Tag: gay

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The Rise in Male Rape.

Shawshank Redemption (pic: Columbia Pictures)
Stephen Merchant stars as Stephen Port (inset) in the BBC drama Four Lives

This article was first published five years ago But is very relevant right now.

Ten years ago, on a warm summer’s afternoon I am in a well-known clothes rental store getting a kilt for a Scottish friend’s wedding (I have since bought one) laughing and chatting with the lady who’s serving me. She is about to measure me up when a male assistant interrupts.

“Oh, I can see what size he is, I’ll pop down and get a couple for him to try.”

There is nothing unusual here and the lady shuffles off. Minutes later the man returns and ushers me to the changing room. “Try that one on first” – and he leaves me. Barely seconds before I have it on, he is back. This time he has tape measure in hand. “Oh, that’s too loose, let me double check the measurements.”

Are you gay?

To be honest, I really loathe trying clothes on in shops, so my thought was, at this point, that was what that girl was doing before you interrupted. Before I know it, he has the tape measure around me and as he releases it his hand goes up the kilt and he grabs the Crown Jewels. “Sorry, it slipped, I’ll get you the right size.”

Now I feel like a rabbit in the headlights. “Did that just happen?”

If I am left in any doubt, he returns with a third kilt in hand and whispers,

“Are you gay?”

I lie and say no!!! Taking the kilt I close the curtains on him and just stand there thinking “What the fuck?” Funnily enough, the lady who was originally serving me checks me out while he is nowhere to be seen.

Anyone reading this may well say, “The man doth protest too much.” But unless you have been sexually assaulted, you have no idea how you will react.

My first thought was, what did I do to encourage that behaviour? Second, if I complain, it is going to be, “You’re a gay man, you must have encouraged it.” If you were that traumatised you should have run out of the shop.”

My gay friends were not any help either. “Lucky you, dear, you’re no chicken but the boys keep coming”, one laughed. “It can only happen to you,” said another. “Do you have his number?”

Your correspondent

This is not the first time this kind of thing has happened to me. I don’t want to sound like a victim but I always blame myself. Much as I have been out since 15 and a spokesperson for LGBTQ and Walk with Pride, due to various experiences there is still some shame and trauma around my sexuality. But I built a wall around myself so nobody can tell.

Terrified

This experience is common to so many gay men I have spoken to who have been sexually abused or raped. “We must have done something to deserve this.” Trust me, this is not unusual. There are men, gay and straight, walking around who have been raped and are terrified anyone finds out.

My heart goes go out to the bravery of Sam Thompson. What a man. Sam was raped by two men in Manchester. He has led the way in encouraging reporting and talking about sexual abuse and rape.

Sam Thompson (pic, BBC)

Though in macho British society men are raised on the “big boys don’t cry” motto, we are getting better. Talking about feelings is hard for men because society’s labelling of what a man should. It’s almost impossible to live up to.

What really stands out about Sam’s horrific ordeal – he is heterosexual – is there are so many comments claiming that it must have been so much worse for him as he was straight.

Internalised homophobia

This shows a complete lack of understanding. And exactly one of the reasons there is so much shame around reporting being raped among both gay and straight men. It’s as if it was “not as bad” if you’re gay. Almost as if we would take some pleasure in it.

Another human forcing them on you is wrong, no matter what your sexuality is. The fear that you’ll be judged can be as bad as the act itself. Sexual-awareness experts say that probably only nine percent of men raped or sexually abused will report it due to the fear they won’t be seen as “real men” or, perhaps, because of internal homophobia.

In fact, many of the men who commit the act of rape don’t identify as gay. They are not typically to be found on the gay scene, though they may hunt on the periphery for victims.

Who could forget the film “Shawshank Redemption” set in a prison when Andy, the hero, hears that the nicknamed “Sisters” (three men) have taken, “a shine to him”? Andy replies, “I don’t suppose it would help if I told them I am not homosexual?”

Red replies, “Neither are they. You’d have to be human first. They don’t qualify.”

Shawshank Redemption (pic: Columbia Pictures)

Male rape has been seen as a taboo subject in the media. It only raises its head in the prison genre of movies. It caused shock revelations when the movie “Scum” came out in 1979 (it was set in a boys’ reformatory) due in part to the male-rape scene.

Seventeen years ago, Channel 4’s Hollyoaks tackled the subject with the Luke Morgan storyline. The victim was brilliantly played by Gary Lucy. It remains their most popular storyline to date.

A recent, horrible turn of events has forced the subject of male rape to hit the headlines, with Britain’s worst rapist, Reynhard Sinaga, 36, found guilty of luring 48 men from outside bars and clubs in Manchester back to his flat where he drugged and assaulted them. In many cases he filmed them. The actual number of victims has been estimated to be in the hundreds, but fear, guilt or just not realising what happened meant that many assaults went unreported.

Reynhard Sinaga

It is so important that these assaults are reported, and that men talk about sexual assault and rape.

I know what the risks are because now I am going to talk about the rape of a 16-year-old boy. Me! And just how easy it is for it to happen.

My home life was a nightmare. I had come out just before my 16th birthday but those details or for another day. Needless to say, I was desperate for some kindness and positive male role models. We had moved from Whitley Bay to what was supposed to be London, but it was Surbiton and I knew no one, let alone having the chance to meet another gay person in suburbia.

Earl’s Court

There were no apps or dating sites. The rules of my house, apparently there to protect me, actually put me in more danger as I had to be home by a silly time and could never stay out overnight in case the “homosexuals got me”. But it was fine to leave me and go to Spain for two weeks before I came out. Still, we all make mistakes and I am sure my folks meant well. I’m not judging, just giving you a bit of background.

