Traditional gay hook-up spots like the bars or the baths are out because you have no ID, and everyone's scared to try the public-toilet thing because they might end up with George Michael. The rave scene used to fill that void until scary straights moved in and tainted The Love. That's the problem: Wherever gay kids gather they are followed by gay-bashers and midnight vultures who flock in for the feed. After all, gay men want to be where the boys are.
My gay teen years were unremittingly bleak. I went to one pathetic GLBT alliance picnic in ninth grade, but the unholy mixture of socially maladjusted closeted high school counselors and the motley handful of kids who were out just made me sad. All I had to choose from was a crack-addicted bisexual girl and a goth boy who smelled bad. Larger events were no betterthere was something limply forced about the "GLBT Rave" I went to. Like Kurfew.
The lack of options made my teen years a smattering of unsatisfying flings with guys I had no interest inmost much older than me. Finally, at age 19, I found Travis. He's 20. In choosing him I virtually forfeited my sex ticket to the elite, my access to success, but so what? My reward is equality. We've been through the same things, and we can help each other to outgrow the long string of emotional mistakes that constitutes young gay life. Plus, he's my very own boy.
I like guys my own age, but what about when I get old? Will my taste in men age with meor will I become a chicken hawk, too? Will I tolerate bitchy idiot kids just to get at their hairless chests? Will arrogant boys write articles indicting me? Only time will tell.