Going Deep: A Gay Guide to Reality

Gay men, and anyone who doesn’t match the style guide of their bio-families, can get hit with a special kind of emotional whiplash this time of year. However you’re spending these weeks, please know you’re not alone. Not with the feelings, at least. Plenty of us have been there, and many of us still are.I’ve spent Christmas Eve barbacking a thinly attended Monday karaoke night at Revolver in West Hollywood. The flimsy pretense that it was just another casual hang evaporated as the holiday songs rolled in. Fifteen or twenty guys clinging to each other’s company because we had nowhere else to be that night. I wasn’t about to call it holy, but the air was heavy with something.I’ve spent Christmas Day alone in the West Hollywood City Hall server room, logged in as one of only five people on the entire network. The city doesn’t offer paid religious holidays; it provides three personal days to use however you want instead. Cool policy, sure. I thought working Christmas might feel like a satisfying “fuck you” to the culture and the Mormons who took away my marriage rights with Prop 8.It didn’t. It was lonely as hell.Watching porn in an empty server room, scrubbing my browser history, and telling myself I’d “earned” a day for International Mr. Leather in May wasn’t the triumph I’d imagined. It felt hollow.Then there was the Christmas I did the divorced-parents circuit: Kansas City with my dad and stepmom, Tucson with my mom. Christmas Eve in KC came with presents, Mormon niceties, and a nighttime outing with my older brother and two step-uncles. One uncle got drunk, the other stole his brother’s money, and we dumped the drunk uncle, literally, on my parents’ lawn before taking his car. My brother then taught me how to buy and smoke crack in it.That night convinced me never to touch crack again. That might’ve been the Christmas miracle.Two days later, I landed in Tucson to find out my grandparents had been sent home early because my grandfather punched my mom’s fiancé while calling him the N-word.I get it. The holidays, as Whitney Houston said about crack, can be WACK!If this is one of those wack years for you, I’m sorry. You’re not the first to go through this, and you won’t be the last. I hope that gives you a little ease.We’re all just trying to follow our hearts and go where we think the love might be. May you find some peace, and may whatever challenges you’re facing now deliver something like wisdom in the long run.And here’s the part I hate to admit: the best holidays I’ve ever had were the ones where I gave in and joined the conventional madness. Humans are just built to commune with each other. It’s medicine.We gay men do it instinctively, on dance floors, at onesie parties, camping trips, bike rides, sex parties like CumUnion. Give us a theme and a protocol, and we’ll build a small, temporary village of belonging.“I’m just happy to have everyone here, together!”I heard that line twice in my life. The first time, I was eleven, rolling my eyes at an elderly woman at Thanksgiving because three people at that table annoyed me. Poor old lady, I thought.The second time, I was twenty-six, sitting at a Thanksgiving table in my own apartment, surrounded by gay friends. This time, it was me saying the line. And suddenly, I got it.What made that Thanksgiving magic was that nothing in me needed hiding. My roommate had hosted for years, so there was a rhythm. I was in the kitchen making gravy (with emergency phoned-in guidance from my mom), and I didn’t have to worry about anyone tensing up when they asked who I was dating.When my roommate chimed in, “Does fucking count?” I felt seen.And now, somehow, I feel that same belonging with the family that raised me. They don’t tolerate me anymore; tolerance is for elevator farts. They accept me. Fully. The whole messy, fabulous truth of me. And because they’ve grown, and I’ve grown. I can accept them as they are, too. Funny enough, that acceptance has become its own gift: more love in my life.If you’re struggling this season, hang in there. You’re not legally required to be merry. You’re not even required to be pleasant. Notice what you feel, and let it guide what you choose to do next year.New Year’s Eve is around the corner. You’ll have months before you have to do this circus again. Use that time to find where the love lives, invest in yourself, and strengthen your chosen family.There’s no one right way to do the holidays. But if you get the chance to celebrate them old-school, with people who let you be you, it might hurt a little less. I might actually be healing. Until we meet again, be good to yourself.Mike This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

My heart aches to share the community of men.Not a widespread sentiment among left-leaning queers, I know. Inclusiveness — meaning all people of all kinds should be in all spaces, every time we do anything — is the only acceptable way to socialize nowadays.I get it.But, I miss the fuck out of those all-male spaces.Even before sex became important to me, all-male spaces provided the kind of mentoring a boy can only get from men. Like that feeling I had as a 13-year-old Boy Scout, sitting under the stars around a campfire in the Rocky Mountains, singing songs led by mentors who had taught us earlier that day the skills necessary to earn merit badges in First Aid, Cooking, Camping, Citizenship, and so many others. Grown men singing heartfelt renditions of Kumbaya, verse after verse in a call and response: “someone’s laughing Lord, Kum ba ya”…someone’s singing, someone’s crying, someone’s praying. Grown men teaching young men that all of us have a variety of feelings, and somewhere, right now, you’re connected to someone who feels all the feelings, just like you.That sensation of attending early-morning Mormon Priesthood meetings before the sun came up, resenting the early hour but welcoming the skin-to-skin, firm, friendly handshakes with eye contact they taught us to give. I knew my role in the tribe and had a sense of useful responsibility. All of us suited up, unified, ready to take on the challenge of serving our community.The surge of kinship I felt with three other gays in a small car driving from Cheyenne, WY, to Denver, CO, on my first gay pride parade and bathhouse pilgrimage. I was 18. Feeling protected as the older guys (in their 30s/40s) gave me pointers on cruising. “It’s all about eye contact, look into his eyes, and think about what you’d like to do to him. Then pass him and look back, if he does the same, you’re on!” said the driver. “‘I’m just resting,’ means ‘no,’ in the bathes,” said the guy next to me in the back seat. We were all on a mission, pulling for each other to get as much dick as possible.Falling in love. Later that night, on the dancefloor of a Denver gay bar, I fell in love with a boy named Robert as Irene Cara sang, and we slow danced to the opening 45 seconds of “What a Feeling” from the Flashdance soundtrack. That very niche Denver gay bar served “3.2 beer” (regarding its low alcohol content), which the state of Colorado deemed acceptable for 18-21 year olds. My friends were at the cooler, hotter bars for older, 21+ gays, but we had plans to meet up at The Ball Park bathhouse after the bars closed. When the boy I had just fallen in love with turned out to have a jealous, dramatic boyfriend, I couldn’t wait to rendezvous with my comrades at the bathhouse.Feeling grateful for my bathhouse tutoring on the drive down, I seamlessly made it through The Ball Park’s entry process.I was soon standing at the foot of an enormous faux-stone hot tub, fed from above by a two-story indoor waterfall. The sound and scent of water crashing into the hot tub. In the misty open space above, men used the conspicuously placed shower stations lining the floors above to lather up, cruise, and be cruised. Like a chandelier of male sex, I felt their energy rain down on me.The fact that it was still a crime to have gay sex in Wyoming, the state I woke up in that morning, (and the two other states I’d lived in: Nebraska and Idaho), made the three floors of cruising, two hot tubs, a steamroom-cave-maze, a full-sized semi truck cab, a three-tiered orgy/porn room, a giant fish tank, a maze of glory hole booths, what seemed like miles of private rooms, a snack bar, and a dance floor to dance the night away, all the more opulent and liberating.The idea that this playground was designed and made for me and my kind made me feel seen and empowered, like I’d received a gift. I belonged there.I miss the protocol of Men’s Class at the Royal Winnipeg Ballet School summer session, where the rituals of the ballet world focused on the specific proclivities of men. The surprisingly delightful competitiveness between us as we showed off for each other and the ballet master. Jumping, turning, and beating our legs together, proving who was best. All of us working to perfect the same art form gave us unity, while we simultaneously competed to be the best, the soloist who stands out. Ballet tights accentuated our crotch mounds and lined the deepest crevases of our well-developed glutes, providing a hormone-charged surge that didn’t occur during mixed class.