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When Did Gay Men Get So Chubby?
A recent drop by a gay bar proved to be a self-reinforcing eye-opener.
I guess I should start this piece by confiding that, even though my latest solo visit to a gay bar left me feeling pangs of loneliness and isolation — no surprise there — it made me feel a whole lot better about my imperfect physique.
Why? Because I discovered that queer fellas these days bear a stronger resemblance to me than to Mr. Universe. I was pleased to observe that, within the environs of at least one particular gay watering hole, the obsession with physical perfection seems to have subsided.
A recent weekend’s calendar marked something I always look forward to: the monthly meeting of my local Pacific Northwest HOW sub-group. (HOW, which stands for Husbands Out to Wives, is an international support group for out gay and bi men who are married to women, or were married to women when they came out.)
Following our third-Saturday-of-the-month confab at Portland’s Q Center, a core group of us have a tradition of trundling down Mississippi Avenue arm-in-arm to a certain casual, relatively inexpensive restaurant for a nosh and some less structured, more spontaneous, light-hearted repartee.
This shared outing gives us a chance to hang out as queer pals for a few extra…
