In Latin cultures, gay menare often referred to with the term maricon, specifically directed at flamboyantly "obvious" types who are deemed effeminite. It's not necessarily the nicest term, but it's out there. But not all gay men are created equal in the Latin world: there are also men known as a bugaron, the more conservative, masculine men who marry women but cruise for guys on the side. The terms carry sexual connotations, with el bugaron presumed to be, shall we say, the "pitcher" and el maricon being the "catcher." Many times los bugarones don't even consider themselves as gay, since they see their male lovers as being so close to being a woman. And, most importantly, they aren't being penetrated like a woman. That is such an unfortunately clinical term, "penetrated." So many sex phrases sound so ugly in English.
Here in Miami, you walk down the street and see men with their families, and one will discreetly raise his hand and slowly rub his belly and his chest--the sign for attracting the attention of another man passing by, like I'm touching myself and it feels so good. You'd think nothing of it, unless you know what it means. And there's always his quick glance over, to see if you're watching.
I always wonder if the wives don't know. Or if they choose to not know. Those bugarones, they're trouble.
When I met Mr. M--"M" for "married" (maybe), I'm still not sure--he was at a restaurant here in South Beach, right by my apartment. He explained he lived in the suburbs, but was in the city for business. Hospitality industry, something of the sort. Drinks, chat chat chat, we exchanged numbers. When I gave him mine, he promised to call. And then he left. But then 20 minutes later, he did call. "I can't stop thinking about you," he said. "I need to come back."
Soon after, we were in bed. Door locked, curtains closed.
But there was a sense he was...I don't know what...ravenous, maybe?...it was like he hadn't had sex in months, and he didn't know where to put his hands first. I thought he was nervous, but no one that nervous would have had the guts to call and invite himself over. That wasn't it.
I grabbed him gently by the face, just for a moment. "Slow down. Are you okay?"
He smiled and nodded, and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and kissed me again, this time much more gentle, slow, nice. Much like how a man should kiss...a woman.
Men who kiss other men are very different kissers from men who kiss women. When gay men kiss, having grown up kissing other men (save those experimentations in school), it's more deliberate, stronger. But women's lips are more gentle, and softer, so then it's generally based on a lighter tough. Not to say there aren't those men who chew off their girlfriends' faces, or women who do the same; but coming from a middle-aged man in the suburbs, with a wife and kids and the white picket fence, it's usually a more refined act. Perhaps I've just kissed too many men...but who a man dates more, men or women--from the way they kiss, I can tell.
And Mr. M definitely, definitely spends his time kissing women. I knew it, right away.
...to be continued...