Gay Men and Their Girlfriends


I’m meeting more men who are predominately gay who claim they have girlfriends, usually in long-distance relationships. Getty image.

Self-hate in the gay community takes many forms. But one form I have noticed lately is the gay guys with girlfriends.

Like by having a girlfriend you aren’t really gay. At most you are bisexual. Which somehow in their minds is superior to being gay.

A few weeks ago I got hit up on via Facebook by an older man named “Duane.” He started flirting, which led to him sending nude photos and saying all the things he would do to me like sucking the hell out of my dick.

Finally we talked to each other by telephone and he explained that like me he had once been married and was a father and grandfather. His wife had died in a tragic accident and since then he had played with men, been in relationships with a few and even been a male exotic dancer in gay clubs to make extra money.

“But guys are crazy,” he said. “I ended up having to issue a restraining order against one of my boyfriends.”

Now Duane still plays with men and in fact bragged about hooking up with one of my old hook-ups, the illegal alien, who is now on the path to citizenship. But he also has a long-distance girlfriend in Georgia who he plans to live with when he retires in a few years.

“I just think women are better at relationships so I see myself settling down with her eventually,” he said. “I like to cook and really want to operate a food truck with her.

“Have you told this woman you have sex with men,” I asked.

“Well, she knows I experimented with men in the past and that I was an exotic dancer but she doesn’t know I’m doing so currently.”

“Do you have sex — it doesn’t seem like you get together that often,” I asked.

“Well, we have had sex one time.”

Oh. Okay. It will be interesting to see how that works out, I think to myself. For some reason I don’t think Duane is telling this woman the full truth.

Last month another man hit me up — this guy named Abebe. I think he is Ethiopian or something.

Abebe has a daughter from a previous relationship but is single now and enjoys bottoming. But when we talked on the phone I learn he has a fiancé. Like Duane, Abebe’s fiancé lives hundreds of miles away and he rarely sees her.

“Have you ever had sex,” I ask.

“No,” Abebe answers.

“Well, how often do you see her?”

“Oh, once every few weeks or months.”

These are men in their late 50s. They have good jobs and seem to be independent. They are very sexually active with men and go online to seek male partners. So why go through all this girlfriend pretense?

Florida Swinging: DL Paranoia


A street in Liberty City. Photo from Wikipedia.

Living in the more liberal Baltimore-Washington, D.C. area I take my gay rights for granted.

I can go to gay bars, gay clubs, gay bathhouses, gay book clubs, gay dodgeball leagues, gay plays etc. and not give it a thought. Walk down the street with my dude and dare somebody to fuck with me.

But when I traveled to Fort Lauderdale this week I was reminded of just how fortunate I have it.

This brother down in Liberty City, a predominately black neighborhood in Florida featured in the Oscar-winning gay film “Moonlight,” hit me up on Adam4Adam.

He was extremely paranoid but finally opened his pictures to show a handsome, thick, dark-skinned brother with a beautiful black beard. He identified as top but said he wanted to meet up and suck my dick.

I explained that I was here with my partner and any action would be a threesome or a small group.

“Nah,  I don’t do that bruh. I’m down-low.”

Tarrell Alvin McCraney.

I told him not to worry. Nobody was going to out him for coming by and sucking a little dick and busting a nutt. I even gave him the URL for my blog, explaining that I had been in the closet like him and maybe he would like to read about my journey.

But he wasn’t having it.

“Did you show your dude my pic?”

“So what if I did,” I texted back.

“I see where this is going. No bruh not interested,” he answered.

And he blocked me.

It’s sad. This brother is in his mid 40s still jumping through these mental hoops.

And he wasn’t the only one. I haven’t gotten hit on by so many black men identifying as DL in years.

But I had to think about it awhile and get off my rainbow-colored high horse.

This man lives in one of the toughest parts of the city where being a gay man could be dangerous. In fact the film “Moonlight,” which addresses homophobia and bullying, is based on a play from Tarrell Alvin McCraney, an openly gay man raised in Liberty City.

And despite the vibrant gay in Fort Lauderdale’s predominately white Wilton Manors south Florida is still home to people who were born or are the children of people from conservative, homophobic nations in the Caribbean and Latin America.

So these paranoid men and I are coming from two different places and I have to accept that.

 

 

Broke Back Mountain Baltimore Style


blacksteelworkers

Black steelworkers. Photo courtesy of ITVS.org.

Baltimore’s economy today is fueled by universities, state government, hospitals and Under Armour sportswear.

But not too long ago this Rust Belt City was heavily industrial, filled with factories and hulking smokestacks.

An acquaintance, “Kenny,” told me about how he hooked up with a long term sex partner back in the 70s when Baltimore was still a city of industry.

Kenny was married with kids and worked at a Bethlehem Steel plant in Sparrows Point. The job was hot and gritty and dirty so workers showered in the locker room before changing back into street clothes and going home.

