My neighbors, Junior and Destini Lyn, who live in the double-wide on the hill across the holler, have this dog that I call Rocco who runs free through the neighborhood.
Rocco is part Dalmatian and part pit bull, which means he's very needy and people-friendly and also thinks about going for their throats. He and I have a good relationship. The first day he came over to my yard, I walked up to him, towered over him and bared my teeth. He yipped, took two steps backwards and then came over and sat down with me on my front stoop when I motioned for him to do so. I don't pet him--- he's not that kind of dog who likes the touch of a human hand, but I will sit with him in silence, and that seems to satisfy him.
Rocco --- his real name is probably Bubba or Spot or something like that --- is basically still a puppy as far as I can tell. He's one of those chase-a-stick dogs; I saw him running through the yard carrying a tree limb after a big windstorm this fall. At least I assumed it was a tree limb. It could have been a human arm or leg --- I see a lot of late night visitors making five-minute visits late at night at Junior and Destini Lyn's place. I assume there's some trafficking in vegetation or OxyContin going on. Can't say I've always seen the people going in coming out again.
In any case, today I looked outside from my home office window and for about a half hour, watched Rocco gamboling and running and just having a good old time swinging some kind of dead animal carcass around in a circle. He'd been working on it a while --- it resembled one of those fox stoles that rich ladies in the movies used to wear back in the 1940s and 1950s. I can't tell what kind of a critter it was, but it looks like it might have had black and white fur at one time, which means it could be a skunk. Rocco left it just outside my window. I expect I'll get to the bottom of it when I step aside for a breath of fresh, cool Tennessee mountain air.
Now, what I'm getting to is this: I watched Rocco and thought to myself, "Isn't it amazing how little it takes to entertain that dumbass dog?"
And then I went back to LifeOut and read some of the current blogs, in which different authors made references to their interests in leather, other men's feet, the taste of other men's anal cracks and the pleasure that can be gotten from the music of Hal David and Burt Bacharach.
It takes all kinds of fetishes to make up a gay world. Everybody has something special that they like to think about, just like Rocco, who enjoys putting dead things in his mouth and swinging them around.
Actually, I think I dated a guy with a similar interest once ... but I digress.
Just about everyone does something that puts them in the category of "Men Are Pigs." Some people like to surprise their anonymous partners by not washing their genitals before sex. Others may like licking the Old Spice Sport Scent off another guy's armpits. And some of us have plain old vanilla fetishes, like preferring to tie up one's partner with ordinary clothesline and beating his butt with a $12.95 belt purchased at WalMart, rather than maxing out our Visa cards with orders of anchor chains and cats-of-nine-tails from www.serialkillersRus.com.
We gay men are a diverse lot. Some of us prefer lube made from ordinary kitchen products like Crisco and some prefer to do our fisting with an expensive mixture made of Lamb's placenta, jasmine oil and orange goop, available by special order only from that middle-aged lady who works at the local mall's Bath'n'Body works.
Some of us prefer ordinary golden showers. Others prefer to wait until their partner has processed a pint of grapefruit juice, a bottle of Aquafina and some Cajun sauce. It's just a matter of individual taste.
The point is, it's a diverse gay world out there. Some guys like to be fucked, others like fucking. Some like it all night long with lots of noise. Others just want to do it with the lights off, with little movement on either partner's part and then say goodnight. (Oh, wait, I think I was thinking of one of my ex-wives.)
Some men want their partners to be an exact reflection of themselves, in terms of age, race, body hair and penis size. Others like someone who is completely different from what they see in the mirror every morning. Some people like to make lists of what they're specifically looking for in a man. Others walk into a gay bar and say, "Next!"
Some men will consider anyone they meet as a potential partner. Some men won't consider anyone unless they post a photo with their profile that shows their eyes. Some men prefer to know something about a man before they hook up. Others want to know as little as possible, so they can imagine the stranger who's shoved his dick up their asses to be whoever they want him to be.
We fuck each other in the way we want, where and when we want it. We're all different. We're a sexual smorgasbord, so it does us no good to complain about each other having different tastes from our own. We just have to learn to laugh at ourselves, skip over the selves who make us go "Eww!" and learn to shrug when we're the ones being skipped over.
When I first started going to gay bars in my early 40s, I used to be unhappy because I knew a lot of the young guys who I thought were attractive only had eyes for each other, or for trim older men who reminded them of themselves. After one night of fruitless cruising, I had finished what was my last beer and was turning to leave when a young man with a beard put his hand on mine and handed me my next round, on him.
"Hey, daddy," he said. "You're the hottest bear in here. Don't leave me hangin'!"
I looked around over my shoulder to make sure he was talking to me. He grinned and said, "Yeah, I mean you and not that hairless poser behind you."
"Uh, what did you call me?" I asked lamely.
"You're a hot bear, daddy. Big and furry, just the way I like it."
So I'm a bear, I thought. Well, well. I guess everyone appeals to someone.
We are what we are and we need to find out what it is and embrace it. I never worry anymore if I'm not someone's type. That's why God created us gay and created us differently. So there would be something for everyone, no matter how peculiar it may seem to everybody else.
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