THEGAYUK

Category: Comment

  • COMMENT | I’m coming out… again

    Around 4 years ago I went back into the closet. This was at the time of moving home to a new area and a new job.

    A recent stirring in the nether region suggests to me it is time to come out again. No one said it has to be a once in a lifetime event. The best part of all is that no one from my new life suspects, it would be a total shocker. Sacrilege I know but there is almost something divine about a second coming!

    I know myself so well now. I am older and more confident, resilient to rejection and just plain, “don’t give a sh*t!” This feeling of inner self-worth comes from the security of having a foundation of family and old friends who I came out to more than 30 years ago. In making light of my situation I am not trivialising the ordeal it must be for first timers who will rock their world to the core with the revelation.

    My planning is involving all the things you should never do for a first coming out:

    1. It is going to be on a special day, so everyone remembers this is the day he did it (again).

    2. High camp and outrageous clothes are a definite.

    3. Perhaps a theme, would “The Wizard of Oz” be too over the top?

    4.  I’ve spent a lifetime being a friend of … Is this my time to be Dorothy? Though 18 stone of middle-aged hairy arsed womble clutching Toto and clicking his heels may stretch the boundaries of belief.

    5. Music, darlings you can’t have a party without music. Coming Out has been immortalised by Divas from old Burly Shassy and Diana Ross to the modern day pretenders to the crown; there is something for everyone.

    6. A soirée for a select few, only those who will be entirely shocked! There is no point in doing this if there isn’t melodrama.

    7. A big drunken speech thanking people who have contributed nothing, plenty of gushing.  A coming out event has to have  tissues and tears

    8. To finish karaoke with just show tunes. Or is it all just a little to Fay Wray?

    On second thoughts it may be too much effort. I might just lay back on the chaise, massage my temples with some soothing liniment and have a quick rub down with a warm pasty.

  • COMMENT | What is an Eastern European Twink? Probably not who you think he is…

    Over the last decade the porn studio Bel Ami has become a byword for an Eastern European twink factory among those au fait with gay porn, churning out flawless Slavs with hard abs and harder co*ks. Based in Prague, but with filming locations in Slovakia and Hungary as well, Bel Ami specialises in a clean-cut, high-spec image replete with frolicking young bucks. But let’s just pause and consider what we mean by “Eastern European twink.”

    In gay nomenclature, a twink is a boyish-looking, slender male with little or no body hair, either by DNA or by design. Cute rather than handsome, soft rather than hard, he can appear more feminine than masculine. Think Eddie Redmayne, the younger Sean Paul Lockhart, and Chris Colfer. In gay porn, the twink has become something of an icon, usually positioned as a bottom boy and desired by more dominant males.

    Of course, there are exceptions to this definition. Some boys are incurable ectomorphs and simply by virtue of their build are mistakenly called a twink, when neither their look nor their personality could be described as properly “twinky”. Think Ben Whishaw, Justin Bieber, and Andrew Garfield.

    And what about Eastern Europe? The tendency in the West is to refer to anything that was once in the Eastern Bloc as Eastern Europe, which therefore includes countries like the Czech Republic as well as Russia. But this is a mistake on many levels. The World Factbook declares Eastern Europe to consist of the Baltic states, Belarus, Ukraine, Moldova, and Russia. Southeastern Europe consists of the former Yugoslav nations as well as Bulgaria and European Turkey. Whereas many of us, including most of gay porn culture, would slot the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Poland, and Hungary into Eastern Europe as well, these countries are more aptly positioned in Central Europe.

    The concept of Central Europe has historical precedent as well. Large parts of current Central Europe were part of the former Austro-Hungarian Empire or Mitteleuropa. People whose origins are in these countries sometimes get irritated when Westerners refer to them as Eastern Europeans. Their culture, much of it rooted in Roman Catholicism (and for some, in Protestantism), has historically (apart from the Soviet era) looked more to the West than to the East.