Being a resourceful sort, it did not take long for me to come up with a plan, and I discovered Earl’s Court and a bar called The Coleherne on Brompton Road. Apart from a pint with some of the people at the theatre school in Newcastle I went to when I was 15, I had never really been to a bar, let alone a gay bar. Honestly, it felt like entering the genie’s cave. It was overwhelming – people like me! – and it was exciting. It wasn’t long before a lad a few years older than me approached me and asked, “Where are you going next?” He thought it was hysterical when I said I had a curfew.

Pembroke, Earl’s Court

“Well lovely, you have time to get down to Catacombs. They don’t sell booze, but we can have boogie and coffee.” He was called Ian and he was going to be my “sister” (gay slang).

Oh god, I fell in love with the Catacombs. The rich music of Grace Jones’ La Vie En Rose came bursting up to greet me as I walked down the stairs into the small, vibrant club. I felt free and safe as I danced and laughed with people that seemed to be like me. Honestly. the music of Donna Summer and the like meant I could not wait to go back the following Saturday. It insulated me from the often-miserable time during the week.

One night, one of the guys running the club, who was older, starting chatting. He told me that hanging out with Ian, I might get myself a reputation. It was a shame as I was “a nice lad”.

“Listen, some of us are going to lunch tomorrow, around one o’clock. Why don’t you come too? Don’t tell your mate though. I’ll fill you in when we chat tomorrow.”

I was getting what seemed to be approval and he seemed so nice. I honestly could not wait to get home that night and then back to Earl’s Court. I arrived a little early to make a good impression and had dressed up. He was a few minutes late and patted me on the back, so smiley.

“Do you mind if we nip down the club? I need to do a bit of cashing up, the others are running late.”

Mind? Of course not. I was actually excited to go. Once in, he popped some music on, and he had some alcohol behind the coffee bar – hidden, as it had no licence.

“Drink?” he said. Who was going to refuse, and he was so interested in me. He was counting money and he eventually topped me up and next thing I feel like I am spinning and in a dream state, and my body was almost limp with the red lights of the club beaming on me. In my hazy recollection there were two men on me.

Luckily, they took me to Ian’s car (worse could have happened). I was being very sick. Ian knew I was a not a big drinker at the time. Honestly, I could hear him going mad and the men saying that too much drink had been consumed.

“That’s not drink,” he screamed. He had to give me saltwater as the sick was black. We got a friend of Ian’s to take me home, but I was in an awful state. I dared not tell anyone what had happened and – to be honest – I was not sure what had happened at the time. But I knew it wasn’t good.

Parents

Of course, I stuck to the story that it was drink. However, my parents decided that, on top of me being gay, I was now a drug addict, and mum started calling helplines. This had given them all the ammunition to confirm that everything about being gay was bad. Of course, it was all my fault. It was my fault that in my need for validation from a male, so sadly lacking, I had listened to gossip and not told my friend Ian. My heartfelt apologies went out to him and it was a lesson.

There were other consequences, and luckily Ian helped me see a doctor so I could keep what had happened covered up from family and work. Yet who did I blame. Myself, of course. So, as in other traumatising situations from my childhood, I internalised it and coped.

I moved on and never spoke about it ever again, Of course I apologised for being such a terrible person. Bless my parents, they really were not to know. Still, one of the best things that happened was that I moved out a few months later to Chiswick and was much safer and happier.

Gary Lucy, Hollyoaks

But only a month later, one Monday night, was Bangs, the UK’s biggest gay club night, and I managed to persuade my parents that as Tuesday was my day off it would be easier to stay with Ian. Dancing was my escape. I loved it, and quickly I was approached by a young air steward who asked me to a party in the countryside. It was being hosted that Sunday by someone famous who “would love me”.

Well, he was young and nice, and it was different, and it was someone famous.

Gin and tonic

They would even pick me up. Of course, when I got there, and my host greeted me it was straight off to the tennis court. It was only the four of us and we quickly moved into the disco room and drinks flowed.

But in all my excitement and nerves, wanting to please, I got drunk on gin and tonic.

There was no food, but it became clear I was the main course for the host. Only later in life, when my nephew got to 15 -16, I thought never would I do something to a young person and take advantage of them. I honestly don’t think I would be responsible for my actions if anyone touched my nephew. It is funny, the celeb is busy dishing the dirt on so many people. I won’t name him, but according to a celebrity pal of mine her friend says he still has young people shipped in. Trust me, there is another Prince Andrew story out there.

It’s only now I don’t blame myself, but I could not talk about things till now: what happened in the Catacombs club, even my best friend and sister don’t know.

What is so frightening is the rise of chem-sex parties in London, with so many deaths and stories of apparent rape. I have never been to one and I am not judging, but it’s just not what would turn me on. But I guarantee there will be a line crossed and men will leave blaming themselves for just being there or feel they asked for it for just being gay.

GHB, one of the common drugs used at the parties, comes in a clear liquid form and was apparently used by Reynhard Sinaga on his victims (and also by gay serial-killer rapist Stephen Port). Is incredibly dangerous and can either kill the user or invoke a sensation of euphoria. It’s a fine line, though.

With the rise of this drug and the rise in male rapes too, is it possible we can all talk about it and start to make a difference? No means no and it’s never okay to put anything in anyone’s drink.

If you have been raped or sexually abused and would like to talk you can find support below:

http://www.mensadviceline.org.uk/help-and-information/gay-and-bi-male-victims-of-domestic-violence/

https://rapecrisis.org.uk/get-help/looking-for-information/support-for-men-and-boys/

https://sapac.umich.edu/article/53

Contact Steven Smith 

on spman@btinternet.com

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” I just love gay men “

“Fag Hag” – `’ ALL My Friends are Gay !!”

By Steven Smith

‘Fag hag’ or beard is a gay slang phrase referring to women who associate generally or exclusively with gay or bisexual men. But you knew that already, didn’t you?

