As with anything one perceives an inability to do, the
desire to achieve the seemingly impossible leads to one placing inordinate
importance on the completion of this task, however menial it is in actuality.
This often imagined importance leads to great disappointment when the challenge
is unsuccessfully completed. This theory applies absolutely to me, and my
relationships with men (I use the word relationship as a catch-all, as opposed
to specifically implying a romantic relationship). My relationships with men
are riddled with anxiety because these relationships are the unsurmounted peak,
and it has now reached a point at which my desire to reach the summit of this
peak is not with the aim to take in the view, but simply to prove to myself
that I am capable of achieving such a task.
This mindset has created an infertile environment for
relationships to naturally occur. Rather than allowing relationships to flower
naturally, I tend to the saplings of male friendship with such over-attentive
zeal that I inevitably convince myself I have over-watered them and abandon the
young growth in the absolute belief that I have killed it. Ergo, had I
overwatered it or not, the sapling dies, as I have fled my role or gardener for
fear that I have failed.
The origins of this peculiar situation are barely worth
exploring, such is their complexity. Friendships with boys were not problematic
in my childhood, relationships at this age are simple, unfettered by advanced
concepts of gender and sexuality. Indeed, it was the realisation of my own
sexuality and gender non-conformity that marked the beginning of the
complexities in my relationships with men. I began to form an acute sense of
being different, and both by choice and by way of pre-empting the rejection I
felt sure I would experience, I began to detach myself from the sex that I was
part of. Men became almost universally antagonists. They either represented the
masculinity which I had detached myself from, potential threats to my own
concept of my complete individuality, or potential sexual partners. None of the
above make for comfortable friendships. However, it is the latter two which
prove particularly problematic.
In an early adolescence which was essentially devoid of
interaction with other homosexual and gender non-conforming men, there was
little choice but to become comfortable with a sense of difference. This
becomes an armour developed out of necessity, as you realise that this
confidence is vital tolerating your own isolation. However, this comfortability
becomes dangerous when it is allowed to stagnate too long, as it inevitably
leads to uncomfortability when this sense of individuality is challenged.
Rather than welcoming the appearance of a fellow homosexual male, as you might
during early youth, the other gay male becomes a threat your comfortable
individuality. This is a largely irrational reaction, though is not without its
twisted reasoning. The other gay male is perceived as a threat not only to your
individuality, but your whole identity, which has been formed from adolescence
around the former. On top of this, the fellow homosexual not only challenges
your identity, he also gives you a frame of comparison through which to assess
yourself, which in my case inevitably leads to feelings of insecurity.
The prior becomes all the more potent when paired with the
sexual frustration of an isolated homosexual adolescence. Men occupy a space of
sexual desire, however, this is a plain removed from reality. The men who filled
my adolescent desires were never feasible propositions, being either
heterosexual or clusters of pixels. Sexuality was removed from relationships,
and from any form of exchange. My heterosexual friends were discovering their
sexuality in a different set of circumstances. They were holding each other’s
hands and discovering sexuality concurrent to relationships. Sex was not about
theoretical knowledge, it had been learnt in application. I am afraid of sexual
relationships, not much because of the ‘sexual’, but because of the ‘relationship’
– the prospect of something so enshrined in unobtainable fantasy being part of
my relationship with another human being.
My eventual freedom from this isolation intensifies this, as
every encounter with a homosexual man now comes with the fear of the
unobtainable being possible. The sexual frustrations of my adolescence suddenly
have a target who is, perhaps, feasible. An unobtainable relationship, though
often difficult, has certainty. The fact that it is impossible is a
cold-comfort, for at least you know your position. When such a relationship
become possible, all manner of possibilities open up, both positive and
negative. On the one hand, there could be excitement and optimism. On the
other, there is now new fears, the fear of rejection, of inadequacy. Bound up with
sexual frustration, these fears unload onto the shoulders of friendships with
other homosexual men, sabotaging a friendship with the fear of a sexual
relationship, and the perceived inevitable rejection.
Anxiety is a most effective saboteur, and as it manifests
itself both in regards to identity and sexuality, my relationships with other gay men
are crippled. The circumstances in which I find myself now, living in a
cosmopolitan metropolis and at the start of adulthood, make this problem
impossible to ignore. It is difficult to know how to accomplish the seemingly
impossible, and the understanding of an obstacle does not necessarily render it
easier to overcome. I am afraid that my only reasons may in reality be the
validation that would come with proving myself capable and a primal desire for a
sexual relationship. The former, as I have already mentioned, is
self-defeating. The later is reductive as it suggests that the purpose of relationships
with other gay men is purely romantic/sexual, which should not be the case.
Friendships should be founded on commonality, and neither gender nor sexuality
should create barriers.
I am unsure as to how common my problem is. Representations of
homosexual adolescence do not fully reflect the anxieties I experience, and
as such the hurdles I face seem all the more difficult, as I feel alone in
facing them.
(Another piece, in which I will consider my relationships with heterosexual men, will hopefully follow)
Some light relief as a reward for making it through. Doesn't quite capture
the finer points, but is fun nonetheless.
