Sex and the Second City

secrets

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One of my favorite superheroes of all time was killed this year.  Many of you probably never heard of the Blue Beetle. Unlike Superman, the Flash, and the members of the Fantastic Four, the Beetle didn't have any superpowers.  But that's the reason why I I loved the Blue Beetle--because he had to work and train his body to be in top physical condition.  He also had to use his brain.  Under his secret identity, Ted Kord, he was a scientist that owned a million dollar laboratory.  It didn't hurt that the Beetle lived in Chicago.

I was introduced to him almost twenty years ago when I first started collecting comic books. Yes, like most prepubescent boys my age, I loved comic books.  There was something about the buff bodies, tight colorful outfits and soap opera storylines that were the perfect escape for a young boy who at times fantasized about men.

Excuses, Excuses, Excuses

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Recently, I saw a guy on the Internet who said he liked the way I looked and that he wanted to get together.  There was a bit of a problem.  He was overweight.  His Internet profile said that he was 6' 1" and that he weighed 225, but that he had a 38" waist.  But that didn't sound correct to me.   Whenever you are in doubt about a person's weight, go with their waist size.  On a man 6 feet to 6' 1, anything between 200-225 is a 34-36" waist.  When you get up to a 38" waist we are talking 250 pounds.

Is Keith Boykin Straight?

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It must have been the summer of 1985.  Me and my friend RACHEL--a pretty little black girl with long hair--used to glide up and down the streets in our rollerskates. Strapped to my shoulder was my cherry red mini boom box, blasting my tape recording of the soundtrack to The Woman in Red (made famous by Stevie Wonder's recording of "I Just Called To Say I Love You").

RACHEL and I thought we were in California.  We never got off our rollerskates.  In fact, while my boom box played, we would often put on elaborate choregraphed skate show competitions in her backyard with other neighborhood kids.

RACHEL was a little older than me. But I liked her a lot.  But that all changed one day during one of our skating championships.  She got in a group with some of the little girls and boys and they huddled closely.  They were looking over in my direction, giggling and whispering.  I knew exactly what they were doing.  They were plotting.

In/Out

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When I fuck, one of the things that I take pride in is getting a guy in a place so that my dick glides in his ass so that I can find his prostate and annihilate it.  That takes positioning, propping, and holding bodies at just the right angles.  It also means my pelvis and ass moving in such a way that a guy can look forward to my dick pushing in and sliding out of his ass.

But I'm learning that not all sex is like this.

Nordic Dreams

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In my early twenties, I was lucky to have dated one of the coolest white guys ever--JOHN.  Even though after we broke up, I swore I would never date another white man, in retropect I really miss so many wonderful things about him.  He was very knowledgeable, always up on current world events, and although he didn't want to admit it, he (like me) had an inner fat bitch that loved to eat good tasty food.

But what I liked the most about JOHN was his willingness to deal with racial issues.  When it came to race he wasn't perfect.  He knew that he was human, and that he could never fully understand the problems and disparaties that racial and ethnic minorities face in the United States.  He also acknowledged the racism that lied within him.  But what I loved about him was that he didn't let that stop him from trying to be better, from trying to learn more, and for checking his internal racism whenever he could.

I told JOHN while we were dating once, After you, there will be no other white men in my life.  We would laugh about it.  But I was serious.  For all of JOHNs  wonderfulness, there were a lot of things that just didn't click.  Many of those things I attribute to race (though it very well could have been something else--like the fact that he was 15 years older than me).

I was surfing the web once, and a banner popped up leading to a link on interracial adoption. It asked the following question:

Can a white woman raise a black man?

Little Man

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There is a classic American story by Louisa May Alcott called Little Women, which is a coming of age tale of the four March sisters (Jo, Beth, Amy, Meg) who grow up under reduced circumstances in post-Civil War America.  The book is a great read for everyone (both young and old) and tells a tale of the closeness of families despite the tragedy they may encounter.  Little Women is one of Louisa May Alcott's most popular novels.  Yet few people know that the story found in LIttle Women, continues in a book written by Alcott called, of all things, Little Men. 

In yesterday's post I had just discovered--to my surprise--my own little man.  I was sitting on men4now and looking at a picture of BEST BUY--the fair skinned black guy that I saw at Best Buy electronics a week earlier.  He looked a little darker in the picture.  But the smile in the photo undeniably belonged to the guy the handsome man that I had flirted with in the store.

I quickly shot off a message.  Were you in Best Buy last week?

Portable

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A few weeks ago, I went to Best Buy to buy Dynasty Season 1 on DVD.  Yes, I am a thirtysomething gay man, and I admit that the prime time soap opera that was Dynasty was key to my formative years. 

I loved it. 

The attitude.  The sex.  The white men's hairy chests.  I couldn't get enough of it.  My mother hated for me to watch the show.  Maybe she knew that Dynasty was cultivating my inner baby homo. 

The Cyclops's Request: Epilogue

Why do you want to wait? I asked.  He told me that he liked my personality and my body and wanted to get to know me better.  Shallow, and somewhat transparent answers.  He hadn't spoken to me enough to know my personality. 

It usually annoys the fuck out of me when a guy tells me he doesn't want to have sex because he "wants to get to know me better."  As if having sex automatically precludes you from getting to know someone.  I have been told by friends--and I agree--that gay men have sex frequently because there are no women to put on the breaks.  And I get annoyed when men arbitrarily put on the breaks.  As though if you wait to have sex with me we are more likely to work on getting to know one another. 

The Cyclops's Request

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After numerous telephone calls and weeks of waiting--I finally got a chance to meet the CYCLOPS.  In case you forgot, I met CYCLOPS on the Internet over a year ago.  He only has one working eye, and wears a patch over his left eye.  While we never met in person, we had exchanged telephone numbers.  Unfortunately, everytime I called him, he was busy and would promise to call me back.  But he never did.

Things started looking up for me when I recognized him dancing on the dance floor of SPIN when I went out last month.  I made it a point to introduce myself and I gave him my number.  He called me the next day.   Last Saturday, he gave me a call to tell me that he was in my neighborhood.  He wanted to meet.

Confirmation Hearings

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Today is the fourth and final day of Judge John Roberts confirmation hearings before the Senate Judiciary Committee.  In case you have have been under a rock the past two months, there are currently two vacancies on the United States Supreme Court--the highest court in our country.

Justice Sandra Day O'Connor (the first woman ever appointed to the court) handed in her resignation this summer.  Just last week, the Chief Justice of the Court, William Rehnquist died.  Dubya Bush nominated Judge John Roberts, a circuit court judge, to become the new Chief Justice.  At 50 years old, he's pretty young, which means that barring ill health, he could possibly sit on the court another two or three decades.

And I should add, John Roberts is not that bad looking--