Kenny befriended another married man on his shift named “Omar.” For some reason, although Omar worked on a different team, he always made excuses to shower the same time as Kenny.

They would banter and joke back and forth, talking about sports or whether Lola Falana was hotter than Jayne Kennedy or “Sanford and Son” was a funnier TV show than “That’s My Mama!” Omar would never rush to put on his clothes and would stand naked talking to Kenny, acting  as natural as can be.

For years Kenny knew he was attracted to woman and men. So he didn’t mind getting a chance to look at Omar’s tall, dark, lean body and his long dick, all glistening and wet from the shower.

Soon they started sharing rides with each back in the city. Omar would brag about his past sexual conquests with women, rubbing and grabbing his crotch to make his point. Kenny would be so turned on he could barely look at Omar — his palms would sweat as he tightly held the steering wheel.

Then one day it happened.

“You want to play with this dick, don’t you?” Omar asked.

“You know, yeah I do,” Kenny answered.

And he pulled over the car on a dark side street in West Baltimore, leaned over, pulled Omar’s dick out of his pants and sucked it.

Soon Omar and Kenny were hooking up every week or every other week.

“We were fucking like rabbits — I loved taking that big dick,” Kenny said.

Since they worked at the steel plant at night it was easy to hook up. Their wives worked during the day and the kids were at school so they had either house to themselves.

“It was like a relationship,” Kenny said. “Since we both worked at the same plant it was easy because we could socialize together with our families. He knew my wife and I knew his wife.”

This went on for years. They only had one close call when Omar’s wife came home from work unexpectedly during the day and almost caught them fucking.

Today the men are in their sixties. They are just friends now — they haven’t had sex in several years. Omar is still with his wife while Kenny divorced his wife and is out.

“There was a whole lot of gay sex going on back in the day,” Kenny said. “You just kept things more quiet.”

 

 

 

 

The Orlando Shooter: Sometimes our worst enemy is ourselves


omar_mateen

The Orlando shooter, Omar Mateen, allegedly used this photo on gay hook-up apps. He also frequented gay clubs for years. The media is largely missing the story on how damaging repressed homosexuality can be.

The tragic shooting in Orlando is now days old. We have been shocked, grieved, angered, surprised.

Well, there is one thing I’m not surprised about. That Omar Mateen the shooter was on the down low.

You see, some of the worst enemies of LGBTQ people are repressed gay people.

Remember that bully in high school who used to call you “faggy,” tripped you up in the hallway and stole your lunch? Don’t be surprised if he is out now and living with his long-term lover in the suburbs with their pet Shih Tsu. I have seen this happen.

I know ministers who are DL who will fuck a man on Friday but talk badly about gay people Monday through Thursday and Saturday and preach against them in the pulpit on Sunday. And married DL men who go to sex parties disguised in baseball caps and dark shades who throw their legs in the air and get fucked all night but wouldn’t get caught dead speaking to an openly gay man in public.

There are a slew of repressed gay lawmakers (mostly Republicans) who have supported laws that discriminate against people who are LGBTQ (Read my old entry “Politics Makes Strange Bedfellows”).  These hypocrites will suck your dick in a funky public bathroom but won’t vote to give LGBTQ people the right to wed and show their love in public.

J. Edgar Hoover, the founder of the FBI, was reportedly gay and even hired his lover Clyde Tolson as his assistant. But Hoover used his powers to harass anyone who threatened to reveal his sexuality and undermine the civil rights movement for Blacks.

Attorney Roy Cohn, who was secretly gay and died of AIDS, took part in Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s witch hunt of suspected communists in the 1950s, wrecking the careers and reputations of many. He later went on to defend developer and now Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump, who was accused of discriminating against Blacks who wanted to rent his properties.

hoover

FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, right, and his assistant Clyde Tolson, were allegedly an item. Despite likely being gay Hoover used his power to suppress minority groups and keep his sexuality a secret.

So just because you suck dick, eat ass and fuck or get fucked by men does not make you a good person who defends people from other oppressed groups. Self-hate is a motherfucker.

In fact Mateen fits the typical psychological profile of a repressed homosexual who becomes homophobic. Raised in a strict, Muslim home by a authoritative father the socially awkward Mateen likely couldn’t express his sexuality. So the rage turned inward and then exploded, taking 49 innocent lives with him and leaving more than 50 others maimed.

I can’t help but think. If he had met just one person who helped him to love and accept himself this tragedy might not have happened. Family and friends wouldn’t be grieving and folks wouldn’t be in the hospital now struggling to survive and heal.

Many of the news reports are focusing on his alleged support of terrorism and his homophobia. But we really need to take this opportunity to talk about sexuality and how when we don’t allow people to be free and themselves we sometimes create monsters.