    In short, then, Central Europe encompasses the Catholic, Protestant, and Western Slavs; Eastern Europe, by contrast, embraces the Orthodox Eastern Slavs, as well as pockets of Romanians, Serbs, Moldovans, Bulgarians, and others, depending on whether you wish to have a separate territory called Southeastern Europe, to embrace the Southern Slavs.

    To set the record straight, Bel Ami is firmly Central European. Its aesthetic draws on the Central European and quite recently, on the pervasiveness of Roman Catholicism in its life and heritage. The studio’s models are mostly collected from the Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Hungary. Of all the Slavs, the Western Slavs are best represented by Bel Ami. But undoubtedly, like many people east of Germany, no single ethnicity will uniformly predominate in a single person, so mixed are their ancestries likely to be because of recent and historic migrations and intermarriage. But prominent will be a mix of the Central European peoples – East German, Czech, Slovak, Austrian, Polish, and Hungarian. Bel Ami’s boys are strong, muscled, masculine jocks. There are no docile skinny twinks here. Even its ostensibly twinky Kinky Angels niche features boys who are more bros than cute BFFs.

    So what, then, is an Eastern European twink, if not a Bel Ami boy? An Eastern European twink will be one or a mix of Eastern and perhaps Southern Slav ethnicities, possibly combining non-Slav aspects too, such as Baltic, Romanian, and other Russian elements. In any case, he will look “Eastern” to Western eyes. With little or no muscle and body hair, such a male will be thin, boyish, with floppy East Slav hair, typical in Russians – very straight and ash blonde-brown. Tall or short, he might have a sweet smile, be quite shy, and certainly not very masculine. He might be a born bottom boy, although of course, he needn’t be.

    In short, online Eastern European twinks are really found in such gay porn studios as RUTwinks and Beautiful Twinks, which purportedly comply with 18 U.S.C 2257 Record-Keeping Requirements. Models such as Bad Boy Ton, Alex Vase, Sasha Peterson (a Russian-born American), and Zaki from Beautiful Twinks are representative of this kind of boy. Ton, at least, is now in his late twenties, also proving that twinky is not synonymous with biological age, but rather with body and personality, with someone’s “look.” Indeed, Eastern European twinks sometimes seem to remain in a state of perpetual boyishness.

    So the next time somebody combines Bel Ami, Eastern European, and twink in the same breath, it might be time to change the way we think about gay boys coming from east of Germany; it’s a more complex picture, and it’s time that the beauty of really Eastern European twinks was celebrated, instead of being dwarfed by the muscular energy of Central European Bel Ami bucks. Because their beauty is often overshadowed by the nouveau “muscle” twink — the masculine jock who has usurped this label.

    Our gay culture seems increasingly more obsessed with toned, athletic, and masculine. Perhaps the Eastern European twink can remind us that there is also room for the non-masculine, boyish, and skinny among us, especially if we’re exclusively bottom boys with souls like delicate flowers.

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

  • #NationalComingOutDay – Every experience is different

    Coming out of the closet is a different experience for everyone and it may not always be as positive as the Diana Ross song.

    For most people, you’ll end up coming out more than once – which people don’t really tell you about. Sure, the first time is the hardest and most nerve-wracking but as long as you’re meeting new people and you don’t have an I’M GAY tattoo scrawled across your forehead, you’re going to end up coming out… a lot. Like most things, it gets easier over time and those two simple words will end up flowing out of your mouth almost habitually. But it’s that first time, that one moment where you break it to the people closest to you – be it your immediate family, best friends, whoever – that seems to swallow up the spotlight.

    I’ve met people who openly talk about their coming out experiences with warm, knowing smiles. On the other end of the argument, I’ve also met people who refuse to conform to this notion that we as gay people owe anyone but ourselves a need to self-label. Personally, talking about how I came out makes me uncomfortable. Because that’s the reality – or my reality, rather. I wasn’t sat down opposite my parents with my fingers entwined with my boyfriend’s on my eighteenth birthday, I wasn’t at an emotionally happy place to be able to merrily own my label, I was a shivering wreck and I’m pretty sure I blubbered the words out inaudibly at first. That glorified moment of self-empowerment, of owning my sexuality and confronting my traditional parents, was eclipsed with awkward mumbling, a permanently nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach and enough tears to drown a whale.

