Pizza Pride

It’s June. Gay Pride month. It’s a time of year that I like to do a little introspection and sort of ask myself about the meaning of being gay. I’ve said before that I don’t think being gay is itself anything to be proud of, but rather, that having the strength of self to recognize our own gayness and embrace it, in the face of pretty much all of our culture telling us to be straight, is something to be proud of.

Now in my own case, being gay feels, at times, like an affectation. That’s not because there’s anything artificial or false about it, but because basically I lead a mostly celibate life. It’s kind of like being married but without someone else in the bed. It’s a thing that’s come about because basically sex just isn’t important enough to me to go through the effort of pursuing, and to put up with the idiosyncrasies of other people’s insecurities and eccentricities to get.

One of the things I’ve heard said about sex, is that it’s like pizza, in that even when it’s bad it’s still pretty good. People describe unembellished sex lives as being “vanilla” and I think they’ve got the food metaphor wrong. They should describe it as “cheese pizza.” Cheese pizza is your basic sex and the various fetishes and embellishments and what not that we bring into our bedrooms (or out of them, as the case may be), those are the toppings. Most people have a few favorite toppings and some people want everything at once, but still, everybody can enjoy a well made cheese pizza.

So what gets me by, while I’m living my mostly celibate life? Masturbation of course. But where is that in my pizza metaphor? Well masturbation is like just having just the crust; it’s like living on bread and water, it’ll sustain you but it won’t make you happy.

But never fear, I’ve got other things to keep me happy.

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