One of my college students recently announced that he was gay — during the presentation he was giving to the class. Such a disclosure was unprecedented for me. It didn’t bother me in the slightest – but it did make me curiouser and curiouser; for scant weeks before this particular event, I learned of 3 “other” declarations of “gaydom”: One by a 27-year-old family friend; and two by young, family friends: a 16-year-old and a 15-year-old (all males).
I had to question whether the 16-and 15-year-olds really knew what they were talking about when they declared themselves “gay” – for I always understood that being “gay” was part of cultural milieu. But my college student informed me that being gay was literally synonymous with being homosexual, and that calling anyone “homosexual” these days was actually being derogatory towards them.
This admonition caught me unawares, as some of my homosexual clients (in the 20-something-year-old-past) found it derogatory to be termed “gay.” In fact – the whole gay culture bothered these homosexual clients.
So I asked my gay college student (with deference to Erikson’s stages of development) who might be considered more gay: the 27-year-old, or, the two teens who had decided they were “gay”? He reluctantly admitted that perhaps the 27-year-old might understand his “gayness” more than a-couple-of-teen-wannabees. I had to concur.
Chances are that the 27-year-old had probably “taken it up the butt” a few more times than the teens had – and, when this practice becomes the preferred method of intercourse – then perhaps a lifestyle that included a “preferred” partner, within a “preferred” crowd, might be considered “gay.” I know that it took me till I was about 42 before I got somewhat of a handle on my identity – and I know that most teens have no fucking clue as to who and what they are.
Yet one of the mothers of the aforementioned “teen gays” (disagreeing with my suggestion that teens tend to be very confused) emphatically stated that she knew what sex she preferred very early in her teens (as did I).
And that might very-well-be-so for a heterosexual decision – but I have to wonder if taking it up-the-butt a few hundred times might possibly change a person’s mind (after all: the anal tract appears to have been designed purely for egress, and not, for ingress). I can’t even handle a proctological examination – so the thought of having a large item repeatedly rammed-up-my-ass — is pretty terrifying. Diapers and rolled up gym socks are not my idea of fun living – as many aged homosexuals, er, gays — live with in their later years. Neither does an hemorrhoidal situation sound like fun. But I digress – because I was trying to determine the appropriate age and level of experience that a person might term him or herself as gay (I know that I haven’t even broached the female aspect of lesbianism – and I may ask Tami A to write a guest column on that very subject).
A knowledgeable acquaintance of mine recently wanted me to admit that being “gay” was a genetic condition (this actually occurred at a dinner party over-the-weekend). I politely disagreed. I am STILL of a mind that we can be genetically predisposed to anything or everything – but that Nurture also plays a role in determining our choices (because if it’s all Nature – then we lead nothing but robotic existences, and, Dr. William Glasser’s Choice Theory — is nothing but a pipe dream).
And speaking of laying pipe, well, I just learned what “tea-bagging” is – so I guess I’m not keeping up on much of anything these daze — and “freakin’ at the Freakers’ Ball” — is just as outdated as I am…