    At the forefront of this day, October 11th, coming out is celebrated for the extreme bravery that it takes to leave that dark, damp closet and step into the light. But that’s an over-simplification of something that’s just not as black and white as saying “I’m gay” or “I’m bi” or “I’m whatever letter of the LGBTQIA+ community”. There is validity behind the argument that by coming out you’re fulfilling this necessary quota before you can officially call yourself an out and proud queer person (and I’m using queer as an umbrella term here).

    As a community that has been ostracised, marginalised, called every pejorative name in the book, beaten and even made illegal, we are taught to hate ourselves. That we’re going to Hell. The relationship between teenagers who commit suicide and their sexuality or gender identification is alarming.

    Homophobia isn’t as dead as some people want to believe and it isn’t a matter of being a social justice warrior, these heartbreaking facts that plague our community with exceptionally high numbers of homelessness and violent prejudice warrant wanting days like these. For civil awareness and to discuss issues in our community.

    Coming out seems like a meagre thing when you compare it to the more pressing matters that we face. If I’m safe and comfortable with myself, why do I need to come out? Why should I directly have to express my sexual orientation to those around me to prove that I am, in fact, not straight? Judith Butler, a philosopher and gender theorist, argues that coming out does not protect oneself from oppression or discrimination. A lot can change from coming out, perhaps you won’t feel as alienated, perhaps you’ll be able to be more in touch with yourself and other around you, perhaps you won’t have to hide away a part of yourself that you’ve been purposefully repressing.

    While, in that sense, coming out can bring you closer to your friends or your family if there’s one thing you take away from reading this I want it to be what follows: You don’t owe anybody anything. There’s no plausible situation where you have to come out or disclose your sexual identity if you do not want to. There are people in this world who will love you unconditionally and accept you without question, I’m not denying that. But at the expense of sounding cynical, there are also people who won’t do either of those things. And yes, it’s unfair, and yes, they’re assholes, and yes, they don’t understand what it’s like but you don’t gain anything from coming out that you won’t already have if you know who you are and you love who you are.

    The pressure that we receive, especially as young people (hi, I’m seventeen), can feel overwhelming, can feel overpowering. There might be people you look up to who say that if you don’t come out, you’re lying to yourself, or that you owe it to be a role model and come out so that people know it’s okay to be who you are. I know that that’s definitely been the case for me multiple times. The only reason my heart was beating so fast on the day I came out, on the 17th of October in 2015, was because I was afraid. Not that I wouldn’t be accepted, I knew they wouldn’t take it well. But my fear came from outside – from the reaction of others – I knew who I was a long time ago and I had come out to myself way before I came out to others.

    Like everything in life, this day is filled with contrasting emotions; I am happy that I took a leap of faith and came out to my parents two years ago, but I am also saddened by the fact that some people can’t come out or feel the need to do so prematurely because everyone’s telling them they should. I wrote down my coming out experience because I wanted to remember it. I said, “They cried, I cried, we hugged, a lot was said. Too much to mark down. But it was one of the scariest things, but also one of the bravest things, I will ever have to do in my life.”

    To my fifteen-year-old self, to anyone who hasn’t yet, I just want to tell you that this day is a day of celebration. Not for coming out to the people around you, but for coming out to yourself. I was wrong when I wrote down that coming out to my family was the scariest and bravest thing I will ever have to do – coming out to myself, first and foremost, was. No one has the right to demand a label from you, or that you label yourself, but what I will ask of you is that you love who you are regardless of what anybody says. Anyway I try to finish this will be unoriginal and cheesy so I’ll end with this:

    You matter and you are never, ever alone.

    With love,

    Lee.

