I see the look hormonally charged teenagers have lab at the moment they discover their pulling power They are their own delicious love object But teenagers get over it. Finally, that love must be let free, so it may flow out, to another. I gaze at the gathered and blog see a sort of seething, collective Sisyphus, rolling that blog stone up the hill, always and forever.I sip and try to make sense, twisting away from the bar when blog a hand lands on my butt and squeezes; the hand is expert - it might be a sensible housewife testing the firmness of a ripe honeydew.Another guy approaches Panic. I pick up a gay freesheet called Boyz (ask yourself why test it's not called Grown Upz) and there's all this tanned, hard flesh and jokes about rent boys. I remember a few months ago a lab friend pointing out a Boyz interview with two rent boys about how they loved their jobs, and their customers, and lab test wasn't it fun, and I put the thing down, think about blog children running away from home and having to peddle yourself on the streets, and blog what gay lab men want to hear, and then I pick up Capital Gay and Stonewall is fighting with Outrage! which is fighting with the universe, so I gulp my 20 per cent proof and shove my way to the loos, fit to burst.Men cluster test around the toilet mirrors test I look lab test at them looking.

Because commodities either don't work, date, become obsolete or simply lose their novelty and you have to start at the very beginning (a very bad place to start) again.At the bar, a bearded man flips a beer mat, over and over. As I hand my money over, I realise I'm feeding the gay urban machine, the hot, throbbing engine of consumerism. For the subculture pivots on the three Ps: purchase, promise and pleasure - though the promise that the purchase will transform you, make you more desirable, happier, is a hollow one, and pleasure keeps flying from your grasp. I push through the throng, avoiding eye contact, "playing hard to get". I can't see him for the labels - the smell of CK1 (imported aftershave of the hour), the Levi 501s, the John Richmond top.

Who are you under all that? Why are you looking for someone who looks exactly the same? Narcissism or safety in numbers?I haven't hit the bottle in years But I need a drink. I look around (no middle-aged men, no old men, only youth or the carefully tended illusion of it) and can't quite understand how gratification can be so easily confused with fun A guy shoves past, pausing to give some attitude. Only I do want to talk about it, because I can't stop wishing for something I think I can no longer have, can't stop thinking about being brutally jettisoned from contentment (and I was content for life, I thought, dumb and dumber me) into .. this.I hate it.Actually, I hate gay men Loathe them with a snap-frozen passion. They probably think I'm playing the game, the game of hooded look, body talk, glancing touch, secret smirks.I'm scared.I haven't been to a gay bar, a gay disco, a gay anything in .. how many years? Didn't need to Didn't want to Was happy Then .. let's not get into it The pain is too raw. He looks out of place, like a flower in a factory.I feel out of place Painfully Guys have been hitting on me since I came in.