“Ladies, re-rack your weights!” was a call to order routinely made over the Athletic Club’s speakers. It made me grin every time. There were no ladies. The Athletic Club was not a gay friendly gym; it was a GAY gym. Only one locker room, stacks of free gay publications by the front door, working out with our shirts off, a tanning service, a pool, a kitchen, and sections of glass brick separating the showers from the parking lot so anyone walking by could see the fractal shapes of bodies showering. The stairs up to the sun deck, the sun deck itself, the steam room, the sauna, and the tanning bed rooms all made on-site orgasms possible. The professional masseurs were excellent, gay, and accommodating.During one workout, I looked up to see lots of guys packed around the TV in the kitchen, and I worried something terrible had happened or that some sports thing I knew nothing about was droning on. But when they started laughing and singing along to a scene from the 1956 musical “The King and I,” I was both relieved that nothing bad was happening and happy to know I could chat about “the game” we were all watching at the gym.On the cork bulletin board filled with calling cards and flyers, someone posted a handwritten, anonymous note: “To the man with the Tweety Bird tattoo. I miss you. We never talked, but I always liked you, and I’m so sorry you’re no longer with us.”As much as I love the club feel of the new John Reed in West Hollywood — probably the gayest gym in LA right now, only feet from the old Athletic Club — it will never be a gay club that offers that kind of camaraderie and solace.It was more than a gym; it was a club for gay men. It was home.The book, Man’s Country, More Than A Bathouse, published in 2023, inspired this post. It was open for 44 years, from 1973 until 2017. Here are a few quotes from men who were there:“Going there made me feel safe. It felt comfortable–like we were all connected or a big family in a way.” ~MS (p. 31)“At Man’s Country, we knew each other like brothers of a clan. We trusted each other in sex and morals, and didn’t trust that our society would treat us morally.” ~Jon-Henri Damski (p. 37)“There was sex, entertainment, and food there. Since it was the 1970s, there was lots of positive sex energy. … The thing was, even though I was alone, I felt connected to a broader community at Man’s Country. It was a way to merge community and sex in a positive way.” ~Richard F. (p. 28)“I love the way the sexual mixed with the social. That didn’t exist in any other environment outside of the great bathhouses, and it hasn’t been replicated since.” ~Race Bannon (p. 30)We’ve had these places before: the benefits they provide for building community and dignity are proven.Is it possible to create these places and feel that kind of solidarity again?The only places I’ve felt that kind of gay belonging and fellowship recently have been on cruise ships and warehouse parties. But the fact that neither of them has an address where I can drop in when I need the energy and support of being with my own kind makes me sad. An ephemeral gathering spot that may or may not be shut down at any moment is not the same as a physical location built for us that many regulars eventually call home.In my next post, I’ll discuss why we think sex is bad and how that keeps us from rebuilding these spaces.Until next time, please be good to yourself,Mike This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

Categorizing LGBTQ+ people as a single community, rather than a broad coalition of diverse groups, is paralyzing the advancement of services, spaces, and political outcomes most of us want.Recognizing our coalition-ness would allow for a greater diversity of thought and, more importantly, more resources for the goals we all agree on.This gay man would rather defeat MAGA authoritarianism and celebrate gay male culture than land a painful blow to any of the other letters in the rainbow alphabet coalition, but the TQ+ letters of our coalition are making that difficult.So, I’m writing this essay.Little, if anything, is being done within the LGBTQ+ Community to further the development of gay culture. Bringing that up is one of the many things that’s unpopular within the current rainbow alphabet zeitgeist..Differences of thought are simply not allowed. The rainbow alphabet is “all in” on the needs of TQ+. The rest of you need to not only chip in and help, but you also need to accept LGB invisibility. We’re all Queer now. End of story.Only a heretic would share any comment on “gender affirming care” or "puberty blockers” outside of the approved ideological orthodoxy, which is “I agree with anything and everything the TQ+ activists say.”As an LGBTQ+ “Community,” currently dominated by the TQ+s, we are forming circular firing squads, performing purity tests, and then eliminating people, their talent, and their resources rather than building things.We Need To TalkAfter my last Substack post, "On Edge" (a poem about my political angst), a friend who has always been real with me texted to see if I was okay. I told him about sitting on an essay instead of publishing it because I didn’t want to add more heft to our frighteningly polarized, burn-it-all-down community conversation. But I had to say something, so I wrote the poem.He replied, “I am frustrated with the politics of our community as well. Not sure what the answers are, and it is hard to discuss.”It really is hard to discuss.My friend and I saw each other at two parties soon after that. We didn’t discuss it. The gays I tried to bring it up with quickly changed the subject or excused themselves from my presence.The meta‑message: Only one sanctioned script is safe. Say it wrong, and you’re out!Having any opinion other than “Anything the TQ+s want is what I want” is queer heresy.We Can ShareThere are enough resources for each letter of the rainbow alphabet coalition to focus on the needs of its own group and then bring those needs to the community conversation.A coalition allows each group (L, G, B, T, Q+, etc.) to:* Identify its own authentic specific needs without apology.* Build its own cultural confidence, spaces, and support structures.* Bring clarified priorities to a central table, like delegations to the UN, where we can collaborate on overlapping agendas.That’s the work our modern LGBT Centers (and allied institutions) need to lean into: conveners, translators, mediators. NOT enforcers of a single orthodoxy.Let’s work together on the things we agree on and let people have diverse opinions.All of us working together on the goals we honestly believe in will result in things being created rather than watching things fall apart as we entertain endless “ouch” sessions that go nowhere.Disagreement ≠ disloyalty.Debate ≠ bigotry.Silence out of fear ≠ solidarity.Need permission?Hey gay!Yeah, I’m talking to you; you have a difficult time asking for anything gay.I understand.During the short time I ran for a seat on the West Hollywood City Council, I quickly learned (in a city that is 40% gay men) that gays don’t give themselves permission to talk about or prioritize gay stuff.Don’t worry, we can do gay stuff while simultaneously working on broader, alphabet coalition stuff as well.Consider this your permission slip!You have permission to use your agency to advocate for your gay self.Let’s Do It!Let’s celebrate the freedoms our hard-won civil rights victories afford us.* Let’s build physical spaces for gay men to drop into and discuss the realities of being homos.* Let’s work towards opening European-style bathhouses.* Let’s host annual gay men’s conferences to develop strategies on everything from coming out to dying with dignity.* Let’s change the laws that make that possible.Currently, we are not working towards ANY of those goals.Just Gays and LGBs are TalkingSome gay, lesbian, and bisexual people (same-sex attracted people) are already talking about it.If you look beyond polite silence, there’s a growing set of LGB‑forward or gay‑led platforms wrestling with these tensions: The Queer Majority (Substack), HumanGayMale, Just Gay Germany, and the various LGB Alliance orgs (UK, USA, Australia, Germany, Norway, Ireland).Unfortunately, a lot of their conversations focus on TQ+ issues they believe are at odds with LGB issues. I want more strategy sessions on building LGB infrastructure that celebrates and preserves LGB cultures.Many in these groups are quite angry–like I was when I wrote the piece I didn’t post.I’m doing my best to keep most of my attention on creating things for gays and less on calling out the negative impacts of TQ ideologies on LGB people. But I am writing this essay, so I obviously think there are things wrong with our current political and operational configuration.I listened to Andrew Sullivan on The Queer Majority podcast with Ben Appe and found it enlightening. It dives deep into the problems of TQ ideology. Here’s a taste: “We have little in common. LGBs love their own sex while TQs are in conflict with their own sex.”I’ll let Sullivan parse out those issues while I keep my focus on gay stuff.His interview is particularly compelling because Sullivan is speaking publicly with another gay man on these heretical issues.So far, the only gay on gay conversations I’ve had on these issues have been well hidden from public view. One was with a massage client in my studio after his massage. He works at the LGBT Center in Los Angeles and can not speak his mind at work about the dearth of gay offerings. Others have occurred with acquaintances in one-on-one conversations in the sauna at the gym or with fuck buddies in the sanctum of a bedroom.So far, here in Los Angeles, every gay-gay conversation I have had on these issues has been in the shadows.These conversations shouldn’t feel rare in 2025, but they are. Let’s change that.Most But Not AllI have always supported non-discrimination in public accommodations for TQ+ people as outlined in Title II Of The Civil Rights Act.Let’s get LGBTQ+ folks included in that law!I support TQ+ people on most of their issues, but our issues are sufficiently dissimilar to require different lobbying groups.Things I will fight for alongside every letter of the rainbow alphabet:* Non‑discrimination / civil rights inclusions.