Now, I hate labels of any kind, but when a woman tells me, “I love the gays,” my toes curl. Even my nephew, at thirteen, was smart enough not to fall for that one. “They’re just like everyone else—good and bad,” he shrewdly pointed out. It’s funny in Ab Fab when Edina blurts out, “All my friends are gay.” Oh, the irony.

However, women who proudly label themselves as fag hags often raise serious red flags. I’ve heard it too many times: “Other women just don’t get me, but you and the gay guys do.” This is usually followed by something about liking bad boys in bed. That’s nice for them. Me? I want to be liked for who I am—not for my sexuality or a label.

On my first visit to a gay club—New York’s Limelight—I noticed lots of model-type women dancing. My friend said, “They feel safe here. They can dance and not get hit on.” It wasn’t long before straight men caught onto this and started frequenting the more glamorous gay venues. One night, I was with a group of guys when a stunning girl approached and said, “So sad you’re all gay. I’d f*** the lot of you!”

A little voice piped up, “I’m straight.” It was my pal who, though he leads the way in gay fashion, is 100% straight. Many men have tried their luck with him—the lady and him were in a taxi home minutes later.

Elizabeth Taylor. Wowza.


She loved the company of gay men—from Rock Hudson to Tab Hunter and Montgomery Clift—calling them her confidants. Tallulah Bankhead, when she wasn’t famously trying to sleep with gay men, preferred their company too. Even Mary Queen of Scots liked to quote the pretty men.

As for me—I just like people. It just so happens many of my closest friends are women: glamorous, powerful, and fabulous. But none of them would call themselves fag hags. With them, I’m still the old-fashioned gent: opening doors, walking roadside on the pavement, even pulling out chairs. Though some of these women try to lead while dancing—and pull out my chair instead.

Despite having my picture taken for a dating site, I’m no further along in love. One of my rocks, Liz Branson, is on the phone from her New York office. She splits her time between there, Dubai, and London.

“Have you done it?” she asks. Trying to change the subject, I ask when she’s next in London. There’s a pause.

“You haven’t,” she snaps, irritated. Then she barks: “Jo Allen’s. Tuesday. 9:30.” She doesn’t wait to see if I’m free—and hangs up. Ten minutes later, she texts: “If you are free, can you book it?”

Liz is great fun—always right, obsessively so at times. That’s part of what makes her successful, alluring, and fascinating. She’s also always late, often with some story. The truth? It takes her half an hour to oil her body so it glistens. That’s just part of her prep to go out. Despite her brass balls in business and her ability to crush high-powered men, she still likes to be every inch the high-maintenance woman.

She’s my Grace—as in Will & Grace. But it’s a myth that all women “get” gay men just because they hang out with us. Even women who say, “I’m a gay man trapped in a woman’s body,” can be shockingly naive.

The brilliant Will and Grace

A long-time friend recently remarked, after a theatre visit, that I’d loved the show because it had five scantily dressed young men. As pretty as they were, they left me sexually cold. She must’ve missed the memo—none of my boyfriends have been under 40.

My best gay mate knows that the cast of Peaky Blinders or Colin Farrell gets my pulse racing. Teen boys? They’re like watching Dita Von Teese dance—entertaining, but that’s all. This same friend once asked, “Why would you want to give head rather than take?” Well…

Peaky Blinders Top Men

Liz, for the record, didn’t really know any gay men before me—aside from one man who lived with her as straight and came out later. I think she assumed we all came from the same mould. She even rushed into another relationship with a gay man who promptly took her to gay bars and more.

Personally, I think friendships should be mutual. I’m fine in straight bars, and when I do visit gay bars, it’s usually for dinner or an event. Once, Liz called whispering: “I’m on Clapham Common.” Thinking there was a concert, I asked what was on. “No,” she replied, “I’m cruising with— Have you done this?” I nearly screamed. That was a step too far. That relationship ended when the guy tried to seduce Liz’s then-husband.

It wasn’t the first time I heard of women going cruising with gay men. My former boss was in a Freedom cab once when the driver said he was dropping condoms off at Hampstead Heath. She piped up, “Oh, I’ve been there!” Her gay friends had taken her. This phenomenon passed me by. I don’t cruise—it’s scary. And as broad-minded as I am, why would you take a woman?

Colin Farrell a dream .

Anyway—Liz is late again. She’s texted multiple times, blaming an Uber driver, a lion escaping from Regent’s Park Zoo, and a fire at a local orphanage. But when she finally arrives, she looks spectacular, and the whole restaurant turns to stare. Liz waves, hair glossy, eyes sparkling.

She’s now vegan—though she was already a nightmare in restaurants. After sending an omelette back four times once, I took a photo of the “perfect” omelette and handed it to the waiter the next day. She wasn’t amused—but it was funny.

Back to the evening. Only one waiter and one chef resigned since she placed her order—kidding. I suggest popping to Tesco for the soya sauce she insists on. That goes down like a lead balloon, as usual. She has everyone fussing over her.

There’s the usual gossip: a gorgeous executive she went skinny dipping with in Dubai (amazing in bed—15 years younger—is that too much?). Then, yet again, she brings up Darryl, the best sex of her life, who turned out to be a complete asshole. I’ve heard about him 90 times.

The good thing about Liz—she’s no energy vampire. She wants to know about you. Unfortunately, she’s fixated on my love life. She thinks my best pal and I should be together. “Why aren’t you with someone?” she asks.

People often miss this: gay men can have purely platonic friendships with other gay men. Of course, I love my best mate—but I have no plans to marry him. I joke, “Fine. I’ll propose next week.” Liz screams and wants champagne—until I admit I’m joking. Her face falls (as much as it can, post-Botox).

