gender, sex, and just plain shitheads
I had an innnnteresting night. At the end of it, I don't know whether to love men or despise them.
Scene 1 (wherein i give a man some luvin)
I spent the first part of the night at a bar called "The Cock", which needless to say is a pretty touchy-feely gay bar. "Touchy-feely" in the sense of "reach out and touch, cop a feel if you want", not "I'm touched by your experience" or "I feel for you"!
For those of you who don't know how refreshingly sexually uncomplicated the gay bar scene is, here's what happened: it was very crowded. Some guys pushed and shoved to get by, others gently laid a hand on my shoulders advising me of their intent to get by, and occationaly someone might very lightly brush his hand on my glutes while *going* by. Once someone gently clutched my hand after he'd walked by, which felt kindof nice, so I randomnly returned the favor to someone else later that night.
Much of that would be rude if not downright harrassing in a straight scene (OK, the *cute* men might get away with touching the cute womens' asses, but usually only after buying them a drink, right?). Not so here. Touching was fine, and if if was unwanted, one simply moved an inch or so away, and if it was wanted, one moved an inch closer.
In that scene, I'm standing at the bar, and the guy next to me incidentally (or not so incidentally) brushes my crotch with the back of his hand. And again. And again. I start to get a hard-on, and very purposefully edge a bit closer. It's mutually evident to both of us that none of this had been incidental, and 3 seconds later we're in each others arms dancing, and about 2 seconds after that we're making out. A minute later we introduce ourselves.
Anyway, he had a partner out of town or something, and "wasn't looking for action", which was fine and dandy, cuz I'm never looking for action unless it *really* wants to come my way. We made out, hugged, groped, fondled, and went our separate ways. Fun time.
I left wishing that the straight scene could someday evolve to that level of normality, where men could grope (or not grope) women, and more importantly, women could grope (or not grope) men, and no one would feel harrassed and no one would feel rejected.
My ideal bar scene is one where there's as many queer people as straight, and as many people engaged in rapt conversation in one room as giving blowjobs or getting flogged in another. Some combination of sex-party, womyn's coffee house, dungeon, nightclub (if you can't dance, what's the point?), and just plain bar. *That's* where I want to go to have fun. That's where I want to go to quietly drink a pint. That's where I want to go to get picked up. That's where I want to go to *not* get picked up. That's where I want to meet the love of my life (whether of this month, of or this lifetime).
All the ghettoizations into gay-bars, lesbian bars, leather-bars, tranny-bars, straight-pickup scenes, coffeehouses, etc, bothers me. Some of us actually like to move around, and be fluid, and like, talk to actual *people* rather than to people stuck in one-dimensional caricatures of themselves.
Ah, utopia.
NOT.
Scene 2 (wherein I hate masculine privilege cuz it diminishes me)
On the subway ride home, some guy who was sitting across from a couple of women decided to whip his cock out and masturbate to the sight of them. They didn't seem to notice or mind so for a while I said nothing. Eventually I asked the guy to calm down, and he very sheepishly did, only to start up again. The women switched cars, and the guy switched seats, planting himself in front of a sleeping woman. I probably should have woken her up, but I didn't, and it was my stop to get off.
It turned out the two women from earlier got off at the same stop, and they somewhat bemusedly shared the experience with me since they were aware that I'd seen it all happen too. I'm pretty jazzed that they took it all in stride and didn't feel all traumatized (but maybe they did... *I* don't feel so good about it 24 hours later, so why should they?), but I'm not particularly happy that they didn't directly confront the onanist, and what's worse, that *I* felt I had to be polite-ish in the situation.
I also didn't want to be the fucking knight in shining armor and sit between them and the guy or publicly confront him, cuz, well, they could have done that themselves if they'd wanted.
I have no idea what to think about the situation. Is it that heterosexual dating games actually encourage such situations? If women and men could be as frank with each other and each other's bodies (when appropriate) as men can be with other men at gay bars, would anyone have to masturbate in public? And if they *did*, would anyone have to be particularly offended?
Anyway, like I said, I don't know whether to love men (for the equality and straightforwardness of gay cruising) or despise them (for the absolute fuckshits they think they can be, without consequence, to unconsenting women).
I'm currently reading a book on self defense as a physical embodiment of feminism, and boy oh boy was last night an eye-opener for me! I had no fucking idea women *really* have to put up with that kind of crap. But I also see how much sexual harrassment could go away if women simply refused to be harrassed by the harassment. If women could react to men the way gay men do: if you like it, step closer, if you don't step away and that's their cue to take it elsewhere. [Editorial note: I'm not advocating a change in women's behaviors in the present culture, but a change in the surrounding culture that would enable more and more women to be sexually dominant themselves. I think it's happening, slowly, as generations see what came before and go through their own trials and errors].
I'm hesitant to call it "patriarchy" anymore. It's a refusal to fully acknowledge both sexes sexualities, and both straight men and women are complicit in it. And as my gay room-mate lamented to me after hearing my story, the gay model which is too often limited to "fuck first, maybe have a relationship afterward" is no panacea either. [Editorial note: WTF?].
