Salient ramblings
|
sal iacopelli
‘Honey, touch me with my clothes on.’
I
—Gilda Radner
have had my share of sex, enough for the next dozen or so lifetimes. What I’d like to do with whom, where, and how dominates an inordinate amount of my consciousness. In my 50s, the obsession has somewhat abated. Though still present, sex falls much lower in my hierarchy of needs, certainly lower than food, excelling at my job, gardening, and playing with my dog Sofi. Hell, sometimes washing my windows wins out.
I used to have such strong yearnings for sexual contact that they would propel me out the door at least once a day. Now, I am much more interested in quality than in quantity. Plus, I am too goddamned tired to chase dick as much as I used to. Currently, I enjoy bi-monthly attendance at Bear Naked parties where I strip and wander through a horde of naked men, sampling the tasty wares on display. The gatherings seem to be constructed from my dreams, as most of the members fit my exact desired physical type—older, hairy, and slutty. The first time I attended, three guys and I huddled with our arms around each other and jerked each other off. I felt as if I had found home. Plus, unbelievably, pizza is served! A friend told me about issues she’s having with her husband who is completely inattentive. All she wants is to be touched and desired by someone who pays loving attention. Isn’t that all any of us want? I sometimes wonder if sex is reaching out for spiritual connectedness. Sex has so many layers of emotions, symbols, and meaning. Is sex, in its simplest form, the reaching out to our God/ Goddess selves? An acceptance of ourselves and others? Can the vulnerability and surrender required when engaging in sex be the yearning to reach a higher experience? The most erotic moment I’ve experienced wasn’t necessarily sexual. A guy I dated for a short time, Marshall, had me over to his apartment one cool, cloudy, breezy summer afternoon. We sat on his bed while gauzy sheers at the window undulated gently and seductively. Fully clothed, I held him on my lap and kissed him for a long time. I felt so sensuously vulnerable. My feelings about my own sexual attractiveness have also changed over the years. In my 30s, I performed in a nude show for two years. It was absolutely liberating to
gaze across stage at my six fellow actors, all of us without a stitch, completely at home with each other and our bodies. Could I do so today? Probably not without losing 30 pounds, since that was before my butt sagged and my belly expanded. A fascinating question to ask is, “If you were cloned, would you have sex with yourself?” A straight man I asked responded, “I wouldn’t leave the house. I’d be too busy blowing myself.” Personally, I’d climb on my back in a minute, but surprisingly, many gay men would not. As one friend said, “I wouldn’t buy myself a drink in a bar.” Our culture is obsessed with youth, and idealized physical perfection, glorifying, for the vast majority, the unachievable body. I know a guy who is handsome, works out constantly, and has a stunning body, yet felt his penis wasn’t large enough, and so had cosmetic surgery. He endured a series of operations where fat tissue was removed from his ass and wrapped around his dick. His cock is now as fat as a beer can but looks oddly disproportionate because the head is still the original size. And unfortunately, the surgeon screwed up the fat removal process and his ass looks like a sack of potatoes. I am not above such tortured ministrations. I prefer not to let someone near my dick with a scalpel, but I do everything possible, except quitting smoking, to reduce the effects of aging on my body. I recently underwent a cosmetic procedure to improve puffy lower eyelid “bags” and reduce wrinkles. Overall, I’m glad I did it and am happy to be one of those people you can point to and say, “Oh, her? She’s had work done.” But couldn’t I simply have accepted my own aging process? Accepted my own worth and the fact that I will become increasingly older, wrinkled, bald, and less of a sexual commodity? A few years ago I had sex with a guy who unceremoniously took out his teeth and treated me to a stellar blow job. Perhaps “gum jobs” are something we aging gay men can look forward to. Actually, I quite recommend them.
MaY+JUNE 2013
|
POSITIVELYAWARE.COM
45