We laugh, drink, and just when I think we’re winding down, Liz insists we head to Old Compton Street. “Why?” I ask. She loves G-A-Y, apparently. But my gut tells me she’s obsessing about finding me a fella. I suggest Radio Bar instead. Blank look.

There’s no queue at G-A-Y. Inside, Liz grabs a drink and immediately turns into Cilla Black, introducing me to random men. “Who do you like?” she shouts. I feel like a rabbit in the headlights. “I’ll be discreet,” she yells. “I’m all good, thanks,” I say, hugging her.

She dances with drag queens and shouts, “I’m a gay icon!” Naturally, they all agree. She’s no Madonna or Judy, but for one night—she was. It was actually quite sweet.

Flushed with her success, we head to Rupert Street to meet a friend. Her one-woman show goes down well there too. I brief her beforehand not to mention dating him. She thinks he’s too young, so I’m safe.

Then Liz starts chatting to the handsome doorman—who’s straight and married. He calls me over: “Why don’t you take your girlfriend somewhere she can meet a man?” I grin. “She wanted to come here—not me.”

Who says she couldn’t meet a man there? My sister had a holiday romance with a gay club manager in Key West. Another female friend married a bartender from a gay bar.

So, Liz and I are still happily single—but watch this space for more

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HAPPY PRIDE

Picture Graham Martin https://www.grahammartinphotography.co.uk

Steven’s Viewz for June

“Pride” means self-esteem, self-respect, and the joy that comes from being who you are. It’s a celebration of identity and community—and it’s also a protest, because the fight for equality is far from over.

How far we’ve come. In the 1970s, the only LGBTQ+ publication I knew of was Gay News—a paper I used to smuggle into my family home as a teenager. Mainstream magazines rarely showed gay people in a positive light, and doing so could sink a publication. In the entertainment industry, being openly gay could mean career suicide. Even being suspected of homosexuality could get you thrown out of the armed forces.

GAY NEWS IN THE 70S

I came out at 15, creating scandal at school and chaos at home. When my mum discovered my hidden copy of Gay News, she screamed, “There’s no such thing as ‘Gay News’, only bad news.” While she’s now a proud LGBTQ+ ally, back then it was a different story. Only my 13-year-old sister offered comfort—squeezing my hand and saying, “I always knew. I love you.”

My coming out story in “it shouldn’t happen to a hairdresser ” https://www.amazon.co.uk/Shouldnt-Happen-Hairdresser-Steven-Smith/dp/B09K26J4BN/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&dib_tag=se&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.mCYudsmV4vG2XzjxyILAAscQq8prYKvjRYbsFmH-wghbYMPnf5VrK1Zb-lfB7i_j.h4CFp6VG-vzMnfjrCOF2zP63fpHQJ5HglXF3BIwXZJ0&qid=1749533962&sr=8-4

My parents, desperate to “understand,” took me to the Samaritans, where I was introduced to a man who had been in the merchant navy who “knew about gays.” I remember his pale-blue jumper and the awkwardness in his voice. He warned me that not all gay men looked like David Bowie or Marc Bolan—who, I pointed out, were bisexual. He added, “If you go to Portsmouth, there are big, hairy men on bikes looking for young lads.”


Once back in the car, I asked, “Where’s Portsmouth—and how do I get there?”

Coming out still shocks some families. I’ve seen parents devastated by something they must have known deep down. In It’s A Sin, Keeley Hawes’ character, Valerie Tozer, denies her son’s truth even as he dies of AIDS. Another mother asks her pointedly: “What were you looking at when he was six? Ten? Fifteen?”

Today, LGBTQ+ teens are still being thrown out of their homes. Others are allowed to stay—but endure silence, shame, or abuse. All for the “crime” of loving someone, or being themselves.

Meanwhile, the same parents hand their kids toy guns and cheer them on during war games—yet recoil at a same-sex kiss. The hypocrisy is astonishing.

I cried watching Heartstopper on Netflix. When Nick comes out to his mum, played with grace by Olivia Colman, she simply thanks him and checks he’s okay. That’s the world we need. Fewer traumas. More love.

Yes, things are better. But the LGBTQ+ community is still under attack. Survival requires strategy—and education is key. We need LGBTQ+ role models in schools. We need to support young people who don’t fit gender norms. We need to tell our stories and make space for others to tell theirs.

https://www.netflix.com/gb/title/81059939?source=35&fromWatch=true

I recently had a woman say to me, “You don’t seem that gay. My hairdresser Eduardo is gay—he’s a scream! He does drag on Tuesdays.” I replied, “The Kray twins were gay.” She went quiet, then apologised. I wasn’t offended—but I had made her think.

Positive role models matter. Jake Daniels, the first openly gay footballer, recently made headlines. So have Gareth Thomas and Tom Daley. But the fact that coming out still makes headlines shows how far we’ve yet to go.

Jake Daniels super star ,

It was heartening to see David Beckham support Jake Daniels—but disappointing to see him promote the World Cup in Qatar, where homosexuality is punishable by death. Allies must not sit on the fence when human rights are at stake.

Let’s not forget: the gay community isn’t immune to internal bias. Flamboyant men are often sidelined. Some fear being labelled “camp” or “too much.” But icons like Quentin Crisp, Boy George, David Bowie, and Marc Bolan showed us that difference is not a weakness—it’s a strength.

Boy George daring to be different with Pride.

If an alien asked to meet a “typical gay person,” we couldn’t comply. There’s no such thing. Just like there’s no one image of a straight man—despite the stereotype of a pint-wielding football fan in a Union Jack tee.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt36961315/mediaviewer/rm721848066/

People ask me, “Why do you need Pride? There’s no Straight Pride.” My answer: “Be grateful you don’t need one.”

