THEGAYUK

Category: Topics

  • COMMENT | Cyclists: Apart from the Lycra, I just hate them

    Thought I would mention cyclists. I am not one I would like to point out, from the very start. To give balance I am sure there are considerate and road aware cyclists. In fact, I encountered one earlier this week. An elderly lady who pulled over to the side of the road at a point of narrowing to signal me past.

    I travel on country lanes on my daily commute and the vista is a delight to behold. Other road users including tractors, horse riders, car drivers, and I pull over for those who have a more urgent need to get to journey’s end. This is not reflective in my experience of the cyclist.

    I say to men of any age; before dressing in the lycra outfit you have purchased, empty a bag of spuds into it to get some contextual vision into the sight you will become. If you are unfit before mounting, the clothing is not like a superhero costume, it does not enhance your performance. It just makes you stand out as a fool.

    There is something about a man and his fascination with all things phallic that drives a male “old enough to know better”  to shrink wrap his body in Lycra and place on his head a slipstream carbon fibre helmet to complete the image of an erect member. Hardly surprising then that they are complete “d*cks” on the road.

    On my journey home last night I came to a queue of traffic on an A class road. As I got closer to the front, there he was “cycleman”, all in black with a black helmet and on a black bike. In poor visibility and with no lights.

    To add insult to injury this athlete of the highway was proceeding at an earth-shattering 6 or 7 miles an hour. This breakneck speed impaired his ability to turn his head and see what a total nuisance he was being to commuting traffic in tax paying vehicles. The reason for his slow progress, he was holding aloft his mobile device and filming himself.

    Having passed him I looked into my rearview mirror and he was still in the middle of the road ignoring other road users. The only other thing I would surmise about him was, he was a man of small appetite. I deduce this from him having a very small lycra lunchbox.

    On another recent occasion, I was sat in a line of traffic in the town centre with my right-hand indicator on to turn at the next junction. I was in a road position to the right of the lane with a number of other vehicles that were indicating the same intent. At the moment there was a gap in the oncoming traffic enabling my turn to be conducted safely I had to brake hard as “cycleman” came down the outside of the lane ignoring all of the indicators and riding in the middle of the road.

    We live in an age where we are encouraged to be environmentally friendly and considerate. One man on a bicycle may be that – until he has a 2-mile tailback of carbon-emitting traffic he is ignoring behind him.

    As a car driver, I can be held accountable and I am identifiable from my vehicle registration. It could be any road user that makes a note of my number or a camera on the highway if I am speeding, perhaps one on a set of traffic lights if I go over on amber or red, or a dashboard cam of any other road user, finally even a mobile phone cam handheld by a pedestrian can be used to report me or any other licensed road user. I have lost count of the number of cyclists I have seen breaking the law of the highway and failing to show even the slightest amount of courtesy and why should they; as they are totally anonymous and unaccountable.

    A man in Lycra can be a sight to behold, a bulge to indulge, a fetish to crave; until he mounts his machine and becomes just another drain dodger!

    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 | The NHS is wrong to ask patient’s their sexuality

    Doctors have been ordered to ask patients if they are gay. This is one of the most ludicrous decisions I feel the NHS has ever decided to make.

    What is the point of GP’s having to record every patient’s sexuality? I really fail to see the point of this new rule and to me, I fear it’s building up to the UK becoming a nanny state.

    It’s being called intrusive and Orwellian by many people. I agree. I’m very lucky, I’m an open gay man who is widely accepted by family, colleagues and friends. But what about those in denial about their sexuality? Or those who simply don’t feel comfortable in coming out yet? I’m scared it may actually do more harm than good.

    I have deep fears about the security of the data, as any leak could potentially ‘out’ thousands of patients.

    Many visits to the GP are for everyday ailments, like tonsillitis, chest infections, aches and pains etc. So how is a doctor questioning their patient’s sexuality going to aid them in making a diagnosis and prescribing treatment? Quite frankly, none whatsoever. I’m no medical expert, but I’m sure antibiotics are the same for a straight person, a gay man or a bisexual woman.

