Sitting in LAX late tonight, waiting on a delayed red-eye to Atlanta, it "re-dawns" on me that I'm a Nerd (capital N). I said "re-dawns" because this is certainly not the first time this has entered my psyche.
Here I sit, reading, writing, commenting on various friend's blogs, I realize that being a Nerd, or more accurately having a preclusion to intellectual pursuits, is exactly where I like to be.
If you look around where I live, my neighborhood, it's an entire population of Nerds - Doctor's, Lawyers, Professors, Entrepreneurs, and even an Author. Driving their Nerd-mobiles (BMWs, Mercedes, Jags, Volvos).
I went to my high school reunion recently - 20 years (yikes) and the pride I have of my "Nerdness" took on new confidence. And we all know how it goes. The jocks, cheerleaders, popular kids are in general, still the same. And they marvel at where others of us have gone in life. And that's ok, we need employees :)
________________________
Yes, I am a Nerd. But worse yet, or better yet, I’m a Gay Nerd.
So what does that really mean? Well for one thing, I don’t fit into anyone’s concept of a Gay Man. Not a label whore – I wear jeans and tee shirts. I think more about important issues, politics, and the latest good book.
So as a Nerd, a Gay Nerd just coming out into the world I find myself a drift in a superficial culture that may not be prepared for me, or may misunderstand me.
I’ve opined on what will become of me once I shed the self imposed repression of all of these years (see Midtown-Chris). But in becoming Midtown-Chris, if that’s to be my fate, will I then instead just be repressing my Nerdness? Certainly there is room for both –
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Sunday, July 24, 2005
Midtown Chris
Do I have a sign on my forehead?
I went to lunch with a friend this week. Venturing into the unknown - we headed deep into the hood - Midtown that is - center of Gay Atlanta.
Nothing like the feeling of having a bumper sticker pasted to your forehead – “Fresh Meat”.
Being the out and coming (coming out) straight guy getting in touch with the truth proved to be a real good time. Even though it was a slow Wednesday on the patio at Joe’s, there was still a nice crowd. And it was nice getting some attention - and looks. But that brings me to the real subject.
What happens to guys when they come out? Approaching this intellectually I want to think that I will come out, find a great guy, and have a long term, mutually rewarding relationship based on love and a deep soulful connection. But is that how it works? I want it too, without question. It’s the plan. But am I more likely, freed from my sexual repression, to dive into the pool – or become “Midtown Chris” (cape and all) as a friend of mine jokes?
Now, I’m no slouch – even at 39. I’m in the best shape of my life; masculine, lean, athletic, smart, successful, well read and a world traveler. (and I have a really nice scooter chair and AARP has a great health plan :) )
I have absolutely no clue how this works but what if Midtown Chris is given just a little bit of attention by the boys at Outwrite, or Einstein’s, or at some techno club I now so snobbishly claim to not be “my scene” – does he become the shirtless dancer-boy up on Ecstasy until 4 in the morning sleeping with whatever twink comes along?
So who knows – if any of you do, shout it out. But it’s not the plan – I hope to have more character than that. Let me know what you think, what you’ve experienced.
I went to lunch with a friend this week. Venturing into the unknown - we headed deep into the hood - Midtown that is - center of Gay Atlanta.
Nothing like the feeling of having a bumper sticker pasted to your forehead – “Fresh Meat”.
Being the out and coming (coming out) straight guy getting in touch with the truth proved to be a real good time. Even though it was a slow Wednesday on the patio at Joe’s, there was still a nice crowd. And it was nice getting some attention - and looks. But that brings me to the real subject.
What happens to guys when they come out? Approaching this intellectually I want to think that I will come out, find a great guy, and have a long term, mutually rewarding relationship based on love and a deep soulful connection. But is that how it works? I want it too, without question. It’s the plan. But am I more likely, freed from my sexual repression, to dive into the pool – or become “Midtown Chris” (cape and all) as a friend of mine jokes?