* Protection from violence and harassment.* Mental health support and suicide prevention.* Youth safety and anti‑bullying measures.* Accessible evidence‑informed healthcare free from political distortion.Let’s Talk: Invest In Gay CultureWe can keep policing language and reciting scripts, or we can mature into a coalition that trusts its authentically expressed parts to flourish and then collaborate.Differentiation plus solidarity is a strength formula, not a weakness.Let’s evolve from performative unanimity to productive pluralism (a fundamental liberal idea), and start building the things we still need.Let’s talk about gay stuff.I’ll host.Small groups, Zoom salons, in-person meetups, something.If you’re game, feel free to drop a comment, forward this to a friend, or reply privately. Let’s sketch out what a functioning coalition looks like in practice.Because if we don’t build it, we’ll just keep fighting over words like, community, while the spaces we’ve already built continue to fade into nothingness. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

Thanks for the invite. Who’s coming?When we receive an invite to an all gay event, what’s the first thing we do?Sure, we look at the theme of the party, the location, the date, but those are usually secondary considerations to the big question, “who’s going?”This is really a multiprong question: Will I feel comfortable with these guys? Is there anyone there I’d like to to date or fuck? Will anyone there want to date or fuck me? Will these guys bore me to death?Basically, am I physically and intellectually attracted to the guys who are going, and will they have a hankering for what I have to offer?The current political consensus of our people demands inclusiveness. As I understand the edict, nothing should prevent us from inviting every type of human expression (body shape/size, sex, gender identity, ability, color, or socioeconomic background) to our event.That’s “inclusive,” and it’s the right thing to do. Right?Is that what you’re thinking as you scroll the invite list? I’m guessing it’s not your highest priority.Are we already breaking the rules by just inviting gay men? Of course we are. And, of course, we’ll keep doing it.Because that’s how diversity works, we can’t have cultural diversity if we don’t have a diversity of cultures.Gay male culture is defined by our same sex attraction for one another. Yes, we share many other common interests, like show tunes, but no attribute is as universal as our same sex attraction. That aspect is intrinsic to our gay get-togethers. It’s often the centerpiece, whether overtly recognized or not.This causes a conundrum for those who want to create an affinity group (exclusive space) and your friend group is a mixed crowd, many of whom will not qualify, when one of the aims of the gathering is to provide space for erotic connections.This creates an awkward challenge as I continue my experiment of finding heart-centered connection instead of churning through meaningless sexual encounters.Meaningless sex is a simple endeavor: We both decide if we want what the other guy has. We both give and take. Done. Goodbye forever.Heart-centered connections that include an erotic overlay are vastly more complicated, mainly because we genuinely want the best for guys we care about and don’t want to add any negative baggage to the often heavy psychic load many of us are already carrying.“You’re not invited,” or “Thank you, but I don’t want to dance with you,” creates tension.Before I move on, let me be clear that there are all kinds of other “gay” events (that are usually not all gay men) where this is completely a non-issue. Events like banquette fundraisers, which are a whole culture themselves, where your donation is your most attractive feature; gay sports teams, where your athletic ability is the premium feature; and political clubs, where your connections, ability to mesmerize a room, and access to cash make you politically attractive.When a gay event also includes the possibility of erotic connection, the politically correct mantra of everyone, everywhere, all the time, or else you're a scumbag bigot, wears thin.A problem with the “everyone is equally beautiful” mantra is that it is simply not true. Physical beauty is determined by millions of years of evolution, and a fat dollop of conditioning received via social media. You may want Ryan Gosling to want you back (I know I do), but giving him all your attention deprives you of the opportunities available to you with other guys–the guys who are aesthetically similar to you.Another hard reality is to be realistic about whom you have access to on a physical level. “LA is a city of 10s looking for an 11,” was a line in an old gay movie called Latter Days that still rings true. All those 10s are wasting time.Anyway, for those of you planning or attending sexually social events, here are a couple of ideas you can try out to make the gatherings more fulfilling.* Admit that private affinity groups exist and honor people’s decision to have them. This means finding it in your heart to cheer them on for taking the risk and making an effort to create such a group, even when you are not invited. There is a sex party in LA that only allows men under 40. I don’t qualify, but I remember when I was under 40, I would have LOVED such a party. So good on them. * Learn how to say “no” and hear “no” with grace. These boundary-setting techniques are something most of us were never taught. I know I had to learn them the hard way after years of having sex with guys just to be nice. Now, as my beauty recedes like the tide, I’m getting more opportunities to see and hear “no,” which I gotta say is very often done with grace. And it’s still not easy to receive. Processing rejection gracefully is work. But it’s worth it, so we can keep being friends.More about “No.”Both receiving and communicating “no” have their own challenges.Receiving “No.”Receiving “no” gracefully starts as a passive action (just don’t cause a scene), but then requires the active internal work of processing rejection. That’s big.Metabolizing that moment is essential to not ruining the rest of your night.Unless you’ve reached a permanent state of Enlightenment (Samadi), you will most likely need to process a pretty heavy feeling.For me, that feeling usually manifests in the gut, just below my rib cage. Interestingly, that is the home of our third chakra, the home of personal power, confidence, self-esteem, and willpower. Having your desirability and viability challenged is particularly challenging for men. No matter how gay you think you are, as a man, you have been conditioned from birth to confront assaults on your power, confidence, and self-esteem. So it’s likely to elicit an aggressive reaction from your ego.Love is the only way out of this. It allows you to respond from your higher self as opposed to reacting from your ego.First, love yourself: remember you are a Spark of the Divine. You deserve care and attention. If you’re not receiving it from pretty boy X, no matter what your ego tells you, let it go. Get out your love radar instead. Where is the love, gurl? Follow the ping leading you to where the love is. That is most likely a friend who, trust me, will love commiserating with you about being shot down.Second, and this is much harder, try to recognize and love the Spark of the Divine in the person who rejected you. I know it’s hard with pretty people, but try. He has his own path, and he’s exercising his agency, which, I hope, is what you would like to do as well.Communicating “No.”Communicating “no” requires you to love yourself enough to honor and implement your boundaries, while, at the same time, using as much empathy as possible to let your fellow gay down easy.Keep your distance. When you want to fuck a guy, one way to show your interest is to stand unnecessarily close. It works. And, doing the opposite —keeping your distance —works just as well.If you are in a group with him, like a naked game night or a group at the club, focus your attention on someone else. Make space between you and him. No touching. Turn your back. Go to the bathroom, the bar, or simply walk away.Have things gotten a little handsy? Nonchalantly move his hand. Like you’re moving something out of the way for him. Oh, here, let me put that where it belongs. Do it with your eyes on his and he’ll get the message.Phrases I’ve heard which allowed us both to keep our dignity are, “I’m good.” (after touching a guy on the dance floor), “I don’t like being touched.” (probably a lie, but made it his problem), and “I’m not here for that.”Is he pushy? Is he an ass? Moving his hand with a slight crushing squeeze conveys the message. And, looking him directly in the eyes and saying, “I’m not into this; please move on.”Exercise your agency, your ability to make a choice. Don’t expect him to read your mind. He may already be picking out cake toppers for your wedding cake. He may be too drunk or high. Or, he may be misreading your good nature as an invitation. When you get the vibe it’s time to move on, do it. Do not feel obligated to stay with anyone you’re not feeling it with.And. Do NOT give him your phone number or social media account. Unless, of course, you’d like to string out the long good-bye for days, weeks, or months.Going Deep: A Gay Guide to Reality is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

