My favorite new blog page -- www.robertblackxxx.com -- has just introduced a new podcast series of the same name (Robert Black XXX on the iTunes store).

For those of you who don't know, Robert Black is a longtime porn star, business person, massage therapist, and soon to be nurse.  He's also an actual player in the BDSM scene (not just for the videos).  And he's a heck of a nice guy too, a real mensch.

I was thrilled to be invited to participate on his podcast-- following in the footsteps of the incredibly sexy Derek De Silva.  This is the interview Robert conducted with me.  I hope you enjoy it, and that you check out his interview with Derek as well... oh hell, just subscribe to the podcast so you don't miss any in the future either.

S

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As followers of my column or podcast know, Mr. Dixie Belle Leather and I made a joke of creating a club for socially awkward leather titleholders-- guys who want to serve the community and get more involved, but who struggle with the whole mixing and mingling with crowds.  We (half-jokingly) thought there was a need to support leather titleholder wallflowers to take their next step.

Well, as it turns out, we didn't have enough time (or cash) to have a leather patch for this fake club designed in time for IML to keep the joke running... but we did create pins. 

The pins can be worn by ANYONE (titleholder or otherwise) who is challenged by social interactions-- whether that's making the first move in reaching out to another person, or even being comfortable in how you respond.  It can also signal that you're a friend or admirer of the Social Maladepts, whose shyness or social awkwardness might sometimes be misconstrued as standoffish.

So if you see someone wearing a pin with the letters "SM" (which could stand for Scott Mallinger, but really are an acronym for "Social Maladepts") that features a brick wall in the background and a black flower in the foreground (my Pictionary version of a leather wall flower... lol), go up and say hello.  Or at least smile.  And see if perhaps you can get a pin for yourself to show your support!

After all, if we're going out to a pride or leather event, it's because we're trying to make connections with others.  So let's connect-- and get yourself pinned!

 

 

Almost immediately after the IML competition, after the backstage hugs and congratulations to my fellow contestants, I fled Chicago and retreated to The Woods campground in the Pennsylvania mountains.

 

After the huge crowds, the pomp, and frenetic energy of Chicago, it was comforting to be disturbed only by the crackling of a fire and the noise of a mama and daddy bird feeding their four babies on the porch just outside my camp trailer. 

 

It was only a week or so before the contest that the eggs hatched.  There is a strange but life affirming serenity to the squawking of these hideous-looking chicks.  Looking like small reptiles with perpetually open beaks, they prove that nature may be awesome and awe-inspiring, but not always pretty. 

 

Of course, that’s often true in the leather community too, and in the circuits we fall into.

 

People have been asking me what it was like to participate in IML, and the truth is, it’s very hard to say.  It a deep and core personal journey, and each individual charts his own path.  I believe this to be true not only of myself, but of my fellow contestants.  We all crossed borders and boundaries of some kind, geographical, physical, linguistic and emotional.  Some of us all of the above, and perhaps more. 

 

When all is said and done, most of us emerged better men for it.  Whether we forged lifelong friendships or not, we were given a great opportunity to challenge and test ourselves, and I’m so proud not only of myself but of all of my classmates.  They are an extraordinary group of men, and our worldwide leather community is lucky to have them. 

 

Suffice it to say, IML was a wonderful, crazy, disappointing, affirming, nerve-wrecking, sexy, painful and joyous emotional rollercoaster ride.  Despite the occasional motion sickness, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

 

If the following column seems even more disjointed than most of my writing, my apologies.  I concede that my head is still reeling somewhat, but I want to capture some memories and impressions leading up to and through the big weekend.

 

In the days, even weeks, leading up to IML XXX (some of us called it “IML 30” and some “triple X”—and given the number of contestants in my class with porn credits, “triple X” was probably most appropriate!), I was among 51 titleholders contestants who were constantly asked by well-meaning friends, supporters and community members about whether I was “ready” for IML.   It was great for building up excitement and anxiety.

 

(I suggest if you want to show your interest in and support of someone running for a title, just tell the candidate that you’re routing for them and wish them well.  Ask if advice is desired and, if so, make it direct and clear.  Don’t ask questions—candidates who are taking themselves and their prospective title seriously are already full of questions.  They’re looking for answers!  Repeatedly being asked if I was ready began to undercut my confidence—why was I being asked this question? Did I seem ill-prepared?) 

