Since childhood, I’ve had an empty spot in my middle, this unbearable longing for male intimacy—a feeling that at times becomes an overwhelming yearning for oneness.
Understand that I’m not necessarily talking about sex. Realistically, intimacy might involve sex, but to me it is more typically the sharing of an emotional, intellectual, and yes, even spiritual connection that transcends a mere physical act that comes easily and then evaporates quickly.
To me intimacy means really knowing a man and him knowing me. It’s sharing at the deepest possible level what's going on inside of me and what's inside of him; it’s learning the mysteries of life together and creating a world of joy on the foundation of those mysteries.
The problem is that the task of finding a friend with whom to share thoughts, feelings and desires is daunting and at times seemingly impossible—especially for a middle aged married man. I’ve tried internet chat rooms, dating sites and even Craigslist where guys my age are typically trolling for a quick hook-up. I’ve joined associations and groups, but they seem to cater to the young and the old without a lot of men in the middle.
Where are the forty-something gay men spending their time?
Most recently I’ve been hitting the clubs (or at least one club—Pure) on Friday nights. Accompanied by a group of youngsters, the evenings are spent dancing and talking and laughing under the watchful gaze of well-formed go-go boys swaying on six foot pedestals surrounded by hundreds of undulating gay men (all under the age of 30). While I’ve readily concluded that this is not the place to discover intimacy, it’s a great spot to find a very good time. And if you can’t find what you’re looking for you settle for what you can get.
Last Friday night I really settled and as a result was left more than a little disturbed.
As I was dancing with friends, an acquaintance joined our group with his date—a beautiful young man with dark hair, broad shoulders and tight abs—just my type. Unfortunately, I immediately fell in lust. He must have sensed something because he quickly introduced himself and we began talking and dancing which led to more talking and dancing which inevitably led to more touching than dancing. It didn’t surprise me at all when he eventually turned his head and brushed my lips with a kiss. I gently returned the favor and he responded with a shudder. We spent the rest of the evening in each other’s arms, dancing, kissing, caressing, and both felt a bit cheated when the music finally ended.
As we left the club, he asked when we could meet again to which I gave a vague response. He then asked for my telephone number which I felt uncomfortable providing. He was hurt and angry. I felt guilty.
I had a wonderful time with this young man and thrilled at his touch, his smell, and his kiss, but in the end was surprised that our time together actually meant little. It was a delicious diversion and nothing more.
It frightened me to think that I’m that type of man—so interested and focused on his own needs that he allows himself to hurt others with little after-thought on his personal journey of self-discovery. It was a good lesson. I hope I actually learned something.