Making Friends

One of my few disappointments in living in this area of Delaware is the lack of making new gay friends. The Rehoboth Beach/Lewes/Milton area of southern Delaware is supposed to be the gay capital of the East Coast. We are located almost right in the center radius of the Philadelphia/Balitmore/Washington D.C. geographical map. We are a beach resort community without the cold waters and large pebbles of the Provinctown, Massachusetts beaches. Delaware also doesn't have the high taxes of Massachusetts for the brutally cold winters. Thus, one would think that living in this so called "Gay Capital of the East Coast" would be a melting pot of meeting new gay friends. Alas, that is not the case. At least with me, it has not happened. I have made a few gay friends (I can count them on one hand), but after living here almost three years I've just about given up on making any new gay friends.

Ironically, I have made many new friends. Except for that handful of gay friends (Wayne, Paul, Jack, Doug and Bob), all of my new friends are straight. Not that I am complaining. My new straight friends are about the nicest people I have ever met. Some are my neighbors and others are the folks I work with. I have made many new friends from service areas such as our regular restaurant (Zorba's) and our regular grocery stores (Food Lion and Wal-Mart.) Bill and I also keep The Home Depot and Lowe's in business. We've been at those stores so often that the store clerks treat us as old friends. Yesterday (and today) both Bill and I will visit our other favorite service place, The Garage (we both have old vehicles that need servicing.)

Maybe I was being a bit naive when I expected to be greeted with hugs and kisses from my gay brothers and sisters when I moved down here permanently in November of 2006. Actually, I think I was being very naive. Part of the difficulty is that I'm not of the Washington D.C. crowd which seems to comprise most of the gay cliques. From my vantage point (on the outside looking in), this is a crowd of gay folks who have very generous pensions and can afford to frequent the expensive restaurants that I cannot afford. Also, most of these folks seem to already know one another from their previous lives and as I found out many years ago, most gay men (gay women I don't know that much about other than they really stick together and have very little to do with gay guys) stay with their own group of friends. The only exceptions they seem to make is if they are cruising for a sexual encounter and that activity is definitely not on my radar at this time of my life.

So I'm thinking "Is my life less rewarding now that I haven't made many gay friends?" The answer of course is "No." My life is very rewarding. I have a beautiful home and wonderful neighbors. I work at an absolutely lovely hotel with the best co-workers I've ever worked with in my life (and that is no exaggeration.) My boss is a wonderful man even though he's young enough to be my grandson. The owner of the hotel is a generous and delightful man whose only "fault" (if it can be deemed as such) is that he demands perfection from his employees.

The few encounters I have had with meeting new gay people usually starts with the same question "What do you do?" This question hasn't changed since my days of bar hopping back when I was much younger. The"What do you do?" question is invariably followed by "Who do you know?" question. This question apparently is to determine if one fits into the pecking order of the local gay social order. If you don't know anybody, you might as well call for the check and go home because no one is interested in making friends with you. This phenomena isn't unique to the local gay scene, I ran into it when I used to vacation in Provincetown, Massachusetts by myself for many years. I was one of the rare gay men who went on vacation by myself and (with a few notable exceptions) stayed by myself during the entire vacation. I gave up a long time ago trying to break that invisible self protective wall that the gay cliques surround themselves with.

The reason I'm writing about this subject his morning is as a response to an Facebook message I received from two new friends that I have made through my blog. They said they would be delighted to have breakfast with me at my favorite restaurant if they lived closer. Mike and Glenn live in West Hollywood, California so the chances of that happening are close to nil in my lifetime. But it did make me wonder, why hasn't that offer been made to me from any of the local gay Mafia? I do not have the answer to that question.

At one time I thought maybe it was me. Maybe I wasn't attractive enough or maybe I didn't make enough money to qualify. Hey, maybe I wasn't smart enough of (this is one requirement I will never meet) I wasn't "gay" enough. By "gay enough" I mean an stereotypical mincing, bitchy, drag loving queen. That I am not. I'm just a regular, masculine guy who lives a typical suburban lifestyle. Granted, I'm not into show tunes but I do like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford.

Yes, it will always mystify me why I haven't made more gay friends but I will treasure those few gays friends I have made and my many straight friends. As I have often said, "I have a lot of straight friends, not that there is anything wrong with that." And as for Mike and Glenn of California; I hope someday that we can make that breakfast date. That would be something that I would really enjoy.

Why I Retired to the Delmarva Peninsula

The Delmarva Peninsula is a large peninsula on the East Coast of the United States, occupied by portions of three U.S. states: Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia. Named as a portmanteau of the letters of the states that occupy it, it is almost 300 by 100km or about 180 by 60 miles, and is bordered by the Chesapeake Bay on the west, and the Delaware River, Delaware Bay, and Atlantic Ocean on the east. Its northern isthmus is cut by the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal. Bridges cross the canal and the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel join the peninsula to the mainland. Other points of access include Lewes, Delaware, reachable by ferry from Cape May, New Jersey. Dover, the capital of Delaware, is in the northeast corner, but the peninsula's main commercial area is Salisbury, Maryland, near the center of the peninsula.

This is where I live and work folks, on the eastern most edge of the Delmarva Peninsula. I work in Lewes, Delaware near Cape Henlopen State Park and the Cape May/Lewes Ferry. I live three miles north of where I work in a development near Oyster Rocks Road, two miles from the ocean. All my life I wanted to work and live near the water. Two and a half years ago I realized my dream. I sold my house in the wooded hills of Chester County, Pennsylvania and moved to sunny coastal shores of Sussex County, Delaware.

For many years (since the late 70's) I have visited my longtime friend Big Bob who lives near Georgetown, Delaware on 22 acres of heavily forested land in his double wide trailer. At the time Bob moved to Delaware (the early 70's) he was told my his real estate agent "You'll never see any other houses on this road in your lifetime." Of course that real estate agent was wildly off target. Bob's road plus many other formerly pristine areas of Sussex County (known affectionaly as "Slower Lower" by its residents) now have many houses on both sides of the road. Even this formerly rural area of chicken farmers and corn fields has not escaped the advance of development and population growth.

At first I was put off my the flat coastal plains of Sussex County. I was used to the rolling hills and winding roads of Chester County, Pennsylvania where I had lived before pulling up stakes and moving to Delaware. However, over time I came to love the big sky and wide open spaces of Delaware. As the area of Pennsylvania where I lived became crowded and congested, the relative sparsness of the lower county of Delaware became more attractive to me as a potential retirement location.

Another factor in my decision to retire to Delaware was to escape the high taxes of Pennsylvania. For most of my adult life I have paid the excessive taxes that Pennsylvania places on single people like myself. Even though I had no children in the school, I paid the same school tax rate. I will go into the taxes in another blog posting, but suffice it for me to say that once I retired I could no longer afford to live in Pennsylvania. There was no reason for me to stay other than my Mother still lived there. The few friends I had were tied up in their families and thus had little or no time to spend with me. I had no gay friends in Pennsylvania. Since I was retiring this is something I had to consider, to have a support group of my gay friends and that was non-existent in Pennsylvania. I had to consider moving to a state that wasn't taxing me out of existence. I estimated had I continued to live in Pennsylvania, in five years time my taxes would be more than my entire Social Security retirement check. It was definitely time to get out of Dodge.

Another very important factor was my sense of comfort and well being. Although my neighbors were cordial to me in suburban Pennsylvania, the heavy cloak of "you're not one of us" was always there. When Bill and I would shop at Home Depot we would invariably receive stares from some of the other customers. Same thing if we ate out together. Always the "look." Straight people don't understand this "look." A good example is the attitude of a former school classmate of mine. He said "Why do you always have to bring up the homosexual thing and act a like a martyr?" I answered "That's because that is what I am." Straight people don't feel this constant oppression that we gay people feel all the time in a straight world. I guess my former school classmate expect me to practice the civilian version of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" and then everything will be fine. I am what I am. I don't wear a sign around my neck saying "I'm gay" but I don't hide the fact either. My friend wasn't comfortable with that attitude, especially when I visited him in his neighborhood.

Where we live in Delaware now (near Rehoboth Beach - the "East Coast Gay Capital of the United States"), Bill and I can shop in Home Depot or Lowe's and we don't get the "look." That probably because the store is full of male/male and female/female couples. Same sex couples in Rehoboth Beach is less of a curiosity and more the norm and part of life than it is in Chester County, Pennsylvania. This is something most straight people can never grasp. The feeling of freedom. The absence of that glowering feeling of disapproval that we're not quite as equal as our heterosexual fellow human beings.

Ironically, I started this blog as a paean to the joy of living on the Delmarva peninsula. A reader of my blog sent me an e-mail telling me that I lived on an island. In many ways I do. I live in a wonderful natural paradise on the eastern shore of the United States. Every day I wake up I am overjoyed to have finally realized my dream of living and working "near the water" in an atmosphere that is relatively free of the oppression of homophobia. I make the qualification of "relatively free" because, even here there are pockets of ignorance and intolerance that sometimes manifest itself in ugly and unexpected ways.

Since moving down here 2 1/2 years ago I have made some friends in the gay community but not as many as I had expected. I don't know, maybe it's me but I find most of the gay men and women (especially the women) very insular and into their own cliques. Much of the local gay community's activity seems to be drag shows and fund raisers as excuses for parties. I don't fault those involved for those activities but I was sort of expecting that the gay community to have moved past drag shows and dressing up like women which only reinforces the gay stereotype to the straight community. I can see where camping it up is fun but I had hoped that most of the gay community had moved past that stereotype. That's not me or Bill so that is probably why we have made so few friends in the gay community. Almost all of our new friends are straight from where we live and where I work. No camp required to be friends with our straight friends. That said, I have made a few good gay friends since I moved here and I value and appreciate their friendship. I feel that the few gay friends that I have made are friends for life and for that I am very thankful. Note: haven't made any lesbian friends though. Now that is a much tougher nut to crack. I'm not holding my breath on that one.

While no place on earth is pefect, Shangri-La was a myth after all, I'm about as happy as I can be living where I live now, on the "island" of Delmarva. I wouldn't live anywhere else at this time of my life. Now if Delaware can pass a law approving of same sex marriages this would be Shangri-La.

Bingo-a-Go-Go

All day I was looking forward to going out last night to Bingo-a-Go-Go in Rehoboth Beach. I haven’t been able to attend these four times a year fund raisers for AIDS because I’ve had to work at the Inn. Thus, it was a pleasant surprise when my friend Paul and Jack called me last week and asked me to join them for a night of dining and fun and festivities. Wouldn’t you know it? Monica from work called me about 1 in the afternoon and asked if I could work her shift for her because her youngest child was sick. I had to turn her down because I had already purchased the tickets for bingo and made dinner arrangements at Casa Dileo with my friend Paul and Jack. I had also invited my friend and neighbor Barbara. She said she couldn’t make dinner but would meet us at the Convention Center.

Four o’clock rolls around. I had arranged to meet Paul and Jack at 5 PM in front of Casa Dileo. I drove into Rehoboth and parked at my friend Ed’s house so I wouldn’t have to fight the traffic from the Convention Center when bingo was over. Walking from my friend Ed’s place to Casa Dileo, I ran into my first problem, construction work being done on Route 1. I couldn’t walk on the side of the road. Dodging traffic I walked to other side of the road. My cell phone rings. It’s Paul. He wants to know where I’m at. I told him I’m dodging traffic trying to walk to the restaurant. I hang up. My cell phone rings again. It’s my neighbor Barbara calling. She said she wasn’t feeling well so she wouldn’t be joining me. Take note, already I’ve received two bad omens for the night.

I meet Jack and Paul in front of the restaurant. As soon as I walk into the restaurant I’m turned off by the smell. It smelled like I was walking into a garage. I didn’t need to change the oil in my car. What was that smell? I didn’t want to ruin the evening since it was Paul’s suggestion we dine at Casa DiLeo so I said nothing. After we were seated and given our menus, I noticed that this was one of those restaurants that had the same items on the menu, doubled in price for dinner. I could get an Eggplant Parmesan dish, “lunch” price $8.95. The “Dinner” price $15.95. Either it was the same entree, with a jacked up price for dinner or it was a lot more food, neither of which was an option I wanted last night. We agreed to order a pizza and share it.

After dinner, we drove down to the Rehoboth Convention Center for the night’s festivities. I’ve been to a couple of gay bingos before. The first time was a lot of fun because it was new. The second time, well, not so much. Last night? It was boring. Basically gay bingo is every straight person's stereotype of a gay guy calling out the numbers interspersed with raunchy gay themed jokes. The word of the night last night was the four letter Anglo-Saxon word for excrement that begins with S. The bingo caller was much amused by ending just about every sentence with that well known four letter word.

Throughout the audience are about a half a dozen drag queens who checked to make sure you have a bingo when you call out “Bingo!” The joke is, if you call “Bingo!” in error, you have to wear a ratty old drag queen wig. That’s funny the first few times when you see it then it becomes old. It was old last night.

The drag queens had bright, colorful, flashy outfits which they changed several time during the evening. If you're into drag, it may have enjoyed seeing the different gowns and dresses on the slim hipped ladies with Adam's Apples. While it wasn't like checking out Princess Diana's new gowns, it was fascinating to see what new dress and wig Mona Lotts would appear. The guys playing the drag queens were a pretty somber bunch. One would expect more humor and levity but it seemed like they were also tired of the format and would rather have been somewhere else.

The event is a worthy one, it raises money for AIDS charities. It is gives the gay community a chance to assemble in one spot and experience fellowship. However, something odd this year, I only saw one person I slightly knew (introduced one through a mutual friend.) We didn’t see anyone else we knew, NO ONE. That was strange. Maybe our friends were on to something. Maybe they also got tired of the format. Maybe I don't have that many gay friends.

It wouldn’t have been a bad night if one of us could have won at least ONE bingo. But, as is always the case, no one I know wins. The last time I won a bingo was back in 1960 at the service club in Ft. Meade, Maryland. I won a Kingston Trio record album (which I think I still have, not because I like the Kingston Trio – I hate folk songs – but because it was proof I actually won something.) Most of the prizes last night were cash but one prize was a “beauty basket.” That was the prize I came closest to winning (like I needed THAT PRIZE.) If I won that prize I would have donated it back to the cause.

One thing that I find interesting and has always puzzled me when a group of gay men and lesbians gather together is how much the cliques stay intact. There is little if no interaction between the people unless they knew them previously. Yet one can go to straight event and strike up a friendship with straight people much easier. I've never been able to put understand this phenomenon about gay people, their tendency to stay in cliques when out in the public. They cling to their small group of friends. I can understand why lesbians are so insular, they don't want to have anything to do with men. They do quite well with their women friends, thank you. It's the men I don't understand. If you start up a conversation with a stranger, right away they think you're coming on to them. There is little understanding just for a friendship without the sexual connection. This attitude of most gay men is something that has baffled me for you and I'll probably go to my grave never understanding it.

All in all, it was good to have an evening with my friends Paul and Jack but I won’t be going back to gay bingo again. Maybe I’m getting too old for this kind of thing. I remember 30 years ago when I was 37 years old. I was standing in a gay bar (the 247 in Philadelphia) when the bartender started to flick the lights on and off, calling “Last call!” I thought to myself at that time “What am I doing here? I would rather be home in bed.” That’s the way I felt last night. I would have been better off in bed. Actually, I wish I would have to work for Monica. At least I wouldn’t still be burping up that pizza I had last night.

Voting

Running late here. Working full time is digging into my blog posting time. It is late at night now. I have to get up early tomorrow morning to be at work by 7 AM. However, I did want to post a blog about my voting experience on Tuesday. I wasn't aware that Tuesday was primary voting day. I'm from Pennsylvania where the primary election takes place in the spring. The last several years I worked the polls at a church nearby my home. It was a job I looked forward to every year. I got a chance to meet many of my neighbors plus participate in democracy. From my earliest memory I've been interested in politics. In fact, my earliest memory of a political convention was the 1952 Democratic Convention in which Adlai Stevenson threw his choice of vice president to the open convention. Estes Keufauver was selected. There have been many conventions since. I've watched all of them. Perhaps the most traumatic for me was the 1968 Democratic Convention that was held in Chicago Illinois. I couldn't believe the violence that was meted out to the Vietnam anti war protesters by the Chicago police. Perhaps the second most traumatic convention for me was the 1992 Republican Convention that was held in Houston Texas. At that convention both Pat Robertson and Pat Buchanan delivered hate filled homophobic speeches that were heartily cheered by the Republican convention goers. That was when I realized that the Republican Party didn't want me as a member. I am gay and both Pats made it clear that the Republican Party did not welcome gay men and women. I switched my registration to Democrat, not so much because I embraced all of the Democratic Party ideals but because I wanted to continue to vote in the primaries. Both Pennsylvania and Delaware require a vote to be registered to a particular party to vote. Independents do not vote unless it is for an independent candidate. I remember so well how I couldn't wait to vote for the first time. The first time I voted one had to be 21 years old. This was ironic because I joined the Army when I was 18 and didn't get out until I was 21 years old. Thus, even though I was serving my country, I couldn't vote. Thank goodness that inequity has been addressed. I have voted for almost every election since. Even if I didn't know all the local issues or local candidates, I felt it was my responsibility to vote. For the life of me, I cannot understand how anyone can complain about our current state of affairs and not vote. It just boggles my mind. That said, I voted yesterday. This is the second time I've voted in Delaware. I'll say one thing, they don't make it easy to vote in Delaware. First, I didn't even know it was voting day. Secondly, I didn't know where to vote. One has to do some digging. Thank goodness a good friend of mine who I was visiting on Tuesday asked me if I voted. I said "Vote? Is it election day today?" He said "Yes." I live in a different jurisdiction than my friend so after I left him I went on the hunt to where I vote. I live in the Milton district of Sussex County. I stopped at a local fruit and vegetable stand. I asked where to vote. The young man who was selling fresh ears of corn and tomatoes (I bought some), said they moved the polling place again. I asked where it is now. He told me the local school up the road from his stand. I get in my car and weave my way up the road into the school ground at about 10 MPH. School is in session. It's been a long time since I've been in a school building with students. In fact, it has been almost 50 years (the last time I was in school.) I have to say, I didn't like it. After some difficulty, I find the voting area. I approach the table manned (and womaned) by several senior citizens who volunteer their time to work at the polling state (why no young people?) I say my last name "Tipton." The elderly lady says "Lipson?" I say "No, Tipton." She says "Lipson?" again. I say again "TIPTON!" Well, to make a long story short, she didn't have my name. They advised me to go to the other polling station which was another school. Oh goody. This was an elementary school at the other end of the town. Now, the last time I was in an elementary school was maybe 60 years ago! Again, no easy thing finding the registration desk. However, I did find it, announced my name. Someone repeated my name (as we poll workers are supposed to do - that is the same procedure in both states), and then said "DEMOCRAT!" Damn right. DEMOCRAT! I was directed to a curtained voting booth. Upon entering and studying the names on the ballot, I realized I did not know any of them nor where they stood on the issues. That is my fault. I've been too busy with my own day to day life and concentrating too much on the national political scene. Besides, I don't get local TV because I have satellite TV by DirecTV which doesn't provide local channels. I'll blame DirecTV. Still, I voted and again got that feeling of butterflies in my stomach like I always do when I vote. As always, I experienced that indescribable feeling of pride and gratefulness that I always do when I vote. The next time I vote, I will know who I am voting for. That will be the presidential election in November. I will vote to end the great national nightmare of the past eight years.

Cloud 9

This summer evening, my friend and fellow blogger The Cajun and I took advantage of the buy one get one free offer at the Cloud 9 restaurant in Rehoboth Beach. Under normal circumstances, we would not dine at the Cloud 9 restaurant because the prices of their entrees are over our budget for dining out. Normally, I work at the Inn on Thursday nights and thus, not able to take advantage of the "buy one, get one free" offer of the Cloud 9 restaurant. However, this summer Thursday evening, the heavens aligned and we were able to dine together as friends at this delightful restaurant in Rehoboth Beach. The Cajun had baby back ribs that were advertised as "falling off the bone" which, indeed they did. I ordered a seared raspberry brie stuffed chicken breast. It was heaven. We obviously were not eating at Cracker Barrel or Bob Evans. The only downside was the bartender. Once before I stopped in the Cloud 9 restaurant/bar and left because I was being ignored by the bartender. Unfortunately, most of the gay bars/restaurants in Rehoboth are very cliquish. Unless you're a member of one of the many gay cliques, the bartenders tend to ignore strangers who wander into their sacrosanct area. One might as well be invisible. This is unfortunate. I'm in the hospitality business and I know that the first rule of my business is that you welcome all, especially first time visitors. I'm not asking for someone to fall all over me. All I'm asking for is to ask me what I would like for a drink. To recognize that I am in their establishment. I don't think that is asking for too much. Just to be waited on. Maybe a smile. In all my years of frequenting businesses that cater to a gay clientele, I have found that they are distinctly unfriendly to outsiders. The years I used to visit Provincetown, Massachusetts, I encountered this situation often. In fact, I was greeted with more warmth in straight owned establishments. For many years I tried to understand why so many gay people employed in the hospitality industry were so unfriendly to other gay people who wasn't part of their known cliques. I think their attitude is based in their own insecurity. That's a shame. They should just relax and welcome all people to their establishments, gay or straight. Not to toot my own horn, but I go out of the way to welcome all to my establishment where I work, gay or straight. That said, I did have a pleasant dinner with my friend, The Cajun. Our waitress was delighful (see picture in this blog). Obviously, she was not a gay man beset with insecurities.