on a conservative course that would last for decades.

So should we be afraid, very afraid? Damn right we should.

 

“Stonewall” And Me

“Stonewall” And Me

The movie, “Stonewall” about the1969 riots that changed everything recently opened in theaters and was quickly lambasted by the gay media critics for whitewashing the actual event and injecting “straight acting” characters to attract a mainstream audience. Like every gay guy was nelly in 1969. Whatever. I’ll soon be on my way home from my summer house in Pennsylvania for Fort Lauderdale and hope to catch the flick to give you my take. But I figured this is a good opportunity to tell you about my own very personal experience with Stonewall, the very first gay bar I ever walked into, a year before the historic riots.

I was working to pay for college at a now defunct retail store chain in Jersey called Two Guys where my boss was a dead ringer for the larger-than-life comedian Jackie Gleason. That is if Gleason were od’ing on estrogen. When Charlie said he wanted to do something special for me for my twenty first birthday, I figured we’d go out for dinner at the local Italian restaurant where, for lunch, Charlie would have a gargantuan meat ball sub and a “diet Coke, please” since he was on a perpetual nowhere diet. I had convinced him to hire Rob, a crush of mine from college, but I was surprised when the two of them pulled up at my parent’s house to pick me up that Saturday night.

In the years ahead, I would meet and trick with a lot of Catholic gays, Italian, Irish, Polish, who were all loaded with guilt and excess baggage about their “deviant” lifestyle. But, hell, I was raised a Lutheran, a former Sunday school teacher, thank you very much, and had found my high school days in straight, jock-obsessed suburbia a living hell. So once I realized I wasn’t alone, I felt liberated. But where to meet guys like myself I had no idea. Up to that point all I knew were a small coterie of somewhat catty gay fellow English majors at school.

Driving into the City, Charlie revealed his true persuasions to me and Rob (we soon came out to him, too), and how he had been a headliner drag queen entertainer in the fifties. So where did we end up but in the West Village and the Stonewall. I’ll never forget the beads you had to walk through after the bouncer let you in, and the go-go boys dancing on the bar. It was years later that I read how the place had been run by the Mafia and how it was constantly raided if the payoffs weren’t enough. Had I known then, I would have hightailed it to the Port Authority Terminal that night and taken a bus home.

I had hoped I would make it with Rob that night, but he fell asleep after his first drink, and I ended up getting picked up by some older guy (probably 25) in a white suit with Den Mother Charlie’s blessing, who took me back to his apartment a few blocks away. Naïve me, when he whipped it out, my first reaction was, what am I supposed to do with it?

But, hey, I’ve always been a quick study.

Driving home that night with Rob asleep in the back seat, Charlie and I said little to one another, but I could tell from his smug smile he was a bit proud for being a least partly responsible for the most enlightening birthday of my life.

Soon after we graduated the following spring, and I went on for my master’s degree in L.A. where I played nerd during the day and Hollywood gay blade at night, Rob ran away to Canada to escape the draft. Remember, Vietnam was raging at the time. To this day, I have no idea what happened to him.

As for Charlie, distance and time also brought an end to our friendship, and I learned years later from some ex-Two Guys alumni that he had died of esophageal cancer.

Ah, but that night at Stonewall. What better debut to gay life could a young boy ask for, huh?

Who is Yahoo To Censor What I Can See?

Who is Yahoo To Censor What I Can See?

Recently, I had a question about my ATT Samsung Galaxy smartphone bill and was told by the rep that I was eligible for a much better data plan at half what I was then paying, plus,for ninety-nine cents and an extra ten bucks a month on my bill, ATT would send me a Trek HD tablet. It had wi-fi built right in and operated off the same data plan as my phone. Sounded like a no brainer, so I went for it.

Hey, while I couldn’t make calls or text with the Trek (I guess ATT didn’t want to compete with its own more lucrative phone sales), I’d be able to surf the web quickly, and even do some writing with its “create” app and e-mail my docs to my laptop. Great, right?