     

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

  • COMMENT | How gay men Hooked Up before the tech

    The Rural Closet

    In my mind, this is how I imagine the closet to be. A crowded dim place, smelling of hay, stale clothes, and dried semen. Somewhere a dog had whimpered, but now fallen quiet having relieved itself. The warm stench of canine urine adds to the atmosphere. The silence is broken only by the notification sounds of mobile phones.

    Once in this dank place, men stood shoulder to shoulder, but these days there is more space as most have one hand held high trying to get a signal on their mobile device. Where previously the darkness was only ever broken by someone “coming out” and leaving the door ajar, now there is the constant glimmer from various apps as men try to hook up.

    Thirty years ago it was all so different. The rural closet of old, required an energy and commitment. Some might even say it was healthier; as before technology brought available cock through the electronic ether, men cruised and cottaged.

    There was a community of nodding acquaintances. Friendships were created through the frequenting of a familiar hunting ground. Regulars were known and most visited at around the same time of the day and night, on their way to and from work, or perhaps walking the dog later at night.

    Knowledge and warnings were shared of those who could be discrete, others who could not be trusted and some who engaged in unsafe acts. Some would come and go in total anonymity, their only desire being to purge themselves of an urge, by way of quick grope and fondle of another similarly excited.

    The characters had nicknames such as Picnic Paul, or Coral Colin, the Raven, Whopper of a chopper, earned from bringing a sandwich and a flask, working at the local bookies, just watching and never playing and an endowment to behold.

    There was a sense of camaraderie, people watched out for each other, and even cared to inquire if someone was not seen for a while, “Is he ill?”, “What’s the matter; cock gone soft?”, “Warned off by the Police”, and the worse thing of all that could happen?

    “Prosecuted for importuning and named in the papers!”

    The fellowship that was once synonymous with the male seeking like-minded company would often take up a whole evening for no reward. Then quite by chance, it could sometimes pay dividends with a little pleasure and relief.  I remember being told it’s not what you get, for it does not last that long; it is more the thrill of the chase.

    The meeting places of convenience by name and nature are mainly boarded up, demolished or converted to snack bars on the highways and byways. The cruising grounds are still there but now, a more aware public is suspicious of a man alone.

    Not all change is for the best. Some if it although safer now lacks humanity, being so clinical, so antisocial and just seems to be nothing more than”a meat rack in the cloud.”

     

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

  • THE UNDATEABLE GAY | Goes to the Taj Mahal

    “They ripped open my man bag and pulled out my Gay Times magazine”

    As you have probably guessed by the fact I’m writing part three of my Indian adventures, Tullene and I survived the cobra in the suitcase. Well, I say Cobra, it was actually a piece of polythene rustling under the air conditioning.

    Now, no visit to India would be complete without a trip to the Taj Mahal. So, in our private hire car, we got, complete with our own driver. Only the best for us.

    As we set off, I was reminded once more of the very bumpy roads. Clearly, no one pays road tax in India. Or if they do, the government certainly doesn’t spend the money on improving roads. The number of times my head bounced off the roof, I’m surprised I didn’t get a concussion. I came over all unnecessary as my bum kept swallowing up the seat belt holder.

    After being constantly violated by the seat belt holder, we finally arrived at the Taj Mahal. Now, as my friends will inform you, I am rarely rendered speechless but on this occasion, I had no words. It’s one of the most beautiful sights I have ever witnessed in my entire life. I even had tears in my eyes. Another rare occurrence. I’m often called a stone-hearted gay boy.

    As you’d expect, security is very high as you enter the grounds of the Taj Mahal. I had to have my man bag searched. Even though I’ve got nothing to hide, any security always makes me so nervous. I have an irrational fear that someone may have planted drugs on me and I’ll be locked in an Indian jail.

    My bag came out the other side of the X-ray machine and I saw three security guards grab my bag. Oh shit, I thought, someone, has planted drugs in my man bag. I felt sweat drip and hit my HD eyebrows.

    They ripped open my man bag and pulled out my Gay Times magazine.

    “You can’t have this!” I heard the security guard bellow. And he turned around and ripped it up. Bloody cheek, shredding my Gay Times. I was more annoyed that I hadn’t even read that issue yet.

