A good while back, I was talking to a middle aged gay male patient who was in the last few months of life. We’d had a fairly intense encounter, discussing his thoughts and wishes and addressing his symptoms. He was also a little arch and funny with a dry wit and we’d managed to amuse each other too with our observations on life. He ended the conversation on a surprising note by asking me what I thought about the junior doctor’s bottom and taken by surprise, I had to admit that it was rather pert.
He smirked at me and said that he was glad he was still up to ogling as he was sure that once he stopped having a sneaky peek at attractive men then he would surely be on his last legs. I had to agree and started to wonder if, as prime oglers, the loss of the yearning to admire a cheeky smile, a shapely buttock or a firm thigh is a grave sign of a poor prognosis in a gay man.
It’s probably not just confined to the gays, straight men like to ogle too and a good few of my female friends are skilled in the art of appreciating the male form. I think it’s just that gay people have more range to do it. It wouldn’t work in heterosexual couples if you were walking down the street and one half pointed out an attractive individual and said “Mm, hot or what?” The partner of the opposite persuasion wouldn’t be able to concur or deny it. For most gay couples I suspect this is the norm. All of my exes have been partial to pointing out an individual they consider stunning and generally I’ve concurred with their view. Occasionally, on a more insecure day, I’ve snidely pointed out flaws, such as cheapness or a look of stupidity, but we’re all human aren’t we? An ex colleague and I would often stalk the streets on our out way somewhere and mutter “Would you?” as we passed a particularly fine man. The other would generally answer “Mm hm.” as an affirmative.
I think heterosexual men get more stick for doing it. The leery straight man can be seen as an offensive pervert by women, whereby the leery gay friend is a cheeky ally in the game of attraction.
I still believe that one of my exes will probably die from an ogling related car accident. He had a million subtle ways of craning his head round or feigning an interest in something in the distance, in order to get a glimpse of the back view of a hot man passing. He was a master of the discrete ogle. If only he’d put his skills to work for MI5, he’d have been a master spy. My suspicion is he’ll expire one day as a chav bloke passes in tracksuit bottoms with no underwear and he gets hit by a truck as he gets lost in the moment. The glimpse of a swinging member can be a deadly weapon.
So, I’m a self confessed lecher. There’s nothing finer than the tautly filled suit of a luscious businessman on a dull train journey and the bouncy jogger is surely a joy forever. If there are any straight men reading this that feel a bit affronted and wonder if we’re ogling you, I have one thing to say. Don’t flatter yourself; you’re probably not my type.