Friends for life

Sad that dogs are often more faithful than people.

Majorca Flats -- 213

Keith sat quietly holding both Esme's hands.

“I'm not much help, am I, Ezz? What you need is a 100% stright blaoke who loves ya. And ya've got me instaid.”

Esme squeezed his hands. “You're my best friend and I love you.”

“Yeah, but ya knaow all the reasons … Ezzaloona, I love you. You're my best friend. But I love Tom, too. And I think I'm … well … Jason is a top blaoke.”

“Yeah. I know. I like him immensely. He's so different to what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

“I dunno. An upper-class twit. All teeth and fruity voice and bobbing Adam's apple. He does speak very posh but he's seems so ordinary. I really like him.”

“Me too. He's … he's lovely.”

They looked at each other then smiled simultaneously. Keith pulled her close and hugged her. She could feel his hard-on pressed against her. She looked at him her eyes dark. “That's not a good idea.”

“Naow. Maybe not. But I want to.”

They set off for his flat.

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Episodes 1 to 180 (without pictures, 10 episodes per chapter)

Majorca Flats -- 56

Only when Cody's familiar shape had vanished into the shadows at the far end of the road did Luigi break.

He was in deep depression for months. His grandmother had nursed him through it, making him his favourite food, and trying hard to get him past his grief. In the end, she lost her temper with him and as always, as her accent grew stronger, so his comprehension dwindled. He finally stopped her tirade by kissing her on the cheek and promising to try to get better. He went to see a psychiatrist, who made him feel worse, and decided that only time and his own strength could cure the malaise.

Once, Cody had appeared at the flat, just as Luigi was going out. He'd clearly been waiting to catch him.

“Lu, can we talk?”

Luigi held his head high and ignored him.

“Please, Lu. Please talk to me.”

Luigi turned on him and spat, “Go back to Phillippa!”

“Lu . . . I couldn't . . . . I'm sorry . . .”

Luigi crossed to the tram stop, just before a tram arrived. He climbed on board, and watched as Cody's figure diminished as the tram rattled away up Nicholson Street. It was going in the wrong direction but Luigi hadn't cared. He just had to get away before he gave in. Cody's tone had been so desperate, so sad, it near broke Luigi's heart. Or would have, if it hadn't been broken already.

First Majorca Flats post            Previous MF Post (#55)            Next MF Post (#57)

[The image is a still from the film of the 1933 Noel Coward play Design for Living:

The  'la ronde' of relationships between decorator Gilda, playwright Leo and painter Otto all settles down in the end when they decide to live with and love each other much to the absolute horror of their 'straight' friends and loved ones.  

Text and image from Cathode Ray Tube]

All Overish*

A coupla months ago I met on the train a guy I've known for 17 years.  When I first met him, he was 17, and I was 42.   He was in a ballet at my daughter's ballet school and he was cute as -- and obviously gay.  But I'm married and I try to be faithful, and anyway, even if I wasn't and didn't, I don't do 17 year olds. It's perfectly legal in Victoria. Nevertheless.  I used to see him on the train from time to time.  He was going to VCA ( Victorian College of the Arts), which has an attached high school for would-be thespians.

Rudolf Nureyev

Then he started as a ballet teacher (by then he was in his mid twenties) , and I went to him for lessons for a while.  Ballet is very intimate.  Your teacher has to show you how to do steps, how to stand, how to hold your body, head, arms, how to turn out your legs, and so on.  So there's this warm hand on you, pressing your back in or out a little, demonstrating how to improve turnout, kneeling in front of you arranging your feet into the correct line.  You are in lycra tights (with a dance thong, called a "dance belt", underneath).  He's in sweats, sometimes, and tights at others.  You are in a muck sweat from exercising, your T-shirt sodden, sweat in your groin and your bum-crack, sweat dripping off your face.  And there's this really, really nice bloke, gay, and frankly with a classic dancer's build (muscled legs, delicious bum, broad back, perfect posture) stroking you.  Well, thank goodness for padded 'dance belts' is all I can say! 

Anyway, he went overseas to pursue his career and I didn't see him for a few years.  Then I see this very handsome bloke on the train, and well, look, LOL.  And it's him.  "Nigel!"  He's genuinely really pleased to see me.  He's still cute, still slim and sexy, still very attractive.  He's even nicer than I remember.  And I get a strong impression that he might be interested in me.  He's broken up with his guy.  He's available.  He gives me his mobile number.  So as we're coming into his station, he stands up and I do too, to say goodbye, and the train lurches over some points, and suddenly I'm in his arms.  Male pectorals, male body, male arms, male stubble, male smell.  His blue eyes smiling at me, amused, accepting.  His hand light on my back.

