A bit of a follow up to The Wrath and The Fury, in which I went on a rant about glad rags and media in general.
While I was an up and coming gay youth, I did spend a lot of time with the discarded element of the community, namely sex workers. For some odd reason, I was adopted by many of them when I was learning what it meant to be a gay man. Conversely, I also was adopted by what most would consider the upstanding adults of the gay community, those movers and shakers who molded me into a furious weapon to get the job done. And for some additionally odd reason, when I’d go out to the clubs, I always seemed to meet / befriend porn stars or male dancers. I started to develop a real circle of these men who the rest of the community sneered at behind their hands yet spent money supporting them by throwing bills in their underwear bands, on the nightstand or at the counter when they bought their movies. A number of them spend their time working for charities, trying to help bring in money for just causes, probably because they have the time to do it.
What I learned from this delightful group of men is to be myself. I spent so much of my time trying to please everyone around me. Be the good son. Be the proper fag. Be this, be that. There were so many me’s out there that I didn’t know who me was anymore. These good men, some of which have long since passed, gave me the attitude which I wear today. As long as I’m not hurting anyone or anything, take me as I am. I have a long and rich past which I don’t allow to affect my present, but it made me who I am. Some things I’m not so proud of, but I’m not ashamed either. Who I am today is what truly matters.
But still these members of the community are outcasts, though they’ve functioned for decades. There’s still no adequate laws to protect them, and they have to take it upon themselves to care for their health. At least professional porn stars have a studio behind them. And to this day, I befriend them, support them, and advise where I can. I have no issue with hiring a rentboy for a night, although in the past all I ever did was talk them to sleep. I have no problem with dropping money into a handsome dancer’s kit. And I certainly don’t care if I’m seen on the street with a known / unknown porn star. While I don’t fit the mold of any gay man now, and probably never did, not only do I embrace these groups but they’ve also accepted me.
Though the pleasure they give is behind closed doors and instantly gratifying, to me the memories of the long conversations, the gentle hugs and the rough play will always remain in my thoughts. People just need to loosen up and get over the fact that there’s people out there making a living off your own perverse desires. So stop looking down on them because they’re the ones making a point. And a buck.
To all the sex workers I’ve known in the past (and present), I love you guys.
I keep ya guessing