I Heart Chocolate

So, it wouldn't be a finished day if I didn't over-analyze a half dozen things... and on the way home, I had some time to reflect on this weekend at camp.  Some of us were sitting around over the weekend talking about how it was the busiest weekend we've ever seen there and that, with so many more Princes to kiss, why does it end up just being more frogs? 

Campers tend to be a strange bunch.  Usually more earthy-crunchy and free-spirited, it doesn't equate to radical thinkers huddled around a camp fire like a Roosevelt fireside chat or a Camp David summit.  The fact of the matter is, you put 487 gay men on 220 acres in a remote location... add alcoholic lubrication, a clothing-optional policy, thumping music and the heat of the sun... and no matter how you shake it up, it always come down to a primal and carnal desire for sex morning, noon and night, plain and simple.  And for some reason, gay men have to do everything in excess.  Many tattoos... many piercings... much plucking and hair colorings... much hair... much tanning... much drinking... much flirting... much sex... much, many, more.  Everything is pushed over the limit so much that ideas like minimalism and moderation are so far removed, let alone tradionalism.  It is amazing what we, as a gay, dismisses as normal.  It's almost embarrassing.

I know that I tend to be introspective and somewhat shy.  When I go to camp, most times, I'd rather just sit at the trailer and I'm not always the one to jump into a crowd.  It makes me wonder if I am sociophobe, especially as I get older, or possibly that, not being one for idle chit-chat, I don't expect much from people in the form of conversation and don't engage in it.  Some of the best times I've had down there are one-on-one chats with Scott or sitting around a fire with a friend or two.  Going down to the pool and knob-knobbing (the equivilent of hob-knobbing, but when most men are naked) isn't my thing.  I prefer direct interaction with specific conversation, and the topics of my tids and bits or any activity invoving them isn't high on my list of interests.  Maybe because I am getting older (although that doesn't seem to be a factor for other guys my age).  Or maybe it's because what does it for me isn't the random hook-up, but rather a physical attraction followed by an emotional connection, and that's fairly rare to find in this arena.  As a result, I feel like an outcast and there's something wrong with me when I'm at camp, and it's not like I'm a prude or anything.

I made some strides this year in my social opening and self-confidence and meeting closer in the middle.  I'm happy with who I am.  Trying to find someone who thinks like I do at camp is like trying to find a candy bar made out of chocolate (and not carob) in a Whole Foods supermarket.  Talking with a few people this weekend who had the same perspective was refreshing and made me feel like there was hope of finding someone who values romanticism and traditionalism and monogamy and can keep their tids and bits in their pants for five minutes.