    Unless it’s related to your health, I believe that your sexuality is not the NHS’s business. The precious eight minutes you get with a GP is short enough, without taking up the time to ask unnecessary questions. You want medical advice from a doctor. Not your sexual preference being interrogated.

    So, from 2019, every patient over the age of 16 will be asked to state their sexuality. Is it really relevant to ask an 80-year-old grandfather if they’ve ever had a relationship with a man?

    I think this ludicrous, intrusive and damn right ridiculous question should be scrapped before it even begins. Doctors and the NHS are stretched enough as it is, without adding sexuality checks to their workload. Let them stick to what they do best. Medically treating and diagnosing patients. And this is something they do exceptionally well, without knowing a patient’s sexual orientation.

     

    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 | Are you asking for it, if you go out dressed like that?

    I used to hear the generations who were older than me talking about the way young women dress. They used to say “Is it any surprise if they get attacked or raped? Going out like that; they are asking for it!”

    Now as an older gay man who has spent many years as a publican, I look around and have similar thoughts. Not for women but for young gay men.

    Their conduct, which so often overtly displays their sexuality like a badge of office or some cheap jewellery screams “victim here.”

    So many gay venues are now gay-friendly. Once these places were a haven of safety where we could behave with each other in a manner that was consistent with the law without the fear of some bloke beating the crap out of us when we left. Not anymore; now they’re sometimes a testosterone and alcohol-fueled environment where men are trying to impress women. Gay men can be such easy prey.

    It is our own fault (well, us and technology). The price of getting your rocks off and finding cock is so cheap now. Every gay man is Grindrered up or has some other app. The bars and clubs that were once our seedy sanctuary are now shared. No longer is it safe to cast a gaze around a room from the dance floor whilst snorting Poppers and sipping Babysham. Chances are some hairy arsed ‘erbert is going to ask “You looking at me?”

    The young are so idealistic and think gay rights are a shield of steel that will protect them. Of course, they are not. Gay rights means if you gain consciousness, report the offence to the police and go through the process then some thug may have to answer.

    It’s hard to stand up to someone who battered you unrecognisable last night, someone who has friends, especially when there is a limit to the number of places you go. We don’t all have the choice afforded by big cities.

    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 | Know your gay acronyms: When CBT doesn’t mean CBT

    CBT but not that CBT!

    When working in social housing the company which employed me, diversified and began to take on service users with severe and enduring mental illness.

    The brother of a colleague was a mental health practitioner. He came in to do some training and talk us through the manifestation of conditions so we would know what to expect.

    I don’t think he was prepared for us knowing absolutely nothing. I had to keep interjecting and explaining some of the jargon he used and asking him to define other terms that were also unknown to me.

    It had been a very tense session as many of my colleagues were unsure if they wanted to remain as support workers to the new user group. This demystifying and understanding of terms, explaining common diagnosis and interventions was invaluable to us.

    Then he started to talk about CBT, and in the corner, his gay brother collapsed into raptures of hysterical laughter. The sort of laughter that is contagious. The others did not know why they were laughing, or what the trigger for it had been. Our trainer was looking completely puzzled by it all.

    I too was guilty of sharing in the laughing, mostly because I was the only one in the room that knew what was funny. Finally, I regained some composure and explained the term CBT had been used as a reference to Cognitive Behaviour Therapy and not Cock and Ball Torture, which is why the gay brother had fallen about laughing.

    In a world of acronyms, it is inevitable there will be a duplication of some. CBT is unfortunate as it stands for 3 that are known to me Compulsory Basic Training to ride a motorbike being the third.

  • COMMENT | Religious bigots don’t deserve to keep their jobs

    The Archbishop of Sydney has said that religious believers could lose their jobs if same-sex marriage is legalised in Australia. If these religious believers are acting bigoted or being narrow-minded, then quite frankly, they don’t deserve to keep their jobs.

    He went on to say those religious believers could also face discrimination suits and bullying if the bill is passed. But what about the bullying and discrimination homosexuals have faced for years? He clearly doesn’t care about the homosexuals facing this. Hypocrisy. And such a caring attitude for a religious leader. Please excuse my sarcasm.

