Not so long ago, on a gay getaway not too far away, a man was on vacation. For his retreat he'd planned the three R's … rest, relaxation and rejuvenation … with perhaps a little reading. But … from a hidden g-spot, evil forces were atwork. The relaxing romantic rebels were about to battle against man's ultimate weapon: his penis!
Months had passed since anyone had orbited my groinal galaxy and after a few days of poolside reading, I grew weary of my “in-solar” system. So I decided to be enterprising and set out for my final frontier … sex! Like Captain Kirk, I understood this task would require a trek outta my space, and, as we all know, when you're not in your usual galaxy (like on vacation) being adventurous seems less daunting. The tranquil pace of Palm Springs only made my task feel like I was at w-a-r-p speed as I set out to go where all gay men have gone before: a bar! After making a plan to meet my friend Trent for a drink,
I engaged my engines and began outfitting myself for the dark abyss of bar wars. For space camp,
I chose a tight black T-shirt and a pair of slouchy jeans. As I left the safety of my hotel room, with one last look in the mirror, then downward at my crotch, I thought, “the force be with you!” And off I went.
It was Thanksgiving week in Palm Springs when I was introduced to “two-fer ”Tuesdays at Toucans. My evening began with a tropical time warp trip to a galaxy long, long ago. Twenty years ago to be exact. While I waited for Trent to show up, a disco version of Barry Manilow's “Copacabana” serenaded my singular situation becoming both enhancing and annoying. The enhancing was that everyone (varied ages) seemed to be dancing and having fun, which brought a smile to my face. The annoying was that I still remembered all the words as I silently sang along to the famed tale of a faded, disco-dancing showgirl. Then I had a UFOh-no! I was rapidly reminded of my age! (“But that was 30 years ago when she used to have a show!”) My hopes for a relationship filled with the kind of love and support I yearned for began to wilt my happy demeanor and I began to fade like Lola's glittering career at the Copacabana. Happily my friend Trent showed up beaming, and we joined forces to become two on two-fer Tuesdays. But, as our evening came to a close, the two-fer part of Tuesdays at Toucans (buy one, get the second one free) had given me double vision by the time the cute, sparkly man-boy appeared before me. “Hi, I'm… (we shall call him) Darth!” “Beam me aboard, Scotty,” I thought as his face came into focus—his smile gleaming from beyond the darkness of the bar. And from a hidden base camp, planetary forces began a plan of attack. Victory seemed inevitable!
“Do you want to come home with me?” Darth asked. “Well, I have to be honest with you, I began. “I'm not really good at the whole one night-stand-thing. I like to get to know someone better before I … you know … do it!” I swear I heard my inner voice yelling … W-H-A-T A-R-E Y-O- U D-O-I-N-G!!! ….you want sex … REMEMBER?!? Darth, the sparkly man-boy, cocked his head and exhaled a cloud of cigarette smoke into the dark, desert force field. “Well, we can just hang out in my Jacuzzi if you want. ”My crotch and I were having a conflict between good and evil—only things weren't that black and white. My head said “no“ (Venus), my penis said “yes”(Mars) and I was stuck in the (gay) middle. Admittedly, I had set my “saber-sights” on sex, but really what I needed was a little more face time before bedtime. As I contemplated his proposition, my saber forced a landscape surveillance of the other options available at Toucans. Were I to stay, without my friends, I could face a possible attack of the Clones, or as the night got darker, perhaps an invasion of the “cling-ons.” So, as Darth the sparkly man-boy chewed on my neck, I decided to just be lieutenant “a-whore-a!”
Once back at his house I met his dog, we hydrated with some H2O around the refrigerator, he gave me a tour of his house, and like good fags, we ranted for a while about renovations. Eventually rebel alliances joined forces, and he tore the shirt from my body. Between carnivorous attacks, I inquired about the Jacuzzi.
“Oh, well, I have to hook together a few wires under the house, and then it takes 30 minutes to warm up. ”Clearly the only jet stream I would see would be in his bed. I thought, well, you got what you said you wanted. Here it is, sex.
Go ahead princess … get a lay-a! And then it happened! In the throws of man-passion, I rebelled. Tearing the baseball cap from his head, I discovered a very obvious toupee. Next the clothes came off, and his bedroom boasting became as fake as his hair. Enter my female side (Venus). I quickly began to dislike the now naked (except for his toupee) man before me. Though I, too, was fully exposed on the outside, the female within was descending from Venus to orbit the regions of my penis! I thought, “Help me, oh-be wand …
you're my only hope!” I wished H-A-R-D … with all my manly-might. But, sadly, the force was no longer with me.
As I drove home, I thought about my quest to become a dark knight from manly Mars, and that only left me feeling the darker side of my night. I felt like such a girl! Why was it that, no matter how cute (and Darth was very cute, which made the toupee a huge distraction. Hello … I shave my head), or how hot they looked, if personality was left out of the atmosphere, gravity just seemed to force me off the playing field? While dawn cast a tawny glow against the desert highway before me, I began to wonder: If men really are from Mars, and women are from Venus, where do gay men fit it in? (And don't even go there with the “your-anus” joke)
We gay men seem to “beam up” when boasting about our bedroom conquests, but are we really telling the truth when it comes to sex? Without the support of our (emotional) heads, are we just lost in space sexually? From the spaces we craft as homes, to the ideal we promote for our heavenly bodies, if men are from Mars and women are from Venus, then are the constellations in conflict when it comes to gay?
Once back at my hotel, the early hour of that Sunday morning offered me alone time as I climbed into the Jacuzzi just outside my cabana room. With the spectacular desert sun emerging over my head, I realized that in general, sexual behavior is pretty black and white when it comes to men and women. You can easily have sex without attachment—Mars. Or you need a little emotional foreplay—Venus. But when it comes to gay, at times, things can be kinda gray. As the long-overdue Jacuzzi jets pummeled my conflicted body, the questioning female thoughts battled with my male warrior weapon. Unfortunately I was the custodian of these combative constellations. My body yearned for a little galactic gay sex, but my brain battled with reminders of numerous disconnected interludes, like my date with “Darth.” I had to be truthful with myself, even if it was a little female. Next I thought about a scholarly scene from Star Wars.
As Obi-Wan Kenobi hands Luke Skywalker his light saber for the first time, he covers Luke's head with a helmet so he cannot see. A confused Luke complains over the loss of his sight—all the while a much-macho Han Solo scoffs at the saber charade. The wise, old Obi-Wan offers these words of wisdom to young Luke. “Let go of your conscious self and act on instinct. Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them. Stretch out with your feelings.” And with one swift stroke, young Luke hits his mark! As I thought of this I began to relax, closing my eyes and resting my head against the concrete edge of the Jacuzzi. I have no idea how I will find my perfect planetary partner in this great big gay galaxy. But as a free, gay man with so many options, I guess I'll just act on my instincts and remember the force will be with me … always … whatever planet that comes from!
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