All overish.

Am I going to phone him?  No.  I've always avoiding getting close to gay-shaded guys.  I'm not so strong-willed I can resist the desire and the need for male closeness.  Not that I would make love, but that I might grow too fond of him and get hurt in the process.  That's happened a couple of times to me in the past.  It makes me lonely, perhaps, to be cautious about friendships, because the truth is straight guys don't get it, and I try not to get too close to gay-shaded guys, but that's the way it is.  Suck it up, sunshine.

So. . .  A memory only.  But I think of him, and that moment, often.

[I talked about the beauty of ballet dancers' bodies before, here]

*"All overish" comes from one of Dorothy Sayers' novels, Clouds of Witness,  where Lord Peter Wimsey encounters a magnificently beautiful woman.

Our Cheatin' Hearts

I have often suspected that the push for fidelity originally started in patriarchal cultures to ensure that the children of a marriage were in fact the husbands'.  A matriarchal society wouldn't bother:  a woman knows that a baby is hers.  Later on, as relationships between the genders shifted and marriage came to be seen as a romantic institution rather than one about property, the need for fidelity was extended to men as well.  Yet, throughout history, people have said "it's different for men", when fidelity is discussed.  A man straying from the marriage bed has been tut-tutted but a woman has been reviled.  When in previous centuries the super-religious have made adulterers wear a scarlet A it usually been the woman who has had to do it.  Men have escaped more or less scot-free.

Polygamy has been culturally widespread, polyandry not -- not that women I've spoken to have been against it, in theory anyway.   Look at Laurell K Hamilton and her mostly female readership.  Even genes have been brought into the discussion: it is in the interest of men (so the geneticists say) to have lots of offspring, that  illegitimate children are assurances that your genes will survive if your legitimate children don't.  That's an option not open to women, so (the theory goes) men have a genetic drive to spread their seed widely, while women have a drive to find a strong mate and keep him.  Think of the very words illegitimate and legitimate, and what they imply about society's view of children born outside what is ultimately a legal framework.  I know a woman my age who has been with her guy for 45 years.  They still haven't married, yet apart from the legal imprimatur, they are clearly and indisputably a couple.  And they adore each other.

Before I receive snarling emails, let me say (a) that I am myself faithful to my lady, not because I think it per se a great moral issue but because it would hurt her deeply if I were not, which is a great moral issue (to me); (b) that if you love each other and wish to remain faithful to each other, I have no wish at all to denigrate such love, but that doesn't mean everybody else ought to behave like that too; and (c) if you have an explicit triad relationship, where for example your wife allows you to have a relationship with a man, this isn't "infidelity" in my definition of the concept (though the thin-lipped might think differently.)  The key wrong is perhaps not the infidelity itself but the deceit.  Deceit has the capacity to destroy relationships.  If you do not trust each other, if you routinely lie to each other.....

When you approve or not, infidelity seems to be widespread, according to this interesting (but perhaps a little shallow) article.  This is a quote from it:

The hypocrisy pot has been stirred anew by research suggesting life-long monogamy is not the status quo for human beings. In Sex at Dawn: The Prehistoric Origins of Modern Sexuality, psychologist Christopher Ryan and psychiatrist Cacilda Jetha (who are married to each other) argue we aren't as far removed from those randy apes as we like to think. For 2 million years, casual sexuality was the norm for our ancestors, who also shared food, shelter and protection. The advent of agriculture 10,000 years ago meant sexuality became associated with property, turning our natural sexual inclinations on their head.

According to Ryan and Jetha, "deep conflicts rage at the heart of modern sexuality". Using evidence from archaeology, anthropology and biology, they argue that sex has been thoroughly mixed up with concepts of love and marriage, resulting in sky-high divorce rates, passionless unions and an overreliance on porn, relationship counselling and Viagra to prop up the whole thing. Ryan notes that since the book was released in July, he has received 15 to 20 emails a day from relieved individuals who always thought there was "something wrong" with them because their eyes (or hands) wandered elsewhere.

