Dating in the Deficit

Apr 18, 2016

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No fats, no femmes, DD free—they just don't add up,p> by George M. Johnson

Deficit: the amount by which something, especially a sum of money, is too small.

If perfect dating as whole were $1.00, then dating as a black queer and gay man would amount to about 5.3 cents. Just kidding, but not by a long shot. Dating in the black gay and queer community for me has been interesting to say the least. As a person who has never had a boyfriend nor been in love, I have the opportunity to still write much of my narrative that so many have already experienced. With that said, the rules and regulations that we stipulate upon ourselves in our community are unlike anything I have ever seen.

Take Jack’d for instance, the popular dating app used by many in the black LGBTQ community. I was on Jack’d for years, then left for about eighteen months, then decided to log back in to see what I may have missed. I hadn’t missed shit much to my dismay, but what I did notice was a trend throughout profiles that was different for me. “No fats, No femmes DD Free.” Splashed from screen to screen, profile to profile, this line is used to tell folk “don’t even come this way.” Now on one hand I get it. If it’s something you don’t like, then you should be able to say it and not get questioned for it. Then I take a look at this other hand of mine that wants to smack folk. This right hand of mine, tells a different story that goes like this.

The fragility of masculinity in our community is what helps dictate this narrative of “no fats or femmes.” I understand you like what you like, but to eliminate a whole community of people based on the perceptions of one’s effeminancy or size is discriminatory. Jack’d is a dating app, so I know much of it is based on attraction to one’s face and body and then figuring out the rest of their personality, but does it really hurt to just say hello? Is it too much to ask for that you don’t outright just tell folks “you’re to fat, or too flamboyant” to even say hi to me. That’s some fucked up stuff.

The second thing I see all the time now is “DD Free.” Sound off in 3…2…1…. What. The Fuck. Is DD Free some kind of cute way of saying “I don’t date people with HIV”? And I understand you don’t want someone who is on drugs, but you got “420” in your profile, so you don’t want yourself either? Oh that’s right, weed is not a drug but I’ll digress. I mean honestly, what disease other than HIV and AIDS are you referring to? Are we talking about rabies, the Plague, small pox, SARS, influenza, pneumonia? Those asking for someone to be drug-free, I can understand, but don’t ask of others what you are unwilling to do of yourself. Seriously folks, you can’t get HIV by listing the letters. Please read the Cliff’s Notes and realize that HIV, although serious, is quite manageable and people are living with it knowing and unknowing. “Disease Free” is also only as current as your last test and goes out the window with your first sexual experience after your last test. So if you are looking for someone who is “disease free,” they would need to be getting tested after every sexual encounter, plus accommodate for the window period which would equal virtually NO ONE! I get that you may not want to date a person that is HIV-positive, but be human enough to give the courtesy of saying that and not “DD Free.”

The deficit comes into play when you add all the factors of our community together and we eliminate our own potential dating pool based on perceptions of people and assumptions of the who, what, when, where, how, and why they are based on one aspect of their lifestyle. Femmes and Fats can’t be tops and are less desirable.

Personally the deficit has come up in a variety of ways. One is that I allowed myself to date or show interest in people that I know I don’t really want to be with, but, because of the limitations in the dating pool, I accept what they have to offer because at times it is better than being alone. Text message relationships, as I like to call them, used to fill the voids of silence throughout the day. “Good morning,” “HRU,” “How is your day”—on a daily basis with no real substance being exchanged. These relationships, that in person would amount to talking to paint on the wall, used to add some coins to “The Deficit.” The years, upon years, upon years, of hook-ups, one-night stands, FWB’s, dating (but not exclusive), “talking”—all just pennies, nickels and dimes trying to add up to the equivalence of what we really want, but always keeping us in “The Deficit.”

I’m tired of dating in a deficit. I’m tired of people having to feel as if they are undesired, unwanted, or pretending to be more of something they are not for the consumption of other men. I don’t know if this will be read by 1, 10, 100, or 1,000, but what I do know is that if you are reading this you need to ask yourself. Am I DATING in the Deficit? Or am I CREATING the Deficit. Like what you like. Love what you love. You may be a day late, but you don’t have to be a $1.00 short.

