Saturday, April 25, 2015

Top, Bottom, Versatile, or None of the Above?

People are always asking if you're a fan of masculine backsides or frontsides.

Backsides have their allure.  Glutes are pleasantly shapely, and hamstrings and calves have an appeal.  Besides, you can ogle at them without the owner noticing.

But they pale in comparison to the weak-in-the-knees magnificence of muscular pecs, abs, and biceps. Not to mention the basket.

And the face.  Who wants to cruise the back of someone's head?

So I don't understand why:

1. Homophobes always equate gay with backsides.  "I'm not homophobic, but the things you do are so disgusting!" they squeal.  "How can you do that...that backside thing?  Doesn't it make you sick?"

2. The first thing gay men ask is "Are you a top or a bottom?" (For backside activities).

3. Or in my case, because I'm on the tall side, they just assume.  The moment we get to my apartment, they flop onto their stomachs.

4. Guys who are bottoms for backside activities are denigrated as unmanly.  "He may act all masculine and butch, but he's really a little sissy!  The moment you get into the bedroom, he flops onto his stomach!"

5. When a backside act is forced, it's a felony.  Every other forced same-sex act is a misdemeanor, not nearly as serious in the eyes of the law.

6. After a night of very energetic erotic activity, guys say "Well, that was nice, but I want to go all the way with you!  I want to have sex!" Anything not involving the backside is preliminary, "fooling around," not really sex at all.

It's due to the heterosexual assumption that sex must always involve a male penetrating a female.  Whatever gay men do must follow that model, and since there's no vagina, they must substitute the backside (and the one who gets penetrated is like a woman, therefore despicable).

Sexist, homophobic nonsense.  Sex involves many different activities.  Your whole body can participate, not just one part.

When I moved to West Hollywood in the 1980s, we weren't sure yet what caused AIDS -- the HIV virus had not yet been isolated,  but we knew that it was transmitted easily through unprotected backside activity -- so most guys stayed away.  The rest used condoms.  Always.

Today only about half of gay men are interested in backside activity (50% are bottoms, 20% tops, and 30% versatile).

Oddly, only about half of older and a third of younger men use condoms.


See also: Baseball Butts

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

The Naked Ghost at the Crossroads

Garrett, Indiana, June 1970

[This is the story that my aunt told me when I was about nine years old, in the trailer in the big woods, while a cold wind howled outside.]

Mary Shepherd was only 16 when her parents announced that they had arranged for her to be married to 33-year old Ell Hicks.

She didn't mind: he was a good catch.  He had a nice farm near Pyramid, Kentucky, about 14 miles south of Prestonburg.  And he was handsome, athletic, and "well-knit."  Girls had been trying unsuccessfully to land him for years.

Ell turned out to be a good provider.  He bought Mary the latest fashions, and took her to moving picture shows, and in 1904 they became one of the first families in the hills to own a new horseless carriage.

He was always kind to her and the children.  He never raised his hand in anger.

There was only one problem, something that Mary couldn't tell anyone about except her mother.  And many years later, her favorite daughter, Gracie.

Ell wasn''ll, he wasn't keen on doing his duty as a husband.

Mary had to coax and cajole him, and even then it happened only once in a blue moon.

She blamed Ell's friends.  That's why he waited so long to marry -- he preferred the company of men.  Especially that wastrel Silas.  Why, they were joined at the hip, like Frick and Frack!

Sometimes those two stayed out carousing until midnight, leaving Mary rumbling around the house all by herself.

Finally Mary put her foot down.  "You can't visit Silas unless I go with you!"

That quieted things down, for awhile.

One day in the summer of 1905, Ell told Mary that Silas's elderly grandmother was sick, very sick, and everyone was gathered at the house to "sit up" with her, like you did in the hills.  She gave her consent for him to "sit up," too, as long as he was back by suppertime.

Well, suppertime came, and then sundown, and no Ell.  At first Mary was worried.  Then she got angry.  Maybe he wasn't sitting up with Silas's grandmother at all.  Maybe the old woman wasn't even sick!  No doubt it was just an excuse to go carousing with that wastrel!

Near midnight, Mary had enough. She woke Dewey, her toddler, wrapped six-month old Gracie in blankets, and set out to catch Ell in the act.

Ell took the carriage, so she had to walk.

It was very dark, but she could see well enough in the moonlight.

She went down the dirt road for about a mile, and then she came to a crossroads.  The left fork led to Pyramid, and the right on to Prestonburg.

There was something glowing on the side of the Prestonburg Road!

At first she thought it was someone holding a lantern.  But no -- the light was pale and cold, like moonlight.

It was like a human figure with legs spread and arms akimbo.  But much bigger -- at least ten feet tall! She couldn't make out a face.

It moaned like a ghost.

Mary was petrified with fear, but she couldn't run away, with Dewey clinging to her legs and Gracie howling.

She thought of going back, but Silas's house was closer, and there were people there.  So she persevered, walking slowly, with the boy still clinging to her legs and the baby still howling.

Finally she made it to the house, where she discovered that Ell was telling the truth.  It was full of people sitting up with Silas's grandmother, who died at the precise moment that Mary saw the figure in the woods.

But there was a problem: the figure was definitely male.  It was naked.  She distinctly remembered parts. . .dangling between its legs.

If it wasn't Silas's grandmother, who was it?  What was it?

Gracie didn't remember the incident, of course.  Mary told her about it when she was a teenager, just before she married my grandfather.

Years later, Gracie told the story to each of her daughters, just before they married.

Aunt Mavis broke with tradition, and told me.

No doubt the details changed over time, but I'm certain that the core of the story is intact: the wastrel, the sick grandmother, and the ghost in the woods that couldn't have been her.

What kind of cautionary tale is this for mothers to pass on to their daughters?

Maybe to be careful -- some of your husband's infidelities might not involve women.

But wait -- did Mary even know that gay men, or men on the downlow, existed?  Did Gracie? Or Aunt Mavis?

See also: The Ghost Lovers of Eastern Kentucky


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