You Know Me, ’Cause You Know We Are the Same

As the colder days of Autumn settle in, I find myself curled up with a hot-ish cup of tea and Milo tucked against my side—my tiny, purring guru reminding me that warmth can be chosen, not chased. And yet, even in this wave of contentment, a question drifts through my mind:

If I am the clam… will I ever find the penguin meant to waddle up to me?

Because, let’s be honest: meeting new people these days feels like a scavenger hunt designed by a trickster spirit. I wander into bars only to find cluster after cluster of closed-off gay men—perfectly contoured, perfectly curated, and perfectly uninterested in connection beyond the choreography of side glances. And the apps? Honey… everyone’s online, but nobody’s moving their arse off the couch. The digital illusion of availability without the energy of initiative.

Somewhere along the way, the “boyfriend-experience hook-up”—the simple joy of hanging out, laughing, and easing into intimacy—started getting treated like a lost art. Guys now swear they’re down to connect before coitus, but then show up empty-handed, expectation-heavy, performance-light. The whole enchilada is… under-seasoned. Makes me want to tap them on the forehead like a malfunctioning toy and hit RESET:

“Return to curiosity mode, you. Reboot the software. Playfulness required.”

And then—let’s name it with love—the self-professed tops. A demographic I truly want to believe in. Yet too often, they show up unable to hold a basic conversation, lacking any sense of reciprocity or symphony, so disconnected that if I weren’t mildly dissociating, I’d be finishing one of the books I’ve been intentionally avoiding. (Growth comes in many forms.)

But here’s the deeper truth beneath the snark:

I’m mourning the softness. The curiosity. The shared hum of two people exploring each other with presence, not performance.

And so I return to my cup of tea… to Milo’s gentle weight… to the inner spaciousness that Autumn always brings. In Unity’s teachings, we talk about the divine spark within each person—the idea that connection isn’t something we get, it’s something we recognize, like matching frequencies that remember each other.

How do you pause long enough to let curiosity lead? How do you stretch a moment so that two energies can actually meet? How do you press for more juice—more presence, more humanity, more authenticity—without losing your own?

Drop your thoughts in the comments or slide into my DMs with the wisdom you’ve gathered along your journey. Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s this:

We are all searching for the same thing—to be seen, to be met, and to be held with genuine interest. You know me, because you know we are the same.

Which leads me to my question for you:

In a world full of gay men navigating freedom, fear, desire, and distraction…how do you cultivate connection that feels less transactional and more transformational?