 And this is the blurb from the back of the book mentioned above:

Since Darwin's day, we've been told that sexual monogamy comes naturally to our species. Mainstream science--as well as religious and cultural institutions--has maintained that men and women evolved in families in which a man's possessions and protection were exchanged for a woman's fertility and fidelity. But this narrative is collapsing. Fewer and fewer couples are getting married, and divorce rates keep climbing as adultery and flagging libido drag down even seemingly solid marriages.

How can reality be reconciled with the accepted narrative? It can't be, according to renegade thinkers Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jethá. While debunking almost everything we "know" about sex, they offer a bold alternative explanation in this provocative and brilliant book.

Ryan and Jethá's central contention is that human beings evolved in egalitarian groups that shared food, child care, and, often, sexual partners. Weaving together convergent, frequently overlooked evidence from anthropology, archaeology, primatology, anatomy, and psychosexuality, the authors show how far from human nature monogamy really is. Human beings everywhere and in every era have confronted the same familiar, intimate situations in surprisingly different ways. The authors expose the ancient roots of human sexuality while pointing toward a more optimistic future illuminated by our innate capacities for love, cooperation, and generosity.

With intelligence, humor, and wonder, Ryan and Jethá show how our promiscuous past haunts our struggles over monogamy, sexual orientation, and family dynamics. They explore why long-term fidelity can be so difficult for so many; why sexual passion tends to fade even as love deepens; why many middle-aged men risk everything for transient affairs with younger women; why homosexuality persists in the face of standard evolutionary logic; and what the human body reveals about the prehistoric origins of modern sexuality.  

In the tradition of the best historical and scientific writing, Sex at Dawn unapologetically upends unwarranted assumptions and unfounded conclusions while offering a revolutionary understanding of why we live and love as we do.

Most interesting.  Note particularly this little phrase:  why homosexuality persists in the face of standard evolutionary logic.   Indeed.  As I have said before, here and here, I think it's to do with binding small groups of men together.

So much of what we take for granted is merely the accretion of time over the irritant grain of sand planted by some religious bigot.  Sex is powerful stuff, and I recommend that you be careful with it (don't do this at home without supervision, kids!) but it's also magical.  Sexual jealousy can break your heart, and your marriage.  Yet those are issues which have to be settled between the couple, and are nobody else's business.

I suspect that over the next century, even though man-woman marriage will remain the norm, there will be far more marriages of two men and one woman or two women and one man, not to mention two men or two women (hurray!) and that the whole concept of family will shift again, as it already has done several times over the millennia since Homer.


And note also that I am NOT saying that love or compassion or caring have changed.  They haven't.  What has shifted is the legally and socially accepted definitions of both marriage and family.  And I think they'll shift again during the lifetimes of my children and grandchildren.  The injunction,  love one another as I have loved you, remains.  Just the framework is shifting.

Guilt, self-hatred and deceit.

Guilt, self-hatred and deceit: a deadly and toxic brew.

From the Blog Bi Like Me:

I had this feeling a while ago, and maybe you've had the same one. I obviously haven't been truthful and forthright to my wife and family about my bisexuality. But am I being punished? I may seem happy, I may act great. You may say, he's handsome, he's got a wonderful family and wife. You see me from the outside..but you don't know my insides are a bubbling cauldron of deceit, lies, and evilness. That's the way I feel sometimes. Sometimes I feel that god is punishing me for my actions. 

and: 

I could refrain from having sexual liaisons outside my marriage: I've tried..and unless I get castrated, not gonna happen. 'Nuff said? As a result of my choice to remain secretive, I am in a constant personality upheaval. Some days, I'm great. Relatively calm, pretty content. Other days, I'm downright nasty, unhappy and resentful. Unfortunately, I take it out on some of the people closest to me

and:

I'm constantly feeling the pull between my family and my desire to be with another man. There is always a conflict within me. The emotional roller coaster is terrible. A long time ago, after I first got married and had my experiments with other men I would be wrought with guilt. I'd swear off not only being with another man, but also everything associated with the action..like looking on the internet, chatting in chat rooms, etc. It doesn't work. The pull and attraction is obviously too great. I am clearly not the person people see me as. Those who know me would be shocked if they knew of my real life - my true feelings. In college, I was quite the lady's man My friends, family and co-workers see me as a stable, smart, honest, hardworking, loyal and loving father. ....don't assume that my sexual encounters are taken lightly. They are not. It is a cross I must bear, and if I wasn't worried about the affect on my kids lives, clearly there would be an easier way out of the constant internal struggle that I go through. I don't go there or do something because of my loyalty to them, and in spite of my unhappiness, I plod on..every day