    After that nerve-wracking incident, I decided I needed to urinate. I found some toilets (not the best or cleanest facilities I’ve ever whipped my cock out in but they had to do). As I stood peeing at the urinal, I noticed an arm, rubbing against my arm.

    I plucked up the courage to look across and I witnessed this man, staring down at my penis. Cor, he’s got no shame. It’s clearly a novelty to see a white cock.

    We entered the grounds and saw some wild monkeys. That was a sight I just had to capture. I got my camera and started papping the monkeys. The next thing I knew, we were surrounded and circled by ten monkeys, all nipping at our ankles. I don’t think they appreciated having their photo taken.

    All that was going through my mind was the fact I hadn’t had a rabies jab. When my pharmacist asked me if I’d be in contact with wild monkeys, I said, oh no, of course not. Famous last words.

    Famous last words.

    Finally being rescued by the monkey whisperer, we went down to the souvenir stalls outside the Taj Mahal. But shopping in India really annoys me. No one just lets you browse. They’re always trying to sell you things. Got right on my moobs. As we were walking along this particular market, a man grabbed my arm and dragged me inside his shop. Jesus, I screamed, this is forceful selling.

    “Why don’t you get rid of your friends and come into my stock room with me?”

    Obviously, doesn’t want to sell me any material items, I thought. My eyes widened at his question and I did consider it for a moment. He was rather attractive and you know my partiality to an Indian man.

    Even though being gay is illegal in India, they’re all at it. Not afraid of the law clearly. I had to decline as Tullene was waiting for me outside. But he was so attractive, I had to drag myself away.

    In conclusion, I’m clearly not undateable in India….

     

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

  • COMMENT | What does LGBT+ actually mean…

    LGBTQIAPK – Has it all gone too far? – A follow up

    The rationale behind the question was about division by classification. Is this a form of segregation?

    Is it a division any group would allow; if it were not a self-imposed segregation?

    When segregation has been imposed historically by authority it has created alienation and not promoted inclusion. How is this different?

    There appear to be 3 distinct groups, Heterosexuality, LGBT+, and the groups and acts that are illegal.

    “I am a man, and a gay man at that, but I am not LGBT+. Where does LGBT+ exist? It exists in the policy documents of local authorities and on the pages of corporate propaganda”

    Is LGBT+ just political? I sometimes feel like a unit of currency or a pawn in someone else’s game. I am not a stepping stone for someone’s political ambition or career. I am a man, and a gay man at that, but I am not LGBT+.

    Where does LGBT+ exist? In someone’s mind or the minds of some, but perhaps not the consciousness of the masses. It exists in the policy documents of local authorities and on the pages of corporate propaganda. It exists in some places in London, perhaps many. If London is the epicentre of LGBT+ in the UK, then like a pebble dropped in a pool the ripple weakens as it moves further out.

    I liken LGBT+ to the Euro and Gay to the pound. They are fast getting to be worth the same. Spending the Euro is possible in London, but try that currency in almost any village in the country and it will be rejected. The pound may sometimes be “the only gay in the village,” but in the UK it is more credible.

     

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

  • Incredible everyday objects that tell the unheard stories of the UK’s trans community

    They say a picture is worth a thousand words; we say an object speaks a thousand more. This is exactly what the public of Brighton learnt when The Museum of Transology opened its doors recently at the iconic Brighton Pavilion Museum, featuring key objects and artefacts from previously unearthed trans history.

    “Maeve – Not long after I started my transition, my cousin asked me to be a bridesmaid. I wore these shoes and a dress which my mum made. I was absolutely shitting myself in church but it was a beautiful day <3”

    Collected and curated by E-J Scott, the new exhibition showcases seemingly “everyday” objects, revealing remarkable stories behind them, from the brave and diverse trans individuals who’ve donated their personal possessions to go on display. Challenging society-fixed gender labels, binary and the ideology that gender is biologically determined, the exhibition includes personal belongings such as a trans man’s first pair of gender-bending childhood ballet shoes and a woman’s first ever transition-land marking item of makeup – all with unpredicted stories told through the objects.