 

But then, IML generates such excitement that it makes for perfect breeding ground for paranoia. 

 

For instance, I was informed that judges (or their friends and colleagues) would be doing research on contestants far in advance of the contest.  As soon as titleholders are named, I was told, judges go online and see what they can dig up on you for the interviews.  And sometimes they “test” you to see how you’ll respond to certain scenarios.

 

I confess that I googlebated. Yes, I looked myself up online.  I found my homepage  (www.scottdaddy.com), my blog page (www.leatherbound.libsyn.com), my local contest fantasy scene on youtube.com, and references to my column and podcast on other people’s blog pages.  It was actually a rather positive experience for me—I saw nice things said about me that I never would have known about otherwise!

 

And then a week or so before IML, as I’m looking at pictures of beautiful beefy men on bear411, I received a message from a stranger.  Out of the blue, he sent me a note with some rather rude things to say about me and my triad relationship.  Although my gut instinct was to respond with an expletive, I thought to myself, “well, this could be a judge testing me…” and so I responded with a positive message and wished him well.  He responded back with more hate and a prediction that my relationship wouldn’t last.  I turned the other cheek, replying with another positive message about the importance of appreciating and affirming all relationships, and noted that I’ve been with my husband for 16 years now and my boy for 6 years.  To me, that’s a successful relationship.  His third message suggested that relationships like mine are the reason why gays will never have the right to marry.  And once again, I replied with a sincere message (belying my tested patience) that my finding love and comfort and nurturance with two men was not about satisfying anyone’s political agenda, straight or gay.  It was a personal commitment that I was making, a personal choice, and that I was proud of it all.

 

And something amazing and completely unexpected happened… his next note was an apology.  This stranger who was so offended by my profile and by my relationship said he was sorry for being a jerk and that I seemed like a “cool dude.”  We started exchanging positive messages on both sides.  We found common ground and respect that, in all likelihood, never would have been achieved had I just been “myself” and not in contestant mode.

 

It was almost a spiritual awakening.

 

I realized what an amazing and loving world we might live in if we all feared the wrathful and all-watching eyes of an IML judge, and consequently behaved just a little bit nicer and more compassionately toward one another.  I wondered if this was what life was like when we were a God-fearing nation.

 

But the biggest help for reclaiming my confidence occurred from connections that I made at CLAW.  

 

Not only did I meet a handful of individuals that I truly admired and respected as fellow titleholders and competitors, and looked forward to getting to know better in Chicago, but I attended a workshop by the Chicago Leather Kennel Club (CLKC), a non-profit organization that was created to support contestants or potential contestants in any number of leather title circuits, whether a bar title, a state/regional feeder contest, or big-time events like International Mr. Leather and International Leather SIR/boy competitions.  

 

CLKC offers services such as reviewing IML contestant applications, wardrobe, public speaking and presentation, speech, etc. This year they posted their handbook online, and it was an amazing resource of judge biographies and affiliations, correspondences between IML contestants and winners and organizers, with sample questions to help prepare for judges’ interviews, etc. 

 

The most common advice was to be ourselves.  So how do we prepare for that?!  Well, CLKC posted questions to challenge what is in our hearts and minds so that we really know ourselves going into our competitions.    Yes, there really is a way to prepare for being more you and knowing what you’re made of—it’s called introspection!

 

When I was considering running for the local title, I was told that I’d learn a lot about myself in the process.  And it was true—I learned that I had strength and skills that I didn’t know that I had.  Yet I was amazed by how much more I learned about myself through the CLKC Socratic method of self-questioning.

 

Since the nearly 100 questions they offered up are worth asking ourselves, whether running for a title or not, here’s a few of the ones that I found most provocative or helpful….

 

• What is your definition of manhood?
• Is it alright for a titleholder to be effeminate?
• What is your definition of a leather person?
• What are your worst character flaws?
• What is your greatest potential?
• What do you appreciate in yourself?
• When is the last time you cried and why?
• What is your greatest sadness?
• Describe yourself in five words, and which two of these are the most important to you? 

 

The questions that I found most difficult and emotional had to do with identifying mentors and heroes.  I came to realize that I do not (yet) have close friends that are deeply rooted in the traditions and history of leather, whose lifestyle and whose life paths are forged in power exchange and cow hide and kink.  Although I’ve certainly been inspired by the writings and images of many, many men, I’m not sure if I’ve met a leatherman that I would consider a hero.