It seems to me that we are born the way we are. We are born with (or they inexorably and inevitably develop within us) feelings towards men, feelings of love and desire. We try hard to be moral and decent, not just by the standards of society, but by our own perhaps more demanding standards. And we fail, too often. And then we endure guilt and self-hatred, and our lives are poisoned as a result. How much simpler it would be if the world quietly accepted that feeling love or desire for another man is not wrong or evil, but part of the natural continuum of human interaction, that in fact m2m love might even be noble and uplifting, and that in any case, we are what we are. A friend once said that asking someone to be straight if they are gay-shaded is like asking them to be two inches taller. We can't do it. And by trying to contort ourselves into the strict (& strait) paradigms demanded by the Christian-Fascists, we damage ourselves and those round us.

I am not unfaithful to my wife, because I love her and don't want to hurt her. But there is an aching void in me where I lack men: not for sex, but for love.

The Aching Void

I found this interesting blog, written by a bisexual married man in New York. I made different choices to him. He has a secret male lover and he's married, and I've always tried to remain faithful to my lady. Not moralising or criticising: everybody has to make their own choices. God knows I am very far from perfect. Very, very far. If you fall in love with a man, even if you don't actually make love to him, aren't you being unfaithful? Which is the greater infidelity, to love someone other than your wife, without sleeping with him, or to have safe sex with anonymous partners without involving your heart? I've been in love with a few blokes in my time. It cannot have been easy for my lady to live with. So, judge not, lest ye be judged. A curiously forgiving sentiment from St Matthew, who otherwise spends a lot of time talking about punishment.

A recent post on the blog highlights the very hard choices married gay or bi men face. It's written by a Mexican (and you have to admire his fluent use of 3 languages--how many Anglophones could do that?) and describes how he found out, totally out of the blue, that he was capable of loving a man. You can read the original post here.

That was the first time we made love. No second thoughts, no regrets, no alcohol. I just wanted to give myself to him, and I was craving the feeling of him giving it all to me. The sex was un-fuckin’-believable! No anal intercourse, but hot as I never thought sex could get. It was somewhat, aggressive? But tender at the same time. He was a man, I am a man and that empowered us both. There was no submissive/dominant role neither in him not in me. What I remember the most is that I was so damn turned on by the fact he was rock hard. When you have sex with a woman, you can tell when she’s aroused, but you have to pay attention to notice! Nothing is more graphically eloquent than a stiff cock to truly convey how hot you are for someone. Knowing that I had that kind of power; to turn him on, and having his throbbing cock to prove it, was like nothing else I felt before. We suck each other. We kissed a lot. I blew in his chest a huge load, he cum’s in my mouth while I beat the shit out him. We cuddle. No need to clean up.

From that day on we were together. I spend the best summer in my life traveling with him. We actually lived together as a couple the whole year. We spent Christmas and New Years. By the end of the term I had to return home to graduate. So did he. I left first, thank god I didn’t have to empty our place. We kissed, hugged and cried in the middle of the CDG Airport departures gate. I haven’t seen him ever since. We stay in touch a lot through skype.

I find it fascinating how often straight men approach love through deep friendship. Somehow they 'click' with another man, and if the circumstances are right, they become lovers. It suggests to me that this is natural, that it is wired into us as humans. I've talked to you about Cross Currents and It started with Brian. Although these are stories, they are partly based on the truth--I know, because I was lucky enough to get to know these guys--about mostly straight men who grew to love other men.

Later on in the post, the Mexican talks about what so many bi guys feel: If I get married, do I really have to live my life like you live yours [i.e., the life of the blog owner, having a hidden relationship with a man] in order to stop feeling this void inside me since I haven’t been with a man?

I've accepted most of the mildly shitty things in my life: poverty, getting old, having failed at so many things. But my need for male companionship leaves a void in me. Not sex, so much as love. Affection. Comradeship. That void aches. Every day. And I think every bisexual man feels this, sometimes. Is there a solution? Not that I can see. Religion provides no consolation, which it might for all the other slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, for according to the Abrahamic religions, we are evil abominations, and our sorrows and voids and unfilled needs are of no consequence, and if they are, it is no more than we deserve.