“Hey! It’s you guys. I didn’t know you’d be on the ship!” It takes me two full seconds to recognize the tall, lean Italian with dark eyes and grey-speckled beard stubble before a surge of joy-filled love overtakes me. I embrace him with one arm and squeeze my husband’s wrist in the elevator bay crowded with men in costumes. “Dennis! Look who it is!” We are taking a bathroom break during the first themed dance party of the seven-day March 2024 Atlantis Events (99% gay) cruise on the Valiant Lady, a Virgin Voyages ship that left from and will return to San Juan, Puerto Rico. The theme of tonight’s dance party is “Tropical Heat,” we are wearing black lines of “warrior paint” on our faces, red headbands, red tights, and the one pair of black Adidas sneakers that will need to support every activity this week. “Oh, my gawd! It is so good to see you!” says Dennis, squeezing through the crowd to give him a full-bodied hug. We met this man and his beautiful husband precisely three years ago on this same ship in the Mediterranean, out of Barcelona. Our connection on the dance floor translated into two memorable visits to our private stateroom with the four of us. It was a connection unlike most of the others because of its effortless blend of intense erotic pleasure and sensitive, emotional openness. I was genuinely sad when we said goodbye in the galley food area on the last day of that cruise in 2021. This is what keeps us coming back. Freedom. Joy. Sex. But mostly, love. These cruises provide what is no longer offered on land (in the United States): a 24/7 space dedicated to gay men’s comfort and delight for all ages and body types. This is my seventh cruise with Atlantis, and I’ve learned that the cornucopia of activities available makes it possible for every kind of gay, no matter his age, body type, activity interests, or cultural inclinations, to have a blissful journey. These cruises have something for every kind of gay. * Circut Party Gays * His body and wardrobe are maximized for dancefloor impact. * Wearing either a minimal thong & face full of glitter, or a full-blown themed group costume with yards of fabric blowing in the sea air, posing for a group photo. * Often embodied in one of the most objectively beautiful physiques on the ship. * Pupils dilated, he sometimes never sees the light of day. * He emerges after dark, is at least an hour late to the party, and routinely closes down the after-party at 6:30 AM.* Standard Narrative Gays* Wearing the latest short-sleeved button-down shirt from L.L. Bean. * They are having the cruise your mom might have.* They have booked as many excursions off the ship as possible.* Discussion about open relationships never happened before the cruise, and they’d prefer that other gays stop bringing it up.* Alcohol is the only acceptable drug, and there is always a drink in their hand.* They have a persistent neurotic expression, asking, “What if pics of this get out?” * Old Gays * Wearing whatever the fuck they want, which is either complete comfort or full fabulous. * These men are genuinely happy to be alive and willing to engage with anyone who makes eye contact. * They make eye contact. * Many are up early, enjoying the sunrise.* The oldest (I chatted up a 92-year-old) get decked out in the party themes of red, white, pink, etc. Find a seat overlooking the dance floor and remain transfixed for hours, chatting with the oldster beside him as the Virgin staff keep them hydrated. * Sluty Gays* Wearing their best guy-getting gear. Often in St33le shorts. * Looking for every opportunity to suck it, stick it in, or receive. * Down Low (DL) sluts project all their assets: butts out on the dance floor, styled super sexy on the pool deck, etc., but need to be out of sight of their friends to “go downstairs.” * Open sluts, wearing something similar, will make offers and respond to sexual proposals casually, without shame. * Guys in Slut Mode stalk the dick deck (a part of the ship designated for anonymous sex), know the good bathrooms for hook-ups, and are always ready to “go downstairs.”* Sober Gays* They show up to the party ready to engage (dance, hookup, whatever) without needing their drugs to kick in. * They are at the dance parties early and seldom see the sun come up. * Their erections are much more predictable than dosing Circut Gays and drunk Standard Narrative Gays. * Their conversations are much easier to follow. * They have Bill W. meetings to assist with cruise overwhelm. * Twink Gays* Rare, but there.* Cruises take money and planning. Both are rare attributes of youth. * Often part of a red state May/December coupling.* Free agent twinks also appear to be seasoned circuit party raver types. * They are thoroughly informed on party protocol but still new to the planet, so what you see is usually what you get. * Foodie & Spa Gays* The food on this ship, in particular, is varied and impressive. On other ships, it has tasted like a bland mall food court buffet. Virgin Atlantic attracts men with sensitive pallets and inspires food simpletons like me to humbly bow in the direction of the chef. * The spa is an oasis within the oasis of the ship. An oasis from complementing clever outfits, commenting on the music, or sharing your plans for the evening.* Show Girl Gays* These cruises deliver what every audience member anywhere has ever wanted. They make you laugh, they make you cry, and they make your dick hard.* These gays plan their day around the show. Dinner, a party, or a hookup must accommodate getting the best seat at the show. I’ve done Atlantis cruises as a Slutty/Sober/Circuitish/Show-Girl-Gay. On this cruise, I was mainly a Circuit/Sluty/Foddie/Spa-Gay who took advantage of the excellent room service options available 24/7. We only got off the ship once, for 45 minutes, to get shaving cream. There is so much we didn’t see. We planned our week's agenda to accommodate three nights of intense partying. All three party nights were followed by a day at the spa, dinner, and sometimes a show. That was my cruise. Here’s my advice: Have the cruise YOU want. No one is preventing you from doing that except for YOU. You are not required to attend anything, but everything is there if you want to taste the buffet. The only thing you can NOT do, is do it ALL. Make conscious choices, and you’ll be one of the men who crowd into the elevator on your way to your next pleasure with a smile on your face, sharing a silent nod of satisfaction with guys looking back at you who’d never look up from their phones on land. The ship is a magical, ephemeral space that lasts only a week (or a bit longer), where being a gay man is the norm, and straight people are there to serve you. Shared conversations occur between all types at dinner, the pool, after the show, and during parties. Are there some men shut down by fear & trauma and unable to communicate? Yes. Have compassion for their internal turmoil (regardless of how pretty or plain they are) and turn to one of the thousands of other men ready to embrace you. It’s great practice for “real life.” I’m glad I chose to dance with the men in front of me, ready to embrace me, rather than chase the ones I thought had the most social status because of their beauty. I made a conscious effort to refrain from trying to win the party. I’ve made the opposite choice enough times to know that kind of grasping causes me pain. Ironically, not trying to win the party, brought some underwear model specimens toward me for a few euphoric genuflections to Eros, giving thanks for our shared virility and their youthful innocence. It also brought me into communion with a pair of men, one 50 and the other 70. A couple I spent hours with celebrating the company of Dyonisis, allowing the wisdom of many years on the planet to inform the sweetness of the moment born from the light and shadow of life. Who, in addition to enjoying the passions of love and sex, were able to hold space for insanity and the ritual madness of our gay past the youth will hopefully never really know. So much is possible. Or maybe you’re more of a champagne brunch, drag queen, bingo kinda gay. Please sit down your coffee, hold my hand, and tell me all about it as the pink of the sunrise reflects off my tights, announcing the close of last night’s white party and the beginning of another day full of possibility. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

