Reunion Generation

I belong to a generation of people who lived their lives going from one social sphere to another. Through the levels of education - elementary, junior high (now called middle school), high school proper, college, then grad school for some. In amongst those social milieus, there were others - various clubs, organizations, sports groups, etc. We moved in a progression through school, and in and out of activities, all the time meeting new people and making new friends. While we would carry some friends onward, and turn some aquaintences into friends, our steady march through school meant that we would have to lose touch with some people as we changed locations. Sure, some of those people stayed in our spheres, but the vast majority did not. It was a badge of maturity to leave high school and everyone you knew and loved and go to college somewhere else. Sure it was scary, but necessary - necessary for growth, we thought. If someone held on too tightly to the past - if they insisted on going to every high school football game once they started college - we saw them as somewhat flawed. It was imperative that we move forward, and a big part of that movement meant separating from one social circle and creating a new, often more diverse group around us.

Still, it wasn't like we wouldn't see our old old friends ever again. That was what reunions were for. Coming back to that homecoming game. Running into one of your best buddies at the mall. Keeping touch through holiday cards. And looking forward to the pinnacle event of them all - the organized reunion. We kept in touch with the major changes, high points and low points of our best friends through these tools. While we knew about computers, none of us had one. The PC didn't exist. Our biggest technical challenge was learning to type on an IBM Selectric. There was no Internet helping our communications fly at the speed of light.

There is a generally-used name for my generation - Baby Boomers (Boomers for short.) We define ourselves by our forward motion, by how many new people we can meet, become intimate with, pull into our ideas, or impress. We always look forward, to the next group of people, consigning those times we look back to those officially-sanctioned reunions.

Take a look at this great post by Seth Godin, which got me thinking about the Reunion Generation. In Facebook's generational challenge, Seth talks about how he's not used to using Facebook the way younger generations use it. He relates a small tale about a college student he knows who was able to contact tons of people in her upcoming class, so that everyone knew everybody before they set foot on campus.

This is, to me, related to information I've read about how the "younger generations" continue to be involved in their friends' lives through My Space, Facebook, and social media on the Web.

They build on their circle of friends as they go along. No need to move on to the next social circle, when you can keep everyone abreast of your life - and they, you - on a daily basis through online networks. I'm guessing that they don't see this continual contact as a negative thing, the way we in the Reunion Generation might. Their definitions of maturity don't involved sailing away from one shore and losing contact with the island altogether in search of the next beach.

And A Rock Feels No Pain
This week, the Washington Post's health section ran a number of articles all about men. I gravitated to "The Masculine Singular: Social Isolation Is Hazardous to Men's Health, but Many Find It Hard to Open Up." At my age, I find it harder and harder to meet people who aren't already coupled. So I thought the article might have some thoughts on what to do about the whole problem. After spotlighting some Harvard research showing social isolation is hazardous to a man's health (who knew?), the article gave these options for venturing off that deserted island:

Join a group;
Take a chance (i.e., open up to another guy);
Consider women (as friends);
Get married (um, I can't, legally);
Remember, you're not alone (kinda hard, when that's the problem!);
Be a man (and courageously deal with whatever emotional problems you have).

I finished the article, yet felt I hadn't learned much. I did feel that the article was a bit heterosexist, laying out solutions that would work for a straight guy (like the marriage idea), without taking into account the fact that gay men may feel just as isolated, if not more so. DC's got a large gay male population, and it's not a stretch to predict that a couple of those guys read the article. You may see a few of these guys dining alone, if you walk by Annie's on 17th street on any evening around 6pm or so.

I further found it odd that the Post would run the article online, along with the others in the series, graced by a perfectly muscular shirtless torso (photo detail above, next to this post's title), which would definitely catch the eyes of gay men - and maybe even some straight women.

So what are the options for a guy like me?

Living in DC - Some snippets of good customer service
I've complained for awhile about the lousy customer service I've gotten over the past few months. Now it's time for me to talk about some good experiences I've had recently.

It Was Easy: My cordless phone broke, and the manufacturer seemed to think it was the battery. I wasn't so sure. I went to Staples south of Dupont Circle and asked an employee what he thought the problem might be. "You know," he said, "if you buy the battery and that's not the problem, you have 14 days to bring it back." I didn't even have to ask. It turned out the phone was broken - and the new battery didn't help. I took it back and they immediately refunded my money. It was easy.

Invisible to the Customer: I'm Wi-Fi-ing my laptop. My awesome computer guy at work suggested some routers and where to purchase them online. I went to Pricegrabber and ordered one from TigerDirect. I didn't put any special rush on it. That was Monday night. It got to my condo yesterday afternoon!

...and one that's not really "customer service" but just a message from a really nice guy:

Personal Training: I got an email last night from PD, my personal trainer at Gold's for most of last year. He was transferred to another gym near the end of August. Something had reminded him of me and he wanted to know if I was still hitting the gym and hoped everything was going well.

Now I'm just hoping that the Gods of Marketing and Other Disasters don't feel the need to rain down misery on me for the next few weeks. Especially since I'm currently getting enough of that at work!

Lure of the List
From Erte of Reho comes the question:
Why would anyone want to be an A-Lister?

Money. Power. Fame. But those are the boring reasons. Let's look a little deeper. I think it's because:

1. who doesn't like attention?
2. who doesn't like attention from someone with high (positive) visibility?
3. who doesn't like to feel as the fellow does in the Gaping Void cartoon (above)?

