A while back, I was asking for ideas on topics for blog posts. A regular reader suggested, “why don’t you write about your first experiences in boots and leather?”

Well, here goes…

… First — the boots. I really have no “first experiences” other than I always wore boots instead of shoes since I was a tyke. Growing up half-years on an Oklahoma horse ranch led to that. I just wore boots. That’s it.

Back home the other half-year in Maryland where kids of those days wore dorky little leather shoes and then by the time I was in junior high school, wore sneakers — most of my peers laughed and poked fun at me as a “misplaced cowboy.” They made other taunts as well. I have forgotten what they said. But kids were kids and often cruel. My family just surrounded me with love for their quirky “little bother.” (spelling is intentional — and a family joke.)

As this is purely a G-rated plain vanilla blog, my musings about “first-experiences with leather” may not be what some people may expect from a gay guy who emerged tentatively on the leather scene during the height of the 1980s AIDS crisis.

Back then, I was already an avid motorcycle rider. A leather jacket, tall boots, and chaps were de rigueur. Then I found lighter weight jackets that fit like a shirt. I loved the feeling of leather — all leather — on my body.

I also liked how I looked. I found other men so attired attractive, too. In fact, that’s how I met the man who is my heart and lifemate, my spousely soulmate. But that’s another story for another time.

Wearing “full leather” made me feel more secure, more confident, and more masculine. Growing up as the awkward little kid with Mr. Graceful and athletic-scholarship-earning jock twin brother had something to do with that. Wearing leather (which began in my mid-20s, not earlier), increased my self-perception of confidence and made me feel more secure. Or shall I say, “less insecure.”

Face it, most if not all gay men felt insecure as they came to full realization of their sexual orientation whilst living in a world that was, at the time, oppressive if not downright hostile toward “gay anything.” The popularity of the Village People at the time and their campy routines on TV and stage was also hard to live with when other guys would ask me, “so are you like “them?” Are you gay?”

Men who wore leather and rode a motorcycle just couldn’t be gay. Could they?

In the decade between when I was 25 to 35, I was working in new jobs, building a life and a home (literally), and it was also when the AIDS Crisis was emerging and most frightening. Getting some “gay disease” when not knowing how it was transmitted scared me back into the closet — or more directly, onto the seat of my motorcycle where I would just ride in full leather and not do anything else. Not meet other men, not go anywhere like clubs, night spots, or bars. Just ride — in full leather.

By the time I was in my mid-30s, I was more secure and confident as a man. I was fully “out” to my family. I had met my man and was in a secure and committed relationship. And I wore leather often and regularly. Just because.

Why? I liked it. That really was it. And my lifemate, partner, soulmate, spouse — liked wearing leather as well.

Life is short: sometimes “experiences” are just that — or as a friend once said, “a banana is a banana.”