Now, I’m no slouch – even at 39. I’m in the best shape of my life; masculine, lean, athletic, smart, successful, well read and a world traveler. (and I have a really nice scooter chair and AARP has a great health plan :) )
I have absolutely no clue how this works but what if Midtown Chris is given just a little bit of attention by the boys at Outwrite, or Einstein’s, or at some techno club I now so snobbishly claim to not be “my scene” – does he become the shirtless dancer-boy up on Ecstasy until 4 in the morning sleeping with whatever twink comes along?
So who knows – if any of you do, shout it out. But it’s not the plan – I hope to have more character than that. Let me know what you think, what you’ve experienced.
Friday, July 8, 2005
Senior Year
It was a very good year 1982/83. Suntans, cars, drinking, drugs, girls, guys… Life was good beyond all expectation. I grew up in a very affluent South Florida community. My parents and most of my friend’s parents were wealthy, by any measure - An upper class existence where everyone at school had a car, many new BMWs and Mercedes, Porches and Corvettes. Boats, planes, weekend trips to Bimini – life was good.
I was the quintessential popular kid. Tall, firm, athletic, rich, friends with the jocks, the preps, the geeks, the freaks, the misfits – and a straight A student.
A good year, the year my girlfriend of 4 months told her family and I that she was 5 months pregnant. The year I choose, without hesitation to claim the child as my own. Step up in public and make that claim, even though this baby was in no way my child. Not many guys would have done it; most would have bolted – even now. But for me it was the right thing to do.
In the superficial world we lived in back then, a teenage mother was not something that would have been accepted; much less one without the responsible father. It’s not as if we lived in the inner city after all – these things did not happen in “Whiteville”. Girls were expected to “take care” of it. Abort.
Not that I’m a Bible banging pro-lifer – I’m not. I’m pro-choice. Life is my choice. And I have no right to pass judgment or my beliefs on anyone else. But it was a hard choice, for a 16 and 17 year old to make and go forward into life.
We both took a lot of crap about this – from teachers, other students, people, in the community. But fuck them.
Why I did it, I don’t know. Does it define me? Without question. And it has driven me to seek answers – why I am the Man I am. Why did I make this very right decision – at a time in life that I was unsure of my self in more ways than one - this was the same time of my first relationship with a boy...
That most beautiful child that we introduced to the many things on this planet, to this life is now introducing a child of her own to the wind, the rain, the laughter and sorrow that is our existence. Had I allowed that child to be aborted I know that I would not be as complete as I am.
I was the quintessential popular kid. Tall, firm, athletic, rich, friends with the jocks, the preps, the geeks, the freaks, the misfits – and a straight A student.
A good year, the year my girlfriend of 4 months told her family and I that she was 5 months pregnant. The year I choose, without hesitation to claim the child as my own. Step up in public and make that claim, even though this baby was in no way my child. Not many guys would have done it; most would have bolted – even now. But for me it was the right thing to do.
In the superficial world we lived in back then, a teenage mother was not something that would have been accepted; much less one without the responsible father. It’s not as if we lived in the inner city after all – these things did not happen in “Whiteville”. Girls were expected to “take care” of it. Abort.
Not that I’m a Bible banging pro-lifer – I’m not. I’m pro-choice. Life is my choice. And I have no right to pass judgment or my beliefs on anyone else. But it was a hard choice, for a 16 and 17 year old to make and go forward into life.
We both took a lot of crap about this – from teachers, other students, people, in the community. But fuck them.
Why I did it, I don’t know. Does it define me? Without question. And it has driven me to seek answers – why I am the Man I am. Why did I make this very right decision – at a time in life that I was unsure of my self in more ways than one - this was the same time of my first relationship with a boy...
That most beautiful child that we introduced to the many things on this planet, to this life is now introducing a child of her own to the wind, the rain, the laughter and sorrow that is our existence. Had I allowed that child to be aborted I know that I would not be as complete as I am.
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