I’ve never attended a diving competition, but if the guys in this morning’s photo posts are what I might see, I think I definitely should go to a meet soon. And there’s a reason I’m posting these today. It’s my way of honoring Tom Daley, the Olympic gold medalist from Great Britain who came out publicly this week, via YouTube. Tom, I am so proud of you for your courage and honesty. You have set an example for other gay athletes in whatever sport they compete in.
It’s a beautiful morning, here on the island: sunny, still, and dry. By noon, the temperature will reach 78 degrees, and I think I’ll take a ten-mile bike ride, shortly after lunch. Between now and then, I have much to do. I have a writing project to complete, and flowers to plant in various places around our home. (Yeah, we plant flowers in December, after the heat has finally subsided.) I have correspondence to tend to, and a few bills to pay.
A reader who follows this website wrote me yesterday. He said, “I’m gay. I have never felt attraction to women. Recently I’ve been seeing a guy who’s married to a woman. We have sex like maybe three time a week. He claims he is bi-sexual. He says he likes both men and women. Do you think that’s possible?”
I tend to think most guys who identify themselves as bi-sexual are really gay, but they don’t have the balls to admit the fact. I once wrote a story called Closet Case. It appears in my anthology, Gay Men With Kinks. Here’s what the narrator had to say:
* * * *
Copyright Martin Delacroix 2010
Call me a jerk, but I have a problem with closeted guys, these so-called “bi-curious” men. Deep inside, most are gay, I believe, but they’re scared to admit it. So they
lead the straight life, looking down on us poor faggots. When the urge strikes they’ll sneak off and slum with the queers, but then, an hour later, they’re back with the wife and the kids, safe and happy.
I fell for such a guy once; his name was Kenneth. He’d tell his wife he would visit a sports bar with his buds. Then he’d come to my place, and I’d fuck his ass into next week. The more we did it the more I craved him, and one night, while we lay in bed, I begged him to quit his marriage. I cried, even. I said I loved him, that we were meant to be together. But he said no, it wasn’t possible, and after that I never saw him again. The bastard dumped me, leaving me so depressed I nearly jumped off a bridge.
* * * *
Okay, I’m not saying bi-sexuality isn’t possible; I’m sure it is. In fact, I published a book about bi-sexual men titled I’m Bi Myself. I just think a lot of guys hide behind the “bi-sexual” mask because they don’t want to get branded as “gay”. I don’t understand that, but whatever.
Have a nice Saturday, friends, wherever you are.