Just feelings. That’s what this week is about. Preparing for an ayahuasca plant ceremony is an opening of the raw self. It’s day 6 of taking away most of the things that help me avoid feelings. Coffee, weed, alcohol, refined sugar, red meat, lots of other things… and, wait for it, ejaculation! Yup. Just sit there and take it bitch! Worried about your substack, your husband’s struggles, your relevance in gay men’s culture, your mom’s reality without your dad, your other mom’s torments, your sister’s well-being, your health, turning 59, your motorcycle’s dead battery, that pain in your lower back? Just frackin feel it! Being present is no longer masked by distractions; it’s full presence, moment to moment to moment. I’ve even taken the suggestion of staying off social media, well, except Grindr. Is that a social app? Sure. Look at all those bodies and be a tease, “Not today, sorry.” What’s left is, well, everything. ALL the feelings. This is what it is to be human, buddy. Is this what it felt like to be a hunter-gatherer? Before tech and know-how brought us all the fat, meat, and sugar we wanted? Tears of joy and grief while digging in the garden? Well, I guess they didn’t have gardens. They were on the move. But they were tied to the earth. And being tied to the earth is why I’m going back. That’s why I’m doing my third plant ceremony. After experiencing a mushroom ceremony, I learned about an ayahuasca ceremony in my new neighborhood, on the same communal soil where I bought a condo two years ago, the same neighborhood where I have always hung out with leathermen. Pacha mama. Mother earth. During the last ceremony, I met You for the first time. The morning after, in the cool, bright morning Silver Lake air, I touched the bark of a tree growing near a 1920s building. It spoke to me. Much clearer than any wonky telepathic crap Counclor Diana Troy ever used on Star Trek The Next Generation, I was, and still am, connected to everything the tree is connected to. Words fail. But let me try. The expanse of an all-knowingness, a knowingness that is experiential, not intellectual. The tree, the earth, the water in the sky and the seas, each heartbeat in Silver Lake and all those around the world, each being that moves, and all those that grow, and all the essence of earth and sun and stars that have brought us into being. I touched it. It touched me back, and there was no longer a separation between any of us. Oneness with everything. A sustained joy bursting from inside me and holding me safe all at the same time. I guess that’s worth skipping coffee and ejaculation for a week or two. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

My last post, Love, Contempt, and Leather Contests, ended up being a lackluster whimper that confused a few people. Thank you guys for the feedback. “Where’s the contempt?” they asked. And they were right to ask. In haste to meet my publishing deadline (on the 1st and 3rd Thursdays), I rushed a piece that was not ready for release. I also let an effort to be magnanimous prevent me from being brave. I am afraid to hurt the feelings of people I have grown to care about, even love. But sometimes, we need to tell our loved ones what’s keeping us from taking their calls. So here’s a remix with a heaping helping of contempt regarding certain aspects of leather contest culture. As I said before, I got interested in leather contests, thinking it would lead to instructions for handling a sexy boy kneeling at my feet. My leather contest contempt grew out of the impatience I felt waiting for the real world of leather to reveal itself. The one we’re all talking about during leather contests. It’s the world outlined in books like The Leatherman’s Handbook by Larry Townsend, Ties That Bind by Guy Baldwin, and Mr. Benson by John Preston. Where was the heat and eros of Tom of Finland? Why wasn’t I seeing guys like that kneeling boy who got away? Where was the 19-year-old marine at a bus station craving a bondage fuck scene mentioned in Townsend’s book? I kept hearing stories about Old Guard, Master/slave, Dom/sub, and dungeons filled with hot men negotiating power exchange scenes. Where were those men? The leather contests appeared to be crucibles where men were tested to see if they had what it took to represent the real leather world. So, I signed up. There were (and are) few ways for contemporary men to test themselves as a rite of passage into manhood, so maybe I was also trying to scratch that itch. Put me in, coach! I’m ready to play!I assumed that the real world of leather men would become available to me if I proved myself on stage. After I won the Mr. Los Angeles Leather (LAL) 2007 competition, and at the prodding of the LAL producer, I went to Cleveland Leather Awareness Weekend (CLAW) to pursue my goal of winning International Mister Leather (IML). On the CLAW workshop schedule, I found an offering from a group called the Kennel Club. They claimed to know everything it takes to win a leather contest, so I attended the offering along with 30 to 40 other guys headed to IML to compete. The large conference room was set up in a traditional authoritarian configuration. A table in front of the room, behind which sat several men, facing the large group of attendees, all wearing leather vests bearing patches of the clubs they represented. A few empty chairs facing the crowd sat to the left of the presenter’s table. One of the men behind the table asked if anyone wanted to do a practice interview. Most competitions give the interview score double the points of any other contest aspect. If the interview sucks, it’s nearly impossible to recover. It’s typically done in private, not in front of spectators. During the pause after his question, as each man decided if he wanted to put himself on the spot in front of the same guys he’d be competing against at the biggest leather contest on the planet, I raised my hand. Why not? If you’re gonna make a mistake, make it here. I wanted to learn, and these guys had credited themselves with knowing all the answers. Who knows what was really said and done nearly seventeen years ago, but this is how I remember it going down. And it did go down, as in, south, as in, badly. Much of it is covered in my short story, A View From The Podium. I stood in front of the mock judging panel because I knew from experience that I should not sit during an interview. I waited for the exercise to begin, vaguely wondering why they didn’t cover the whole standing versus sitting protocol thing. I looked at my mock interview judges with curiosity. They were definitely enjoying the session, but the joy was contained to their table. None of my fellow contestants were smiling. They were intensely focused. From their seated positions, the mock judges grinned and whispered to each other while pointing at a page in one of the many matching binders they’d brought with them. Later, I learned the binders were for sale. “What’s the leatherman’s code?” asked a young, pudgy-faced man.I couldn’t remember. “Oh, man. I know this one. Wait! It’s not Safe, Sane, and Consensual, is it? Or Risk Aware Consensual Kink?” I exhaled in defeat. “Okay, I guess I can’t remember. What is it?” I asked. “You really need to know this. It’s really basic.” Said the pudgy-faced man, now looking happier than ever. “Yes. I know. This is a workshop, right? Can you please just tell me what it is? I asked. “No. You need to go figure it out and get back to us.” He said. “Have a seat.” Embarrassed, uninformed, and full of rage, I found my seat. These guys couldn't have cared less about what I was about. They didn’t ask me what I love about leather, kink, or the contest itself. They didn’t affirm anything I was doing right. They had decided what it takes to win a contest, and I needed to fall in line with that vision. This attitude reminded me of a dinner with an entrenched self-appointed kingmaker connected to the Mr. Los Angeles Leather (LAL) contest. We’d met for dinner after I won LAL. I’d brought all my ideas, in writing, for improving the Los Angeles Leather Coalition (LALC), the producer of the LAL contest, and my ideas for how I’d present my authentic self at IML. The self-appointed kingmaker simply handed my written material back to me without looking at it and then handed me a list of questions that judges might ask me, proper answers included. The message was clear. You know nothing. Without me, you will fail. An hour after my aggravating session at CLAW with the Kennel Club, I saw the same pudgy-faced man walking down a hall toward me, arm and arm with the LAL kingmaker. They looked at me and giggled. I said, “Hey, Geroge,” to the kingmaker and received a cursory nod back as they passed me without slowing down. Ironically, the leatherman’s code, the answer to the questions I was asked, is Trust, Honor, and Respect. None of which I saw exhibited by the Kennel Club or the LAL kingmaker at CLAW in 2007. It’s these “betas” for which I have the most contempt. Unlike the authentic old guard leather club leaders I believe were real, the alphas, who enjoyed their power by setting an example that others wanted to embody and follow, the betas found their power and authority because of the void left when the plague of AIDS wiped out nearly all of the heavy players. The guys who had