George M. Johnson is an HIV advocate who works for Us Helping Us, People into Living located in Washington, D.C. He has written for Pride.com, Musedmagonline.com, Blavity.com, Rolereboot.org, and Ebony.com. Follow him on Twitter @IamGMJohnson.

A Normal Heart

Oct 29, 2014

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Brave New World
by Corey Saucier

A Normal Heart
The retelling of a retelling of a really sad (love) story

Full disclosure: I date a lot. Three years ago I was feet over face in love with a rough-hearted bisexual man who wasn’t out to his parents. It didn’t end well. Let’s face it, unless they are painted in bright colors across a silver screen, love stories rarely do. So after me and my rough-hearted bisexual boy broke up, as a way to ease the pain and write away the heartache, I escaped to a city built for brokenhearted artists. I took a trip to New York City. While there I saw The Normal Heart on Broadway. It was important, provocative, and deliciously good. Jim Parsons (who I adored from the Big Bang Theory) was feminine and fabulous; and his performance as a queer man grappling amongst a circle of strangers and friends who are dying (and finding love) in the midst of a new unknown gay crisis, blew my mind. The entire cast was amazing, and I cried like a baby! I had heard about the original play written (by the brilliant and controversial Larry Kramer) as a political and emotional response to AIDS in the early eighties, but I was too young and too pretty to have really given it any weight so many years ago. But after the show Mr. Kramer was handing out fliers to the well dressed Broadway audience—giving out statistical information on transmission, treatment, and how to stay safe. Thirty years later, and this little old man was still fighting the good fight—still trying to save his brothers. It was beautiful and poignant and a little sad; because we were still dying regardless…

But time stops for no man, and life goes on…

During the show I caught the eye of sexy silver fox. We flirted and walked, and flirted and walked, and flirted and walked (because people walk in Manhattan) until eventually beneath a full moon this stunning, light-haired New York television reporter (who shall remain nameless) asked me to dinner. Like I said, I date a lot. He took me to some expensive rooftop restaurant and we had appetizers and red wine until after midnight; and then he walked me to the subway and I went home alone. No kiss. No hand holding. No half-hearted promise that we would see each other again. It was as if all of the sexual magic that gay men are so good at wielding was bled from our conversation. We were so affected by The Normal Heart that we couldn’t get past the HIV thing. Over dinner we talked about viral loads, and CD4 counts, and medications and death. We would flirt, and smile and giggle—his sparkling blue eyes glittering with sexual chemistry—and then suddenly his face would scrunch up and he would ask me: “How long I had been Positive,” “How I had caught it,” and “When was the last time I dated someone who was Negative.” And it was like someone threw a bucket of ice cold water on us. Who would have thought that HIV and AIDS would be so unsexy? But shouldn’t we have figured out how to make it sexy by now? It’s been thirty years and we are still asking the same questions and still nervous to hear the same answers. I’m so tired of HIV being an unsexy thing…

But time stops for no man, and life goes on…

Skip to three years later. And I’m dating again, because there is always another someone to love you. The Normal Heart is on television. And my current adorable boyfriend is silently crying because the HBO special is relevant and powerful and devastatingly difficult to watch. And I am snarling and grumbling under my breath during the dramatic monologues because, I’ve seen it before, and Jim Parsons isn’t as good as he was on Broadway, and Mark Ruffalo is way too attractive for the lead role, and I’m so OVER HIV being an unsexy thing! And my wide-eyed current love interest asks me why I’m upset… And I think of what we’ve gone through over the last four months trying to figure out our relationship from either side of this diagnosis, and I think about the rooftop restaurant three years ago in New York with the famous reporter, and I think about Larry Kramer handing out fliers in the cold, and I think about thousands upon thousands of beautiful dead men, and I just want to scream! But instead I turn my face from his and say.

“I’m just tired…” And I am.

But time stops for no man, and life goes on.

◊

Corey Saucier is an artist and writer living in Los Angeles. He is a Lambda Literary Fellow in Fiction and Non-Fiction and is currently penning his first novel. His musings and wanderings on Love, Life, and Non-sense can be found at www.justwords.tumblr.com.

dating and HIV