P.S. I have tons of women always trying to seduce me for real. Where are the gay boys?
First, the slap: This often comes as a surprise to I'm-not-attracted-to-other-gay-men-and-the-whole-gay-scene types, but the overwhelming majority of out gay men can smell a gay man who's repulsed by other gay men at 20 yards--and you know what? Most of us find the stench distinctly unattractive. And if you don't like gay men, SD, why should it bother you that gay guys aren't making passes at you? You don't like gay men, remember?
Now, the advice: You don't like gay men, you don't like the gay scene, but you want a boyfriend nevertheless. You know what, SD? I don't much like the gay scene either, nor do I like very many gay men--I don't like very many people, period. Like everyone else on earth, I've met thousands of people in the course of my life and only bothered to become friends with a few dozen. Why is that? Because gay or straight, SD, most people are picky when it comes to friends, scenes, and lovers.
On the gay-specific front, it sounds like you've been operating under some faulty assumptions since coming out. The first one, of course, is that there's a gay scene, singular, as opposed to gay scenes, plural. If you don't like a particular gay scene, it's up to you to go find one more to your liking, or to create your own. Your other flawed assumption is that homosexuality is enough, that you would feel a kinship with all the gay guys on earth. It's not an assumption that my straight brothers make about other straight people, SD, and it's not one that a gay man should make about other gay men. Rainbow-flag wavers would have us believe that all gay men are pals--we're all supposed to be brothers or something--but the reality is this: Gay people like other gay people at about the same rate that straight people like other straight people--that is to say, very rarely.
So, armed with two flawed assumptions--there's one gay scene, gay people should like other gay people--you jumped into a gay scene you didn't care for and met gay men you didn't like. That prompted you to reach a flawed conclusion: You don't like gay people. Or the gay scene.
Unless you want to become a bitter, lonely old queen when you grow up, SD, you need to let go of all your faulty assumptions and that flawed conclusion. Get out there and find or create the gay scene that makes you happy. On the boyfriend issue, well, you might want to develop a grudging tolerance and/or an ironic affection for the gay scenes you don't enjoy. Some gay scenes are more crowded than others, and when you're looking for a boyfriend you want a wide selection. The gay boy of your dreams may be hanging out in a gay scene you don't like much. Like you, he's hoping to meet a guy who doesn't like the gay scene any more than he does. Once you meet him, you can flee the gay scene together.
We all agree that groping without consent of the gropee is wrong. If Ahh-nold out in California did the dirty deed, he should be brought to justice. But as a happy guy who has never groped a woman without her consent, I have a different hypothesis: Say I'm out shopping. An attractive woman approaches, makes eye contact, and we exchange smiles. Then she slowly and furtively reaches over and caresses my privates. Call me a perv, but frankly, I wouldn't mind a bit. In fact, it would make my day. Betcha most guys would agree, but sadly, if the genders were reversed, betcha most women would not.
Go Right Ahead Baby and Squeeze Softly
You're right, GRABASS: Most women would mind being groped by a stranger in a store--betcha most women would call the cops. And why is that? Because male-on-female groping has a different context than female-on-male groping. Very few men are raped, abused, or murdered by women, GRABASS, and women can hear the word "no" without stalking or terrorizing the men who've dumped them. Not all straight men are violent rapists or nutso stalkers, of course, but most women either know someone of their own gender who has been the victim of male sexual violence, or have been victimized themselves. So a man who grabs a woman he doesn't know isn't going to be perceived as a friendly, flirty guy, GRABASS, but as a mortal threat.
My boyfriend and I have been dating for about six months now and we have always been very sexually active. (And responsible, too.) Unfortunately, Dan, my boyfriend has been under the impression that if I were to accidentally get pregnant I would be willing to have an abortion. Recently we talked about it and I told my boyfriend that abortion is not an option for me and that if I do get pregnant I'm going to keep the baby. Now he doesn't want to have sex with me anymore! What do I do, Dan?
Sexless in Seattle
I'm pro-choice, SIS, which means I respect your right to choose--you can, if you get knocked up, decide if you're ready to be a parent. If you are, you can have the baby. If you're not, you can have an abortion. It's your choice, it's entirely up to you, and everyone--including your boyfriend--has to respect your choice.
But fair's fair, SIS: While he can't force you to have an abortion, you can't force him to risk being a father before he's ready. In other words, choice isn't just for girls. Your boyfriend also has a right to choose. Since the decision about being a father is out of his hands if you get pregnant, he's making his choice now. Knowing that abortion isn't an option, your boyfriend doesn't want to risk fucking you anymore. It's his choice, it's entirely up to him, and everyone--including you, SIS--has to respect his choice.
The other night, my boyfriend and I went to CBGB, New York City's venerable home of punk, to see a bunch of transsexuals, cross-dressers, and freaks, including Jayne County, Sylvain Sylvain, Lisa Jackson, and Penny Arcade. One of the bands, Sonic Uke, did a song called "Dan Savage Sex Advice Column Blues." The song talked about dried condoms and "santorum running down my legs."
P.S. The lyrics and a recording of the song are on Sonic Uke's website, www.sonicuke.com.
Thanks for sharing, Bewitched, and thanks to Sonic Uke for immortalizing santorum--that frothy mix of lube and fecal matter that is sometimes the byproduct of anal sex--in song. Let's keep spreading the word, kids, and soon santorum will be on everyone's lips.