I've heard it plenty, and I'm not sure if you all have... but for some reason, there is a faction that feels like it's necessary for men to be comfortable with male intimacy.
It's an argument used most often when illustrating the male aversion to homosexual acts between two males, the gut-wrenching, nauseating feeling I know I get when thinking of two dudes getting it on. It couldn't possibly be that one thinks that sort of thing is a little gross; heck, I get a little queasy seeing a heterosexual couple getting hot and heavy in public. No, no... it has to be "oh, you're just not in touch with your male intimacy."
Excuse me?
I dunno. I mean, I personally don't care what two people do in the PRIVACY of their bedrooms. In fact, I fully support the rights of homosexuals (though I don't think anyone should get SPECIAL treatment), and gay marriage (though I think the church that performs the marriage has a right to decide if they want to support gay marriage). And I have no problems interacting or speaking with homosexuals.
It's the touching I have a problem with.
And the innuendo.
For example, on Halloween, I went out dressed as a Catholic priest with an "altar boy" in tow. This "altar boy" was simply a baby doll I borrowed from my girlfriend, who lent it to me reluctantly. Seems she was a little worried about what state it would return in...
Most of the night, people either laughed in approval or groaned at the wrongness of it all, which was my desired intent. We made our way to a bar on the street, where drunken masses of people march in costume, usually females in the form of some "naughty" variation of every day things, and males in superhero costumes or a costume designed specifically to get laid. We got away from the crowd and found a window seat to watch them trickle by, almost like watching bugs in a terranium. But, later that evening, I faced one of those surreal moments, almost cartoonish.
If you've ever watched a cartoon, you'll probably remember at least one of them where an angel and a devil perches themselves on either shoulder of the protagonist, usually in a situation of indecision. These holy figures take the form of the protagonist usually, albeit with wings and halo or horns and tail, and are pretty much the literal representation of the human conscience.
Anyway, the demonic form of the conscience decided to make an appearance at the bar we were sitting in, shirtless and in a red feather boa, wearing horns and smoking a cigarette. He sauntered up to me.
"So, you're a child molester, huh?"
I was in character, and as any good actor, I stayed in character.
"Yes, yes I am, my child."
Then I proceeded to cause the doll to make faux-naughty in my privates.
Apparently, this was not the best manuever, as the fruity devil sat down next to me, uncomfortably close.
"So, you're a child molester."
It was getting hotter in the room, as if Hell was rising.
"Uh, yes..."
"Well, I'm five."
Whoa! Zing! Hold it there, my friend!
"Uh... haha.. you're too old for me then!"
"No, I'm five. Come on, whip it out."
"um, no."
At that, the demon flew away. I think I heard hissing, perhaps smelled sulfur and brimstone. Perhaps. But I wasn't angry, just very confused. Then I realized that I probably asked for it by dressing up as a pornographer.
An awkward situation, to say the least. But it got me thinking, "am I really comfortable with male intimacy?" And, after about 5 seconds of thinking about hugging the sweaty demonfruit, I decided, no. No I am NOT comfortable with male intimacy.
I've always been in touch with my emotions and feelings, but I don't usually go spouting them off to other dudes. Rather, I reserve that for my female friends. I am a pretty firm believer in male-female intimacy, only on a personal level, both physically and mentally. That's not to say that I've never divulged emotions to another guy, but it's usually emotions of a different nature, "masculine" emotions such as anger, sports excitement, etc, emotions that we men feel like we can relate to one another on in a personal way, but not in a way that says "whip it out, big boy."
What has happened is that society has become so watered down, so politically correct, so over-analyzed, that any time something happens that makes us feel uncomfortable, it has to be immediately attributed to some deeper, darker seated problem. And as a result, it's no longer ok to feel uncomfortable when a homosexual is asking to see your goodies. It's no longer a problem with THEM being perverted (because I know if I asked a girl to show me her boobs at a bar, I'd be slapped and branded an asshole), it's a problem with US not being in touch with some obscure, unnecessary human reaction.
All I know is, I'm a dude, and whatever negative stigma or connotation that carries with it, I'm still proud of it.
And dudes don't hug other dudes, unless there's a handshake involved immediately prior to it, and only one arm is doing the hugging.
