That One Fucking Glove.
Acceptance. That's what today is about. At least the essence of this blog, is about 'Acceptance'.
On Saturday, with the wasting of currency and inebriation of self, I broached a topic with a man who is Gay. Not any connotation, other than he likes Men.
I simply wanted the practical approach of a gay man to a man he is interested in, how he discerns their orientation, the nitty gritty of picking up guys.
Implications abound over such a question, in my naivete of inebriate, that I simply was not expecting. How does someone find out such information? I need his anecdotal procedure to get an idea of the approach.
Immediately following the question someone, whom I had only met hours prior to this exchange, caught me off guard with her explosion 'OH MY GOD! Are you Gay? Are you flirting with him?!' - I responded with a 'No, I'm just curious' - a fourth person but third speaker chimed in 'He's ok, he's just asking questions' (To be honest, I don't entirely remember what they said but it was along those lines) - the question was laughed off and I, not feeling offended but a little vulnerable, closed off my curiosity for the moment.
I want to say she was into me and isn't open to the idea of a Man having homo erotic interests. I am very handsome, I can understand this being a slightly disruptive revelation - if you're an arse-hole.
Someone with a vagina could be entirely open about the homo erotic experiences of their past without ramifications of social ostracising. Not that every woman is represented by this one individual, however, I imagine similar kinds of vulnerable candidness from a man would be greeted thusly.
Just some food for thought.
And it is perhaps due to this, really quite mild form of conditional appreciation, which framed the group I joined later in the evening - loving, inclusive and sociable.
Before I go there, however, I will showcase my own lack of acceptance for others. Uniform is apparently a major pet peeve. Perhaps exclusively, sport related uniform. But I think it's more to do with one piece of their outfit and my level of intoxication.
I uncharacteristically antagonised a few of them, shoving them off the Bar. I would stand there waiting for a beer, staring at them and just hating. Hate beamed from my eyes and focussed on this group of polo shirt wearing, golf uniform garbed, one leather glove reppin'...people.
One. Leather. Right-handed. White and Black Glove. That 90% of them continued to wear at a Bar. That Glove gave my drunk indignation volcano, a reason to blow.
It still stirs the innards to know that there are people that dress that way, sweatshirts draped over the shoulders. Wearing Visors. I have one side of my head shaved (Well shorter) with Long hair. I was wearing tight blue jeans, a Nice shirt, finished with a suit jacket from my grade 6 graduation and nice leather loafers. Simple. Yet in it's own way, could be an absurd outfit. If I'm with 20 other people dressed the same. Who am I to judge homogeneity? An interest in a Sport? The want to show off this interest? Don't stop wearing those Gloves, express yourself.
I may not mean that though.
Moving now onto the beauty of an accepting group of individuals. Feeling appreciation for being honest, being broken and being a Human. Such a comforting experience.
Knowing that I have somewhere I can go to be exactly who I am is a gift that many of us are likely unfamiliar with. I hope we all can find it. I hope it exists everywhere, for everyone.
I don't want to over intellectualise the beauty, I will let it's simplicity ring out.
Thanks so much for reading.
Love you all
Even you one glove wearing unity weirdos. I love you too but I may forget how to show it, in your presence!
- Ryan Dickinson