Well, it wasn’t as easy to activate the built-in wi-fi as the rep or the directs that came with the tablet led me to believe (is it ever?), but finally I managed to get on only to find that the Yahoo search engine had an automatic “Safe Security” lock on to prevent me from accessing any material it considered “adult in nature,” not just hook-up sites but even my own blog! And when I methodically and repeatedly went through the steps to unlock, nothing changed. It took over an hour on the phone with an ATT rep who didn’t even know what I was talking about and who couldn’t figure a way around it either to finally suggest that I switch to the Goggle search engine. I did – no problems.

But the bigger question is: who is Yahoo to decide what I see? First off, are thirteen year old kids buying phones without their parents knowing? Secondly, shouldn’t there be a parental warning when your turn the phone on the first time with instructions should you wish to set the “Safe Security” lock? Who is Yahoo to automatically assume that we all have little kiddies with nimble fingers and decide to censor our devices?

That’s a rhetorical question ’cause we all know they’re the ones in control: the AOLs and Yahoos and the Googles that shove ads down our throats before we can access material, skew the order of our searches by who pays the most for their position, or who flood our e-mail inboxes with sports gear spam because we ordered fishing hooks from an outlet in North Dakota? (Wanna know how many messages for generic Viagra I get every day, after I ordered the magic pill on-line)? Or Microsoft that pirates your laptops for “updates” while you in the middle of something? Exactly what are those “updates” all about, huh? Or Facebook which sells our info to the highest bidders?

Getting back to my original gripe, beside being time consuming and frustrating, these “Safe Security” locks are discriminatory and a violation of my Constitutional rights of free speech.

What next Big Brother? It’s beginning to make George Orwell’s futuristic novel, “1984” look like a walk in the park.

And we have nobody to blame but ourselves.

“Let Us Remember The Golden Rule…

“Let Us Remember The Golden Rule:

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

                                                                                                       Pope Francis in His Address to Congress

 

It is something that applies to all of us, not just as we would have society treat us but, as we too often forget, how we should treat one another.

For those of you who, like I, watched Francis’ visit to the U.S. on TV and the adulation that greeted him every where he went, there’s no denying that he is truly a rock star’s Rock Star.

Another Installment of My Gay Advice Column, “Go Ask Daddy”

Another Installment of My Gay Advice Column, “Go Ask Daddy”



Buddy: Daddy, I’ve been with my guy for just over a year. We get along great, share interests, are both financially responsible, etc. etc., etc. It’s just that we don’t have sex much anymore. I really don’t think he’s fucking around. But I do. He’s also the kind of guy who would not be open to an open relationship. So should I leave all the good behind just because I’m not getting dick, or be hypocritical and screw around without telling him?

Daddy: Whoever said honesty is the best policy was probably living in a seminary. If you have a need, and your partner can’t fulfill that need, what are you supposed to do – give in to his lifestyle? Become a cloistered nun without the habit? Fuck that! But on the other had if he’s non-negotiable when it comes to infidelity, then fuck around but, Jesus, be discreet about it. (Wanna know how may partners down here in Lauderdale fuck around on the side?)

Some tips from a career philanderer:

Don’t have guys calling you – have them text. And need I remind you to have your own phone and know where it’s at at all times (like not sitting next to the coffee maker).

Fit your sexual escapades in before or after the gym, assuming he doesn’t come with you, or before or after work, or on a night he’d rather watch his favorite team on TV. “Going bowling with the boys, honey…”

Understandably you may have to be creative about it. But if your other half has your chastity belt key around his neck, in the end, you have to decide whether you can hack this hacked up lifestyle or be barefoot and free.

In the end, it always has been and remains – your call.

“Committed.” And on Manhunt!

“Committed.” And on Manhunt!

Look, I’m no saint.

