That’s such a brutal data point, because it shows how normalised the “sex first, person later” script can get without anyone ever announcing it.
You deserved dates, pacing, awkward silences, boring questions, all the ordinary stuff that lets someone be a human instead of a body with a personality add-on.
When I was in high school and college, I had a giant group of friends. We used to get together to go to movies or play on PS4.
But now, I talk to no one. Zero. Many ghosted me, some lost touch. I grew tired of the small talk I pretended to care about. Now, my biggest hurdle is choosing what to talk about with someone. My life is boring right now and I like it. I would rather stay in silence, talk about nothing and just be than gossip.
With regard to having gay men as friends, I can only find them here in India on grindr, a platform I plan to stay off of for the rest of my life.
But I do remember someone talking to me about deep thoughts, who *I* canceled on several times because I was worried about "ruining his life." Maybe it's time I hit him up for coffee.
Thanks for this, Gino. It's always nice to read your letters.
You’re describing the shift a lot of men hit in adulthood: the friend group dissolves, and suddenly every connection needs “content” to justify it, so silence starts to feel safer than performing interest.
That line about “ruining his life” is your brain treating your presence like a liability and not a gift. Text him for coffee anyway. If all you do is sit there and talk about one good idea, that’s already a real friendship move. ☕️
Thanks, Dan. A lot of us were trained to treat attention as proof of worth, then act surprised when we feel lonely in a room full of “interest.” If it nudges even one person to count the quieter evidence and send the coffee text, that’s a win. ☕️
I loved the metaphor of the album versus the liner notes.
My experience was so different from all of that. And it’s a very valuable window into understanding what some gay men go through.
Because I partnered so early, everyone saw us as a unit. We were together from age 19. And I think our gay friends wanted to have that for themselves and enjoyed being around us for the hope that it brought them.
This really was a great help and understanding others.
Being “the unit” can turn you into a kind of emotional campfire for other people, which is sweet, but it also means they can be attached to the symbol more than the individuals sitting inside it. There’s a sneaky grief in that too: you get community, but not always the feeling of being chosen separately, as yourself. The album still matters, even if everyone came for the cover. x
Gino, you really tapped into something meaningful and true. I found myself stopping at points to recognize a memory in what you wrote. "It's just coffee." I like that. It's a good mantra.
I had been out of the closet for 12 years before the first time I went out with a guy for a meal before sleeping with him.
That’s such a brutal data point, because it shows how normalised the “sex first, person later” script can get without anyone ever announcing it.
You deserved dates, pacing, awkward silences, boring questions, all the ordinary stuff that lets someone be a human instead of a body with a personality add-on.
'... but if you were a real friend you'd let me have sex with you as well'....
When I was in high school and college, I had a giant group of friends. We used to get together to go to movies or play on PS4.
But now, I talk to no one. Zero. Many ghosted me, some lost touch. I grew tired of the small talk I pretended to care about. Now, my biggest hurdle is choosing what to talk about with someone. My life is boring right now and I like it. I would rather stay in silence, talk about nothing and just be than gossip.
With regard to having gay men as friends, I can only find them here in India on grindr, a platform I plan to stay off of for the rest of my life.
But I do remember someone talking to me about deep thoughts, who *I* canceled on several times because I was worried about "ruining his life." Maybe it's time I hit him up for coffee.
Thanks for this, Gino. It's always nice to read your letters.
You’re describing the shift a lot of men hit in adulthood: the friend group dissolves, and suddenly every connection needs “content” to justify it, so silence starts to feel safer than performing interest.
That line about “ruining his life” is your brain treating your presence like a liability and not a gift. Text him for coffee anyway. If all you do is sit there and talk about one good idea, that’s already a real friendship move. ☕️
Making a good friend takes a lot of time. Slow time. Vulnerable time. Safe silences. Straight or gay, most men aren't good at this.
So true!. Friendship is basically unsexy repetition, and many men were raised to treat that as inefficient.
The “safe silences” part is the tell: if you can sit together without performing, you’re not networking, you’re bonding :)
Efficiency values speed; relationships need slowness.
Great post. What you write about speaks to almost all of us.
Thanks, Dan. A lot of us were trained to treat attention as proof of worth, then act surprised when we feel lonely in a room full of “interest.” If it nudges even one person to count the quieter evidence and send the coffee text, that’s a win. ☕️
I loved the metaphor of the album versus the liner notes.
My experience was so different from all of that. And it’s a very valuable window into understanding what some gay men go through.
Because I partnered so early, everyone saw us as a unit. We were together from age 19. And I think our gay friends wanted to have that for themselves and enjoyed being around us for the hope that it brought them.
This really was a great help and understanding others.
Being “the unit” can turn you into a kind of emotional campfire for other people, which is sweet, but it also means they can be attached to the symbol more than the individuals sitting inside it. There’s a sneaky grief in that too: you get community, but not always the feeling of being chosen separately, as yourself. The album still matters, even if everyone came for the cover. x
Exactly that. And we have very few gay friends anymore because of that.
Gino, you really tapped into something meaningful and true. I found myself stopping at points to recognize a memory in what you wrote. "It's just coffee." I like that. It's a good mantra.
Jonathan