Kirk Read

It's tricky to draw the line with technology, to accept a certain degree of gadgetry and gizmos in your life, while saying no at a certain point. For instance, I’m fine with facebook, but I’m terrified of the iphone. I’m okay with exchanging occasional text messages but cannot wear a Bluetooth device on my ear.  I’m scared of turning into a robot, giving over more and more of my silence to the frenetic and scrambled mania of compulsive email checking and internet surfing.

In the past ten years, as the internet has become more and more integrated into the way we meet sex partners, I think it’s useful to think about the various ways our interactions are shaped by technology. At a sex club or bar, we’ve got to be a little more on our toes about getting up the nerve to talk to someone. We’ve got to be a little more forceful when we want to get out of a conversation. And sometimes we take a chance and go home with someone because we’re aren’t up for saying no. There’s more anarchy in those live situations. Sometimes, someone can talk their way into your evening if they have charm or the guts to talk dirty.

It’s totally different on the internet, where you can just ignore someone’s message or make up a white lie excusing yourself from the electronic courtship. “I have to go to bed,” “I have to get up early,” “a friend just called and needs me to run an errand.” Have you heard these? Have you said them? I find more and more men online moving into the single line email as a means of communication. Essentially sending each other text messages, not wanting to waste a few sentences unless they felt it was a sure thing. I worry that we’re losing those mating muscles, the skills gay men have acquired over centuries to locate one another and connect.

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President's day weekend was International Bear Rendezvous in San Francisco, which is a little like fleet week in this city. One year my mother visited me during IBR and was amazed that all the men she saw, to use her words, “looked like lumberjacks!” Guys were giving each other the universal sign of mutual bear appreciation, the woof, and my mother was intrigued. I explained it all to her. So as we were crossing the street at Castro and 18th, my mother stepped ahead and looked straight into a big group of approaching bears. “Woof!” she exclaimed. None of them knew quite what to say.

IBR is full of hilarious moments, like that beauty pageant thing we always end up doing as a community. So adorable to see these big rough and tumble guys doing lip synchs and strip teases. I live for that shit. And last weekend there was apparently a gaming contest. And when I say gaming, I mean the Super Mario Brothers variety, people!
It’s sort of tricky to figure out your place in the bear world when you’re not even close to being a bear, when even cub would be a stretch. I was at the Lone Star once during an IBR weekend and on my way to the bathroom, the hallway got so crowded that I got wedged between the bellies of three guys and actually got lifted off the floor. They saw what was happening and laughed. I put my arms around their shoulders and begged them to do it again. They did. Bears are like that.

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