Perhaps it's up to us bi/pan/queer/sexuals to rescue *everybody* from the madness.
Scene 1 (wherein i give a man some luvin)
I spent the first part of the night at a bar called "The Cock", which needless to say is a pretty touchy-feely gay bar. "Touchy-feely" in the sense of "reach out and touch, cop a feel if you want", not "I'm touched by your experience" or "I feel for you"!
For those of you who don't know how refreshingly sexually uncomplicated the gay bar scene is, here's what happened: it was very crowded. Some guys pushed and shoved to get by, others gently laid a hand on my shoulders advising me of their intent to get by, and occationaly someone might very lightly brush his hand on my glutes while *going* by. Once someone gently clutched my hand after he'd walked by, which felt kindof nice, so I randomnly returned the favor to someone else later that night.
Much of that would be rude if not downright harrassing in a straight scene (OK, the *cute* men might get away with touching the cute womens' asses, but usually only after buying them a drink, right?). Not so here. Touching was fine, and if if was unwanted, one simply moved an inch or so away, and if it was wanted, one moved an inch closer.
In that scene, I'm standing at the bar, and the guy next to me incidentally (or not so incidentally) brushes my crotch with the back of his hand. And again. And again. I start to get a hard-on, and very purposefully edge a bit closer. It's mutually evident to both of us that none of this had been incidental, and 3 seconds later we're in each others arms dancing, and about 2 seconds after that we're making out. A minute later we introduce ourselves.
Anyway, he had a partner out of town or something, and "wasn't looking for action", which was fine and dandy, cuz I'm never looking for action unless it *really* wants to come my way. We made out, hugged, groped, fondled, and went our separate ways. Fun time.
I left wishing that the straight scene could someday evolve to that level of normality, where men could grope (or not grope) women, and more importantly, women could grope (or not grope) men, and no one would feel harrassed and no one would feel rejected.
My ideal bar scene is one where there's as many queer people as straight, and as many people engaged in rapt conversation in one room as giving blowjobs or getting flogged in another. Some combination of sex-party, womyn's coffee house, dungeon, nightclub (if you can't dance, what's the point?), and just plain bar. *That's* where I want to go to have fun. That's where I want to go to quietly drink a pint. That's where I want to go to get picked up. That's where I want to go to *not* get picked up. That's where I want to meet the love of my life (whether of this month, of or this lifetime).
All the ghettoizations into gay-bars, lesbian bars, leather-bars, tranny-bars, straight-pickup scenes, coffeehouses, etc, bothers me. Some of us actually like to move around, and be fluid, and like, talk to actual *people* rather than to people stuck in one-dimensional caricatures of themselves.
Ah, utopia.
NOT.
Scene 2 (wherein I hate masculine privilege cuz it diminishes me)
On the subway ride home, some guy who was sitting across from a couple of women decided to whip his cock out and masturbate to the sight of them. They didn't seem to notice or mind so for a while I said nothing. Eventually I asked the guy to calm down, and he very sheepishly did, only to start up again. The women switched cars, and the guy switched seats, planting himself in front of a sleeping woman. I probably should have woken her up, but I didn't, and it was my stop to get off.
It turned out the two women from earlier got off at the same stop, and they somewhat bemusedly shared the experience with me since they were aware that I'd seen it all happen too. I'm pretty jazzed that they took it all in stride and didn't feel all traumatized (but maybe they did... *I* don't feel so good about it 24 hours later, so why should they?), but I'm not particularly happy that they didn't directly confront the onanist, and what's worse, that *I* felt I had to be polite-ish in the situation.
I also didn't want to be the fucking knight in shining armor and sit between them and the guy or publicly confront him, cuz, well, they could have done that themselves if they'd wanted.
I have no idea what to think about the situation. Is it that heterosexual dating games actually encourage such situations? If women and men could be as frank with each other and each other's bodies (when appropriate) as men can be with other men at gay bars, would anyone have to masturbate in public? And if they *did*, would anyone have to be particularly offended?
Anyway, like I said, I don't know whether to love men (for the equality and straightforwardness of gay cruising) or despise them (for the absolute fuckshits they think they can be, without consequence, to unconsenting women).
I'm currently reading a book on self defense as a physical embodiment of feminism, and boy oh boy was last night an eye-opener for me! I had no fucking idea women *really* have to put up with that kind of crap. But I also see how much sexual harrassment could go away if women simply refused to be harrassed by the harassment. If women could react to men the way gay men do: if you like it, step closer, if you don't step away and that's their cue to take it elsewhere. [Editorial note: I'm not advocating a change in women's behaviors in the present culture, but a change in the surrounding culture that would enable more and more women to be sexually dominant themselves. I think it's happening, slowly, as generations see what came before and go through their own trials and errors].
I'm hesitant to call it "patriarchy" anymore. It's a refusal to fully acknowledge both sexes sexualities, and both straight men and women are complicit in it. And as my gay room-mate lamented to me after hearing my story, the gay model which is too often limited to "fuck first, maybe have a relationship afterward" is no panacea either. [Editorial note: WTF?].
Perhaps it's up to us bi/pan/queer/sexuals to rescue *everybody* from the madness.