Wednesday, April 10, 2019

DATING APOCALYPSE

Since December I’ve been awaiting a six-week in-patient treatment program for my eating disorder. As I’ve had traumatic experiences in hospital before, I pushed for a three-month group home option instead. Unfortunately, the medical team feels my symptoms are serious enough to require hospitalization first. (That’s right, my six weeks in hospital may be followed up with three months in the group home.) Seems my forty years of eating disordered behaviors really did a number on me.

Knowing I’ll be stepping out of real life for a significant chunk of time, I’ve told myself that dating is not an option. After all, it’s far from ideal beginning a relationship with hospital visits as part of the courtship. So no dating.

Still, there’s a little dreamer inside me—persistent sucker—that says this is when it happens. Off the market, I’m suddenly of interest.

But, no. There hasn’t been some hunky dude trying to strike up a conversation with me on an elevator. I haven’t had some dreamboat wanting to share my bench at the gym. An adorkable man hasn’t asked me about the ripeness of melons at the grocery store. I’m as invisible as I’ve ever been.

Same goes for online. I may tell myself that I broke up with the dating apps (or we’re taking an extended break), but it feels like the apps dumped me first. My inbox is empty. Always. I’ve even wondered if OkCupid is working anymore. Maybe the site shut down so no new messages are possible. For anyone. Ah, delusion. I wear it well.

I should correct something. I’m not as invisible as ever. I’m more invisible, if that’s even possible. I guess I knew it was coming. It’s part of being fifty-something. The younger set doesn’t notice you. Not even the forty-nine year olds. In gay culture, you’re supposed to step on an iceberg and float away. I do like the cold but I’m a little afraid of polar bears. Cute but beastly. So no thank you to the iceberg. No thank you even to Palm Springs. I am the walking dead in Vancouver. Without the zombie allure.

Technically, I should have company. There should be some other fifty-somethings, newly or perennially single. But I can’t identify them. Some have wisely decided to live as shut-ins, taking advantage of home delivery groceries and restaurants that hire cyclists to bring a jumbo burger and double order of fries to their door. Older gay men online have taken to lying about their age. A “fifty-five year old” is really mid to late sixties if not seventy-three. The fifties set pretends to be forty-two, maybe forty-five,...something far enough away from that dreaded half-century milestone. It’s blatant lying mixed with wishful thinking and the cop-out line, Everybody does it. In some ways, I get it. I too wonder how the hell I ever became fifty-four. I still feel thirty-four. I still want to believe I look that age. Or forty-four. It’s true, I’ve had people tell me I don’t look my age (although that’s become a much rarer occurrence). Basically, fifty-somethings are in hiding. So how are we supposed to find each other?

But, again, I’m not supposed to be thinking about such things. I’m supposed to have chosen this dateless predicament. I should really be focused on eating more and exercising less. Still, it doesn’t feel good, knowing that six weeks from my hospital admission—or six weeks and three months from then—I’ll be facing datelessness for real.

Maybe ice floes aren’t so bad. Maybe polar bears won’t sniff me either!

Monday, April 1, 2019

"IDOL" EVOLUTION

“American Idol” is no longer the juggernaut that it was when it debuted in 2002 and during the first half dozen seasons that followed. Many have switched their allegiance to “The Voice” or “The Masked Singer” or given up on talent competitions to binge-watch buzzier shows on Netflix. 

I took several years off from viewing but gave it another shot when “Idol” switched from Fox to ABC. I tend to multitask while it’s on, but the show still resonates with me. As a writer, I can relate to people in creative fields desperately pursuing their dreams, looking to build an audience, hoping to break through despite the fact that “Idol” winners now fade from memory a week after the season finale. They sing, they compete because they’re compelled to do so. I write on for the same reason.

One area of positive change on “American Idol” involves its openness in showcasing gay contestants. In the early seasons, I’d cringe when Ryan Seacrest and Simon Cowell exchanged gay putdown banter. I also hated when, in 2003, Clay Aiken competed (ultimately becoming runner up) as Joe Public speculated, derisively, over his sexuality. Indeed, Aiken remained silent during his time in the limelight and waited until 2008 to finally come out as gay.

Last night on “Idol”, the forty remaining contestants were pared down to the Top 20. At least two of them are openly gay men. I’d worried that, in casting its elite group, “Idol” would only welcome one as the token gay guy. So far both Ryan Hammond and Jeremiah Lloyd Harmon are still in the running. (The group will be cut to fourteen, perhaps as early as tonight.)

The first to make it through was Ryan Hammond. He spoke of missing his boyfriend Chris who couldn’t make the trip to Hawaii. Ryan dedicated his cover of Donny Hathaway’s “A Song for You” to Chris.

I love you in a place
Where there's no space or time
I love you for my life
You're a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone
And I was singing this song to you

In an interview clip, Ryan said of his performance, “I was just thinking about Chris at home so I hope I did it justice for him.”

As Katy Perry, told Ryan he’d made the Top 20, she said, “I think you’re probably finding out who you are in general for the first time so whatever you’ve been saying to yourself has been really working for you.”

Jeremiah Lloyd Harmon’s story has been more prominent this season. The son of a pastor, he worked as a janitor at the church, but he left home because his parents don’t accept him for being gay. With his boyfriend John in the audience—and identified as such by “Idol”, Jeremiah dedicated his performance of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” to his parents. 

Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'
'Cause I've built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm gettin' older, too

Of his performance, Jeremiah said, “I’m doing this for me. I’m doing this for everyone who’s been outcast by their loved ones…If I can be open about it and vulnerable, then maybe that could bring hope to somebody else.”

Katy again, delivered the news about advancing in the competition. “I just want to say from one pastor’s kid to another that I see you and I love you and I accept you and I’m so proud of you.” Jeremiah hugged his boyfriend twice during his clip last night and the camera even stayed on the couple as they shared a kiss.

My, “Idol”, you’ve come a long way. But it’s not just the show. Here we have two openly gay young men being their true selves on a show still seen my more than nine million people, many from middle America.  Hats off to them. While many have indeed moved on from “Idol” days, I’ll keep watching.