    “This was the ticket I used to meet my Canadian girlfriend, the first time seeing her in person as her boyfriend instead of her girlfriend. An amazing moment!”

    Having proved a blowout success during its showing in London earlier this year, the gallery contains photography from Bharat Sikka and Sharon Kilgannon, plus further works from other key artists and creatives. This is the biggest display of trans artefacts and photographic portraiture ever displayed in the UK – if not, the world!

    “My first pair of ballet shoes… I’ve been doing ballet since I was 4 years old. When I came out I was worried that people wouldn’t see me as male because of my love of ballet and pointe, but because I love it so much I refused to quit. Since coming out I’ve been more confident in my dancing, and while they were worn long before my transition, they hold a lot of meaning for me as ballet has made me the man I am.”

    “I became far more ambitious with age! (But wore this [for] 10 years)”

    Open until summer 2018, the exhibition takes place during exceptionally pertinent times for the trans community, with anti-progressive obstacles threatening trans individuals recently, such as Trump disgracefully banning trans soldiers from the US military. Alongside key events this year such as Trans Pride – having celebrated its 5th successful this year – The Museum of Transology exhibition provides a positive voice for the often-unheard trans individuals within the UK.

    “This was the first piece of makeup I bought. It all comes back to this. I learnt about it from YouTube and still use it today. I finally built up the confidence to go into a shop and buy makeup without feeling judged. Now that I’ve started I’ve not looked back once – SPx”
    “The lipstick was from my wonderful sister who was the first family member to accept and support my transition. <3”

    Here are some of the touching first-hand trans stories and experiences to expect at the new exhibition…

    All pictures c/o Museum of Transology

    by George Palmer  @george_palms 

     

    For more information on the exhibition visit – http://brightonmuseums.org.uk/brighton/

  • COMMENT | I committed the gay cardinal sin… I got overweight and old

    When I was young gay bars and nightclubs were at the height of popularity and exclusively gay. I had no trouble finding men and no intention of settling down with one. Why have the same meal every day when all the menu was there to be sampled?

    In my 30s I struggled and became distant from the “scene.” It was at this juncture I discovered the part-time poof. Straight in everyday life, some even married; but all with a high sex drive, just needing a discrete and understanding friend. Some regulars lasted for years. This was in the days before the Internet and mobile phones. I was a safe option and a place to develop themes and try out new things they could never do anywhere else.

    In my 40s I was a publican. It’s true, so often “The difference between a straight and gay man is about 8 pints”.

    The problem is when sober, some feel they have been duped as they cannot accept self-responsibility and others can be convinced to do it again, but they want free beer. Free beer is never a good thing, it is just like paying for it and I was not up for that.

    When I left the pub trade I entered a barren wasteland of no sex and no gay contact. The problem was I had committed the worst of gay sins by getting old and overweight.

    Experience counts. I had quite a lot of the play with part-time poofs into kinks. Oh the delights of BDSM. I do like a younger man. Those who would never look at me twice in the real world, fall at my feet to serve when I am an expert in their fetishes. Now it seems I am to grow old disgracefully, an ageing kinkster in the twilight of his perversion.

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, its management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

  • Six reasons guys may engage in the services of a sex worker

    Six reasons guys may engage in the services of a sex worker

    Writing in 2013, writer Greg Mitchell outlined six reasons why men might call upon the services of an escort and asked if Prostitution was the last taboo.

    FILE PHOTO

    One will typically find, when talking about sex, that a gay man will say something along the lines of, “I’d never use an escort. I don’t have to.” The inference being, that they are too sexy, good-looking young or whatever for them to even consider the services of a sex worker. Well, let me tell you, there are many reasons a guy might choose to see an escort, and usually, it has very little to do with the way they look. Most are just average guys, the kind of guy you might have winked at in a bar, and some of the ones I’ve seen have been downright gorgeous. Admittedly, there are a few who look better with the lights out, but for the most part, they are just ordinary guys.

