Men's Underwear

If I were a woman, I’d wear men’s underwear just because a) its unconventional and b) I hate girly fabrics; its equivalent to running fingernails across a chalkboard, I can't even think about it.

What a fine day to believe! Our epic week of sunny days is officially tapering off, and I can feel the overcast and the foreboding rain coming. Its Victoria after all, it rains. I have to spray my shoes again, just to make sure they don’t get soggy in the rain. I’m not normally anal about these things, but I’m starting to think about appearances.

For instance, right now I have a week old beard – I’m just shaving the neck area – I’m wearing a sour green t-shirt; somewhat tight jeans; a white pair of shoes with black and grey patches; and a multi-colored sweater (brown, grey, navy blue). That’s my style, it’s a combination of 60’s meets the upcoming, and nobody can own it only myself.

My legs and arms are sore today. I ran too long the day before, and than proceeded to work out with heavier weights. I’m not sure why I’m doing it – it’s not to pick up muscular guys who are normally older and on HIV medications (FYI – that’s why they have muscles: the steroids). I think it’s because I don’t want to be a hunched over old man that can barely walk when I’m eighty. I want to keep this going for as long as possible, and my fear of getting older and shoved into a home at an early age will dissipate.

Initially I worked out because I started raving and my ex boyfriend and I split. I started to hit all the seedy, drugged up, gay venues known as ‘the circuit party scene’. I wanted to objectify and be objectified, and invest nothing but the moment into my encounters. A broken heart does that to you.

Jesus, I must admit, I have had some hot encounters there, and I’m glad I did experience the drugs, and the music, and the venues…but it’s so frigging hollow and empty. New Years was my last time. I was sardined into ‘the world’; the building code wasn’t taken into consideration and I was man-handled by gross men. I did have some hot encounters that night, and I did get a lot of attention, but when I left that morning, I felt ill about the whole experience. My resolution was to avoid these unsavory places for now on. I don’t want to be one of those guys.

Where is Mr. Right? All the Mr. Rights I know right now are in relationships. They all seem happy, well-adjusted, and grounded. That’s what I want, all those things from someone else…but to me, it seems as if those qualities can only be found in men who are already loved by someone else. I am seeking the right types of men; it’s just that, I am not sure if he is out there. OMG I’m seeking: Tres Scary.

The majority of men I have met have had some emotional difficulties, like bouts of unhappiness, or negativity problems. My friend Catherine refers to the club we frequent as the “club of lost toys.” I try to pick up for my sub-culture, and I try to look at the positive, and do see a lot of the good. But, it’s convincing both my gay and st8 friends to look at the positive…well, that’s the difficult part.

Are we lost? I know far more unhappily married, straight women and men who have made utter messes of their lives. So, it's not the gay culture that's lost or in need of repair, it's the majority of society. I'm just thinking outside of my friends narrow views. I mean, I’m not stuck with a child, I have freedom to do whatever I want, I have a great job, I look and feel good…

Jesus, I think I’m adjusted! I just hope that we stop stereotyping, and generalizing this existence we share with so many different people: that’s the one take away I’d like people to pick up in the journey of becoming self-aware and comfortable. That shit is annoying.