|A letter well proven.| As many of you know, I've had a lot of trouble with gay men recently. I'm going to spell it that way in this post ("gay") so as not to diminish the weight of what I'm saying. In having so much trouble, I decided to remove myself as far from them as I could and still move about in this city. I even requested from my friends to not discuss gay things in my presence/to me. But after a couple of weeks of really going strong, my penis grew restless and I grew lax. But, here's the thing: whenever I decide I really no longer want to put up with the crap that gay men seem to enjoy putting me through, and decide to try and get out there and meet some of them (of course, by get out there I mean sit on my ass and type away at my keyboard), they only validate my reason for wanting to go into "seclusion." Anyway, so I really hope that I hit my wall last night -- yes, with only 10 days to Bastille Day I was stupidly looking for some kind of connection - sex, conversation, a date - despite knowing what the result would be. And the result was as predictable as always. So, in an attempt to really flush out my anger, I wrote a letter. I was not going to post it here, because you all do not need to read this shiz. It was just the kind of angst-filled letter you might expect to hear over-voiced by some kid on an "My So Called Life" spin-off. I wrote it to myself, in my head, when I was taking a shower. But it hit me - I want someone to read this letter. I want my audience to read this letter. So, I posted it on Craigslist. When I awoke, in the morning, I had ten responses in my inbox. 8 of the 10 were very apologetic and sympathetic, 1 of the 10 was in full agreement and saddened by this general state of affairs (but I recognized the email address and description of his own life as someone who has, in fact, given me the treatment of which I speak -- so he definitely was not going to be getting a response). I did not respond to any of these, lest I fall into the trap again -- and because that would, I think, deter them from getting me. I was not posting this for a shoulder to cry on or as a means of still somehow getting laid -- I just wanted that, maybe, some guy out there realizes the sort of pain and anguish his actions, en masse, have caused and are causing constantly. But one email, one response, I did respond to. Because it proved, to me, everything that I wrote in the letter, withouth me having actually stated what the letter was out to prove. Here is my letter, in it's entirety (not one embarassing and just patently pathetic word cut out): Post Title: "A Thankful Letter to the Gay Men of NYC - 23" Dear Gay Men of New York City (and perhaps the rest of the world),
I just wanted to say thank you, 'cause you guys have been great. When I came to this city five years ago, I thought that I would make all of these gay friends and join these clubs and fight for our rights and meet a lot of nice guys and have sex and date and all kinds of fun craziness. But I was wrong -- very much mistaken -- and I realize that now. I also realize that you all knew that I was wrong all along. Because you knew that you didn't want me.
I'm a fit, musc black guy of average height and slightly above average intelligence and sensitivity -- but you don't want that, not any of it. It's taken me five long years to realize this (maybe my intelligence isn't so above average, is it ;-) ?), but I get it: You don't want me here.
And so I want to thank you for being so patient in teaching me this lesson -- and being so consistent. There are few traits I admire strongly in this world, and consistency to purpose and design is one of them. When I've gone to meetings, you've treated me like an untouchable. When I've said hi in chat rooms you've ignored me. When I've posted on Craigslist you haven't responded. When I look at you in trains you give me the stink eye and when I look at you in clubs you move to the other side of the floor. When I say hi to you at parties you turn the other way and when I ask you out from class or work you flatly turn me down. But, because you've been so intent on being absolutely sure that I get this message - some of you have actually agreed to go on dates or have sex with me. And, of fifteen or so dates obtained in the past three or four years, they've all stood me up. And the same for almost all of the sex, or turned me down when I arrived, even though I look just like if not better than my pics.
But, I digress. The point is that I get it. I get that you don't want me on the sidewalk, on the train, in class or work, on your computer screen, in your inbox, at the parade, in the bar, dancing in the club, or attending your meetings for our rights. And I accept it, now. I wish I were smarter and had realized this sometime ago. It would have saved you guys so much effort if there were one less guy to freeze out. Unfortunately, you'll still see me in restaurants, I have to eat; and at the gym, because being fit doesn't stop just because no guys are looking; and on the train, 'cause, well, I don't want to have a car in the city. But, rejoice -- I'll no longer be in the chat rooms or in the parks or at The Park or at Chelsea Piers falling down on my rollerblades.
You should be proud. You've managed to force yet one more decent guy out of your clan. I'm sorry it took me so long to remove myself. I hope the next class of guys aren't so thickheaded. Maybe in the future you'll be able to stop us right at the GWB -- god, what an idea.
Again, thank you so very much. It's been a long road, but I imagine we're all that much better for it.
Peace and Love,
Jason
P.S. - Also, thanks for getting me to clean up my place those late nights when I foolishly thought that you were actually coming over.
Here is that one response: Gee... I cant imagine why any successful people who have busted their asses for decades here and built lives for themselves haven't just rushed to fall all over themselves for some 23 year old whose been here since he was 18, offering bitter sarcasm and blaming it all on race... .you're exactly who I want to invite to my parties! And here is my response: I received a lot of responses to that letter. I'm not responding to any of them because that would defeat the point of what I'm saying, with the exception of yours.
I said that I was black, I however did not blame my troubles on being black. I gave a physical description of myself to indicate that, for all intents and purposes, I do not fall out of the rigid physical criteria that gay men have setup. At least, not so far outside to receive the treatment that I do.
But, the fact that you chose to read my letter and only get that I am black and perceive that as why I think I'm treated the way that I am, even though, again, I only said that I was black and at no point offered a reason as to why gay men behave the way they do to me, only supports and strengthens my argument.
So, respond to this if you will, but I think that perhaps you're precisely one of the guys at whom my letter was aimed. So, as I said, thank you. It's funny that having given not a single theory or idea as to why guys are so mean to me, you focused on your own idea and ran with it.
And having no reason to go out of your way to be mean to me, you took the time to write me an email doing just that.
So, again, thank you so much for proving me absolutely right. I hope you had a great long weekend and enjoy the summer.
Jason ::sighs:: Wonders will not ever cease, will they?
I went to an Ivy League undergrad.
I go to a top NYC law school.
I date men (well...).
I live in Bed-Stuy.
I don't need more to say,
just more room to say it.
Etc.