There are also calls to give Pride Month over to Veterans’ Day. I believe veterans deserve honour every day—but not at the expense of Pride or any other group or organisation One doesn’t cancel the other.

We’re living in frightening times. In countries like Argentina and the U.S., governments are trading human rights for promises of prosperity. In the UK, I fear the rise of Reform UK. We must not just defend our rights—we must be louder, prouder, and more visible than ever.

Peter Tatchell we all have to admire ,

At the premiere of Legendary Children: All of Them Queer, activist Peter Tatchell said that change comes from entering non-LGBTQ+ spaces and being a shining example. I believe that. I hope one day I can hold my boyfriend’s hand in public without fear. I hope one day, every child who comes out is embraced by their parents, not shunned.

We’ve made progress. But we’re not there yet.

And if we don’t act now, we risk going back to the bad old days.

legendary children all of them queer https://www.imdb.com/title/tt36961315/mediaviewer/rm721848066/
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Columns

This Pride remember age is just a number

Steven Smith. Picture credit: Graham Marin Photography https://www.grahammartinphotography.co.uk
Steven Smith celebrates turning 63 and Pride Month.

By being pictured by celebrity photographer Graham martin. Embarrassing having pride in himself and his body. 
Graham Martin shoots me for Pride at any age

It is Pride month and lets all get out and enjoy ourselves. Age is just a number I could not agree more with the divine and fellow Gemini Joan Collins’ statement last month, “It is rude to ask a lady her age”. Or a man, come to think about it. Even though the divine Ms Collins never missed a moment to mention age.

Trust me, it is certainly a no, no at any social occasion. My dread at any dinner party is when age raises its ugly head and someone says, “Guess how old I am?” I just want the floor to open and disappear when that one is asked. Or when some ill-advised fellow diner thinks it is appropriate to ask a guest their age. 

As for me, I am incredibly proud to have reached my age, joining the likes of Tom Cruise and Boy George. It is a joy to be alive and fully active, with just a little more knowledge in life, though I am still prone to a youthful mistake or two! Some people’s issues around age ruin it for others. At a luncheon party I was not looking forward to the subject cropping up.

Here he comes, the age phobic. It had not started off well as everyone was late including us, my friend had changed shoes at least three times and had an army of beauty things to do before setting off. We were first there. I must add my friend is also proud of their age and looks stunning. However, they did look a little perturbed to be first there and not making a grand entrance for the other guests to marvel at how great they looked.

It meant that instead of sitting with my long-term friend who is in his twenties (but I swear is in his seventies and just made a pack with the Devil to inhabit a young man’s body, being wise, intelligent and witty well beyond his years), I was sitting next to someone new.

I love meeting different people, though it did hit me almost immediately that his Instagram pictures were airbrushed to make him look much younger than in person.

But then who does not tweak their image sometimes, though there are those that go overboard and can turn themselves into an embryo. It did not take long for age to become a topic. He kept referring to my friend as “the young one”. He asked if I went out much in London.

I replied that I went out to events during the week but at weekend I was comfortable at home, although I did go to clubs occasionally at the weekend and charity dinners. It started, “Well at our age you don’t want to go clubbing, do you?” He honestly did not stop.

Graham Marin Photography https://www.grahammartinphotography.co.uk

Moving on I shared that on holiday or before going out it was great to have a small siesta. “Oh, you mean a na, na nap,” he jested. “I bet it used to be a disco nap. But at our age…” “Darling,” I explained, “I do not do the age thing or put labels on people.” My “young” friend whispered later, “He is projecting how he feels about his own age on to you”.

It was interesting to find out the other so-called young ones felt the same way about him and meant to pre-warn me as it was my first encounter. It must be terrible to be threatened by someone who is comfortable in their own skin. I think he was one of those men who got on better with woman as he seemed to charm them.

Age is just a number, or so some believe. Sure, I am not often “clubbing”, but this is not because I am 63 and feel out of place. I always envisioned myself with a blue rinse, fan dancing with the best of them at a rave in my 80s! It is more because

 I do not have the time, and that London has become so diverse there is so much else to do. Plus, my priorities with my free time have changed; bars are no longer high on my list. There is the added point that I am fortunate enough to get invited to a fair few glitzy events too. I just wish people would enjoy and love the moment they are in and stop pushing age groups into boxes. Be who you want to be. Yes, age is just a number, but there is no need to keep bringing it up.

Graham Martin is a premier gay and celebrity photographer, who, as well as shooting the likes of Denise Welch and Dame Judy Dench Additionally, makes some of his bread and butter shooting gay men’s profile pictures for online dating sites.

Yours truly with Graham

So what percentage of the men are my age or older? “It is 50:50 recently. I had a man that was 76 come for a shoot not long ago. He had been off the scene for seven years as he had become addicted to chem-sex parties.” Graham told me that the man is doing really well and is now happily dating once more.

Graham, who turns 60 this year, has been in a loving relationship for the last 32 years. He puts his success down to marrying his best friend and he does have a point. Perhaps the fact that I was with my best friend for 18 years makes it difficult to fill the void. Should I be looking for someone sexual first, developing a friendship second?

Graham told me that the dating scene has changed so much that he gets inundated with men wanting pictures for their profiles, as well as portrait shots. Men, whatever age, want to look their best. “Keep it real!” Graham informed me when giving tips for my shoot.

Do not ask for it to be Photoshopped so that you are an embryo. If you are a chunky, beer-bellied daddy, then do not take yourself down to a thin man. When you hook up it will just be one big disappointment. Equally, make sure that you prepare yourself in conjunction with your age when you are getting ready for the shoot.

Do not spray tan because the look can often be uneven, but do make sure that you are groomed well. Do not have a drastic haircut unless you plan to keep the look.

Lets all have Pride in who we are.

