The Summers of Yore.
I spent a good portion of the afternoon sipping a drink and reading through my (much like this one) sporadically kept journal, to some interesting results. I've been fielding texts from friends in NYC today about how grand a time they were having at Pride (with out poor-literally-me) which got me feeling wistful and melancholy. That said, a longish excerpt from the late great 2008 about me and NYC:
6/27/2008
And so, I've been wandering around Chelsea all afternoon, trying to avoide overheating in this nutso weather. *shakes fist at Global Warming* Generally enjoying my owncompany, and feeling good about life in general. Granted, I'm spending a lot of money and haven't yet landed a job (still in progress though!) but I'm on something of a vaction? Pride weekend is a lot of camp and fanfare but it feels great to be somewhere where this aspect of self is appreciated, not shunned.
It seems that wandering around New York is quite the physical investment. I had spent the bulk of the afternoon flying solo after having a long, engafed brunch w/ Brian and Lindsay @ this nutty and infinitley charming little parisian themed cafe not far from B's place in Williamsburg. We broke off and I caught the L into Manhattan, wandered around sans definitive direction until I found myself downing stiff coctails over happy hour ( which you'll learn spans the course of at least 5 hours) at Splash w/ a swarthy, soulful Latino god-stud named Nick, who'd claimed to remember me from a bar in my earlier misadventures. So over the course of the evening I had had a wealth of 2 for 2 martinis and vodka tonics,, while chewing the guy's ear about politics, and trying not to stare at his massively ripped underoo clad bod. Therefore, I'd lost track of time and not noticed that I'd squandered most of the daylight. I wound up making my way back down 8th Ave - which was a throng of muscle studs on parade. Its interesting that gay men in New York seem to embody the hyper masculine where in other places this seems less the case. Here, 2/3rds of the men look like linebackers slash supermodels and fuck like marines (or actually are marines in several cases).
It seems a difficult thing to find an "in" beyond that initial attraction though. Given a population this size, one could flit from beefy demi-god to the next without the merest of genuine connections. I would assert this is equally true for those of "alternative" orientations as well however. If Craigslist posts are any indication there seems to be an awful lot of label/value free sex going on in this city (and many other) city on the hush. Which does little to suprise me. What I do find odd is my friend's penchant for glossing over these complications. Though to this end he's no different thant most, it seems. "Nick", I suspect understands, because he positions hmself cautiously towards overtly inquisitive patrons regarding his sexual orientation. I don't find reluctance to disclose interesting in any case, but I do think anyone who is honest with oneself is going to have a more nuanced sexual history than the "normativ public" assumes. More later. First mieandering is in order..."