been allowed in these groups to run the projector in the back of the room suddenly found themselves at the top of the kinky gay men’s social network. After sweeping away the ashes of what remained of the old guard into urns we were then asked to worship via their tutelage, the betas established a leadership foothold in the leather scene. Their reign is animated by the dark side of leadership. It’s the shadow side of mature masculine King/Soverien energy outlined by Carl Jung. Rather than blessing and affirming the talents of newcomers, they come down on all threats because they are terrified of their own inadequacies. The result is a stranglehold on the growth of leather culture, leaving a diminished community where talented newcomers are neither blessed nor affirmed. Instead, they are controlled or pushed aside from fear of being replaced. Old clubs remain bereft of new, powerful, and sexy members. Clubs age in place while possible newcomers use new alternative venues and tools for exploring and celebrating radical sex that did not exist in the days of the old guard. It’s the reason hot men, like the ones I read about in those books and, more importantly, the ones I saw littering the streets of West Hollywood where I lived, were seldom, if ever, in attendance at the venerated clubs or the contemporary leather contest world. In addition to the void of hot guys, there were other problems, including contempt for male expression. I watched as leather contest political trends moved away from celebrating kinky gay male expression, choosing instead to be platforms insisting on safe space for everyone, everywhere, all at once. Having any boundaries or criteria for a contest was reframed as oppression. Leather contests became magnets for broken-winged individuals rather than radical sex enthusiasts. The leather stage became a place for competitive suffering. “Pick me! No one ever has suffered as much as me!” From the costumes I saw, the speeches I heard, and the perfume I inhaled, I came to realize that leather culture was no longer a place to pursue secrets that make a sub-boy’s heart sing when he’s on his knees in front of you. There were too many distractions. Mr. Leather contests had become another LGBTQIA+ megaphone screaming at the world for acceptance – not something celebrating kinky gay men. That’s what I saw at the last Mr. Los Angeles Leather contest I attended.Standing there, wearing my Mr. Los Angeles Leather vest, I felt like I didn’t belong anymore. Maybe I never had. As I was standing there, processing that feeling, another titleholder whispered directly into my ear, “I don’t want to be part of this.”I agreed. It was a sad moment. The fury and vitriol I saw on social media following the LAL contest sealed the deal, and I have not been back to a Mr. Los Angeles Leather contest since. The contest shows us who we are. I was already feeling homeless after my home leather bar, a two-stepping country bar called Oil Can Harry’s, closed following the death of its owner, Bob Tomasino. He created Mr. Oil Can Harry’s Leather, and my life changed as a result. The Mr. Los Angeles Leather part of the legacy he gave me now felt foreign. I thought, Mike, we’re done with this. I mentioned this disillusionment towards the end of this Fireside Chats interview with Douglas O’Keeffe (54:16). After that, I no longer paid attention to the leather contest calendar. *****“I’d like to talk to you about working with a contestant,” Hunter said on the phone as I rode the escalator up to Crunch Gym in West Hollywood. Hunter is a producer of OFF SUNSET, an insanely good cook, and husband to Charlie Matula, the owner of Eagle LA, where many of the leather contests in Los Angeles take place. Are you kidding me? Don’t you know I think this is all a joke now? I’m focusing my attention on spaces where men get together with men and find that reason enough to throw a party. Why should I waste my time? I said that in my head. “Who is it?” is what I actually said out loud. He told me. Of course, I’d seen Marcus at the Eagle! He’d been there forever. I had also done the AIDS LifeCycle with him, and, maybe most important of all, I’d always found him intensely fuckable. “I’d be happy to talk to him,” I said. This is how I ended up back in Chicago for IML in 2023, this time as support for Mr. Eagle LA 2023, Marcus Barela. He competed and won the International Mister Leather 2023 contest, making him IML#43. A little leather brother to my IML#29 designation. Marcus is perfect for today’s leather political realities, so I just encouraged him to be himself, kept track of the contest timeline, and stayed out of his way. His victory was inevitable.Rather than draw a line of contempt in the sand so I could stand on one side and marinate in my self-righteous anger, I did my best to accept the contest as it was. Now, Marcus is thriving as IML43 in the same leather world I mentioned above; he’s perfect for this moment. That fact is why he teaches me so much every time we talk. About six weeks ago, my phone rang again. This time, it was Charlie, the owner of Eagle LA, which is now a seven-minute walk from the new condo I bought with my husband, Dennis, two years ago. “I’d like both of you to be contestant handlers (den daddies) for this year’s Mr. Eagle LA Leather contest.” He said. I’m glad I said, “Yes.” Being part of that bar contest, in a service capacity, was a surprise homecoming that touched me deeply, especially as an older man. I didn’t have to give any scores or make any speeches; I just helped four bright-eyed contestants while they showed me what bravery looked like. All while surrounded by people I’ve known for nearly two decades. It felt like home. That experience brought me to the realization that the contest itself, its liturgy of Meet & Greet, Interview, Speech, Bar Wear, and Jockstrap, has its own power to reveal who we are individually and as a community. It’s why I wrote some glowing things about gay leather contests in last week’s piece. Maybe I’m just old and getting soft. Still, with the remnants of old clubs withering on the vine, the most challenging truth to accept now is the fact that the real leather culture of today is the leather contest system itself. I will work within that system, having faith that celebrating kinky gay men’s culture will have the power to bring us home. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

“I blink, and you’re hooked up with someone!” My husband says with his testosterone-fueled competitive voice.I get a wonderful turn-on when I see this side of my normally deferential, even-mannered, Vulcan-like boy. It’s dangerously delicious. His full 42-year-old, tall, masculine body radiates primal testosterone. Men turn me on, so seeing him charged with desire and vexed sexual frustration is intoxicating. It makes him sexually vibrant and desirable. I feel like a badass. And he confirms, with his horny, competitive frustration, that we’re still on the same page regarding our sexual desires and agreements. The Sensitive Slut is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.He’s an ambitious high achiever, a man who pursues measurable, quantifiable tools and protocols for reaching success. So my success, as he frames it, must be a simple matter of following some sort of playbook of which he is unaware. He doesn’t want me to change my behavior. He doesn’t want me to stop hooking up. He just wants to be better at it than me. So, for him and all the other high achievers out there looking to sharpen their “game,” here’s what I know. Your mileage may vary. Hone your Battlefield Awareness. That’s a term we used in my day job when I was a Special Events Coordinator for the City of West Hollywood. While babysitting gatherings like WeHo Gay Pride, Halloween, and the collection of Oscar Parties held by Elton John, Vanity Fair, and HBO (all on the same night), we needed to know where to focus our attention. The same situational awareness translates into navigating crowded sexual playgrounds. It’s the ability to focus an endless aggregate of variables into a small, actionable list of choices.As an aside, I am uneasy applying the term “Battlefield Awareness” to our sexual playgrounds because I want our unique spaces to be collaborative spiritual playgrounds. Not a place where there are winners and losers. However, for the uninitiated, these gatherings may feel like battlegrounds because of incursions on their personal space, an internalized sex-negative worldview that says one sexual partner forever means “good” & many sexual partners mean “bad,” or the newness of the social sexual culture for which they have yet to find a vocabulary. And, although relatively rare (compared to the number of good players), we have bad players among us. For whatever reason, self-shame, a truly toxic “force it” idea of masculinity, or some other reason, they feel they need to grab what they want instead of negotiating it like a Sensitive Slut.My husband’s remark got me reflecting on how I handle myself in social sexual environments.What follows is a deconstruction of my modus operandi that has evolved over nearly four decades and countless visits to these places. The venues are public (buy a ticket) play parties, dance parties, kink events, and, to some degree, public hunting grounds designed