I recently learned that Seattle has a reputation for being the "city of open relationships," particularly in the gay community. Why that might be is anybody's guess, but I'll hazard that it has something to do with the soil. Or maybe the air. Or is it the water...? This alleged rampant disregard of monogamy might be the reason that my bed sees about as much action as a Chinese restaurant on Christmas Eve. I can't compete, even with my swirl, which is really quite spectacular. I mean, why would anyone settle for just me when they can double their pleasure? (Umm...I think I just got what Wrigley's was going for all along. #clueless)

The number of guys 'in a relationship' who are online trolling for some extracurricular activity is as titillating as it is depressing. It's one reason why I gave up Grindr for Lent. (For those of you fortunate enough to not know what Grindr is, it's like Facebook Places, only wetter.) Thankfully, I've still got Craigslist, and if you've never heard Maya Angelou read aloud from the man-4-man section of casual encounters, then you've got some YouTube-ing to do.

I think that this promiscuity is part of the "lifestyle" (#wordsihate) that my parents were worried about. Well, that and the drugs. And Cher. But not necessarily in that order. The Friends of Dorothy have earned quite the reputation, even if it is a bit imprecise when applied to individuals (casualties of the culture wars). Such is the nature of stereotypes; take the salient characteristics of the most conspicuous members of a demographic, add a dash of disdain, wrap it self-righteousness, and you've got yourself a quick way to decide whether or not to hide the good silverware. In truth, I'm a big fan of stereotypes. I was just stereotyping stereotypes in order to prove a point. Stereotypes don't hurt people; stupid people using stereotypes hurt people. Stereotypes are part of learning, and if they were to be disallowed, I'd regularly burn myself on stoves because I couldn't presume that all glowing orange things are hot, which is simply not true. Sorry, Snookie.

And so on to the theme of this issue of Subterfuge: Tribes (gotta keep the editor happy). While we may grasp the intricate distinctions and beauty and humanity of the members of our own tribe(s)—the 'us'—we typically reduce other tribes—the 'thems'—to a single, overly simplified caricature. Dehumanization is good sport; ugly people don't have feelings, just like people who don't speak english. So, though Focus on the Family may see the homosexual community as a den of iniquity, I see so much more. Remove the gay moniker and you'll see a crew as motley as any other: Homos are not homogeneous. Nevertheless, the "community" writ large is ticking me off.

You see, we're a pretty dysfunctional group overall. I believe that this is due to a lack of worthy mentors. The elders of our tribe were decimated by AIDS. The next generation was ironically lured out of the closet by Prada (completely understandable) albeit later in life. (That's my story, and i'm sticking to it.) They're now trying to recapture their lost gay youth by wearing Diesel and by preying on the twenty-somethings, who are among the first gay americans to have an open community to receive them. Sadly, that community has a dearth of leaders and a surfeit of lemmings.

The mentors from whom we could most benefit aren't doing the fruit loop at Purr or walking around in a towel at—ironically enough—Tribe (google it). Instead, they're at home (where we can't see them) with their partners, resting up for work, or watching Modern Family. The mentors we do get are the wealthy retired men who invite twinks over to their beautiful homes for sex soirees where "party favors" and alcohol abound. The favored sons are treated to first-class trips about the globe and gay cruises, replete with drug busts and lectures from ship captains on how to party safely.

The gays certainly don't have a corner on vice; we just have fewer countervailing forces in our social circles because we don't want to rock the boat. After a lifetime of feeling different, we just want to fit in, even if that means we have to turn a blind eye now and again to what is going on. And what is going on isn't so much wrong as it is uninspiring. Nor is it without consequence.

Maybe i'm just jealous. I'm surrounded by a host of guys with underactive pre-frontal cortices and low serotonin levels who seem to be living a more carefree life than I—I of all people, the guy who has tried to live on the straight and narrow (well, not so straight). It almost makes me believe that "character" isn't some natural absolute. It is merely the label that we give to our preferred strategies for getting what we want. When ours fail while others' suceed, it may be time to recalibrate. But are "they" truly happy, or are they only having fun? Have they traded a rich future for a frabjous present moment? Something has to give, if not now, then later. Life is zero sum, and zero sum is justice.

Thanks to the community's disproportionately low average body fat percentage, it's not difficult to see that beauty is really only skin deep. Desperation goes to the bone. That perfect couple? They're cheating on each other. The guy in Gucci? He's broke. The adonis? He's positive. The gym bunny? He's hoping his abs will throw people off of the scent of his insecurities. And he probably won't mention that he's anorexic. That older 'mentor'? His daughter has disowned him. All the while, the party rages inexorably on and on and on... The stronger the personal dissonance, the more reckless the behavior. The hotter the mess, the better; it makes for great facebook posts. Here's a good one: "just finished brunch at lola, now off to ummelina for a facial. and still have to pick up some champers for the d-list party pre-funk tonite. so busy. ugh!" I'm sure that the orphans in Zimbabwe who GTL can commiserate.

And yes, I doth protest a bit too much. A little.