 

 

 

 

 

You Can’t Teach an Old Down-Low Dog New Tricks


Ty Martin, left, is a community liaison at SAGE, a Harlem organization that helps elderly LGBT people. At his right is SAGE constituent Sherman Walker. They are proof that older black gay men can be a vital part of their communities. I wonder whether Gerald would have been like Martin and Walker if he came out earlier. Photo courtesy of SAGE.

Ty Martin, left, is a community liaison at SAGE, a Harlem organization that helps elderly LGBT people. At his right is SAGE constituent Sherman Walker. They are proof that older black gay men can be a vital part of their communities. I wonder whether Gerald would have been like Martin and Walker if he came out earlier. Photo courtesy of SAGE.

“Gerald” and I chatted for days online but finally agreed to meet at the Au Bon Pain in Washington D.C.’s cavernous Union Station.

I sat sipping my coffee and watched as he approached. A very tall, angular, brown-skinned black man in a well cut gray suit and conservative tie. He looked like a bank president, or the head of a multinational corporation, or maybe an undertaker.

He seemed pleased that I looked so normal. That I fit in. That I wasn’t noticeably gay and feminine to all the travelers around us rushing to hop on the Metro, or the MARC commuter train toward Baltimore, or take the Amtrak to New York City and Boston or Richmond.

“Look, I’m married and discreet and careful about who I hook up with,” he said. “Some gay people are so messy.”

He gave me his story. He had been messing with guys since college but met a woman he liked and decided to marry and raise kids. But he fell back into old habits.

One night he was working late miles from home and had drinks with colleagues. One of his coworkers, a handsome guy named “Timothy,” suggested he spend the night at his home a few miles away rather than risk a DUI. So Gerald called his wife and got the okay, went home with Timothy, hopped in his bed, and they ended up sexing each other all night.

Gerald had always thought Timothy might play around and all the alcohol that night had only lubricated the situation, no pun intended.

Gerald is a business consultant and can only play with men while going to and from assignments or when he goes to the gym. Against my better judgment I agreed to hook up with him — for me the Daddy types who appear all conservative and uptight in public but are freaks in bed are a major turn-on.

Like me he lives in Baltimore but commutes regularly to D.C. He dropped by my home one humid afternoon in late summer when I happened to be  waiting on the cable guy. The lovemaking was sweet — he was so thirsty for some male-on-male action anything I did seemed to arouse him immensely.

A kiss on the neck. A nibble on his nipples. My tongue flickering against his thighs and over to his scrotum.

He wanted me to fuck him but he was so tight that didn’t work. So we jacked off until we both spurted some nutt and I sent him on his way.

A few weeks later he came by again, this time using the excuse he was going to the gym to get away from his wife.

He was more aggressive this time. He dove between my legs and sucked my dick and ate my ass so well that I got so relaxed and pleasured it felt like I was floating in a hot bath. Gerald was just that good.

“How old are you,” I asked him after we finished. “You are in your 50’s? Right?”

He looked sheepish and cast his eyes down.

“Immanuel, I’m 65 years old.”

His body still looked good and his thick, uncut dick still got so hard.

“Wow. You give me hope for the future.”

Summer waned and the days grew crisp as fall began to paint the leaves on the oak trees on my block a bright, mustard yellow and burnt orange .

Gerald texted or called. I can’t remember.

“My wife had a stroke and I had to put her in a nursing home. It was a mild stroke but she has to take rehabilitation so she will not be home for a few weeks.”

I was genuinely concerned. I knew he loved his wife. He said although he preferred sex with men he would never leave her because their bond was strong.

“I’m so sorry man. I hope things work out.”

But then he said something that rattled me.

“My house is empty for a few weeks. It will be like I’m a bachelor again. Why don’t you come and spend the night. I would do anything to spend the night with you. I find you so hot Immanuel you have no idea.”

The thought of sexing Gerald in the same bed or same house he shared with his wife left me cold. My paternal grandmother  had a stroke when she was in her 80’s. I knew what a struggle it would be for his wife to regain her speech and mobility. Freaking in her house would be so…disrespectful.

Mind you I did some dirty shit too when I was married (just read my older blog entries from 2009 and 2010 for evidence). And I was kicking it with a married dude. I was in no shape to judge Gerald. But I just…couldn’t.

“Look I will be house sitting for a friend in D.C. for the month of October so I won’t be in Baltimore much. And besides I really do not feel comfortable coming to your house.”

“Okay Immanuel, maybe we can work something out before she comes back home.”

“Sure, Gerald. Yeah. Sure.”

It’s been months since I have seen Gerald although we correspond sometimes on Adam4Adam. I think, that could have been me in 10 or 15 years. And old, down-low gay man still slipping out from wife for a few hours so he could be who he really was. And then go back home and play the dutiful husband, father and grandfather.

The thought of this at turns makes me feel profoundly sad about the situation Gerald is in, grateful and proud I struck out into the gay world, or regretful that I am no longer a (straight) family man. Maybe one day I will settle down and just have one feeling about Gerald.