If I should come across a journal by a nelly gay guy, would like me to refer you to it?
• Richard Evans Lee
The enjoyable Wells who doesn’t appreciate himself enough asked in response to one of my entries: If I should come across a journal by a nelly gay guy, would like me to refer you to it?
I felt a momentary pause, almost a pang. That passed quickly enough. No one who knows me or read what I’ve typed off here can doubt how deeply I love my frail sweetheart. And I’ve been circumspect with almost antique gallantry when I’ve had any intercourse with them online. I don’t make a fetish of them.
OK, I make a fetish of them. But I hope with urbanity and respect. And my repeated explorations of my fondness for ‘girly boys’ has probably exasperated anybody whose read my journal for any length of time.
To gay men who are annoyed by ‘queens’ it likely seems there are too many of them, they are bitchy and boring. I’ve happily explained the origins of my admiration of guys who without abandoning their maleness have personality traits ordinarily relegated to womanhood.
Knowing that ‘fem boys’ from wherever are out and about never fails to make me happier with the world. Back in the 70s when nelly gay guys were more a part of queer normality there wasn’t much to say about them. Their sexy selves were about to be enjoyed. Androgyny was ordinary.
Maybe the married bisexual men, the ‘real men’ looking for [expletives deleted] ‘real girl’ or whatever were out there then. Nowadays, maybe always, a cheerful delight in gender blending, gender bending seems nowhere to be seen.
I’m not looking for a ‘pussy boy.’ I wouldn’t be even if I weren’t living with Charles. My awareness of the wannabe heterosexual homosexuals has caused me to treat femme gay men with cautious respect.
Looking at myself coldly I can see that I’ve transferred the values of the late-Medieval troubadours to feminine gay men. I’m Lancelot to their Guinevere. Just kidding, Lancelot was just a high-class adulterer. But the Western esteem of the other was born back then.
Other implies that I’m something different. I am. I’m a plain as boiled potatoes male. With an admiration for a grace and beauty he sees in a different kind of guy.
Why am I harping on this? I don’t get bored with talking about beauty, particularly sexual beauty. Who does?
Of course if my own were here with me I wouldn’t be typing away so heavily now would I?
I’ve decided to not post this in my Live Journal. Nor on the site’s main page. I’ll bury it here. I never can bring myself to just throw these things away.
My answer to Wells: ”Sure if they seem at all likeable. “