He says that it is vital that you stand out and . So, my first attempt at dating starts with a shoot undertaken by Graham, who rather nervously laughed and said, “You’re practically a chicken compared to some I shoot,” which put me at ease.

Many men do the Full Monty, but that’s not me. We settled for a taste of sexy, though, to be honest, it is not a natural feel. Forty-five minutes later and the photo shoot is complete. I love the results and my friends all rave about the final images.

Pictures by Graham Martin, find him at https://www.grahammartinphotography.co.uk

Tales of a single middle aged gay man
Categories
People

Trolls,Trauma & Straight men

Steven Smith
Steven Smith talks about trolls, the real affect they have on their victims and how trauma can affect us as LGBTQ people.
I started thinking about how, as a community, we could be kinder to each other. There are so many LGBT people (not all) that do not love themselves and that for sure can be unkind to other gay people.

You know what they say “what you don’t like in yourself” and all that. So why is this?  Maybe it’s something to do with how we are treated by the rest of the world. As Ru Paul says, ‘If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love somebody else?’

Why was I thinking about this? Well, my year started on a sour note. It was not because all my usual New Year’s chums had gone to more exciting destinations and the thought of spending a fortune in town did not appeal to me.

RuPaul Charles

No, in fact, I had come to terms that it was going to be just me on my own on the balcony at midnight, enjoying a glass of bubbly as the bells chimed. I actually enjoyed it.

The reason was, that I had broken my rule on the last day of the year by accepting a Facebook friendship request without first cross-checking who they knew.

He looked nice and was proud to be a ‘Nice… boy’, and as many of my friends had a similar religious background, I accepted in good faith.

Around 12.45am, once the calls had stopped coming in from family and friends, I received a panicked message on Messenger; ‘Look at your Facebook page’. To my horror, below my profile picture was a comment from the new Facebook friend stating, ‘You dirty f…. gay you make sick to my stomach, hope you die.’

Then, under all the comments from my well-wishers at New Year, he had posted more horrendous messages. Many of my friends had noticed and offered their sympathy and outrage. Oh, and this new Facebook friend had also “poked” me into the bargain.

Obviously, I got the vile post removed asap and blocked the offender. An hour later, determined not to be a victim, I decided to report him. The culprit profile was gone. My first thought was how sad he must be to have kicked off the New Year with an attack on another human being – it sure was not going to affect me. Who would go to such bother as to set up a fake profile in order to post abuse?

There was a passing moment where I thought that perhaps someone who I had fallen out with had done this.

You know what they say, ‘sticks and stones will break your bones, but names will never hurt me’. There has never been a stupider saying; a scar can heal, but often the abuse of name-calling will last forever – just ask all the many people living with mental health issues.

Many of my friends have been abused by trolls and, despite publicly handling it well, there’s often another story behind closed doors. Being so open about my life, it was bound to happen to me at some point. So, to bed I went, determined to have a great 2019.

Yet later that day, it hit me and brought back thoughts of past bullying which kind of reignited some of the trauma from my childhood that had been pushed to the back of my mind, so I perhaps was not as tough as I thought.

Let’s face it – we sometimes look in the mirror and the reflection of the child you once were looks back at you. Often scared, wondering how this man or woman’s body we inhabit came to be, since inside you still feel the same as you did at school, only this thing called maturity has aged us. But we shake ourselves down, notice the lines and the sagging, and then remember we have responsibilities as adults and quickly come back down to earth.

The truth is, we never go far from the playground in life. There are often bullies at work, clique groups that you do not fit into, the pressure to perform well, and let us not forget, to ‘FIT IN’. For many people, the trauma from childhood can echo into their adult years. Nowhere is this more truthful than in the gay community. For everyone who has a positive coming out story, there is an avalanche of horror stories of gay people feeling full of guilt and depression about their lives after being rejected by their families and friends.

As we grow older, most of us who are LGBTQ learn coping mechanisms to deal with trauma and negativity, to become what appears to be grounded and amazing adults. There are exceptions, but who actually made us feel good about our sexuality to begin with?

Last year on Dr Pam’s radio show, I said that it would be great to get education to a stage where parents of LGBTQ kids were more worried who their teenagers were dating – ‘Is it someone nice?’, ‘Are they getting home safely?’, and most importantly, ‘Are they happy?’ – rather than ‘Where did it all go wrong?’

This is one of the main reasons that I signed up to the charity Diversity Role Models, an exciting organisation which goes into schools to talk and educate about LGBTQ. I wanted to share the story of my childhood and life with kids.

For those that don’t have coping strategies the reality can be quite daunting, with gay and bisexual men being four times more likely to attempt suicide than heterosexual men. 

According to university research homophobia and negative views surrounding the lifestyles of gay and bisexual men is cited as one of the main contributing factors to the higher suicide attempt rate amongst the LGBTQIA+ community.

For young people, the gay scene can be far from a warm and safe environment to help with their self-esteem. Back in my day, the chicken hawks surrounded me, most with only one intention. I was a lucky one and some kind souls helped me. Plus, I quickly became streetwise after having learned to be self-sufficient at an early age.

Today the gay dating scene is moving more and more towards mobile apps. At a recent event to talk about chem-sex held by the dynamic Dave Stewart, the manager at the Dean Street Clinic, he explained that chem-sex is on the rise.

It was said that a young gay man arriving in London who subscribes to an app such as Grindr can expect that, by the third message he receives, there will be an invitation to a chem-sex party. Of course, these parties are also held in the heterosexual community, but they are having a more devastating effect on the gay community, with many deaths reported from these parties, not to mention rises in addiction, psychosis, and STDs.

Do gay men use drugs to cover up the guilt and shame that they are made to feel over their sexuality? Surely being in love and cherishing yourself and another person would be more empowering and self-gratifying?