 

I also realized that I haven’t had a true mentor since coming out as a gay man when I was 18—more than half a lifetime ago.  His name was Michael Labance, and he was the founding publisher of Au Courant Newsmagazine in Philadelphia.  When he and his partner befriended me, they introduced me to the gay community, and they changed the way that I viewed the world and viewed myself.  They taught me that, even as a teenager, I was valuable and had things to contribute.  They encouraged me as a journalist to interview government leaders and public figures, despite my age and inexperience, and gave me opportunities to meet my heroes at that time (men like Larry Kramer and Harvey Fierstein, who brought their messages of activism and rage and humor and love through public action, public speech and performance).  

 

When I was packing for Chicago, I put some of the material used in making Michael’s NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt in my pant pockets for contestant introductions.  When I was onstage in Chicago on Sunday, I carried Michael with me.  And I’m quite sure that if he wasn’t too busy rolling joints with porn stars in pig heaven, he was looking down at me with the pride of a parent. 

 

For men or women considering running for a title, it’s worth mentioning that CLKC offers their services for free, and with an outpouring of affection and enthusiasm that is mind-blowing.  Because some of their members work for airlines, they even offer to travel to contestants’ hometowns, to help contenders prepare with members of their own local community for mock interviews and stage practice.   

 

And believe it or not, there was no solicitation of donations and no “if you win, you want you to do this for us…” from them-- just complete and focused support from a band of brothers who want to see us do well, and who want to foster strength and confidence in new leaders.

 

So let me offer my heartfelt thanks and gratitude to CLKC in general for an amazing service they are providing to a national community-- and to Chuck Windemuth in particular, for helping me feel prepared going into Chicago, and for the hugs and support while I was there.   In nurturing our future leaders, CLKC truly embodies leather brotherhood, and I can only hope to lead by their example.

 

For many of us, IML began on Wednesday with advance registration.  Many of us met in person for the first time at an informal dinner at a local restaurant.  We scoped each other out as men, as competitors, and in some cases, as potential playmates.  We laughed, drank and took the opportunity to get to know one another before the craziness kicked in.

We even shared tips and stories about how we were preparing, while our partners/ boys/ pups watched and patiently supported us.  

 

I know I couldn’t have gone through the weekend without my boy there.  While my emotions hit highs and lows, he was my saving grace, my constant, my rock.  I heard the same from other titleholders of their partners. 

 

Thursday after registration was over, there was an orientation program.  We heard inspiring speeches, effectively designed to stir our emotions.  Our impressions of IML continued to build and swell.  We met previous IML winners, this year’s judges and still more contestants.  We were promised a thrill ride like no other, and plenty of support from an expert team of volunteers and staff.   And we got both.

 

And for folks who have never truly felt supported before, let me tell you, the IML support team does an amazing job of offering up nurturance, flirtation, fraternal love, tough love, and more.  Information came at us fast and furious, but we knew we were in excellent hands under the direction of Dean Ogren and our Den Daddy Joey McDonald.

 

In the dressing room for opening ceremonies, contestants gaped and gawked and, on more than one occasion, groped one another.  (Did I mention the large percentage of bodybuilders and porn stars?)  Some of us measured up well (and some well over 8 inches), and a few even got applause from fellow classmates in the dressing room simply for baring all. 

 

These men put on such a good show in the dressing room that, despite my body image issues, I was grateful to have one of the best seats in the house!

 

Despite warnings that the goodwill of leather brotherhood is sometimes sullied by competition, I’m pleased to report that I saw only affection and support among my classmates leading up to Chicago and at the contest itself.  If there can be honor among thieves, then surely there was an odd dignity and grace among the competitors. 

 

As the weekend advanced, the group gropes actually increased.  Perhaps it was the promise of sex and advanced surges of testosterone, or perhaps it was just tension-induced desperation and need for comfort during a time of stress, but there was hugging and groping and fluffing galore.  There was kissing and kidding.  (Check out the photo galleries on the IML website, if you think I’m exaggerating.  The commemorative DVD should be even hotter for the backstage video footage than the actual contest!)

 

It was like no environment that I’d ever been to before—surreal and strange and erotic and emotionally exhausting.

