A blast from the past
I was running around, doing errands this afternoon, when I saw someone from the past. I haven't seen him in about 12 years. Partly this may be because I intentionally moved out of the gay areas of Vancouver about 7 years ago, and rarely go to the West end, and I've avoided going to gay clubs. But 12-14 years ago I went quite often, and used to hang out with a couple of friends who loved getting to know everyone. We'd cruise everywhere. By cruising, I mean we'd walk around the West end, going for coffee, walking the seawalk around English Bay and Stanley park, looking at hot men and fantasizing about meeting one of them. In the evenings we'd visit a night club, doing the same. If I may say so, the three of us together were fairly good looking ourselves.

We all had similar upbringings - good parents, nice middle class lives, excellent educations. We also came from smaller cities, so Vancouver was quite new and exciting to us, because we were learning about the gay culture. We were fairly naive, but during the course of our friendship - it lasted about three years - we all changed quite a bit. Jerod was from a small town in Saskatchewan, who moved to Vancouver because the older man he was obsessively in love with moved here. But the guy was a prick, who manipulated Jerod and while he liked having him around for sex, but definitely wasn't in love with him, nor wanted commitment. So poor Jerod was always going through huge emotional distress and jealousy. It began to change Jerod. He became a popular step-class instructor, and in order to avoid feeling all his pain and wanting to feel attractive, he became quite a slut. As if to prove he was desirable.

The strange thing that happened with Jerod and I...whenever I saw someone I found very attractive, Jerod would hone in on him. He'd find out about him, what he was into, and then end up having sex with him. This, of course, would really piss me off. It happened several times. And it was usually very sleazy sex. He started having sex with guys in their cars, or at a certain video shop on Granville Street, that had those coin operated porno booths. I think he'd even jerk off with guys in the gym's shower room after he was done teaching. I was trying not to be judgemental, but it was so opposite of the Jerod I had originally met, and I was quite concerned...and turned off. At that time I hadn't yet explored my own slutty side (It would be a few more years).

There was one guy we were interested in, just because he seemed so...good looking, but remarkably superficial and dumb. At the same time friendly and shy. He looked like one of those guys you see on the covers of Men's Fitness. We ran into him everywhere - at the gym, on the street, in the clubs. We talked with him eventually, and while I found him interesting, in a scientific way, I didn't find him sexually attractive.

One night, the three of us showed up for coffee, and Jerod had this story to tell about Mr. Men's Fitness. Jerod had met him at a nightclub the night before, then went home with him. Another conquest for Jerod! He had this perfect Calvin Klein apartment - all white sheets, white sheer floor length curtains, everything obsessively in place and perfect. When Jerod finally found himself in his bed, and they both took off their clothes, Jerod said he felt like he was about to have sex with a Men's Fitness model. He felt so intimidated.

Mr. Men's Fitness is unusually good looking, in that high-fashion model way. Long limbs, no fat, all definition, perfect abs, longish dark brown hair, a long, classically handsome face, etc. But there’s nothing natural about him – it’s all hard work and artifice. It’s all about how you look.

Mr. Men's Fitness tried to say something politely to Jerod. He said he didn't like hairy chests (Jerod's chest wasn't that hairy) and then offered to get out his clippers and trim his chest hair. The thing about this guy is that he is obsessively perfect, and doesn't tolerate anything less than perfect than him.

This ended up ruining the mood for Jerod, and he ended up leaving. I thought the whole story was so funny, because it exemplified for me everything that I thought Mr. Men’s Fitness was like. And it was funny because the only reason why Jerod bothered to go home with him was to have another conquest that he could brag about.

So this afternoon, 12 – 14 years later, I’m waiting for the bus (because I can’t afford my car right now). It’s pouring rain, and chilly. Everyone is wearing a jacket, pants and holding an umbrella. Out of nowhere comes Mr. Men’s Fitness. He’s wearing a very tight t-shirt with the short sleeves looking ripped off, shorts that are nearly see-through in the rain, and is dripping wet. No jacket. His perfect dark brown, longish hair is stylishly out of place, his biceps, triceps and leg muscles are artfully ripped. He looks gorgeous, but shockingly so. I think he was out for a 10 km jog along Jericho beach. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t live in Kits.

He sees me, and recognizes me. I consider for a moment saying hello. But I really don’t want to. I don’t even remember his name. Partly, because, I’m so over that type of gay culture...the one of perfection based on looks. Sure, it’s great to look at in pictures, but in real life – no thank you. There are thousands of handsome, intelligent, gorgeous men, who are also real. But I’ve always sensed no depth to this guy.

I had on my business wear – a black jacket, black pants and gray shirt, carrying my laptop briefcase. My longish dark hair was also wet, but probably not looking perfect.

He kept trying to catch my gaze, and I kept avoiding it. He even went so far as to stand next to me, two inches away, while at the bus stop. And there was tons of room. We were almost touching. And he continued to stand there. It was intimidating. Like I said, he is friendly, and probably somewhat nice. But I just turned away, looking expectantly for the bus.

At one point, a beautiful 30-something, blond woman walked passed us, looking him up and down, inside and out, and smiled at him, in a very sexual way. I mean, he’s a Harlequin Romance man. I don’t think she thought he was gay.

I think he lives the fantasy of looking like an extraordinary man. But I know he’s lived his life in pursuit of physical and outward perfection. I also know that he never smokes, drinks, does drugs, and his diet is probably vegetarian. This is worth emulating. But his pursuit of perfection hasn’t involved his inner self, unless it is the Tony Robbins kind of perfection. More money, more self-actualization. More superficial “spirituality.” I could be wrong. I hope so.

It could be that I’m the true stuck-up fag here.

We ended up getting off at the same bus stop, which disturbs me. I hope I don’t run into him again.

One other thing…I’ve always sensed he wanted to get to know me. Opposites attract. I really don’t mean this in a self-serving way. But there have been many extraordinarily good-looking guys, without depth, but who desire depth, that have wanted to get to know me. I’ve tried it, but it doesn’t work out. I’ve done the same thing – I’ve always been fascinated by extraordinarily good looking men, who are dumb, but in the end, it doesn’t work out.

I feel guilty for not saying hello.