    He told worshippers that the government should “keep out of the friendship business and out of the bedroom.” Maybe he should take his own advice and keep out of the situation also. What right does being the Archbishop give him to interfere in friendship and bedroom matters?

    “The state has no business telling us who we should love and how, sexually or otherwise.” In his arrogance, he is, ironically, showing support of same-sex marriage. Thank you for that Archbishop. For once, we might actually agree on a point. No one should play God and tell anyone who they can love or marry. Pun intended. The fact we still need to vote on such matters is a disgrace in itself.

    This delightful human being carried on saying that it’s best for children to have a mother and a father. So Archbishop, what about the poor children who have been bought up in a single parent family because one parent died? Or the awful stories we hear of children being sexually abused by their mother and father?

    I’m no genius, but that is clearly not best for children. Issues in our society are not so black and white. It’s not a simple case of stating children should have heterosexual parents, one being a woman and one being a man.

    In my eyes, it’s best for children to have a role model who cares for them and loves them unconditionally and teaches them right from wrong. This could be a single parent or a mother and father or a mother and mother or a father and father.

    He continued in his arrogant preaching by saying if marriage is redefined, it will be very hard to speak up for real marriage anymore. What is real marriage, Archbishop? Beg my pardon for my simplistic views, but I thought marriage was the joining of two people who love each other whilst committing themselves, for richer, poorer, in sickness and in health etc.

    He said the vote had implications for religious freedom. This is actually so angering because the vote actually has massive implications for human freedom. The freedom for people to marry who they want to marry.

     

    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 | Just what has happened to Gaydar?

    Gaydar – The death of an icon?

    I used to be a regular on Gaydar chat. I enjoyed that it was all-encompassing; in that, I could elect to be in rooms that were either fetish or location driven and that I could see them all at the same time. Then one night it all changed as Gaydar had a makeover. Less of a makeover really, more of a demolition.

    It went from being something similar to a magazine one might find on the top shelf in the newsagents and changed in likeness to the reading material in a doctors or solicitors waiting room.

    It had metamorphosed into what I would describe as “coffee shop gay”, having been ethically and morally cleansed, and coming out the other side as Conservative with a small “c.”

    There are those who are still reeling from the change to the site. I laid a small posy on my router to mark its passing. I sent an email to PinkNews asking they put a notice of obituary as a gesture at its loss.

    Then came the attempted resurrection, the chat facility had a couple of new rollouts. Early indications suggested from my appraisal it had been written by someone in London who felt the place was the centre of the gay world as whilst there were rooms for every direction in the capital those of us from the provincial hinterlands were left out in the cold, though this was subsequently addressed.

    I try it again every month or so. I miss it. Reminds of the line in the Billy Joel song Italian Restaurant “but you can never go back there again,” because it has changed and so have I.

     

    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 | Has world politics just become a p*ssing contest?

    Is the “Dick of Death” a world leader with a tiny todger? Is the world just having a bad hair and small penis day?

    I look at some world leaders and question if they have a mirror or have ever taken advice on styling? For example, have you seen the coiffes sported by some in the political elite? In the name of sweet mercy, someone get these blokes a haircut, a makeover or at the very least a hat or baseball cap.

    I don’t think people are waving in support of their leaders, they are pointing and laughing. Perhaps it is the hairstyling of one particular leader that brings his people to tears as they know they have to imitate and copy it if they are to stay alive.

    Often those who are under-endowed have an inferiority complex. It is why the term BCSD (Big Car Small Dick) was coined in the Julie Walters film Personal Services. I think some substitute a big car with a big arsenal of nuclear weapons.

    In the interest of world peace should their not be a doctor somewhere who measures the penis size of prospective leaders? If they are “Hung like a hamster”, sporting only a tiny todger then they should be pointed in the direction of other careers, vetoing their political aspirations and attempts at world domination or destruction.

    The combination of bad hair and a small co*k has a damning potential for the continuation of world peace. I am thinking of starting a funding page to get these boys a spa day. In privacy somewhere they could measure each other up, get a cut and blow dry and be pampered. We are talking Queer Eye For The Straight Guy, the diplomatic mission

    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 | 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.