Correlation(ships)

The weekend brought more sunshine than the BBC would have ever dared to publicly admit. The unspoken rule is, when in doubt, forecast rain. If the sun creeps out, everyone will be in too good a mood to care about inept predictions. But if the opposite had happened, their credibility would have been at stake. I would march in protest if the weatherman had me out on a Saturday in hot shorts and sunglasses, only to be drenched in rain.

So on a lazy sunny weekend Roy, Suli, Yolanda and I sat out on Roy's roof terrace having something bubbly to drink and barbequing hamburgers, with Regents Park and the whole vista of London before us. It was picture perfect, though a chilly wind was picking up.

Not long into our lounging, in walked Romanus, and I nearly choked. Romanus was the size of a bus. Not fat, no no, he was 100% steroidal (and after what must have been a morning under the UV rays of a sunbed) roast beef. Had he not been wearing a ridiculous pair of denim shorts and a navy blue wife-beater, I would have easily assumed he was a professional bodybuilder.

His effeminate clothes provided a contrast that was difficult to appreciate, especially after 3 glasses of champagne. Though, in truth, I struggled in my head to put him in any outfit that would even match the uber-masculinity his body seemed to suggest. Romanus did have saving graces- he was sweet, unassuming and handsome. Roy told me that he used to be thinner than I am (which, for the unprivileged who haven't met me, would amount to emaciated), though Roy himself admits he was much more attractive back then. The current Romanus was a result of a couple of years' worth of injections and plastic surgery.

As the evening progressed I noticed something else that struck me about Romanus. He was brutally honest about himself, in the way that victims of war or cancer patients sometimes are, reducing events and experiences that undoubtedly were very painful to an austere matter-of-factness that sometimes makes others uncomfortable.

I had missed the beginning of a conversation, which was evidently about his dating life. But my ears perked when in the manner I described above, he turns to us and says, "I don’t know, I just have not been able to go on a second date with someone for what seems to be years."

Suli automatically assumed the lack of interest was on Romanus' part, and told him that eventually he'll get butterflies from someone. In a sense, Suli probably didn't expect that someone so good looking and that pumped up could have trouble getting a second date. "No, it's not me who loses interest, the problem is not on my end," replied Romanus, "they just loose interest in me."

At this point I'd had a little more to drink than I should and I jumped at the opportunity to berate him. "How long did you say this has been happening?"

"More than year, with quite a few guys," he innocently responded.

"Well since you're the only common factor in all these first dates, I'd say the problem certainly is on your end."

He stared at me, but not in indignation, I couldn't quite place it.

I tried to explain the blindingly obvious: that he was, in effect, attracting the same kind of guy in to his life, and that if this was ever going to change he'd have to change not only his approach but how he sees himself.

"Well, I've already paid for it but you just summed up my 2 years of therapy." Should I be charging money for my drunken antics?

It may be novel to Romanus but my fellow homos and I have been debating the Correlation for a while.

BEWARE OF THE FORMULA:

Muscle Mass divided by Age --> Boyfriend(hotness exponent) multiplied by # of Years LTR

or



This formula, unfortunately, has most gay men by the balls. The Correlation derived from the above formula is that the youngest guys with the most muscles get the hottest boyfriends for longest time. As age increases or muscle mass decreases, the integer on the left has a lower value, thus resulting in a less-hot boyfriend for less years.

The sad truth, therefore is, that gay men often times attach their worth as individuals to the left side of this formula. And like many other things in the gay world, it’s a vicious cycle, in this case with two faces:

Face 1: Expectations. You blame your current single-hood on your physical inability to attract the kind of guy you want. You are certain as Pythagoras that if your arms were a little thicker, your chest a little wider, or your waist a little thinner that your 'league' will change. You work, and you work hard at the gym. Maybe even experiment with a couple of steroids. You get bigger, and your waist is as thin as a 5-year-old girl's. Hotter guys start approaching you and checking you out. But now they're all too attainable, and the interest is physical - the emotional void grows and you're hooked on the approval, moreover, you still can't get the dreamy guys you want. You go up a bench-press weight, your pecks get a little bigger, and like equity shares, your expectations for a return on investment grow with them. You're looking for hotter guys now, whilst the truth is there is no ceiling to this vicious cycle. Deep down you know these guys that you never attracted when you were too thin or too fat are only now approaching you because of something entirely separate from your person. They're caught in the vicious cycle too. Which brings us to Face 2.

Face 2: Common vulnerability. The formula above preys on the self-doubting. What you have in effect is a community of self-doubters with amazing bodies. Emotional vulnerability and weakness of mind is masked with physical strength. The very people that fall victims are the same that perpetuate the Correlation - it is all they know and those who present an alternative are threatening their reality. Instead of building on their intelligence and maturity as gay men and identifying these traits as their greatest assets, the focus and worth lies in their appearance. As a result, you get statements like: "How the hell did he end up with him?!" when you see an 'attractive' guy with a non-conformer; or better yet "Oh look at the really old and saggy guy and the really young hot guy. I guess he really needs the money." Is it not possible that 'older' guys, in their life experience have gathered up enough charm and emotional security to attract younger ones? Is money the only option, the only other alternative currency of power or status in this fucked up gay community?

A disclaimer: there is nothing wrong with looking and feeling healthy. If you've got some extra flab you should by all means hit that treadmill. If you're feeling underweight by all means get a trainer, work on some muscles. A healthy body in the end only aids a healthy mind. The trick is not to associate this with your social status or worth. You will succeed in surrounding yourself with people, but will not feel much better about anything.

I'm rambling, and if you made it this far in the post than you clearly have more tolerance than I can hope for. It is just sad to see millions of guys with amazing potential become slaves to their bodies and the labels they wear.

Peace

M