I’ve had a closed relationship with my other half, our own version of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” since he lost interest having sex with me and anyone else and I, well, I still need it, for the ego kick as much as the physical pleasure. In fact, as I’ve said before, now that I’m older I’m getting it even more than when I was young and pretty in my second gay career as a daddy. Meanwhile G is content with his porn.

But Jesus, please don’t be on a hook-up site and describe your relationship with another guy as “committed.” as I swear one guy did. If you’re so “committed,” why are you trolling for other dick and ass?

Hey, men are men, a lot different from male/female connections. Gay relationships come in all varieties, and again I’m the last one to judge.

You’ve got guys who are totally monogamous. God bless America.

You got other guys that only fool around together. That doesn’t last.

And then you got guys who just screw around on the side whether the other half does or not.

Sometimes, one guy’s got his night to play and the other guy has his, like the humpy hairy French Canadian from Montreal who has a condo down here with his partner and who I played with with upmost mutual joy. Other times, the fellow is going out for his “bowling” night while hubby is at home catching up on TCM, only “bowling” is spelled “balling.”

And, yes, you have even true polymorous relationships – genuine long-term threesomes. There must be an app for keeping bedroom duties straight.

But please, don’t use the word “committed” in your hook-up site profile. You’re about as committed as a trick who offers you his fresh bottle of poppers and actually lets you take the first sniff.

Were The Shrinks Right After All?

Were The Shrinks Right After All?

Back in the day during my college years when dinosaurs still roamed the earth, the textbooks for my Psychology courses described homosexuality as a psychiatric abnormality and asserted that homosexual men were the way they were because they were in some arrested stage of development, i.e., stuck in prepubescence where most boys had a hankering for other boys till girls caught their fancy. In other words, gay guys or at least some gay guys have never grown up.

Okay, I know a lot of that psycho mumbo-jumbo was thrown out a long time ago and the American Psychiatric Association declassified homosexuality as an “abnormality” way back in the seventies when Gay Liberation was still in diapers. But after dealing with some guys on the web I wonder if the old fogies of the Psych world had it right the first time.

I know l keep returning to my experiences on the web, but let me ask you, how many guys have you met lately in the flesh, huh? And it may be that the web is skewed to the outliers in our sub-culture. But too many times l have to remind myself that l’m dealing with adult men, in many cases mature middle-aged adult men, who act like little coquettes at a prom.

Three times in the last week guys have come on to me, make a preliminary commitment to connect, and when l attempt to confirm the day of, l’m confronted with cyber silence. Hey, nobody’s got a gun to your head to have sex with me, and since l’m the top and the guy’s a bottom, you should be sucking my ass (figuratively, of course, though if you like rimming my hairy hole I ain’t gonna complain), not me begging you.

I mean, what does it take to send a text like “Sorry, something came up. Another time. Let’s stay in touch,” or just “Sorry, man. Changed my mind. Gonna pass. Happy hunting.” Okay, at my age, my ego is dented for about 56 seconds. Hey if you don’t have an ego of an elastic band in this life, stick with porn. If somebody doesn’t want you, they don’t want you. Period. Move on.

But not to respond to a text? Again after you’ve gone on how much you want my dick up your butt? I mean what assholes are we dealing with out there?

Then there’s the guys who hit me up totally out of blue: “l’m real horny, man.” My reply: “You look pretty hot bro, but it’s my mother’s funeral today.” His response: “l’m real horny man. How about a quickie?” My reply: “l can’t man. I told you, I’m burying my mother today. How about the weekend?” His response: “But l’m horny now man. Come on over.”

Am I dealing with a full deck here? It’s like he’s like a little kid who needs his pacifier NOW.

In exchanging notes with my pushing fifty but still very sexy female neighbor who plays the str8 hook-up game, maybe we gay boys don’t have a monopoly on ignoramuses. When l was still teaching college l was struck how my female students – not all of them but many of them – were more mature in their behavior and outlook on life than their male counterparts.

Do grown men prefer the fantasy even when reality is within their reach? Or has hiding behind the cyber screen made polite behavior a lost art?

