They may not want gays to have equality, but they sure want a piece of the “pink dollar.”

While I think overall that is a positive thing, even if it’s hypocritical (“You can’t get married here, and we won’t recognize your marriage, but we’re a fantastic gay honeymoon destination!”), there is something about gay travel and how it’s advertised and covered that drives me nuts.

Yes, the label of LGBT has to do with a person’s sexuality, but I hate how the focus on gay travel is almost always sexual. Have a look at the following examples. I did a Google Images search for “greece travel” and “gay greece travel”  and grabbed the first few photos that showed up.  Notice the differences?

So as a gay man I wouldn’t be interested in Greece as a travel destination based on that first set of images?

And there were far less tame photos as well for “gay greece travel.”

What I also found interesting is when I searched for “lesbian greece travel” most of the images were either the ones like the top set or like the second. Only 1 photo out of about 30 included women. Do a search for LGBT, and it’s mostly men.

Women just can’t catch a break.

Now, I like eye candy just as much as the next person, but don’t treat me like a sex-crazed person just because I’m a homo.

If they aren’t trying to appeal to my sexual side, these agencies seem to think the only other things gay men are interested in when they travel are parties, shopping, and boutique hotels. And maybe going to the gym.

When I travel, I don’t do gay travel. Just like when I park a car, I’m not gay parking. I also don’t order gay pizza or gay beer.

To me LGBT travel is more about finding the places where I can be myself and where I can feel safe as a gay man. Most of my friends are straight, but I do enjoy hanging out with fellow gays as well because it’s the one group where I can completely be myself. I don’t need to come out yet again, and I don’t feel like I have to guard my words.

When a place is spoken of as being good for gay travel, to me it says I can hold my partner’s (if I had one) hand in public . I wouldn’t have to explain to hotel staff why two men would want one bed instead of two. I know it’s a place where my partner and I would be treated like any other couple.

It’s more about safety and ease.

To treat all gay men like their main travel interests are sex, shopping, fashion, and parties is really insulting to the majority of us. Time to get a clue, advertisers.

And that means you, too, queer publications!

What do you think about when you see the words “gay travel”?

Me: Where would you like to meet?

Him: Anywhere but the old city.

Me: Why not the old city?

Him: I have too many friends that work there.

And then I remembered what it was like to live that far back in the closet.

Sure, as we’ve traveled I’ve had moments where I had to step back into the closet a bit for perceived safety reasons (which were really only situations created in my own mind), but I’ve only had to stand in the doorway. Some people are living so far back in there they can’t see the light of day.

And that’s incredibly sad.

When I grew up, living in the closet was a necessity if you wanted to remain in good health. Some people were able to live more authentically, but they were always in some sort of danger. It wasn’t uncommon to see someone show up at a support group with the telltale signs of having been queerbashed earlier in the week.

Police would frequently drive by gay clubs, take note of license plate numbers, and contact employers to let them know what sort of person was working for them.

My first friend who was truly out was Stu. His parents would regularly leave pamphlets on his bed that explained he was going to hell for being gay. He would roll his eyes and toss them in the trash. He was completely unfazed regarding who knew about his homosexuality and refused to live in hiding.

How I envied him, but I lacked the same courage.

I remember those earlier days of sitting in a restaurant with someone, usually a Denny’s for some reason, and having to lower our voices when we wanted to talk about certain things because you couldn’t risk being overheard and thus identifying yourself as “one of them.”

Today, I relived those memories vividly as I sat with this handsome young man. I had so many questions, but I couldn’t ask them. We were sitting in one of Bucharest’s typical smoke-filled cafes, and there were people on each side of us. They were too close. Too easy for us to be overhead, even though we were speaking in English.

My head hurt from having to carefully think through everything I wanted to say or ask while doing the precarious dance over the eggshell floor of homophobia and the closeted life.

As he would nervously glance at me, smile, and quickly look away, I wanted to tell him how much I enjoyed watching his eyes light up when he smiled. I held back the temptation to even just lightly touch his foot with mine or to comment on the stubble that graced his chin.

But you can’t do that with someone who lives in fear of being “caught” for being who they are.

Like for myself in so many ways, his imprisonment is of his own creation, but it isn’t my place to open that door for him. We all have to come to that place of our own accord.

I found myself almost thankful when it was time to go our separate ways. Not because I didn’t enjoy being with him, but because it just took so much energy trying to be someone else. It bothered me that I felt like I couldn’t safely give him a hug goodbye, even though I also hug my straight male friends.

It once again reminded me of how much energy we sometimes waste on trying to be someone or something else, of how grateful I am that I have so much more freedom than many others. If I’m somewhere I don’t like, I can just up and move. I don’t have to worry about alienating my friends and family when they discover I’m queer. I don’t have time, energy, or the desire to be anything but me.

That is an amazing liberty and luxury.

I look back at my life just over a decade ago and wish that I had found my wings much earlier. Not only would I have avoided hurting someone else (the woman I married while hoping and believing God would really cure me of being gay), but I could have lived so much more deeply.

And it makes me take a harder look at my choices to identify if I’m building any other self-imposed prisons around myself. Life’s really too damn precious and short to waste time on being someone else. Time to continue tearing down the ugly walls like lack of self worth, poor body image, etc.

Do you ever wonder what self-imposed prisons you’ve put yourself in? I challenge you to take an honest, hard look at your life and see where you need to free yourself.

And when you’re a gay man in a homophobic culture, it gets even more interesting.

As there aren’t really a lot of LGBT meeting places in Romania (I think there are around 4 bars/clubs in the whole country), and because the queer community often is very closeted, one of the more popular ways of meeting people is through online dating.

I’ve made some good friends from online dating attempts in the past; however, it’s never resulted in a romantic relationship. After spending some time with some rather nice couples (both gay and straight) who initially met online, I decided I would ignore past experiences and give it a try again.

It has been . . . shall we say. . . amusing to say the least.

Gentleman A

One of my favorite first experiences was the man who said he was looking for a long-term relationship. I messaged him, and in my response message I asked what type of interests he has.

He responded with 3 photos of his erect member, all from different angles.

I guess you have to applaud his thoroughness.

Gentleman B

A rather handsome man contacted me from London. He had a wonderful profile, so I decided to go ahead and read his message. Within the first paragraph, I was informed that when he saw my photo he knew we were supposed to be together (even if that sounds weird), and he wanted me to know that he would happily relocate to “anywhere in the world” so that we could be together.

As he mentioned that he worked out every day so he could stay fit and that he was a Christian, I felt it was important to point out, in case his vision and reading comprehension weren’t that great, that I do not have a fit body and that I’m not a Christian and am really pretty much anti-religion. He reassured me that all he wanted was my heart.

I’m sure you’ll be surprised to know his interest level didn’t last more than 3 messages. Glad I hadn’t picked out my wedding tux!

Gentleman C

This was an interesting one whose profile indicates he lives in Bucharest. Unfortunately, after contacting him I discovered he in fact is originally from Romania but had moved with a parent to Nigeria when he was a small child. He is now looking to return back to Romania and would really like to live “with my man so I can be near him” while he looks for a job. He thinks we are a match made in heaven and would like to know when he can move in.

Needless to say, that didn’t get very far.

These are just some of the fun ones I’ve had in the last 2 weeks or so. Do straight people have this much fun doing online dating? Just curious.

Let me know your experiences, the bitter and the sweet.