Poor Mike Glatze is Probably Bi (or something else)

When I helped edit XY Magazine back in the day I went through lots of text, layout, and photos.  Only one particular page reappeared in my head as I read Benoit Lewis’ write-up of Mike Glatze in New York magazine.  The layout was two drawings by Abby Denson, one was a girl the other was a guy, the caption said “Am I Gay?” and readers had to choose which character turned them on the most.  Anyone who picked the boy was gay.

Nobody saw anything wrong with the layout because it was in keeping with the strong message of the magazine and the people behind it.  There were no room for bisexuals because something like that was silly and it was only a cover for gay people who were too afraid to come out to society.  This idea on the nonexistence of bisexuals wasn’t one that easily came to young people, but it was an idea that came from the older gay role models who ran the ‘zine.

When I told my Bf that I thought Mike Glatze was bi he told me that in all honestly he couldn’t understand how bi people could work.  It is tough to understand because bisexual men, for the most part, are in hiding.  I have encountered no men who are openly bisexual, and I know of maybe 1 or 2 that could apply that label to themselves but have chosen not to.  In the NYTimes article on Mike Glatze the possibility that he is anything other than gay or straight is never broached.  I believe it’s an honest assertion by the bi community that coming out bi is tougher than coming out gay because the third option isn’t even a possibility to most people.

The voices of people who are coming out bi are growing (in my experience on reddit) as I’ve read about men who have girlfriends or wives who bravely feel compelled to “come out” to them and are fearful that they would be rejected.  As I understand it bi people can either experience a 50/50 attraction, or a even a 90/10 split.  Many bi people experience shifts in mood from gay to straight.  Some are in poly amorous relationships and others are creatures of monogamy, confining the other gender to fantasy.

Mike Glatze’s struggle is more complicated than it seems. I think he’s probably bi, or maybe asexual, or maybe pansexual, but I can’t know, I can only listen and so can you. Listen next time someone says that we “choose” our sexuality, or that we aren’t born liking a same-sex gender when we can steer ourselves straight, because while that sounds like baloney to you and me, it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for a confused man with a 90% liking of girls and a pesky 10% he can’t get rid of.

I still remember that drawing in XY where you have to choose between a boy and a girl and I think we failed poor Mike Glatze.

Planned and Unplanned

There are things we can plan, and there are things we can’t.

You can’t plan cancer, right?  You can’t plan some accident killing your spouse. You can’t plan bedbugs.  I remember being 9 or so when my Mom and Aunt got in a car accident, rear ended by some unknown offender, my mother slouched forward in the passenger side of the car bleeding profusely from a head wound, I stood paralyzed at the scene of the accident clutched by my grandmother who had not yet succumbed to Alzheimer’s…

You can’t plan any of  the above.

You can plan your education, at least to some extent.  You can plan your job during the job hunt.  You can plan how you’ll save for your next big electronic purchase.  You can plan how you vote after reading tons of activist twitter feeds.  I think a few people can plan their personality, because it’s what I did when I planned to be awesome.

There are things we can plan, things we can’t, and then there’s that weird part of life, the truly weird part that’s neither planned or unplanned, but it’s a product of both:

The cool roommate you got when he moved in and it was kismet because he makes the place feel safe and I could stay in another room and have my great privacy, and I could step out and he would make things feel like home because he’s one of my best friends.

The friends you gained without a plan because one day you planned to say something stupid-funny at work or home and they laughed and then, like the best unlaid plans, they liked your joke enough to stick around and go to parties with you and sit next to you during a horrible-but-good screening of Burlesque.

And maybe you planned one time to be confident and be open to the possibilities of the world, and then, unplanned, a boyfriend snuck in and liked watching stupid cartoons with you, and could stand you acting like a stupid cartoon, and then, unplanned, he holds your hand and you hold his and it feels warm.

I know it’s too late for Thanksgiving but I was never one for tradition. This December 7 I am thankful for all the stuff in-between the planned and unplanned that has nothing to do with head injuries.  Yeah it’s specific, so what!?

Meanhood Rogues Gallery: The Evil Doppelganger

I thought I felt crabs, and I think I knew who gave them to me.

When I sat I felt crawling vicious things running rampant between my thighs.  I’d only felt this feeling once before when I found crabs in my nether regions at the tender age of 19.  I was living in Harlem all alone and–for the first time–living away from my mother or any sympathetic ear.

I wrote my mother a tearful fair well in spanish before I left Los Angeles. I told her I loved her and that I would miss her. As I left her at the airport she told me to be good, and what happens when I came to NY?

Hostile alien life forms invaded my genitalia.

The saying is history repeats itself, first as tragedy and then as farce.  I was scared when I was 19, but now I was disgusted.

“I think I have crabs,” I told Fly G over instant messenger.  He is my pill popping rock, my alcoholic confidante.

“EWWWW LOL You have what?” Was his response.