d____ 

A man who is looking for a man

My Vitals:

Age: 73, Height: 6' 01" (185 cm), Weight: 185 lbs (84 kg)

Where I Live:

 USA  >>  Georgia  >>  Atlanta  >>  Mcdonough

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Professional, well educated, creative maverick, I come into the world like a bottle of Coca-Cola, freshly opened, poured over hard, cold cubes into a tall, green-tinted glass, trickling my way to the bottom, like Reagan’s economics, bubbling to the top, like an aspiring junior executive. The glass stands on my grandmother’s dining room table in the South Carolina Upstate of the early 1950’s. Condensation gradually drips down the contours of the glass to form a clear pool of water around the base, indelibly staining the hardwood table-top. The ice in the glass melts as the pool of condensation grows broader. The rising water of melting ice cubes forms a clear layer of liquid at the top of the glass, and carbonation dissipates into the air of a fireplace-warmed room in early February. I am left clear at the top and dark and flat at the bottom of the glass, until my father picks me up and discovers the hidden sweetness of the Coke below. Sweetness veiled behind the antics of bubbles and fizzles and the compulsion to drink quickly without tasting. It is the first time that I am touched, and it is a joy that leads to safe harbor in my life to come. I am molested at 13. The whole school knows and singles me out as being queer. I loose hope of ever being accepted. Will I ever be the quarter-back who marries the cheerleader? No. Violins play a sad gypsy melody. Now, keenly aware of being different and widely despised, I wonder, “What does it mean to be different, other than being queer?” What things make up my individuality? How will I be true to that? A new path is opened through a heavy iron gate, lightly laden with dead vines. The gate suspended by rusty, reluctant hinges. My hand reaches to push open the gate and the dead vines flake into pieces and drift to the ground. I am in a garden of high walls and the brightness of noon. The garden in neglected and everything is dead and in disrepair. Shall I stay here? I retaliate against rejection. I excel at things neglected or taken for granted. I excel well beyond my fellows, attracting their attention with envy and resentment. This affirms my distinctiveness, but it sets me up with the big-ego low self-esteem life model. In this, I later learn, surprisingly, that I am not so all alone. Many share in this suffering, which makes us susceptible to the many diseases of excess. I gradually become aware of the life model that I have adopted. How I have adopted it unwittingly and by default, and I begin the arduous task of working my way out of its confines. I work towards rigorous honesty and genuine humility by being grateful for who I am, what I am and what I have. Gradually I make progress. The change is very painful, but worthwhile. I will never get there, but I am on my way. Each day is another balancing act, another chance to adapt, to pass by hostility and danger without being noticed. Such gifts! Things to be honored. I have had choices, chances and opportunities for fulfillment that the quarter-back and cheerleader will never have. Nevertheless, I must admit that I have some residual envy for the apparent ease of their lives, and I would not have knowingly chosen this path. But, here it is, and the only thing I can do is adapt, make the most of it. So, as Madonna sings in one of the tracks from EVITA, “I chose freedom¬ÖI hear American inspiration. More and more I find that there are others who are similar in this “different” sensibility. I see Janis Ian on TV on Ed Sullivan when she is 16 singing SOCIETY’S CHILD. I connect with her, with anyone who sees life through a multi-faceted prism. I connect to expressing myself through painting, drawing, photography and music. My relatives tell my parents that I will come to grief for this, because these pursuits will not support the quarterback and the cheerleader and their 2.5 children, station wagon and ranch style-house. Looking back, I have no regrets. The quarterback and cheerleader lost their citizenship and were transformed into consumers. They are harvested quarterly and show up on the income statements and balance sheets of corporations and small businesses as way past the decimal points. The cheerleader and quarterback have a TV. They don’t own the TV, the TV owns them. I also have a TV The cheerleader and quarterback passed away years ago, but they don’t know it yet. I have often sensed that there are so many people on the planet right now – are there enough souls to go around. I think not. If you read this far, you walked through my mind. The mind is the most sensuous part of the body. Here is where we connect first, if we connect. I am well aware of beauty and youth. Like everyone else you find in the personals, no one looks their age. My requirements of you are quite simple: I want to desire you. Be who you are. Don’t think of changing me. Together we will change each in ways not yet imagined. I don’t care how many times a week you work out at the gym – one or one thousand, as long as you look healthy and virile. Your height/weight ratio should be normal. Your stated interests don’t have to be similar to mine, but you must be willing to open yourself up to me so that I can begin to know you, and you can tell me who I am. I want to discover you, not for the movies, but for myself and for you. Maybe I will notice some things you didn’t, and whatever you see in me that I don’t know, you must be willing to share. This should not happen in your initial response to this ad. Respond to [email protected] The photo above was made last spring in Port Royal, SC. I have since changed my appearance. I can email an updated image. I find making changes fun and stimulating. I appreciate, use and enjoy my gift of choices. Until and after, Danny

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