for non-sexual purposes, like gym steam rooms, or the dick deck on a gay cruise.Reconnoiter: Get the lay of the land. Even when I’m familiar with a venue, I like to walk the perimeter to get a feel for how many rooms there are, how big they are, how they are set up, ingress and egress (getting in and out), and how they’re being used. If it’s a new venue, I will do this before visiting the clothes check. I may not want to stay. Guest inventory: Who’s there? I put people into boxes. Yep. I make up stuff about the guys based on what I see and what my intuition tells me so that the mob is more comprehensible. A dozen categories are easier to organize in my head than 200 to 2,000 individuals. Daddies, twinks, jacked muscle guys, athletic guys, porn stars, influencers, glitter divas, ethnic clumps, full fetish & gear guys, sexual tourists (new or non-identified with sexual spaces), it’s all about the music guys, look-at-me players, and mystery men. Party favorites: Identify and name potential playmates. During the reconnoiter, I mentally tag my favorites. These are guys I plan on cruising to determine if we are both on each other’s “yes” list. Nicknames are an easy and fun way to keep track of a few men in a sea of potential partners. Bandana Boy, Trucker Jesus, Equinox Jesus, Brillo Boy, Slutty Swarthy Guys (couple), Black Ken, White Ken, Mr. Floppy, Almost Asian, Greyhound Boy, Gold Chain White Boy, Dog Catcher, Faded Dreds, Swarthy Baseball Hat, and Well-Preserved Daddy, are some of the monikers I’ve assigned. With a clear vibe, guest, and fashion assessment, it’s easier to decide if I’m staying, if I’m going to dose, and if I’m wearing my booty shorts or going ass out right away. Now, armed with information and dressed for success, it’s time to dive into the party.Consent. Consent can be sexy. It’s about getting to “yes.” It occurs when someone is actively encouraging what's being done to them as opposed to tolerating what’s being done to them.Consent is not about manipulating men into play; it’s about finding guys who are a match.We are all uniquely shaped puzzle pieces with grooves and nobby bits. Bottom, top, dom, sub, sides, switches, mild, wild, exhibitionist, demure, sober, rolling, etc. Finding a perfect fit that occurs when complementary contours smoothly snap into place is what it’s all about. Find it; don’t force it. These sexual spaces are open to everyone, but no one is required to hook up with anybody. Sorting each other out requires communication (usually nonverbal) that involves asking and answering the question, “Would you like to get physical?” It’s a question appropriate for the venue. It’s not easy, but being able to give and receive “no” gracefully is key to setting a proper vibe that will move you toward a guy you really click with, and it keeps the play party playful. As I said before, most of this communication is nonverbal. “No” or “not now,” may be a glance, having a back turned on you, or seeing them create distance from you. All ways to communicate, “no.” If it reaches the touching stage, “no” is moving a hand away or hearing, “I’m good.” Cruising: Making your move.The following approach is appropriate in just about any circumstance and unlikely to offend most gay men who are not closeted. In another post, I’ll go deeper into what I know about cruising more specific types of men, such as daddies, doms, subs, trophy boys, racially different guys, “I’m with my friends guys,” tall and short guys. For now, here’s the one size that fits most. THE HORSE APPROACH: This is especially good for super hot guys and guys unsure how to set their own boundaries (so they keep people at a distance). I’m stealing most of this from Morgan Freeman. When pressed about his success with women, he made this horse analogy on CNN. Basically, you make it known you’re available and let them check you out. These guys have a lot of experience having their boundaries ignored; they are unceremoniously touched, grabbed, and clothing tugged on; they have their conversations interrupted. They respond well to respect. These guys are usually in well-lit areas with room around them to move. If on a dance floor, they are often within a group of guys making a huddle designed to limit access. DO NOT chase these guys. They don’t like surprises. Don’t stalk him from behind and grab him. Don’t jump in uninvited with your funny story. You’ll be on his “no” list for the rest of the night. DO THIS: Put yourself in his line of sight. If his back is to you, find a way to move around him so that he can see you from a comfortable distance. From a comfortable distance, square off with him. This means facing him straight on. You’re face to face, chest to chest, crotch to crotch. Let him make an assessment. Body language that catches his attention is a confident, calm, often dude-like attitude. See if he will move to the music with you. Move the way he’s moving. That creates rapport, a sense that you’re on the same wavelength. See if his eyes meet yours. Maintain eye contact with an even, friendly, curious expression. See if his face is communicating anything with you. Don’t make stuff up in your head.Your gut will tell you if he’s interested. It may be a smile, a nod, or he might make it easy on you and move toward you. The night my husband made his remark, I noticed one of the guys on my “yes” list, a swarthy baseball cap guy, was dancing near us as we chatted with friends. He was dancing with a guy, and we made eye contact. He seemed interested, so I moved closer, squaring off with him and seeing if he’d dance with me from a distance. About five feet. He didn’t match my moves. He moved closer to his dance partner but still looked at me. This told me, “not now.” So, I continued to enjoy time with my friends. When I looked up and saw Swarthy Baseball Hat guy moving towards the dark room, I decided it was time to see what was happening in there.Since I’d checked out the room before it got busy, I knew how to scan it for a fury-faced man in a baseball hat.I found him sitting on a banquette, watching one guy receive a furious blow job from another. I got close, being sure not to crowd the scene. He looked up at me. I looked at him, at the action, and down at my crotch. He gave an affirming nod. And that’s how the blink happened. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

Two years ago, while in my 57th year, I began going out to dance parties again. To my surprise, reentering the gay dance party scene at 56 proved to be, and continues to be, a much more edifying experience than it was in my 20s. I give credit for this transformation to decades of seeking with my MFT therapists Karen, Jim, Winston, and Sharon, a Forum-like intensive called The Experience, MKP men’s retreats, meditation retreats, yoga teacher training, coaching training, Tantra training, a personal meditation practice, and drugs. Of course, none of that would be possible if I did not have the willingness to look into my heart and unpack the results of the Idaho-Mormon-gay-AIDS trauma I’d internalized. Walking through all that trauma history with a wide array of teachers is why I am able to enjoy the cornucopia of pleasure, self-celebration, and connection I now enjoy everywhere, especially on the dance floor with my brothers. Everyone’s life is different. Everyone’s amount of trauma is different. My trauma required lots and lots of work. Some gays, like my husband, who’ve had relatively little trauma, have the ability to find contentment without all those programs.SubscribedNearly 30 years ago, when I was 28, I went to my first White Party in Palm Springs. It was a big deal back then.I had resisted going for several reasons. I’d only been sober for two years, it was still more expensive than I could afford, and most of all, and most pertinent to this post, I didn’t think I could compete with all the hotties I saw in pages of Circut Noise Magazine, the magazine covering circuit events pre-internet. It contained pages of evidence that I needed to be something other than who I really was. Someone confident, excruciatingly beautiful, and ready for a photo op with ten equally beautiful men.You know, guys who were winning the party. I’d need to reinvent myself to be one of them. I felt like I needed permission to be on the dance floor.