With three days left in 2009, I have three more favorite moments in blogging to document as I look back over 2009. Unquestionably, a series of favorite moments for me has been my ongoing series "What Turned Me Gay." My WTMG posts have generated the most comments, by far. I sort of stumbled into the recurring theme of a retrospective on my youthful development into a Mo with a wrestling kink. Little did I know that what turned me gay turned so, so many of you gay as well.
I've lost track of my first entry for What Turned Me Gay... I'll have to dig around in my archives to see what happened to my fond memories of seeing bodybuilder Bob Paris on the cover of a muscle magazine when I was an adolescent. From Bob to Billy Jack Haynes to Robert Conrad, what I've rediscovered about myself is that my past is littered with objects of lust who confirmed and reconfirmed for me that whatever else I was to become, I was, without a doubt, a gay boy who got off on seeing hard bodies hammering on one another.
From Jon-Erik Hexum to Miles O'Keeffe to Steve Reeves, in my youth I was delighted by a steady stream of gorgeous men with big muscles showing plenty of skin.
From the 1984 mens gymnastics Olympic champions to Greg Louganis, the athletes, the actors, the characters and grapplers all enflamed my imagination and engorged my... lust for gorgeous men. And frankly, there's something liberating about the realization that some of these guys would probably resent being named on a list of things that turned me gay. Just like me being gay, it doesn't matter what they think or believe or want. It just is.
I realize that text is not the most effective avenue for communicating sarcasm, but I sincerely hope that readers have been able to detect my tongue firmly planted in my cheek. In fact, I don't believe any of these fine, fine men get credit for turning me gay, because I don't believe that I ever made a "turn." I believe I have always been gay, so there was nothing to be changed, and there's most certainly nothing for me to be changed back into. If "What Turned Me Gay" tells me anything, it's that I have always lived in a world filled with beautiful men catching my eye, arousing my erotic imagination, and getting me in touch with the joys of passionate lust.
I don't know how many more objects of lust from my youth I'll be able to scare up in the coming year. What Turned Me Gay may have to get retired soon. But as I look back at all the studly stars and hardbody wrestlers who "turned me gay," I lift my glass in a toast: for every moment that they made my pulse quicken, for every flash of muscled beauty that made me light-headed, I'm a better man today for it. Ching, ching...