    Six reasons

    1. He’s in a long-term relationship. He still loves his partner, but his partner doesn’t enjoy the same sort of sex he does. Seeing an escort is far safer than picking someone up on the internet or in a bar. His partner is far less likely to find out about it, and the escort is far less likely to turn into a bunny boiler.

    2. Maybe he’s disabled in some way. We do tend to forget the physical needs of the disabled, as if a disability should condemn someone to a life time of celibacy. One of my clients, a sweet and gentle man, had lost both his legs in an accident. Sex wasn’t easy for him, but it was possible and he still had needs. Much better to use the service of a professional.

    3. This is one of the most surprising, but it happens. A young guy, who wants someone with a bit of experience to each them a few things. I wrote an article about one such experience for my blog. Take a look

    4. The businessman in town for a couple of nights. He has a limited amount of time and doesn’t want to waste it hanging around in bars or trying to find someone on Grindr or Scruff (you know how time-consuming that can be). The answer, call an escort. Even better, make the booking before you arrive in town. You may be surprised to hear that many book in advance.

    5. Those who want to have sex with that particular escort; probably because they’ve seen him in a movie (escorting and porn often go together).

    6. Someone who wants to explore and indulge a particular fetish. Believe it or not, it can be safer to explore this with an escort, someone who has a website and umpteen ads on various sites, than someone who is a complete unknown.

    Do we really wish to criminalise these men? Absolutely not, nor should the State be interfering in what is, after all, a transaction between two consenting adults. It’s my contention that the problems of trafficking, drugs and coercion could be more easily be dealt with by decriminalising and regulating the industry, rather than creating more bands of legislation and driving the industry further underground. It’s called the oldest profession in the world for a reason, and it’s time that our attitudes to both sex and the sex industry became more grown up.

    Read the original article here

  • What Is It Like To Be A Male Escort?

    Sex workers are not just stigmatised, they are also stereotyped. Till very recently, it was a widely held belief that it’s just females who are involved in professions like commercial sex work, escorting and other job profiles which are part of the sex industry.

    This stereotype, however, has been dismantled in the past few decades, with men making their presence felt in the field too.

    Though it can’t be said that the business of male escorts is a recent trend, it can be said with certainty that wider internet penetration has enabled people to solicit male escorts, bringing the subject into the popular arena.

    This has also led to better acceptance of male escorting and the people involved in the business.

    A male sex worker in the US., who goes by the name David-SF, talked about the legality of escort services in the US. in a blog on the website, aboutmaleescorting.com, which advocates and breaks the stigma around the profession.

    What Is It Like To Be A Male Escort?
    FILE PHOTO

    “Much about what I write will come from my experience in a place where commercial sex work is still against the law, so we call it ‘selling time’,” he writes. He states that while prostitution is illegal in most parts of the country, escort agencies use the phrase “selling time” to provide services for consenting adults.

    It is also important to understand that escorts do not always engage in sexual activities with their clients. They cater not just to people who are sexually oriented toward being straight but also people of other sexualities as well.

    Not just escort agencies, but websites around the world bring escorts closer to their clients. An article by aboutmaleescorting.com gives an insight into the scale of the online market. Results of a study of such websites suggested that most were independent and not affiliated to escort agencies, and a large number of them catered to male escorts soliciting male clients, with many sites for female clientele and couples.

    Rentboy.com, founded in 1996 is said to be the first male escort ad-listing website; similar sites like Rentmen.com have also popped up. Rentboy, one of the most popular of its kind, especially in the U.S., got about 500,000 unique visitors a day in 2014.

    The owner of Cowboys 4 Angels, a US based escort service that specifically caters to female clients, Garren James, in a video on New York Post said he was always looking for new faces to join his company.

    A former male escort himself, James stated he screened all the prospective escorts or gigolos himself to ensure they had the ability to survive in the competitive industry, where female clients “expect the best” for the money they paid.

    Male escorts working for the company might earn a few thousand dollars in the initial days, but pay can go up to $40,000 a month later. Many men get into the profession part-time to pay for their expenses.

