I’ve never kissed a bloke*

Undercurrent (1946 film)

Undercurrent (1946 film) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Am I the only bloke never to have had a homosexual experience? Ok, sure, I guess there might be one or two others, but there seems an undercurrent in many conversations I’ve had over the years regarding some gay experimentation. Most, so it seems, happened young, almost innocently, a couple of lads being best friends getting curious and a tad closer than their parents would recommend. For the most part the experimentation pretty well stops there, and they grow up to be normal, heterosexual blokes. That’s the story, except none of that ever happened to me, not even once, not even close really.

I remember when I was about 11 being down the beach on holidays with the family and we caught up with close family friends. They had a son who must have been about 8 I guess who thought I was the bee’s knees. I remember we went to the beach one hot day and getting back and lining up to take a shower to wash the sand off of us and this kid pipes up and without any consultation asks if he can take a shower with me. I must have looked askance at that because his dad said no, you can take a shower with me instead. Later the kid told about the time he had touched some other kids little penii and had his little fella touched in return. I remember being non-plussed by that too. And that’s the sum of my gay experiences – if you could call them that – if you don’t count a few propositions over the years, and those fertile days in the boys changeroom when with great hilarity we would all flick wet, rolled up towels at each others genitalia. Oh, what fun!

I ask now because I caught up with a Californication episode where the topic was discussed. I believe Hank was just as mystified as I was – these things go on? Hank Moody plays a decent role in these pages because I figure I see him as a kind of archetype who speaks for a good part of who I am. He can be incredibly irritating, like an adult juvenile, but shit, he has fun and he gets the girls and he don’t give a shit and, well, good on him. He appeals to that irresponsible, Dionysian (Bacchanalian?) side of me, which waxes and wanes, but is never entirely absent. I’m never quite as childish as he is – I have a strong sense of responsibility, and I don’t quite score as well with the girls as he does, but I have my moments.

Right now I reckon I’m about to enter into another one of those phases. I can feel it in my water, or elsewhere at least, like I want to cut loose, enjoy a libation or several and get conjugal with willing participants. It’s even fun just writing it. I think I’m guilty sometimes of attempting to repress that side of myself, thinking perhaps I’m too old for it now and that I should be more mature, yada, yada, yada… Fact is I reckon it’s kind of healthy just living what you feel. So many don’t. So many seem incapable of it. It’s healthy to slip the mooring occasionally and go with the hedonistic flow. In fact I reckon there should be group therapy along these lines, like gestalt, except it should be about releasing the inner Hank Moody. All of us blokes have him inside, even those who touched a playmates pee pee long ago. It’s just that some of us have more of him inside than others.

* Well I have, drunkenly, but never on the lips.

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