Hello again!

I always believe that as long as it does not harm anyone or yourself, go for it. The rise of crystal meth and other so-called party drugs is not doing anyone any good. If you look across the pond to places like Fort Lauderdale in South Florida, the gay scene there has been ravaged by crystal meth – cases of meth addiction have doubled and deaths from the drug have risen by 80 per cent since 2014.

According to Dr David Fawcett, a Fort Lauderdale psychotherapist, most gay men using the drug did so in the hope of connecting better with other gay men, having been stigmatised and often shamed in their search for intimacy and safe relationships. Instead, they found the opposite from the drug. It is therefore far from a harmless pastime.

In 2019, let’s spend more time promoting loving yourself among the gay community.

From my years on the planet, I have found that some of the biggest homophobes can be gay men. It’s a fear of who they are, or who they really are. My experience is that men who are truly heterosexual have no problem with gay men; it’s the ones who have hidden away their true identity that have issues.

How many times have I wanted to scream when a gay man tells me “I only sleep with straight men”. Not only should they have a label attached to them, reading ‘DOES NOT PLAY WELL WITH OTHER GAY PEOPLE’, but they should also wear a T-shirt saying ‘DELUDED’.

Having eclectic friends, I tend not to go around with just groups of gay men. However, a few years ago while sitting in Soho House with five gay men, one boasted that he had sex with a straight Algerian taxi driver.

Another spoke about how he nearly got the boy in his theatre show, who is straight, into bed. I stood up and told them ‘If their cock is half way down your throat, they are not straight,’ and then left.

Yes, there are plenty of straight men that I fancy, Colin Farrell and Tom Hardy to name two, but I keep it real and have never entered a friendship with a straight man hoping to get his trousers off. I have more dignity than that. Keep it as fantasy in your head, like being Superman (or Supergirl, writes our editor).

Equally I have been in friendships with men who identify as straight that I thought saw me as just a guy and my sexuality did not matter but, on occasion, have been let down.

One friend messaged me to say they had booked a room for us at a hotel at an event we were attending adding “Mind you…separate beds”. First, I had never once showed interest in him sexually…nor would I. Luckily maturity made me brush it off though I did think “Fucking hell…as if!” But it all adds up to being made feel less about yourself.

Let’s not even talk about the line some gay men use – ‘straight looking’ – which points to a dislike of yourself as gay man.

Back in the early 80s, I was on Christopher Street in New York walking down to the Monster Bar. A gay pal gave me some advice; “You get in trouble, see those drag queens over there, scream “help” they will come running. Don’t bother with the clones and muscle Marys – they will go screaming back into the bar.”

Luckily for me the situation never arrived, but it just goes to show that the drag queens had to be more streetwise to be themselves and suffered more often in life, so for them, it was sink or swim, and those broads were as hard as nails, and as kind as could be too.

So, let’s just start by being kind and looking out for one another. Of course, just as in any community, we can’t all be best pals, but we can try and make a difference by being happy to be our true selves. Have a great 2019!

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Categories
Columns

The Real Will &Grace

Will & Grace. Picture Credit: NBC-TV
Welcome to more of Steven Smith’s Tales of a Middle-Aged Single Gay Man column
‘Fag hag’ is a gay slang phrase referring to women who associate exclusively with gay or bisexual men. But you knew that anyway, didn’t you?
Steven Smith

Now, I hate labels of any kind, but when a woman tells me “I love the gays” my toes curl. Even my nephew, when he was thirteen, was smart enough to not fall for that one.

“They are just like everyone else, good and bad”, he shrewdly pointed out. It’s funny in Ab Fab when Adina blurts out “all my friends are gay”. Oh, the irony.

However, the women that happily label themselves fag hags tend to flag up serious warning signs. I have heard it so many times: “other woman just don’t get me, but you and the gay guys do.”

This is usually followed by how she likes bad boys in bed. That’s nice for them. For me, I want to be liked as a person, not for my sexuality or a label.

Since my first time at a gay club in New York, the Limelight, I was aware of lots of very sexy women model types dancing. My friend told me: “they feel safe here. They can dance and not get hit on.”

It was not long before the straight men caught onto this and started frequenting the more glamorous gay venues. On one occasion, I was with a group of guys when a very hot girl walked straight up to us and said “so sad you are all gay. I would f*** the lot of you!”

A little voice piped up: “I am straight”. He was my pal who honestly leads the way in gay fashion but is 100% straight, though many men have tried their luck and a minute later found themselves in a taxi home.

Elizabeth Taylor. Wowza.

Elizabeth Taylor loved the company of gay men, from Rock Hudson to Tab Hunter and Montgomery Clift. She described them as her confidants.

Tallulah Bankhead, when she was not famously trying to sleep with gay men, preferred their company. Long ago, in the time of Mary Queen of Scots, Mary loved to quote the pretty men.

For me, I like people. It seems though by chance that many of my friends are female and quite glamorous and powerful. None of them would be described as fag hags.

In their company I still keep to the traditional male role that I am comfortable with: opening doors, walking on the right side of the path near the road, and even pulling the chair out. Though some of the women I know try to lead when dancing and even pull the chair out for me.

Now, despite having some pictures taken to join a dating website, somehow I am no further along, and the woman who I would call one of my rocks, Liz Branson, is on the phone from her New York office. She splits her time between there, Dubai and London.

“Have you done it?” she enquires. Trying to get off the subject, I ask when she is in London next. There is a pause:

“You haven’t“, she snaps with an air of annoyance. Then she almost commands “Jo Allen’s, Tuesday 9.30”. She does not wait to see if I am free and hangs up. But then texts ten minutes later (“If you are free can you book it?”).

Liz is great fun, but always right about everything and obsessive, sometimes to a point where you want to scream. That’s what makes her so successful, alluringly and fascinating.