I think that way down deep inside, those of us who dream of the A-List have some very specific wants and needs in mind. Let's take some examples from, let's see - how about the gay community? Entry into the A-List there means:

1. you instantly morph into a "body of death."
2. you acquire a perfect and stunning boyfriend.
3. whatever is currently making you miserable (Saturday nights spent alone, walking into a bar and not knowing a single soul, personal invisibility) is irrevocably banished from your existence.
4. you become haphazardly and irreversibly happy.

Of course, alcohol can mimic a number of the items above, except for #2.

How can you tell if you are desperate to gain entry to the A-List?
1. you suffer from "I want what I can't have" syndrome.
2. you feel "there's a party going on and I'm not invited."
3. you watch E!
4. you're juicing.

But, like all lures, once you're actually caught by the A-List hook, you find yourself pulled in another environment altogether...

More About the A-Listers
Mack at The Viral Garden has this to say about A-list bloggers linking to Z-list bloggers:

Hugh's [Gaping Void] exactly right. He has every right to totally ignore any blogger that's not an A-Lister.

But my question is, 'Why in the world would you want to do that?'

When you start deciding which blogger's content is or is not worthy of your attention, based on something as arbitrary as their link count, you aren't hurting them, you're hurting yourself.

Which goes back to my original question: "Why in the world would you want to do that?"

Every time I read something about A-List bloggers and Z-List bloggers, I'm reminded of the same language we use in the gay community -- specifically, the "A-List" gays. I've been to parties full of "A-Listers" and had no fun at all. They're usually not so friendly scenes, and sometimes rather painful to navigate. Filled with people who want you to look up to them, but not engage with them.

Of course, I'm making sweeping generalizations. And I could tell you stories about people who I thought were A-Listers, then entered my life in strange or wonderful or grandly emotional ways.

Still, it's interesting that the concept has taken hold in the blogging community, turning this wide-open space into yet another place where you're ranked by what are ultimately the same old standards.

So I say Hooray for Mack! Generally seen as an A-List blogger, he's helping tear down the barriers we all keep setting up between each other!

All About The List
"Do A-Listers have a responsibility to link to Z-Listers?" I think not. Even if you've got a huge amount readers, it's your blog, not the blogosphere's blog." Gaping Void

On the January/February Atlantis cruise, one couple caught quite a bit of attention at dances and dinners. One of the guys was tall, goodlooking, muscular, dark wavy hair. You know the type. The other one was good looking too - and much much shorter. You never saw one without the other. And the prevailing question among us all was: "What's the exact nature of this relationship?"

We came up with that question because they were odd, because we in the gay community are so used to seeing couples that are composed of guys who pretty much reflect each other. Bears with bears. Muscle guys with muscle guys. Young with young. Older with older.

We seldom see this kind of difference in one couple. And yet, it wasn't all that much of a difference, if you think about it.

And if you do think about it, you come up with: it's all about the list. At least, that's what I come up with. What list you're on dictates who you partner with. Who you link to. A, B, Z... Moderately handsome (though no slouches) forty/fifty year olds hang together. 19.5 inch biceps hang together. Thirty-two year old model/lawyers hang together.

When we'd run across this couple, the differences we saw kept us from believing that these guys were together because they themselves chose to be together - without a previously-arranged business agreement. The List dictated our conclusions. Tall guy and short guy? Not a chance.

Do A-listers have the responsibility to date Z-listers? I think not. The discourse on desire maintains everyone has the right to choose who they want. However, I'm somewhat disturbed in the pedestrian nature of my current thinking - and my willingness to believe only what my eyes see.

Mr. Where
Queer Sighted's post "I'm never going to find Mr. Right" addresses a problem not just confined to New York city... namely, the single gay man's lamentation on the lack of datable guys out there.

Post author Richard Rothstein advocates for us to get involved through gay and lesbian community centers, and he nails the reason so many men don't:

"Most of us know of but claim to be too busy or too cool to try the political, social or cultural organization route, but that, my friends, is where the husbands are to be found."

He's definitely got a point. Lately I've been pursuing the DC bar scene, mainly because that's where my friends (mostly couples) show up. And I've never gotten more than two dates out of any guy I've met in a bar.

Trouble is, I haven't had that much luck going the organization route either. And I've burned out on them. Over the past couple of dozen years, I've been:

A church-going member of Dignity Washington;
A helpline volunteer and youth group coordinator for SMYAL;
A Saturday-morning regular with Front Runners;
A coxswain for DC Strokes Rowing Club;
A bass in the Gay Men's Chorus of Washington;
A cycler in the Philadelphia-DC AIDS Ride;
A participant in numerous AIDS walks;
A 1999 award recipient from the Arch and Bruce Brown Foundation.

I've been to Provincetown, Fire Island, West Hollywood and Mykonos, sailed on four gay cruises, and spent countless weekends in Reho. I've alternated searching with giving up and not caring. And I'm chronically single. I've gone through numerous therapists, trying to isolate and treat the problem, but no luck. Is it me? Is it DC?

One friend, part of a couple, asked me "Are you happy?" I answered "About 50/50." "Well," he added, "I'm about 60/40, so being in a relationship doesn't change things all that much."

A fellow "singleton" claims guys are intimidated by me, because I'm solid, drama-free, and all about being "real" and "honest" (which doesn't mean "full disclosure) and "who I am." "They can sense those things in you, and it frightens them," he says.

"Actually," I answer back, "I don't think DC guys sense anything."

So is it the guys out there, or am I just too picky?