A Tale of Two Cultures Part 2

Written by Michael Baumwohl

Part 2: Check, Check, Stalemate

Stalemate

Noun

- A drawing position in chess in which a player is not in checkmate, but has no legal move to play (Stalemate, 2005).

Dating in the Southern California gay scene is a full-life version of the witty and tactful game of chess, in which there is never a guarantee you will win. The white pieces move first by default, but if that player is not careful, the opposition may steal and direct the action of the game. Turn by turn, players must out-skill one another using intellect, deception, and for those with little experience, enough to razzle-dazzle the other side. Much like in the real world, we can see the same rules and patterns apply. Certain pieces may only move to certain spots, one player will start before another, but both players anticipate each other’s very next move.

If you’ve ever stumbled across a gay club, it may seem like an energetic and happy place to spend your Friday night. The vodka flows like water and men are dressed more risqué than any of the male shows in Las Vegas. But to the untrained eye there is a distinct set of rules and regulations that all who wish to play will be subjected to follow, whether they are aware of it or not. Gay men are scrutinized and objectified by one another, much like women are in strip clubs, and are judged from head to toe through classifications of race, “perceived gender,” class status, age, height and muscle build. Within seconds of entering a club, one’s amount of game play will have already been decided. If you’re perceived as a pawn, you may only be allowed to move one space forward, where as if you’re seen as the almighty queen with wide ranges in choice, you may only be limited by pieces standing in your way. Depending on the piece you play, your evening will vary and be defined by these unwritten yet omniscient rules.

What does the movie Dreamgirls, a walk in a nature preserve and a 32-year-old man have in common? My first date—both awkward and random. When I first met Michael, I thought he was tall, dark and handsome—everything a girl dreams of. But wait, I for sure was no girl. Going on a date with a man old enough to have been in junior high when I was born was only part of this strange situation. I lived in Santa Monica at the time and drove all the way down to Long Beach to meet him. I had always assumed that the person who drives is in the “male role,” yet as the date progressed I couldn’t quite draw a clear line of who was who. Michael would talk about his past history, problems with his parents, and I could sense deep emotional distance, which was far less mature than myself. He was smart and seemed to have a deeper side that I never could quite understand. After the walk we went back to his place and watched the musical Dreamgirls, a stereotype even I can’t help laughing at. We cuddled and enjoyed each other’s company, but when he requested more, I declined and it was the last date we ever had. It’s said that you never forget your first, but what first are those people referring to? Your first crush? Your first kiss? He was my first date and my introduction into gay culture, a world consumed by sex, superficiality, stereotypes and variations of the “male” identity. For much of my experiences in the gay community, Michael served as my role model of how I thought the ideal gay man should be: strong, wealthy, tall, athletic, white and masculine. But what Michael lacked is the same thing men seem to lack regardless of sexual orientation, emotional freedom.

A few weeks after my cousin’s graduation party and my first date, I started attending Tigerheat ritually as if every Thursday night was my mass and the DJ was my Messiah. In my opinion, both could create miracles. The club scene at the arena was much like the early years of junior high: the youngest are inexperienced and watch the older age groups interact on a more intimate level. After sitting on the sidelines and getting no results I decided to just dance in the middle and hope that something happened. I should have been more careful of what I wished for. As my eyes made contact with another, I had my first moment of clarity; I was not the only one interested, and it required no words at all. Check, I had him right where I wanted. Check, he had moved towards me. What was to happen next would be one of the wildest and emotionally intense stalemates I wish I could have avoided.

Stalemate. (2005). Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary (p. 1215, 11th ed.).

Massachusetts: Merriam-Webster, Incorporated.