There’s no more inane question to me than one of the most frequently uttered in the gay community than, "Are you a top or a bottom?"
I literally can’t tell you the intense negative visceral reaction that it causes.
Technically I am top.
And by that I mean I have never been fucked in the ass.
This is not to say the notion hasn’t occurred to me. I think early on in dating life, my “top” status was driven mostly by my intense phobia of acquiring HIV more than anything.
Also putting things in your butt hurts the first few times for the most part.
My first boyfriend and I dated, on and off, for over eight years.
In that time we consummated (i.e. fucked) maybe a handful of times. People give me weird looks when I tell them that, and I guess for a lot of people for whom fucking is the end and all and be all (or at least a good 90 percent) of sex, that makes sense.
Ryan and I were best friends first and foremost, and we’re both truly versatile in all senses of the word - I think. A lot of our sexual experiences revolved around our adolescent- or college-aged fantasies (we both had played NCAA sports in college) and was definitely more mental than anything else. Our intense friendship which begat the relationship, and physical similarities, added to an intense attraction and love that stays with me to this day.
That’s to say, our sex life involved a lot of dirty talk, foreplay, porn, and jockstraps.
And ecstasy.
It was the '90s after all.
Also if ever there was a time I was going to bottom, it would have been with him.
But alas, unlike Goldie Locks, we couldn't find "just right" and he proved too big for what I was comfortable with.
My next two relationships I was the top in, and involved more fucking, but also led to what I thought was a funny sort of role play in my own life.
I often wore my hat backwards, I was athletic, I was outwardly “straight” acting. I was also very loudly out, but I found myself often playing a version of me that wasn’t an act per se, just a certain combination of actual elements of myself that interacted with the person I was talking to’s perception of me seamlessly.
I remember once going to the Lure, which was a legendary leather club in New York City’s meatpacking district. Every Wednesday, they had an “open” night called ‘Pork’ that allowed the non-diehard leather, Chelsea, and East Village gay boys to dip their toe in the fetish laden bar.
My memories of nights at the Lure are highly titillating, yet at the time, they required copious amount of beer drinking to get to the point I felt even vaguely comfortable talking to, let alone participating in anything with, some of the guys. But one interaction has always indelibly remained in my mind.
This hot guy wearing a leather harness and other superhot accoutrements came up to me, a self-identified “top,” when I was just buzzed enough to make eye contact, and not knowing the proper etiquette of my surroundings, I simply nodded “S’up” (wearing a backwards baseball cap, navy blue Del the Funky Homosapien hoodie, baggy jeans, and Adidas) to which he replied “Get over here boy and get on your knees.”
I literally can’t tell you the intense negative visceral reaction that it causes.
Technically I am top.
And by that I mean I have never been fucked in the ass.
This is not to say the notion hasn’t occurred to me. I think early on in dating life, my “top” status was driven mostly by my intense phobia of acquiring HIV more than anything.
Also putting things in your butt hurts the first few times for the most part.
My first boyfriend and I dated, on and off, for over eight years.
In that time we consummated (i.e. fucked) maybe a handful of times. People give me weird looks when I tell them that, and I guess for a lot of people for whom fucking is the end and all and be all (or at least a good 90 percent) of sex, that makes sense.
Ryan and I were best friends first and foremost, and we’re both truly versatile in all senses of the word - I think. A lot of our sexual experiences revolved around our adolescent- or college-aged fantasies (we both had played NCAA sports in college) and was definitely more mental than anything else. Our intense friendship which begat the relationship, and physical similarities, added to an intense attraction and love that stays with me to this day.
That’s to say, our sex life involved a lot of dirty talk, foreplay, porn, and jockstraps.
And ecstasy.
It was the '90s after all.
Also if ever there was a time I was going to bottom, it would have been with him.
But alas, unlike Goldie Locks, we couldn't find "just right" and he proved too big for what I was comfortable with.
My next two relationships I was the top in, and involved more fucking, but also led to what I thought was a funny sort of role play in my own life.
I often wore my hat backwards, I was athletic, I was outwardly “straight” acting. I was also very loudly out, but I found myself often playing a version of me that wasn’t an act per se, just a certain combination of actual elements of myself that interacted with the person I was talking to’s perception of me seamlessly.
I remember once going to the Lure, which was a legendary leather club in New York City’s meatpacking district. Every Wednesday, they had an “open” night called ‘Pork’ that allowed the non-diehard leather, Chelsea, and East Village gay boys to dip their toe in the fetish laden bar.
My memories of nights at the Lure are highly titillating, yet at the time, they required copious amount of beer drinking to get to the point I felt even vaguely comfortable talking to, let alone participating in anything with, some of the guys. But one interaction has always indelibly remained in my mind.
This hot guy wearing a leather harness and other superhot accoutrements came up to me, a self-identified “top,” when I was just buzzed enough to make eye contact, and not knowing the proper etiquette of my surroundings, I simply nodded “S’up” (wearing a backwards baseball cap, navy blue Del the Funky Homosapien hoodie, baggy jeans, and Adidas) to which he replied “Get over here boy and get on your knees.”