That’s when I actually connect with a guy who has his shit together, including a few under thirties l’ve had the Daddy luck of having lately, I’m shocked sensible people still exist in our little sub-culture.

All l can say to those prom girls out there:

Got fuck yourself. (You wish.)

Now have a nice day.

Sex CAN Be Good for You

Sex CAN Be Good for You

 

Well, according to the results of a ten year Harvard study begun in 2004, men who shoot their loads more than 21 times each month have a significantly lower incidence of prostate cancer than guys who don’t. That includes whether you had a roll in the hay or played with yourself at one in the morning, salivating over the pics of the some guy in Dubai on Growl’r. And since it’s a fact we gay guys get more sex on average than our str8 counterparts, l guess being gay and horny can be both fun and healthy. (Just as long as you don’t brag you have the STD of the month as some guy at the gym who claims he gets lots of sex did.)

The researchers figure cumming releases good hormones, you know like good cholesterol, and cleans out the man pipes of any precancerous shit.

So get out the Elbow Grease and start stroking. In the men’s room, in the car, in the supermarket, in between pulling weeds up in your garden. It’s all good.

What’s weird about all this, though, is that a much older study done in 1981 of career celibates like priests showed that guys who supposedly didn’t have sex at all had a much lower rate of all kinds of cancer than the general male population.

Or were these men of God lying on their survey forms?

A fellow gay guy and buddy of mine who nearly became a priest told me his seminary was busier than a gay bar on a Saturday night. And we all painfully know about all those innocent altar boyz, right? Remember this study was done over thirty years ago when all that shit was still hush-hush.

And if you don’t want to spend $$$ on generic Viagra, drink lots of java. Researchers at the University of Texas report that guys who drink at least three cups of coffee a day have a 42 percent less chance of not being able to get it up.

Guess that explains why l felt horny in the office when l OD’d on the coffee machine and the only stimulation was my very component secretary who looked like a cross between a bad drag and Big Bird.

Are The Gay Media Talking About Stuff We Really Care About?

Are The Gay Media Talking About Stuff We Really Care About?



Listen, l comb our South Florida weekly gay newspapers religiously for inspiration for my blogs, and l understand that as serious, insightful publications, their job and the job of their peer pubs throughout the country is to report what’s going out right now in our subculture. (In contrast to the glossy rags which are one extended bar ad.) But are the subjects the quality pubs go on and on about really relevant to the majority of gay men and women?

Stories on challenges facing transgenders, Caitlin Jenner’s latest publicity ploy, which clerk in which state is refusing to issue marriage licenses, gay parenting issues, what porn star was found dead… You get the drift. I mean, do the vast majority of gays who will never get married, adopt kids or consider gender reassignment, really really give a shit about any of this??

If you gotta report the latest news flash, fine. But how some regular, informative stuff on subjects facing a lot of us? (True, the pubs touch on some of this, but not nearly enough.) Stuff like:

Workplace discrimination and how to avoid it

Going it solo in this life

Being solo after x years when a partner is no longer in your life by choice or default or death

Finding guys and gals with substance not just quick rolls in the hay in this age of the web

If your partner’s a jock and you’re not

Dealing with age differences between you and him

Navigating through a subculture that puts over-emphasis on physicality and youth when your looks and youth are fading or gone or you got the wrong set of genes

Dealing with the challenges of looking too good

Dealing with the STD crisis in our community that thinks popping a pill solves everything

Making quality friends not just virtual ones

Dealing with the challenges of feeling isolated and alone whether you live in a gay ghetto or the boonies

Grappling with a buddy or lover you sense or know is unstable or an addict

Wouldn’t you wanna hear more about stuff like that than whether Cait, who is worth one hundred million dollars as a result of the endorsements when she was the Olympic gold medalist Bruce, and who once heterosexual and still interested in women, may now lead her new life as a lesbian??

I’ll wait for the Hollywood biopic, thank you.