Showing posts with label I think I love him. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I think I love him. Show all posts

Monday, December 15, 2008

Gay virginity

Penetration makes you lose your gay virginity. Unless you never want to have anal sex. Then it’s blowjobs and mutual masturbation. You might change your mind and decide you want to have anal sex later on though, in which case penetration is your new virginity even though you lost your last virginity because it doesn’t count anymore now that you want to do more. What?

I’ve seen people use the concept of gay virginity to seem more experienced. I’ve also seen it used (more frequently) to make themselves appear pure and innocent. It all depends on how they word their experiences. Maybe the whole ideology behind being gay and a virgin doesn’t hold; the whole concept is too unstable.

Traditionally virginity has been used to capture the image of straight couples getting intimate for the first time but ever since gay culture came out of the closet us queers decided that we too wanted that special moment. Did we think it through? Maybe realizing that we’re gay, coming out, and entering the gay community are enough special landmarks to let us give up virginity. But we could never do that. The idea of a cute young virgin just can’t be shaken as one of the hottest sexual encounters and in the gay world that means it stays. How could we give all that up just because the lines are blurred a little when determining exactly when that cute young virgin actually loses their virginity?

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Always on my mine Joe

I was fourteen and you were fifteen
when you took aim and shot your arrow, penetrating
deeply into my body
and making it so
I could not continue
without you inside me.

In clumsy, masculine bodies we could barely control,
stumbling in the pulsing, tingling dark,
feeling our way around corners and obstacles
where we could barely breathe,
and where I went,
you sacrificed
and with a handsome smile, calmly followed.

In surroundings familiar to me but
strange to you,
we made the best
of it and painted
marks of war
on one another’s faces,
brothers-in-arms determined
to survive a tour of duty
in a place where our love
was foreign
and unusual.

Your scholarly transformation
was my education, and as you became wise and strong,
I learned
I could share my burden
and you, surprising even yourself, could carry
the weight of our world.

Now, when I think back to that town,
you are as much a part of it as I,
and as we walked away toward the fire-streaked sunset,
I asked,
and you said yes.

We are together the architects of this
great skyscraper
which at its highest point
touches the horizon
so that there is no distinguishable ending to one
or beginning to the other.