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I know there are other “young adults” like me out there who are frustrated by this; I’ve talked to them before (yes, sometimes I do actually associate with my peers). When I was still at community college, I remember hearing at least one girl lament that she couldn’t find a lesbian bar that wasn’t 21+ where she could go and openly meet and dance with other queer women. Even when school is in session, you really feel the need to occasionally escape often-incestuous queer group of you college (sometimes you don’t want to make out with someone and have to see them in your Economics class on Monday). At least, Apex, for the mixed feelings people had about it, was actually a place where gay 18+ young adults could go hang out and dance (there was even a weekly free night for college students), but it has recently shut down. That pretty much leaves us up shit’s creek until something changes.

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I seek some other connection that is not in the darkness of the backroom, or the anonymity of the Internet. Is sexual liberation merely letting it all hang-out? What I find revolutionary is getting beyond the shadows. Actual connections are what are really revolutionary. Men have been fucking other men in the shadows for thousands of years: Nothing is new about that. But allowing two men to love each other in the open, now that is revolutionary and something I can get behind.

Columns, Commentary, Ideas, Not Your Average Prom Queen »

There is something wonderful about being a part of a generation that believes so strongly in change. In revolution. In limitlessness. There is also a deep felt sadness and disappointment associated with this membership.

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Spawn of Cher, Chaz Bono, has been making the media rounds in promotion of his new documentary and book that detail his transition from female to male. Canonball’s James Worsdale examines Chaz’s interactions with a clueless, curious and caustic public, particularly around the apparently touchy subject of fellow child to celebrity parents, Shiloh Jolie-Pitt.

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If you wish to stay in touch, considering joining the sex positive book club I am organizing for the summer. You can email me directly at dominvontana[at]gmail.com. I’ll see you next fall.

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As the singularly most exceptional source for factual denotations, Urban Dictionary presents this definition of ‘gay root’: “early signs of being gay, things that affect the formation of one’s queerness.” The definition goes on to present examples of gay roots such as ‘the love of ABBA, and musical theatre.’ I myself was never a fan of ABBA, but in reflection on my somewhat sordid childhood, there exists unequivocal evidence of my rampant homo-status very early on. Fifth grade arguably remains the queerest year of my existence, though it would be years before I’d discover my affinity for asymmetrical haircuts, literary tattoos, or you know, actually sleeping with women.

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I’d like to bury the word “troll” as an epithet for older gay men. I’ve come to realize it simply cannot be reclaimed. The word “queer” connotes oddness, or outside the norm, and I don’t have a problem with that, given the sheep-like behavior of the norm in our culture. But the word “troll” connotes a being of otherness, implying that older gay men are not even of the same species as younger gay men – after all we don’t refer to younger gay men as “troll-lets”. Not only that, but it connotes something lurking, evil and predatory. Older gay men deserve better.

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The word “fabulous” is horribly ill. It actually called me up the other day, lying on its death bed, begging and pleading for me to help raise awareness of its fragile state. Confused, I asked Fabulous what was wrong and was saddened but not shocked to learn that it’s being dreadfully overused. Fabulous is worn so thin that it hardly carries any meaning any longer, and that’s when a word begins to fade and eventually die. I told Fabulous I’d do my best to help, and what follows is my humble attempt.

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The title of this post is the punchline of perhaps the most cutting of all gay jokes: What are the five gay ages? Quite possibly it’s cutting since perhaps none of the five ages are appealing to the majority of the mainstream gay culture.

The thing is, likely no one fits any of these stereotypes to a tee. And even more likely, every gay man exhibits a few traits from each “age” no matter how old they are. But why do we feel the need to classify our entire community into more and more niche stereotypes? Is it to help us better understand each other or — more likely — to fragment our community even further? To transform more of “us” into “the other” so that we can feel superior in comparing ourselves to “them”?

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Growing up in rural Montana, I was laughed at anytime I expressed an interest in wearing something besides blue jeans and flannel. There wasn’t a Vogue magazine for miles and this was before the world went online. Fashion was some great mystery that I was drawn towards wordlessly and uncontrollably. I was desperate to be able to express, and justify this interest of mine to my peers but I didn’t even understand what style was at that time. Now I think it’s time to up the ante.