THE HOMEOWNER

Thursday, January 15, 2004
Copyright © Las Vegas Mercury

The Homeowner: All the lonely people

By Mike Prevatt

Well, here we are, a couple of weeks into 2004, and I already know it's going to be more eventful than 2003. I can't tell you why; I just feel it. And one thing I sense strongly in my bones is that I'm going to fall in love.

It's about time, too. Thanks to a late coming-out and some self-confidence issues not helped by gay culture's obsession with perfection, I've never had what one might classify as a boyfriend. I've experienced stints where I "saw" people, but those all ended for perfectly good reasons--like the closet case who wouldn't tell me his real name, or the other who never showers with the lights on and won't get anywhere near a gay-identified establishment. I'm all for weirdness, but somehow I attract the freaks. Not this year, baby. This year I'll score weird, but he'll be endearingly weird--no more complexes that beg indefinitely long therapy.

Nobody really knows when they're going to fall in love. My friend Kari didn't know she was courting her future husband when she pressed her phone number against her car window, so the guy driving next to her could see it. Another friend from high school, Jen, got involved with some guy she worked with at Kinko's--that was more than 10 years ago, and they've just bought a house near Magic Mountain. And then there's--wait a minute. These are all heterosexual stories.

Perhaps one of the reasons I'm still single is because most gay men in my age group, at least in my community, don't feel the need to settle down with someone until they start doubting their physical appeal to younger men. There are exceptions, for sure, but as I understand the unwritten rule, if you're still catching glances from the twentysomething crowd, there's still a good year or two of anonymous, responsibility-free, emotionally detached hookups before you're written off as some troll.

And that's not the only problem. As Cyndi Lauper once sang, money changes everything. Some guys are only looking for a sugar daddy, and they're not so much into older men as they are someone who'll pay off years of irresponsible spending. On the other side of the economic scale, there are the lifestyle johns. A psychiatrist once told me it's not uncommon among gay men to regularly see a male prostitute rather than find an actual boyfriend. "They don't want the hassles," he said.

And then there are us nonpragmatists, who are convinced there's someone out there for us who is both attractive and worth being around for more than an hour. But while the hunt goes on, there's the accepted notion of needing something to tide one over, until one actually reaps the fruits of his idealism. Hence the tricking.

The problem with the perpetual-dating approach is, for all the self-assurance and proud independence these boys and men exhibit, you catch them during an off moment and they're unmistakably lonesome. Hell, I could just be looking around at any sort of club, gym or gay hangout, and suddenly the Beatles start looping in my head: "All the lonely people, where do they all belong?" Then I wonder to myself, which one am I--Eleanor Rigby or Father McKenzie?

Without fail, once I hook up with someone, I get into my car and think, well, that's over with. And then I say to myself, why do I keep doing this? Not only am I helping validate the right-wing, pro-family nutjobs who insist gay sex is empty and without long-term reward (without revealing how exactly they know this), but I am denying myself emotional fulfillment. This, to say nothing of the homeowner, coupled with someone or not, who reads this and doesn't identify with a sliver of it. And that's the guy I want to be--or at least meet and then become!

I've got another friend--he's straight--who I talk to about these sorts of things, and we often find it silly that all these friends of ours are either desperate for a relationship or rushing into a marriage to sort of seal the deal. It's amazing how during those conversations I can agree with everything he says about people pairing up like there's a deadline to meet, and then go home and think, man, I'm not getting any younger here. It's not that I feel old, but maintaining your so-called independence and not going with the flow--a punk rock approach to relationships, if you will--is getting tougher, and is sure to get worse as I age, too. Sure, I can tough it by myself, and ignore what all my love-hungry friends say and do. I could hold out on principle, so I might avoid hypocrisy. I don't need to be bound to another person so I can somehow complete who I am. But why would I want any of that?

I think the biggest reason why I'll fall in love this year is because I can't recall wanting it more than right now. In the back of my mind, I'll tell myself that I'm almost 28, and it's time to confront emotional maturity, excuses be damned. But my instincts tell me it's something else: I don't belong with all the lonely people.

The Homeowner appears biweekly. Send your comments and nude pics (especially if you look like Pharrell Williams) to oughtabeinporn@yahoo.com.