Homosexuality from 1890-1990

I must say that even though this first Mailbox of the year is going to be nowhere near the ratings winner that HHH'S return is, the ants have decided to come up for a "ring-in-the-new-year" topic anyway. They say, "If you call yourself a fag, why don't you just tell your lack of readership exactly what being a fag is like." Well, it's as simple as "I'm still a man, I just happen to do men," but of course the general public does not comprehend that, so here goes....

Firstly, to show that gay sex has come along way in the past 100 years, consider the Victorian Era...the time period during the late 19th Century when the stork still delivered babies, the time period that nobody enjoyed sex, much less talked about it. Today, gay sex enjoys a widely popular publicity via cult-esque following over the internet and on line. Face it Bloomberg, without the prowess of gay sex, Chelsea and its establishments cease to exist...which in turn send the state of the economy into further freefall. This means we are free to roam like cattle in Montana, like bums on a subway, like Fresh at a movie premier.

Secondly, there are certain facets of our society once considered highly "gay," that are now becoming commonplace. For example, men with earrings, up until about 20 years ago, were instantly stigmatized as "girly" and "faggy." Ok call me old school as I believe earrings on men are absolutely tasteless, but nobody looks twice anymore when we see the beer drinker on the corner sporting the gold hoop, the ghetto baby boy glistening in the glow of a diamond stud. Also, cheerleading males, though still looking rather homosexual as they prance around like *N-Suck wanna-bees are being considered more and more athletic in the realm of contact sports.

Thirdly, it is becoming more and more acceptable for men to bitch and cry about weight disorders. Formerly only a "womanly issue," a growing number of men, both straight and gay, are discovering the modes of beauty as shown by the likes of Calista Flokhart and Kate Moss, and as such, have become decidedly more vocal and conscious about body image and shape. [PS - fags have always been self conscious about image, but that was normally via the ways of beauty regiments, fashion dilemmas, and hair artistry.]

Yet, whilst I've illustrated the evolution of the gay male from Ancient 70's into the new millennium, I've managed to say absolutely nothing in terms of myself. That's because you don't want to hear about that, but you will anyways.

Like most men, I too hate being manipulated by personal ads that proclaim "CUTE!!! HOT!!! WET!!!" and wind up being to'up, skanky, and anything but pleasing to the eye. Like most men, I too hate being overlooked in a bar whilst all the hotties flock to other men who are nowhere near as cute as I am. And like most NY area males, I hate when the Yankees lose to scrubby southwest teams!!!!!

In terms of acceptance, I honestly find that it is found easier amongst the straight population. Most of my A-List are straight, some involved in relationships, all of whom accept who I am. Many people, believe it or not, comprende Englais that I won't jump at a man just because he is male and I am sexually interested in men. Once people see past the sexuality issue and get to know ME [I am JAY before I am GAY], it is so much easier to cut the shit and get along with people. Cite, for example, "straight night," a one-night-only shindig per month where I hang out with the boys for wrestling PPV and join in the viewing pleasure of scantily clad chicks. Granted my rank sucks because I can't call a match to save Hellen Keller's eyesight, but it's a great time with guys who rock, even if they are straight and chant the Stratusfaction of Stacy Keibler in a thong. Also, more often than not, I'm the first one the girls come running to approve their men, to be their wedding guests, to make believe I'm their man....

However, shockingly enough, fellow homosexuals are not quite as open-armed.

There are so many unwritten rules that I just refuse to follow [I shamelessly admit, I LOVE Madonna, Cher, beauty supplies, and fashion, but you won't find me at the gym, I cannot recite Broadway hymns verbatim, I watch baseball for the sport, and I enjoy The Man Show]. I actually have and value my personality....I'm not super muscular or paper thin....physically, I am greater than most gay boys....not less than...fucking greater than [thanks again Margaret!]....I love sex and men but do not pride my existence on them...my friends of all sexualities are the best things that have ever happened to me and I'll never think otherwise....

To summate this wonderful, in depth, touching diatribe, well, it's as simple as "I'm still a man, I just happen to do men." Make any more sense yet?