She is also always late, arriving with some story, but the reality is it takes her half an hour to cover herself in body oil that makes her beautiful worked-out body glisten. That’s just the part of the beauty regime to go out.

So, despite having brass balls when it comes to business and breaking many high-level men, she still likes to be every part a high-maintenance woman.

Still from the Will & Grace show

She is my Grace, as in Will and Grace, the TV show. Now, it is a common mistake to presume that women “get” gay men just because they hang out with them. Even the woman who proclaims: “I am just a gay man trapped in woman’s body” can be shockingly naive.

One long-term friend of 36 who grew up around the LGBTQ community, recently pointed out on a theatre visit that the show we’d gone to see was a great one for me just because it had five youthful boys, scantily dressed, in the cast.

It did take me back. As pretty as they were they left me sexually cold. She must have noticed none of my boyfriends have been under 40.

My best gay mate would know that the male cast of Peaky Blinders or Colin Farrell would have me hot in my seat. But teen boys have as much effect as Dita Von Teese dancing – nice to watch. She was the same friend who once asked, “Why would you want to give head rather than take?”

This is the case with Liz, apart from one man who was straight when he lived with her and came out later, she really did not know any gay men until me.

I think she presumed we all came in a mould, as she was quick to dash into another relationship with a gay man who was in a rush to take her to gay bars and so on.

My opinion is it should be mutual, and I am happy in a predominately straight bar/club, but as it’s rare I am in a gay bar I tend to have dinner or go to events.

Liz rang me one night: “I am on Clapham Common”, she whispered down the phone. Enquiring if there was concert or some event, to my horror she replied, “no, I’m cruising with… Have you done this?” Really, I wanted to scream – this was a step too far. Needless to say, their relationship did not last when he tried to seduce Liz’s then-husband.

But it was not the first time that I heard of women going cruising with gay men. My former lady boss was once in a Freedom cab (a gay taxi company) when the driver said he was going to Hampstead Heath to drop condoms off by a tree in the cruising area.

She jumped: ‘Oh, I have been there.” Some of her gay pals had taken her. This phenomenon had passed me by. One, I don’t cruise – it’s scary, and broadminded as I am, why would you take a woman?

Well, Liz is late as usual. She has texted several times, blaming the Uber driver, a lion escaping from Regents Park zoo, and a fire at the local orphanage.

But when she arrives she’s looking spectacular, and the whole restaurant turn their heads to look at her. Liz runs her hands through her thick red hair, passes, and waves enthusiastically.

She has just become a vegan, and was difficult enough in restaurants before, but this is taking it to a whole new level. Once, after sending an omelette back four times, famously I took a picture of her perfect omelette and gave it to the waiter the next day, much to her annoyance. It’s just one of the things that make her amusing.

But back to the evening. Only one waiter and chef have resigned since Liz has placed her order – kidding. My suggestion that I nip to Tesco’s and get the soya sauce she wants so badly goes down like a lead balloon as she has everyone fussing over her.

There is quick chat about the gorgeous executive she went skinny dipping with in Dubai and how fantastic he was in bed. Do I think 15 years age difference is too much?

Followed by she really is still into 50 shades of Darryl, a man she met at a conference and had the best sex ever with, but had turned out to be an asshole and who I hate hearing about for the 90th time.

The nice thing about Liz is she is not an energy vampire and likes to hear about you. But it’s the subject that’s not top of my list – my ‘love life’.

She is convinced that my best pal and I should be together and that why I am not with anyone? The problem many people don’t get is you can have a purely platonic relationship when you’re gay with another gay man.

Of course, I love my best mate, but have no plans to marry him. Losing track of how many times that I have told her ‘NO!!’, I tell Liz that’s it, I’ll ask him to marry me next week.

There is a scream and she wants to order champagne. Liz’s face quickly drops when it’s pointed out it’s a tease. Well, I am sure it would have if she hadn’t had Botox two weeks before.

The subject is dropped, and we have lots of laughs and drinks, until she announces we are going to Old Compton Street for after-drinks. “Why?” I ask. Apparently, she loves GAY and the music.

But my gut feeling is that she is very kindly obsessing about finding me a fella. My suggestion of our usual after-venue, Radio Bar, is met with a blank. Realising that she is doing something Liz thinks will be good for me, we take off.

There is no queue to get into GAY, but it is busy, and Liz wastes no time in turning into Cilla Black after getting a drink, and my heart falls as she starts randomly talking to men; all of course adore her right away. “Who do you like?” she shouts above the music.

Liz introducing me to random men to reject me leaves me feeling like a rabbit in the headlights. “I’ll be discreet”, she bellows.“I’m all good, thanks” and hug her.

Liz starts dancing with some colourful drag queens and shouts “I’m a gay icon!” Of course they all agree. Much as there is room for interpretation, Madonna or Judy she isn’t, but for that night she was. It was so kind of her to care.

Flushed with her success at GAY, she wants to explore more, so we head to a bar on Rupert Street, as a friend of mine is there anyway. Her one-woman show goes down well there, too.

I have already briefed her that my American pal is a friend, and not to think about bringing up whether we are dating or anything of that nature. She thinks he’s too young anyway, so I am off the hook.

Liz is now befriending the handsome doorman, who turns out to be heterosexual and married. He waves me over. “Why don’t you take your girlfriend somewhere she can meet a man?” My reaction was to smile. “She wanted to come here, not me.”

Besides, who says she would not meet a fella there? My sister had a holiday romance in Key West with a man who managed a gay club, and one lady friend married a bar man who worked in one.

Liz and I are still happily single, but watch this page for more tales.

Steven is a published author, regular radio guest and has a monthly column in MilliOnAirMagazine. 

http://moa-global.com