Being gay is like being left-handed. Some people are, most people aren’t and nobody really knows why. It’s not right or wrong, it’s just the way things are. — Unknown

I watched a documentary in the 1990s. It was about the investigation into the molestation and murder of a prepubescent boy in England in the 1970s. It was in the 1970s, so suspicion immediately fell on gay men. The police opened an investigation and right away approached known homosexuals and entered gay bars, asking men to come to the station for questioning. The men were photographed, and detailed notes were taken of the interviews. At one point, a gay man was accused by another of the crime. Once the accused realized that he was under suspicion, he told the detectives interviewing him that he was saying nothing without his solicitor present. It turned out that the accusation was wrongful and levelled against him by another man who had a grudge. Eventually, the culprit was found and confessed when presented with evidence against him. He was not a gay man and had no previous suspicion of sexual interference with boys. He said that the boy struggled during and after the assault and that he had not meant to kill him. The man was convicted of the crimes of manslaughter and sexually assaulting the boy. He was imprisoned for his crimes. With the case closed, the police destroyed the evidence they collected in their investigation: the photos and notes from the interviews of the gay men.

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Gay men don’t have much in common with lesbians. — Douglas Murray

The thing to remember is that gay is a demographic, not a coherent community. I am a gay man, a free thinker and a skeptic. I am proudly Anglo-Saxon; both sides of my family came from the British Isles, my father’s family from England and my mother’s from Ireland. Short of taking a DNA test, it is anyone’s guess what blend of ethnicities may be in my ancestry. However, that is neither here nor there. The fact remains that I am a middle-aged, gay white man. That said, those characteristics are irrelevant. Above all else, I am an individual. I am the man I am today because of my childhood and adolescence circumstances. I grew up in Canada in the latter half of the 20th century. I remember the Centennial celebrations in 1967 on Canada’s 100th birthday. I learned to take pride in my heritage, and the freedoms and opportunities afforded me as a Canadian. Still, growing up gay in my generation had its challenges. Continue reading

‘Woman’ is not an idea in a man’s head. — J. K. Rowling

Despite Rowling’s proposition being a non sequitur, she is correct that “woman is not an idea in a man’s head.” The majority of men, rational men at least, know that the definition of a woman is an adult human female. The definition of a woman she refers to in her topsy-turvy proposition is that of feminists who subscribe to queer theory and their half-baked metaphysics that spawned gender identity and expression. The belief that people have gendered souls is a feminist invention made into a sacred cow by the Woke with their triune doctrine of Equity, Diversity and Inclusion (more aptly known as Division, Iniquity and Exclusion). Yes, it was queer feminists such as Judith Butler and barbara findlay (she insists on spelling her name without capital letters) who fashioned gender identity and expression. 

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Accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people with whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart. — Marcus Aurelius

A recurring theme in ancient Greek mythology is that you cannot outrun your fate. I think about that idea when I look back on my life and how, throughout it, people assumed that I was a homosexual. In grade school, a woman who lived across the street from my family was hired by my parents to prepare lunch for my siblings and me when we came home from school. I recall how she said that I would end up a confirmed bachelor. A confirmed bachelor was code for a homosexual historically. In middle school, I had a fleeting romance with a girl. When my seventh-grade teacher learned of our liaison, she expressed surprise; she never imagined me being interested in girls. In high school, I asked my brother if he would sound out a girl I fancied to see if she was interested in me. He reported that when the girl realized what he was up to, she retorted, “He’s a fairy!” When I joined the Canadian Army as a Reservist at eighteen, I entered the classroom one day at the Armoury and found a caricature of me as a pink bunny drawn on the blackboard captioned with anti-gay slurs. To their credit, the other recruits told me it was intended as a joke–that they liked me. Still, I wondered why people thought I was a homosexual.

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Gentlemen, you may include me out. — Samuel Goldwyn

I declined an audition recently. The audition call was for an actor to play a senior gay man, a closeted gay man married to a lesbian who had children and grandchildren. They enthusiastically come out late in life, embracing their “queerness” in all its grotesque flamboyance. The role is a lead for a series of ten episodes. I am okay with playing a gay man on screen, provided I can play him straight. By that, I mean playing a man who is gay. I am uncomfortable playing a gay man as a caricature, even in jest. That resembles a black actor playing a minstrel show role in jest. Mainly as I am on record for criticism of queer culture, I think that queer culture is demeaning and detrimental to the well-being and happiness of gay men and boys. I said in the note explaining my decision to drop the audition that the role was outside my character type. My character type is the mature father figure. As an older gay man, I do not want to risk being typecast as an older, flamboyant homosexual. 

