keithrlau

Behind the scenes of sexual orientation

I have a friend that’s gay.  He’s a dude.  He likes dudes.  Which is pretty gay.

One of the things that sort of drives me nuts (if you pardon the expression) is how ‘the media’ or ‘big Hollywood films’ or ‘the slanderous liberals’ will have you think that gay dudes act differently than straight dudes.  Apparently all gay dudes like to take penis in their butts.  Which leaves most people wondering, who’s the top in these scenarios if all the gay dudes are busy being the bottom?  My guess, straight dudes.  It’s the only thing that makes sense.

But what happens when you put gay dudes into a group with straight dudes?  Do the straight guys act different?  Do the gay dudes?  Well, it turns out that both act different.  From my anecdotal point-of-view.  Now I promise I will lay this out.

I used to play poker with a group of guys.  We are all straight, and engage in obnoxious straight behavior.  Things that we don’t realize.  Until you add a non-strait person to the mix.  Something that I’ve learned that I do with my strait friends that I don’t do with my gay friends is I act like a silly gay dude sometimes.  We will joke about who is going to blow whom if they win the next hand.  At no point does it get homoerotic.  Which sounds like bullshit right?  But here’s something that I recently learned, gay dudes don’t do that with anyone.

I had a lesbian friend join us at the table.  Everyone was in their best behavior.  There was an outsider joining us.  We needed to behave more formally.  But 2 hours into this gathering Joey makes some kind of joke.

“Looks like you’re going to be guzzling the pipe, but you know you love  my lead pipe.”  Totally mortifying right?  But I laugh and concur.  Yes, I want to satisfy the pipe.  I love it!  And we laugh.  It’s the most hilarious thing ever.  We’re dying.  HAHAHA!  It’s funny right?  Honestly, when I analyze it I feel homophobic and stupid.  I can’t explain why it’s even funny now as I write it 10 years later.  And I’d still probably do it.

After the night was winding down I was driving with my lesbian friend.  And she asks me about what she had witnessed.

“What’s with all the blowjob humor?”  And that’s when I realize that at some point in the night, the lines were blurred.  I had gotten too comfortable with mixed company.  She knew about the Totally Heterosexual Behavior In The Totally Heterosexual Way (a term coined by Derek Burwell) behavior that straight guys engage in.  Up to this point I didn’t realize that this was a straight dudes phenomenon.

I apologized and asked if she was offended.  “No, it was just…  odd.  Is this common?”  Her voice incredulous and amused.  I thought for a bit.  “Yes.  It is!  It’s hilarious!  Ha ha!”

She looked puzzled, “Being gay is funny to straight guys?”

“Um..  Yeah, I guess it kind of is..  But not about gay people.  Just about each other.  You know, doing that kind of stuff with each other.”  Believe me, if Joey blew me, I’d be laughing like a heavily medicated inmate the whole time.  Even now I’m laughing.  Haha!

That night didn’t provide much consolation for my lesbian friend.  If it had any effect, I think it was solidifying her lesbianism.

Funny, some straight people and some poorly closeted Ted Haggard “straight” people worry about gay people corrupting good innocent straight folks into deviant “cock monsters” a la Chris Kluwe reference.  But I’m probably directly responsible for cementing someone’s sexual orientation far firmer into the lesbian camp.  All without taking my shirt off.  Me, a strait guy “changes” people more than gay people.  Just saying.

Fast-forward 10 years, I’m chatting with my gay friend.  And I’m relaying this yarn to him.  He is gay, after all.  He can legitimize my belief that I’m not homophobic.  And after talking it over, laughing, explaining more while crying tears of manic hysteria about how hilarious it all is, my friend sits quietly.

Like a kindergarten teacher counting to 10 with her eyes closed before explaining why we don’t hump eat other like the rapper in the video, in class.  Or anywhere.

“No, I don’t think it’s homophobic.  But I’d never do this.  Ever.  With anyone.  That’s so ‘straight’.”  Not a twinge of irony or sarcasm.  Straight dudes do dumb shit.

“You remember Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction?”  His face spoke of that Kindergarten teacher that had to explain that it’s not okay for Dick to gyrate on Jane.  And Jane shouldn’t twerk until at least junior high.

“YEAH! I said.”  My voice bouncing around the room all straight and obnoxious.

“Remember when this scene happens?”:  

“I DO!  BAHAHHAHAHA!!!!”  rampant heterosexuality littering Derek’s house.

“Gay men don’t do this.”  EVER.

I was perplexed.  Also, I got tired of blogging quote dialog.  Derek explained that he thinks guys do this to help displace emotions that strait men feel towards one another that they can’t express.  Because of social constructs.  It kinda makes sense.  Not sure if it’s as cut and dry as all that.  But I don’t know.

Another time Derek and I were chatting and we both look over and see three men standing around a building with their wives.  The women go into the building.  As one of the guys starts to depart into the building he sneaks up behind one of the guys and karate chops him in the groin from behind.  Let me copy and paste that.  As one of the guys starts to depart into the building he sneaks up behind one of the guys and karate chops him in the groin from behind.

I look at Derek, he shakes his head.  Sadly, I now know that there’s absolutely nothing gay about karate chopping a fellow dude’s balls.  It’s par-for-the-course sports analogy strait-dude behavior.

Just a couple of straight dudes with feelings they awkwardly feel about one another, joking about messy blow jobs while playing cards.

We will never forget!

A dark tale from the mens room

 

For those of you who try to stay topical with our fine nation’s events, you are likely well aware of an issue with public bathrooms and transgendered  people.  At least, that’s what seems to be what people who watch Fox News have told me.