“What if you got paid to go?” I was prodded by my workout partner, Adam, to join the scene. He had connections with the producers, custom design skills to create our Bad Bunny gear, and a body and cock that demanded attention. He made it possible for me to get paid to go, including a shared hotel room at Motel 6. All I needed to do was work a couple of doors and dance on a box at the military-themed nighttime pool party.Adam thrived on the scene. He was a huge fan of the spotlight. Any spotlight. He also ran with other spotlight seekers, so I was sure to be surrounded by the top tier of circuit party meat sacks who had also prepared for the dance floor with Olympic-style workouts. We’d have outfits made by Perry, a talented queen who later went on to work for Lady Gaga. How could we not win the party? At the military party, we climbed our separate camouflaged riggings and had our very own spotlights to shine on each other from across the sea of men and into the crowd itself, which garnered lots of attention. I had the body. I had the attention. I had the outfits. I had the validation of knowing I was on a towering box at what was then one of the biggest parties in existence. Guys who seldom gave me attention at Gold’s in Hollywood were looking up at me, smiling. I’d met Boy George. I’d visited one VIP hangout after another at the various parties. But when Adam turned his spotlight on me, I felt something unexpected. Something other than joy. I certainly wasn’t happy. I was confused, irritated, and empty.I felt betrayed by the feelings that came up. This was supposed to make me happy. Wasn’t I dominating the party? Isn’t that what makes a gay happy? Why wasn’t I fucking happy? This continued to happen as I attempted to win the party at the Probe (later called Icon), at the Zoo Party in San Diego, and on the small stage on the edge of the dance floor at Fire House (which is now The Chaple at The Abbey). Time after time, I gave my power away to men and boys who were strangers. Attachment to their approval was my primary source of validation and dignity. The holy grail of permission granted by dancefloor domination left me empty.Nearly 30 years later, I learned in my yoga certification training what was causing the problem. It was one of the “5 Kleshas,” all 5 cause suffering. I was experiencing the suffering they predicted is caused by grasping.It’s important to note that pain is not optional. Sorry.But the suffering is.This is how #3 of The Five Kleshas works. Attachment/Grasping (Ragga)Grasping = Suffering When I get X, I’ll have happiness. If I can get that hottie to dance with me, I’ll be okay. If I can get 1M followers, I’ll be content. If my body reaches X size, the world will love me. Yup. All sources of suffering, according to Patanjali, the Sage who wrote all this stuff down.Non-grasping = Contentment I find peace with the world as it is, with what and/or who is in front of me at this moment. I let the world flow around me and go with it. I recognize “no” and honor it, then make a course correction towards love. I hold my own boundaries and say “no” with love and dignity. My contentment is not reliant on the actions or reactions of others.On the dancefloor, in a sex club, and while navigating LA traffic, the pain of not getting what I want can pop up and last a moment and then be gone, or I can try to force it to be something different than what it is, grasp for something other than what life has put in front of me, and suffer indefinitely.When I feel that icky vibe, I say to it, “Thanks for sharing. I hear you. What’s really going on?” And because that’s my ego talking, not the real, perfect me the yoga sages wrote about, I then ask my real self, “Is there something I can let go of?There usually is.Now things are different.Like the wrapper of my favorite Dove dark chocolate candy says, “Your vibe attracts your tribe.” Since I no longer show up trying to dominate the party, I am no longer surrounded by narcists unable to connect with anything outside their own agenda.I no longer need permission to be on the dance floor. When I stopped grasping for that permission, I was able to own my 58-year-old, cis, white self and go where the love is.There is no longer a need to have a designer create outfits for me that will wow the other partygoers. I wear the same jock and booty shorts to nearly every party. My husband and I are often the only two men dancing in paratrooper boots. They are a nod to my kinky side, make me taller, and support my old ankles. More importantly, they are an extension of my authentic self.The party is big enough for all of us. When I’m at my best, I am not attached to a need to have the entire venue, the entire community, or the entire country give me permission to be who I am. That comes from inside.Somehow that makes me better able to celebrate the other guys on the dance floor who are doing what’s authentic to them. The muscle guys bobbing up and down in their jeans with their stern faces, the sexy queens flashing smiles while twirling in skirts, and Asian guys in their sensible outfits huddled together for solidarity are all things to be celebrated.They are not competition. They are family. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

Interested in a 3-way? ... Sign up for our Masterclass Trio:Sex / Love & Relationships / Spirituality & Intuition today!In these courses, you'll learn tips, tricks and insider information from 3 generations of gay men.You'll leave knowing how to prepare your mind, body, and spirit to give & receive the sex you desire and deserve.You'll explore finding love in all the right places!Find the inspired answers inside of you waiting to be discovered.Evoke your true desires and empowering your own authentic spirituality.Join All 3 Now! - For Only $97Learn More about each Masterclass________________________________________________________________________________________Did you miss the last Sex, Love & Relationships Challenge?Don't worry! We'll be doing it once more for those of you who haven't got the time but still want to go deeper, learn more about and improve the Sex, Love and/or Relationships in your lives.When? January 23rd - 27th 2021Learn More Now!________________________________________________________________________________________Hello GerleMen listeners.She is hilarious. She is irreverent. She is devastating in her academic acumen and her theatrical talent.And, although we may be laughing, her messages are packed with wisdom and insights many listeners will find life-affirming.While we pause our regular episodes and prepare a spectacular Season 2 of the GerleMen Podcast, we’d like you to enjoy some short, bonus episodes, co-hosted by my dear friend and rambunctious orange Nun, Sister Unity of the Los Angeles House of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.So enjoy the show my friends! We’ve packed all this awesomeness into some very short clips.Mentioned in this episode:Dr. Don Kilhefner (Listen to Wisdom of the Tribal Elder with Dr. Don Kilhefner from S1)Don on Social Media:FacebookInstagramTwitterSister Unity (Listen to The Queer Hero's Journey with Sister Unity episode)Sister on Social Media:YoutubeTwitterFacebookInstagram Get connected:Subscribe to my newsletter and blog on our website.Email me directly at mike@gerlemen.com.Or join the conversation on Facebook.And, for your viewing pleasure, find us on YouTube. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

Dear listeners - join us next week for our Sex, Love & Relationships virtual workshop!!We'd love to see you join the discussion and connect in real-time. xoHello GerleMen listeners.She is hilarious. She is irreverent. She is devastating in her academic acumen and her theatrical talent.And, although we may be laughing, her messages are packed with wisdom and insights many listeners will find life-affirming.While we pause our regular episodes and prepare a spectacular Season 2 of the GerleMen Podcast, we’d like you to enjoy some short, bonus episodes, co-hosted by my dear friend and rambunctious orange Nun, Sister Unity of the Los Angeles House of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.So enjoy the show my friends! We’ve packed all this awesomeness into some very short clips.Mentioned in this episode:Rev. Jesse Brune-Horan: (Listen to Rev. Jesse: Just F-ing Love Each Other from S1) Jesse on Social Media:FacebookInstagramJoel Benjamin. (Listen to The Union of Sex & Spirit with Yogi Joel Benjamin from S1)Joel on Social Media:FacebookInstagramTwitterYogaSmithSeattle.comSister Unity: Listen to the 1st Episode of the podcast with the hilarious Sister Unity.Sister Unity on Social Media:YoutubeTwitterFacebookInstagram Get connected:Subscribe to my newsletter and blog on our website.Email me directly at mike@gerlemen.com.Or join the conversation on Facebook.And, for your viewing pleasure, find us on YouTube. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe

Hello GerleMen listeners.She is hilarious. She is irreverent. She is devastating in her academic acumen and her theatrical talent.And, although we may be laughing, her messages are packed with wisdom and insights many listeners will find life-affirming.While we pause our regular episodes and prepare a spectacular Season 2 of the GerleMen Podcast, we’d like you to enjoy some short, bonus episodes, co-hosted by my dear friend and rambunctious orange Nun, Sister Unity of the Los Angeles House of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.So enjoy the show my friends! We’ve packed all this awesomeness into some very short clips.Mentioned in this episode:Don Kilhefner (Listen to Wisdom of the Tribal Elder: From Revolutionary to Eldering with Dr. Don Kilhefner episode from S1)Don on Social Media:FacebookTwitterInstagramListen to the very 1st Episode of the podcast with our beloved Sister Unity where we talk about The Queer Hero's Journey.Sister Unity on Social Media:YoutubeTwitterFacebookInstagramSister Unity (Listen to The Queer Hero's Journey with Sister Unity episode)Sister on Social Media:YoutubeTwitterFacebookInstagram Get connected:Subscribe to my newsletter and blog on our website.Email me directly at mike@gerlemen.com.Or join the conversation on Facebook.And, for your viewing pleasure, find us on YouTube. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe