In a recent attempt to watch less TV and to make new friends, I made the [unfortunate] decision to look online for friend-dates. My strategy is simple- talk to a ton of people and carefully pick out those who I believe would be good for me and my life, and then pursue them. It doesn't work great, and I need more patience, but I have faith that it will pay off eventually... maybe.

Being back in the midwest, the issue of masculine versus feminine gay men is a constant conversation. Having lived in Korea, the definition of 'man' and 'man-like' is very different from here- hell, even within America, there is a huge diversity of thought on that topic. When I was younger and a great deal more insecure, this conversation terrified me because I know I don't conform to the standard, prescriptive expectations of a man here in Ohio.

I have been dumped on multiple occasions for not being masculine enough. After a date or two, it's happened enough to drive anyone insane. Now, I can comfortably walk away from the rejection knowing that I'm better off without them- I like who I am. Yet, there is a part of me that remains curious- though unhurt, I still ask for the world to specify exactly what it is about me that is immasculine.

Am I immasculine because I don't like sports?

Am I immasculine because I don't know well about cars?

Am I immasculine because I am thin and happy to stay that way, no longer desiring to blow up my body with muscles or any other padding? I'm a size 28 and wish I was a size 24.

Am I immasculine because I wear tight pants? Or because I occasionally wear necklaces or a ring?

Am I immasculine because I spend time everyday 'fussing' over my appearance? Or because hygiene is important to me and I always try my best to be as clean as possible?

Am I immasculine because I bought a Lady Gaga album? Or because, among my 7000+ song collection, you'll find a lot of pop music that other gay guys like as much as I do?

Am I immasculine because I use a lot of adverbs, or talk quickly? Is it because I communicate well and strive to use very specific words? Could it be that I have some distinctive, 'unfortunate' quality to my voice that paints me this way?

Am I immasculine because I enjoy having sex with men and am not particularly shy? Is it because I would gladly be bottom for the right guy and do not demand that I'm always on top? Does my enjoyment of that act somehow make me less of a man than someone that refuses to submit?

Am I immasculine because I use to wear makeup when I'd go dancing? Or because I went out dancing at all, and would thoroughly enjoy myself? Is it because I can move my hips, and grind?

Am I immasculine because sometimes I'm in the mood for a cocktail instead of a beer? Because I like Long Island Ice Teas as much as I like a good oatmeal stout? Because sometimes a glass of wine really does complement dinner perfectly?

Please, someone- specify it for me. Clarify exactly what about me makes me less masculine than society says I should be. Where do you draw the line? Are their statistics involved that make this a quantitative issue, or is it simply by nature qualitative?

Go ahead- specify.

I rarely write about my love-life here, but oftentimes expressing myself without self-censoring my thoughts can be helpful; perhaps there is some remedy to be found on xanga.

When I was a child, I cried a lot. My brothers would make fun of me, my classmates would life and my teachers would pity me, but I couldn't really help it. I was always very emotional as a kid, but as I've matured I have learned some of the basics of how to control myself a little bit better. I've calmed down, rarely growing angry and very rarely growing upset to the point of tears.

When Sean said that we could never talk to each other again, I cried for days because he was the first person to ever show me with the respect that I so desperately needed.

When Simon and I broke up, I cried because he was my first love and he had shown me that love was, in fact, something that I wanted and was capable of performing.

When Min said he had to marry a woman and couldn't see me anymore, I cried in his arms because of all the sadness he would live just to make his family happy.

and now, with Kevin sending a text dumping me and blocking me on every technological innovation I possess, I don't even know if I should be sad enough to cry.

I don't like that many people in general, but I care very ddeeply for the people I do like. Since coming home, I've found very little likable across the board. Everyone is mean, everyone is damaged, it seems.

Or did something inside of me break?

I think that one of the most visceral and recognizable American aphorisms is "It's like riding a bike." This always refers to taking up a task or hobby that hadn't been touched or practiced in a while but hopefully will be easy to begin again because of the expertise gained at a previous time. Specifically, it references the fact that most people learn how to ride a bike as a child but may not do it for a long time after leaving childhood; to begin again, all they need is a bit of practice and then they're going to be doing just fine and dandy.

Well, what if you never learned as a child?

When I was a kid, my mother's paranoia basically ran our house. We weren't allowed to have friends over; we weren't really allowed to go over to other friend's houses. We weren't allowed to do all sorts of things because they were considered unsafe, and most of my mother's warnings always resulted in an anecdote about how said activity could (and would) result in an immediate, painful death. Bicycling, as a clearly dangerous activity, was first on the list, and therefore I never learned how to ride one as well as my two other brothers.

It always felt like something was missing, though. Not on a day-to-day basis, of course, but my roommates in college were all big bikers, and having attended the largest University in America, the ability to bike across the large campus came in handy in fair weather. While visiting Toronto, I met a few biking hipsters who had traveled there from Ohio to participate in, of all things, messenger bike competitions.

All in all, throughout college, I had always craved the ability to bike but had been too scared too learn, or possibly too embarrassed. Before leaving Korea, I made a promise to myself that I would learn how to ride a bicycle before the end of the year, largely because the image of biking alongside the beautiful Han River had always seemed mind-blowingly romantic. Not only that, but I love cardio activity and running is difficult on my ankles so biking seemed like a great alternative.

Finally, I got sick of waiting, and yesterday I grabbed my dad's bike and attempted my best. I'd fooled around on a bike before, just trying to balance while going downhill, but I'd never actually ridden one before. Yesterday, I had my first bike ride, and I couldn't have been prouder.

Oh, it was awkward. I fell over constantly, crashing into bushes and twice falling into a busy street. My neighborhood is crowded and full of hills and people were watching and laughing at me the entire time; my ears burnt for hours afterwards. Still, I was determined, and I persevered. I ride my bike up to my starbucks to grab a cup of water, then around a small park before finally going back home. All in all, I rode probably a little over five miles over the course of two hours.

I walked home, sore-assed but very, very proud of myself. I had no teacher other than the sidewalk and even if I was bleeding in three places, the act was done. It took little more than a massive amount of determination and an unwillingness to settle for 'no'.

This is the me that I like. This stubborn, aggressively willful person that moved to another country simply because he wanted to, that studied for hours every single day to try to master a new language, that graduated college in three years with two degrees because I had other things to do and that withstood the massively horrible pain of an exploded appendix for over a month.

That is who I am, and yesterday was a wonderful reminder of what I am capable of once I set my mind to it. I've been apathetically lazy lately, whining and complaining constantly because I frankly don't know what I'm doing in life right now.

Now that I've glimpsed some of my true potential again, maybe it's time to see where else I can turn my mind so that I can once again be truly awesome.