So So Gay
In Therapy the other night – a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, rather than the psychological practice – my friend turned to me: ‘I hooked up with this Brit recently and as he bent over he looked back and said: ‘If you go in deep you might get a bit of brown.’ Really? Isn’t that the …
In Therapy the other night – a bar in Hell’s Kitchen, rather than the psychological practice – my friend turned to me:
‘I hooked up with this Brit recently and as he bent over he looked back and said: ‘If you go in deep you might get a bit of brown.’ Really? Isn’t that the most disgusting thing you ever heard?’
After gagging, I said sympathetically ‘Well it’s not the sort of dirty talk that turns me on. But it’s the risk you take, isn’t it?’
‘But why did he do that? Why didn’t he prepare before coming over? Why did he think it was acceptable?’
‘Why are you having a go at me about it?’
‘You’re British,’ he offered by way of explanation. ‘So are all British boys like that?’
‘As far as I know, a British anus is the same as every other one,’ I replied. This didn’t seem to appease my friend. ‘What I say? On behalf of lazy British bottoms everywhere, I apologize?’
The implication that American and British boys have different versions of cleanliness where this, um, practice is concerned did make me wonder: Are New York boys better groomed than their London counterparts?
Male grooming has grown in leaps and bounds over the last ten years and since gay men are a group who are sensitive to the blaring competition where mating is concerned (much the same as straight women), preening and beautifying is a regular practice.
New York gays, however – living in arguably the most competitive city in the world – take this to a whole new level. It can be like living in the biggest, baddest, bitchiest episode of America’s Next Top Model, EVER.
Years ago in London, getting ready for a night out meant having a condom in your wallet and shaving your nose hair.
Today, in NYC, it means censoring outfits in which you may recently have been seen, cleansing, moisturizing, and buffing to within an inch of your life. The average gay bathroom cabinet will be bursting with skin products, defurring appliances, perhaps clear mascara to lengthen the lashes, lip transforming balm for perfectly pouty lips, and, if one prefers to be on the receiving end of things, a supply of products to make sure you’re, ahem, prepared down there.
Getting groomed is cheaper in NY than in London and even Chicktoria has had peticures (when it became clear I couldn’t get near enough to her talons in order to trim them myself without my arms being julienned). Though at $22 a pop – twice as much as mine – her sessions didn’t last.
Yet it’s something that has to be worked into your schedule and into your budget. It’s time-consuming, boring and exhausting and I say this as someone whose routine includes occasional shoulder waxes and manicures. ‘Occasional’ because, frankly, I can’t be arsed to walk to the salon which is 12 minutes down the road.
How girls and boys repeatedly make time
for these lengthy procedures when I can barely sit still for a 15 minute manicure is beyond me.
There is a difference between scrubbing up so you look and feel physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually the best you can, and believing that taking care of the physical part allows a neglect of the other components.
I dated a guy who always had that glowing colour – you know, the kind you get from using tinted moisturizer – all over his body. His skin was super soft, his eyes bright, teeth brilliant, hair coiffed, his body shaved in (what he deemed to be) all the right places ALL THE TIME. Once when he broke a toenail he got very upset and asked me not to look at him.
It’s no surprise that we measure success by our physicality rather than by the health of our hearts, minds and spirits – especially when we are bombarded with this idea constantly. This is nothing new, of course, but I must say on this side of the pond the idea of attainable perfection feels much more persistent.
Infomercials showcase the brilliance of shoe lifts to give men an extra 5 inches to get that girl/ snag that promotion/ increase that popularity. Eye creams smooth away lines instantly and make you feel good – at least for the 8 hours it lasts for. Instant facelifts – tape strips you apply from cheek to ear and hide under your hair – take years off your face and are 2 for the price of 1 if you call now.
I confess my indulgence in some of these quick fix treats. The day after a birthday party I was facebooked by a guest who wrote: ‘You are so handsome. And your ass…Seriously, I really wanted to eat it that night.’
My first instinct (after blushing and grimacing, natch) was to assume a case of mistaken identity since, honestly, my ass is not my best feature. Then, I remembered I had been wearing my Andrew Christian anti-muffin top underwear with butt lifting technology, and suddenly everything was clear.
I feel obliged to tell you that I never pursued the guest, but not for the fact that he would have discovered in my nakedness not the melon-like pertness that my wonder pants had helped me achieve but instead two scoops of melting ice cream.
After all, I am not someone who fears vulnerability – I believe embracing what you have leads you to true and intense intimacy. And one thing I absolutely love about New York is its provision of this. In its non-judgmental style it will offer you opportunities to see yourself in such blinding honesty that will either have you living in a state of denial or in one of such acceptance you never dreamed possible.
But therein lies the challenge. I have witnessed first hand many boys who spend time and energy trying to get ‘it’ right they’re always getting it wrong.
Don’t misunderstand me. No one enjoys skid marks on the sheets and making sure you look hot before you trot out the door is not to be undermined. In fact, making sure you’re scrubbed and groomed is a quick, surefire way to give yourself a boost if your energy or mood is low. But at the end of the day, we all want someone to accept the yucky parts of us that we, ourselves, sometimes have difficulty owning. Yet how can someone do that if they never see the real you?
As my uncle likes to say: ‘One day you’re going about your business and the next you’re just some kid who slipped in the bathtub and ended up with a shower head up his ass.’ *
Ok, so really it’s the ending of his tale that hits home with its simplicity:
‘Shit happens.’ – Whether it’s the eye cream drying up, the facelift tape strips falling off mid dinner with your date, the broken toenail coming into full view or something worse – ‘You just have to deal with it.’
Until then, groom away. Especially if you’re planning to hook up.
*The full details of that true story, I’m afraid, will not be revealed. After all, some people’s misfortunes really must remain private.
