» My Inner Life

Youth resting on wheel.

I bought a couple of gay BDSM videos that I thought Alexandra and I might watch. (How many women prefer gay male porn?) They are old VHS tapes could be had for little money.

Part of the appeal for me was that the actors are youthful and slender. I don’t have a urge to watch big meaty men, which seems to be what goes on in contemporary male-on-male BDSM.

I’m not sure what F/m stuff is out there aside from the Rogue Hagen stuff. I’ve never learned anything about that company. They publish Cruella and appear to use the OWK women in their material. On Alexandra’s last time here we’d meant to burn a DVD of their trailers to watch together. But didn’t.

I bought the tapes mostly to cultivate the mood. Not for any ideas. Like most masochists I have if anything far too many ideas about all the cruel things I’d like to eventually have done to my mind and body. (Pity I don’t write erotica.)

One sort of pansexual man.

Sometimes I look back and wonder how I wound up thinking I was strictly gay. Not that I mind. Though not perceiving my Pansexuality earlier certainly diminished my options. That my early dating - not that “I’d like to trick with you” exactly constitutes a date - and copulating was strictly with my own gender made sex very easy to find. It is hard for me to believe I’d have ever socialized into a normal heterosexual but that insured I didn’t.

Until I discovered the femdom subcultures I’d all but forgotten that so much sexist bullshit existed. The culture shock of the ordinary. Forced bisexuality seemed as nutty as the belief that so many gay men and heterosexual women have that a person who is attracted to the other sex can never be faithful.

I’m so glad that Alexandra has never felt a moment’s qualm because I’m attracted to all gender performances and identities. Actually that is part of what bonded us.

Youth holding flowers.

It isn’t that I’m burning with lust for guys. It would be terribly wrong were I not able to admit who I am.

I’m still queer-identified. That could be a problem for some people. I’m not fond of people who portray themselves as sexual outlaws and rebels. It seems both unneedful boasting and congratulating yourself on specialness. But my social sense of myself as a queer male probably does satisfy my own sense of estrangement from the majority. My disconnect from most of humankind is who I am. I wasn’t working for a merit badge. Nor can I identify with the poseurs common to subcultures. I used to know many of them. Especially those hopeful of being poets and artists who confused alienation with the only attribute that matters: talent.

Really I don’t connect to most gay men anymore. They are slowly achieving their goal: to be like everybody else. The great contradictory goal of liberation movements is the right to be ordinary. Not that normality is a crime. If we reserve the right to be different they have the right to conform to what they conceive of as “normal.”

And walking down the street more females make me smile than males.

Some of who I am is willed. As Nietzsche said: One must give style to one’s character. Willed but not willful. Faced with infinite possibilities I select certain qualities to highlight, cultivate and reinforce.

Within myself. Invisibly. I always laugh at this. I look like your average Wal-Mart shopper. The oddity of my interior has never been revealed here. Not that you are missing any thrills. We all have reserved portions of ourselves that only our intimates ever know.

All of which wanders far from the theme of homoerotic desires. But my mail delivery person appears to have died and I don’t have the DVDs from Netflix with which I planned to pass my evening.

The photographs are by Wilhelm von Gloeden.

Elsewhere by me (and written earlier than the publication dates): Oh boy! Oh joy! I’m gay and Hey, guess what - I’m a homo. Life offers few pleasures sweeter than self-discovery. Even if you keep changing your mind.

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I find you sort of enigmatic, Richard. I have a hard time generating a mental image, not of your appearance but of how you come across in general - the impression of your appearance, if you will.

(Not exactly a cogent reply, but this is what your post brought up for me.)

I imagine I strike people as completely ordinary.

I like to think my demeanor is good-humored and polite.

I can be fairly affable even though I’m not very sociable.

To see anything of the real me is a matter of barriers coming down. It isn’t so much a matter of inhibition as I don’t see any reason to show people what they cannot understand.

Perhaps that is an answer of sorts …

Count one for the women who prefer gay pornography. I am the exact target demographic for the entire yaoi genre.

Also, that last photo? Ravashing indeed.

“How many women prefer gay male porn?”

Every right-minded woman I know, with me at the head of the pack. I have no interest in some yowling porn actress getting in the way of my enjoyment of the boys.

Your feelings?

Please share your feelings about Homoerotic. Please stick to the topic of the entry. Forthright disagreement is fine as long as it is civil.
My thanks,


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