I don’t watch the news.  It’s not because I’m a willfully ignorant troglodyte.  I moved out of my mom’s house and never bothered to get DirectTV , Dish Network, or cable.  I never understood the idea of paying someone money every month so I could watch television commercials.  I don’t know if that makes me an intellectual maverick, or a paranoid moron.  I just know that I’d rather spend my money and time not doing that.

I have Netflix and Hulu.  I rarely watch Hulu.  My wife digs Saturday Night Live and Late Nite with Jimmy Fallon.  And I sort of watch it over my shoulder.  I’m usually playing a video game when she has her tv time.  There’s your intellectual maverick for ya.

So as far as moral panics go, I don’t usually get caught up in the fervor.  I’m not afraid of the knock-out game, or a black kid with a bag of Skittles wearing a hoodie.  I generally don’t kill people for loud music.

But my trans roommate knows about the issues facing the LGBT community very intimately.  And by that extension, I have a raised consciousness.  I am a proud ally for LGBT causes.

Years ago my roommate, whom I’ll refer to as Amy was not out.  At the time she was living as a male.  And had told us that she was a cross dresser (a tale worthy of it’s own blog entry).  This meant that she kept her face clean-shaven and wore women’s apparel and had a few beautiful wigs.

Amy was married and I thought Amy’s wife was a vacuous sociopath.  Boy was I right.  Anyhow, we would go to dinner as couples do.  And also as couples do, we all hit the bathroom simultaneously.  Imagine if women didn’t go in groups.  It would be like waiting in line at the DMV.  Go in groups, ignore the stand-up comedian.  Just laugh and admit, “It’s funny because it’s true!”

Now at the time I didn’t know Amy (then going under her birth name which doesn’t matter so fuck off nosey Nancy!  Her name is Amy) was not happy being male/masculine.  She wanted to be a woman with different genitals.  She also wanted to be in an intimate relationship with a man.  She wanted to be treated in all forms like a heterosexual woman.

So we both walk up to our respective urinals.  And sitting atop of my urinal was a half-consumed cup of coffee.  My male/masculine mind was thinking about things I could do with that cup.  I look at Amy and I smile.  I’m going to warm up their coffee.  Amy shakes her head.

“No.”  She turned away, walked to the sinks and washed her hands.  But I was in an impish mood.  I was so amused with myself.  At the moment that I type this blog I’m smiling.  It’s not smug.  It’s the smile of a man with pride.  The smile an architect has when his bridge is unveiled.  The ribbon is cut.  Crowds clapping.  Years of planning coming to fruition.  Life making sense.  That’s my grin.

But with that story aside, I want to just say that I’m okay.  My life is good.  Using the bathroom with a trans-girl  hasn’t harmed me.  In fact, I’m probably responsible for more psychological damage.

I’m not talking about the coffee drinker that hasn’t and won’t enter the story.  That guy is fine.  He either left the coffee out of laziness, or he came back, found it was “warmed” and took it out to his car where he poured it all over himself while he masturbated with his tie wrapped around the headrest.  Tears and sweat mixing and diffusing with the caffeinated urine stench.  The tailpipe of his car melting the ice.  Defroster clearing his windshield.  A cigarette as a quenching consolation prize.  Mommy would be furious.  This is why you don’t deserve to be loved.

As a man who can officially say I’ve urinated in a public bathroom with a trans person, everything was okay.  I’m a bigger menace to our society than Amy.

I wanted to share something that hopefully contributes in some manner to people growing up.  Your pee pee isn’t that exciting.  No one cares.  Get over it.

A Rainy Day with a Guitar

I didn’t have a car when I was a teenager. I walked everywhere. I used to go places with my guitar. I’d take it to school for music classes, or to a friend’s place to practice. I remember walking in the rain with my guitar. I’d be worried about it, as I didn’t have a case. But whatever, I needed to be places.

Today, I’m driving. I have the heater on. It’s cozy. I’m older and fatter. I’ve never been cool, no difference there. And it’s raining. I stop at an intersection and I see three teenage boys. They’re navigating the gray, windy rain. Three dorky teenagers.

One kid has a guitar in a case.  Must be nice.  Another is carrying the most modest-looking practice amp that has ever been built. We’ll call him, “The Roadie”.

The Roadie had an intensity in his eyes. He’s carrying the guitarist’s rig. He is devoted to his rock-star friend. Someone needs to do the grunt work. Someone’s gotta haul this rig. Intensity is the fuel. Guitar God is moving through the rain, like an awkward newborn colt. The Roadie in tow.

I just want to jump out of my car and talk shop with these kids. I want to talk about guitars. Cars piling up behind my derelict car. I kinda miss the rain, I guess.

I’m watching these kids and they see me looking. The Roadie narrows his eyes. Not in a threatening manner, or like a puffer fish. It was like a proud peacock. He’s the roadie!

It became clear that from where these guys were standing that I wasn’t cool. Or a peer. I was a random adult, in his warm, cozy car. And they were the reckless youth of the times. They’d probably have spikes going through their nostrils if their moms would only give consent.

And I think for the first time, I genuinely felt “old”. I kinda hate that shtick.

“I’m getting old! Kids nowadays!” And now that’s me. With my New Balance shoes. And my warm car. No rain gumming up the works. Just Toto playing on my Pandora radio station.

But ultimately, the real sign of my lameness isn’t any of that. For one thing, I don’t own any New Balance shoes. They’re Sketchers, thank you very much. But they look just like New Balance.

No, for me the real tip-off was that I was viewed as a dork by the roadie.

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