The heat of the moment


You know what is really funny?
That after two weeks in Miami, the one time we set foot in a bar was for about seven minutes. Seriously. Funny, how one word that usually defines us (at least to all those wingnuts who have no other thing to do that think about what other people do in bed) crossed our minds once in all that time. And it felt good. It felt good beacuse for awhile it felt like a fun, sexy, alive game.
And Miami is not short in the gay element, mind you. What with all the closeted and on the down low Latin and foreign men who seem to teem in the streets and hyper-cool shopping centers that pop up in the middle of those never ending five-lane speedways.
The quotient of sexiness seems to go with up with the Fahrenheit degrees a place usually sports. Or it may be the beach vibe that permeates every single corner of the city. Or it may be the fact that this is one of the places where you come to realize that men do have asses. Pants –or even better, jeans- that fit is not a staple in Ohio. Whereas in Miami they were everywhere. And the good think is that it’s not limited to gay men. Straight men seem also very body-conscious (and sometimes unconscious, as it is the case in the Hollywood beach, that has more of the over-forty crowd) and so you get an eyeful of male physique every seven minutes.
I find that awareness refreshing. Mostly because the American male seems totally reticent to let himself be considered a sex object. Mostly the straight ones, mind you, because the gay male is basically a slave of his physical appearance and either makes it the premise of his raison d’être whereas the straight male hides it in baggy pants and board shorts.
But it was fun to go to those places. It was new and exciting. For a few hours.

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