    The website started becoming popular in 2009, and claimed to sell companionship and not sex. James, in an article for Cosmopolitan in 2015, said whatever happened between two consenting adults behind closed doors is never a part of the original agreement.

    The job is not easy, with long working hours and a demanding clientele. The stigma attached to it makes it no easier. 

    Tommy, an escort with the website, talked about his experiences with female clients and what they sought from an escort. “Women hire me for different reasons. I think that they want somebody who will really pay attention to them, who’s really listening. She’s telling her husband about her day, and he’s watching Sports Center or doing his fantasy football picks,” he says.

    “I think maybe that’s part of the reason I’ve done so well. I’m able to really care about their lives and where they’ve been. For the most part, my pipeline is all repeat clients,” Tommy adds.

    Tommy also revealed that his attempts at dating women who were not his clients did not go too well as many would not accept that he was an escort; his travel and long working hours did not work in his favour either.

    Another escort, Ryan James, clarified a few things about the profession in an article in Sydney Morning Herald. He denied the popular belief that he was in the profession because of a high libido.

    “Guys with really high sex drives all want to be escorts and they make terrible escorts. As soon as they’re with a client they’re not particularly attracted to, they fail,” he says, adding that escorts need to have “the ability to get enjoyment from pleasing someone else.”

    Meanwhile, gay escorts also revealed details about their jobs in a 2014 piece for the Huffington Post. A typical client, according to the rent boys interviewed by the website, would usually be a working professional in his 30s or 40s, who is either gay or bisexual and has no time or interest in dating and identified publicly as straight. However, each escort had different types of clients.

    Many also said they had also masqueraded as clients’ boyfriends at fancy galas.

    However, all accounts state that the job is not easy, with long working hours and a demanding clientele. The stigma attached to it makes it no easier.

    As Professors John Scott and Victor Minichiello, authors of the book “ Male Sex Work and Society” and founders of aboutmaleescorting.com put it, “Male sex workers face a double stigma because same-sex relationships are stigmatised and sex work is stigmatised.”

    by Gayathri Anuradha
    Licensed from International Business Times & iCopyrightContentServices

  • COMMENT | Discovering I was different

    What was I?

    Getting information was difficult in the 1970s. It was all so confusing. My point of reference was the tabloid press. It was what my father and grandfather read and the only available resource. I knew I couldn’t ask them.

    When an actor or pop singer was in disgrace for an unmentionable act with a member of the same sex, it was all so vague. I thought I knew that couldn’t be me though as I couldn’t act or sing and had no desire for the attire and makeup of the glam rock era.

    In the playground, I heard the same derogatory remarks slung at boys from each other “you’re a bummer, a wanker, a homo and a queer.” The narrative had an intent to offend and insult, but I didn’t know what the words meant. Did one of those words describe me?

    The narrative had an intent to offend and insult, but I didn’t know what the words meant. Did one of those words describe me?

    It was about 2.45pm on a Wednesday afternoon in the early summer of 1974. I was 11 years old. Taking the Environmental Studies class was Miss Barker a temporary teacher. It was her first day and our first lesson with her.

    She was a  pretty young woman in her early to mid 2os. Casually dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt with a v-neck. Her cleavage was pert and visible. The colour of the clothing and bra beneath did nothing to conceal that she had nipples like Tractor stater buttons.

    One of my friends suggested he would like Miss Barker to run her fingers down his spine. He shivered as if the thought of it had made him tingle all over. The other boys we were sat with all eagerly joined in expressing similar opinions.

    I knew I did not want her to touch me. Geoff the boy at the front who was athletic, having experienced a pre-teenage explosion of testosterone would be my choice.

    I don’t know why but I didn’t share it with the others. I knew it meant I was different but I did not have a name for it; or anyone I could talk to about it. In that instant, I had learned something about me and I knew it would be my secret for some time into the future.

    It would be nearly 5 more years before I found out, I was not one of those playground taunts; but that I had hit the jackpot and was all of them!