Dit topic gaat ondertussen meer richting orgietips...
daarom als intermezzo even deze mooie column vanop 365gay:
Tops and Bottoms
by John Corvino
Years ago I lived next door to a young born-again Christian rock singer (I know—it sounds like the premise for a sitcom). While Jason strongly disapproved of my being gay, he was also fascinated by it, and he constantly asked me questions.
One day I revealed to him that I had never had anal sex. His face brightened. “That’s awesome!” he shouted.
“Why, pray tell, is it awesome?” I asked.
“Because maybe you’ll try it, and then realize you don’t like it, and then you won’t be gay.”
For Jason, being gay meant liking anal sex. He found it strange that the equivalence had never occurred to me. For me, being gay means that I like guys. It means that I like guys—I have crushes on them, I fall in love with them (one in particular), I want to “get physical” with them. It doesn’t specify how I should do this.
I suppose the mistake is understandable. Most people would find it odd for a heterosexual not to desire penile-vaginal intercourse. It’s “standard.” For some gay men, anal sex is functionally similar—it’s what they might call “the real thing.”
But that’s not true for all of us. A guy who’s into other guys but prefers oral sex or mutual masturbation or frottage (look it up) is still gay. Sorry Jason.
If such confusion were limited to callow born-again Christian rock singers, I could ignore it. But the assumption that we all want anal sex is shared by many gays. Here’s a familiar conversation from my single days:
Interested Guy: “Are you a top or a bottom?”
Interested Guy: “What do you mean, ‘No’?”
Me: “I mean I’m neither a top nor a bottom.”
Somewhat Less Interested Guy: “That means you’re a bottom.”
What—so “bottom” is the default setting now? As the saying goes: “If he says he’s a top, he’s versatile. If he says he’s versatile, he’s a bottom. If he says he’s a bottom, he’s honest.”
So why not just say that men who don’t identify with either category are “versatile”? The answer is simple: because it ain’t so. As one similarly oriented friend put it, “Versatile? Hell no. I’m a total bore.”
Besides, this suggestion just feeds the myth that every gay male organizes his sexual identity around anal sex. The point is that some of us don’t—which doesn’t mean that we’re naïve or inhibited. (Quite the contrary: those who “think outside the box” may be quite sexually skilled.)
The myth that other kinds of sex aren’t “real” reflects heterosexual practice. A lot of straight people insist that oral sex doesn’t “count” as sex—it’s just foreplay. I used to think that this was merely a rationalization for clinging to the title of “virgin” or denying having sex with White House interns. I’ve since realized that, in many people’s minds, “real” sex requires a man sticking his penis into some orifice below the waist. No wonder some people have such a hard time conceptualizing lesbianism.
Another way of putting my point, borrowing from a longstanding academic controversy, is to say that people are “essentialists” about the top/bottom dichotomy: if you’re a gay man, you are “naturally” one or the other, and your job upon coming out is to figure out which. (It’s a job some people undertake with great relish; I, by contrast, keep calling in sick.)
I’m not denying that these categories can be useful for those to whom they actually apply. They can be a handy way of communicating and identifying preferences—for example, in personals ads (“Hot and hung power-bottom seeks friendship, maybe more”). Nor am I denying that people ought to explore new territory, provided that they take the usual sensible precautions. I’m simply denying that certain territory is a required checkpoint.
A related myth concerns associated personality traits: tops are supposed to be manly, assertive, and dominant, whereas bottoms are supposed to be effeminate, passive, submissive. I’ve interviewed a lot of gay guys over the years, and I’ve done more direct—shall we say—“research.” I’m here to tell you: not true.
It’s funny to watch people’s expectations shattered on this point. Once at a bar I overheard a guy expressing disappointment that the object of his interest was, like him, a top. “But that can’t be!” he exclaimed. “He wears too much hair product to be a top!”
Personally, I would imagine that tops especially need hair product. It keeps their bangs out of their eyes. But as I’ve said, I’m no expert.