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You can’t just look at someone and guess their sexuality. There’s no point in assuming that every gay man has just one personality type. — Cameron Monaghan

I had a similar experience to the one dramatized in the video. It was in the late spring, early summer of 1980. I had graduated from high school and eagerly looked forward to enrolling at Queen’s University in the Fall. I served as a Reservist in the Canadian Army in an artillery regiment in Ottawa and made friends with another young man I met in the unit. We became fast friends. I made friends with that man and others in my regiment. Still, I was ribbed, called the “Regimental Fag” in the banter among the ranks. When I came to the Christmas Party in 1979 with a young woman for my date, I was asked, “So, you like girls?” We spent time alone together at his mother’s house. We sat on the living room floor and listened to Beatles records on the stereo. I remember my overwhelming desire for him; I wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him. I did not understand why I felt that way, which was horrifying. I dared not try it as that would have gone badly for me (assuming he was not gay or did not return my feelings). Had I been singled out as a homosexual in 1980, it would have meant dismissal from the Service. I would likely have lost my friends and become the butt of salacious gossip. 

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Time makes us sentimental. Perhaps, in the end, it is because of the time that we suffer. — André Aciman

This is what a gay high school boy looked like in 1979.

I like gay romance in print and on film. The positive portrayal of romance and intimacy between two men or high school boys is lovely. Gay youth and men exist and have the same need for love and companionship as the heterosexual majority. Especially given that in Western society, intimacy between men was criminalized for a long time–it was considered “gross indecency” and punishable by imprisonment. Beyond that, public prejudice was prevalent throughout the 20th century. I remember it well. Recently, I met up with a man I knew in high school. We had not seen each other since graduation in 1980. We met through a mutual friend and ex of mine. I had no idea that my high school buddy was gay. We are both in our sixties and retired. I am happily partnered, and he is single. It was good to see him again.

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Olivier said that drama is an affair of the heart, or it’s nothing, and he was right. — Pam Gems

Joe Locke and Kit Connor as Charlie and Nick in Heartstopper.

I watched season two of the charming Netflix series Heartstopper. I liked it despite it being aimed at a much younger audience. What drew me to the series was the gay storyline; the romance between the two protagonists, the high school boys Nick and Charlie. The series is a drama, although it pulls its punches. The boys never go past kissing and cuddling in their relationship. Also, Nick is bisexual, and Charlie is gay. It is cute and appealing to its teenage audience. I like that a teenage gay romance is portrayed as a positive thing. Coincidentally, the actors who play Nick and Charlie are, like the characters they play, gay and bisexual. Kit Connor, who plays Nick, declared his bisexuality. Joe Locke, who plays Charlie, is openly gay. That the young actors are gay and bisexual is interesting. It is nice that they are free to be themselves.

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It is the difference between men and women, not the sameness, that creates the tension and the delight. — Edward Abbey

Mika and I are a mature gay couple.

Humans are a sexually dimorphic species. They come in two sexes: male and female, and I appreciate and celebrate the difference. I like men. What is not to enjoy about men? That said, having seen journal articles and YouTube videos giving detailed instructions on how gay men can interact with a transman’s pussy (to use the vernacular), I am puzzled at the absurdity of the claims.

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Those who know that they are profound strive for clarity. Those who would like to seem profound to the crowd strive for obscurity. ― Friedrich Nietzsche,  The Gay Science

Listening to a true believer in gender identity and gender expression explain why they believe reminds me of when I was a pious Roman Catholic. I am sure I sounded much the same to non-believers when I explained why I had taken the leap of faith to practice Roman Catholicism. I accepted the theological arguments, the authority of Scripture, and the Apostolic Tradition that compose Roman Catholicism. I attended mass daily, said my prayers, and tried to do good and avoid doing evil. I regularly examined my conscience and tried to turn away from sin. It was reasonable to me at the time. Though I tried to be true to my faith, lingering doubt remained. Eventually, I realized that I could not continue as it was hypocritical of me. I stopped going to mass. I no longer believe in the claims of Christianity.

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