 

After I had realized at CLAW how many walls I had put up around myself, I made a greater effort to reach out to my classmates in Chicago.  I was gratified by the reception I received.   My focus was on myself and on my boy, but the connections that I made felt real.  I strove to be authentic, and was relieved when others confessed to being equally nervous.  More than one man told me that he questioned whether he belonged in this league of leather men. 

 

The elitism of the IML brand—being best of the best—was both flattering and overwhelming.  Who among us could live up to that kind of message?  Those in the class who were not among the prettiest wondered if this was really just a beauty contest, and the beauties (at least some of them) wondered aloud whether they really were qualified to run for the title.

 

Neurosis can be very democratic.  There is a god.

 

At opening ceremonies on Thursday, I picked the envelope for contestant number 3.  Thank goodness!  This meant that on Friday morning I was among the first of the contestants to have their eight-minute interview with the judges (what many folks consider the hardest part of the event) and have that out of the way. 

 

I was reasonably well prepared for the interview, and was glad that I had positive responses for most of the questions.  When it came to responding to one judge’s question about how I would handle the time demands that came with the IML title, however, I made an uncomfortable disclosure: I was not looking to win.  

 

Running for IML is essentially campaigning for a job—one that has a lot of prestige, a lot of expectations, but very little compensation.  I told the judges that when running for the Philadelphia title, I had committed to help building my local community, and I could not honor that commitment if I won IML and was traveling.  I also noted that I have two partners that I was concerned about neglecting should I win the title (I don’t have the funds to travel the world and bring them with me).  Winning the contest was not worth risking failure with my family or lost opportunities with my home community. 

 

I hoped my comments would earn the judges’ respect, even if it wouldn’t score me big points.   (I still hope that!)  As I stood alone before the table of nine judges, I tried to gauge their response.  I think they all play poker.

 

In a brief moment that seemed like an eternity, the judges looked at one another in silence, seeming to ask one another without words whether they should proceed with the interview.  Luckily they did! 

 

Ultimately I think that I represented myself and Philadelphia well.  We’re a wonderful if dysfunctional family in the City of Bottomly Love, and we have a community that’s worth staying home for in order to make things right. 

 

I was feeling proud of myself for being honest with the judges and feeling like I was living with integrity with my local title, but inevitably as time passed, I wondered and worried about how I was perceived by the judges.  And as insecurity fosters insecurity, body image issues and other crap began to flood my mind.  I was a mess… and again, very grateful for my boy’s assurances and comforts.

 

And an excuse to go shopping.

 

At the leather market, I ran into former IML Joe Gallagher and introduced myself.  I have had the pleasure of exchanging a few notes with Joe on leather websites in the past, and was beyond flattered when he said he considered me a thought leader in the community and requested permission to include links to my column on his website, www.leatherpage.com.   To be considered among the ranks of writers, academics and activists like former IML John Pendal, who recognized me from my writings at Thursday’s orientation, longtime columnist Jack Rinella, and LCC’s Dr. Richard A. Sprott is as great an honor to me as winning a title.  I consider being included on that website to be one of my great achievements.

 

At any rate, Joe embraced me with a hearty bear hug in the middle of the Mind Fetish store and we had a little chat.  When I told him about my disclosure to the judges, he threw up his arms and cried out, “Why would you ever do that?!  They’ll listen to you!”   I was genuinely touched by his frustration, and he told me that he thought I was the kind of guy that IML really needed, someone who could write and articulate issues.  But before we parted ways for more shopping or cruising, he offered more words of support and another hug.   It meant the world to me.

 

When my boy and I returned to our room after shopping, I broke down into bittersweet tears.   After my interview with the judges, I knew I would never be among the ranks of IML giants.   I’d transformed myself from size 40 pants in 2007 to size 32 in 2008, but I know I’ll never be one of the truly magnificent beauties that I saw undressed backstage. 

 

Yet I also knew that among some IML winners, I was considered a kind of peer.  I may not have had a leather mentor or a cohesive leather community behind me, but somehow I managed to find a place at the table.  Whether I always feel it or not, I belong.  It was one of those moments of heartbreaking joy. 

 

So to celebrate fitting in, I decided to check out the www.IMRL.com website and check the photo galleries.  I would not win the contest, but I earned my place among them.  I thought it would be a nice positive reinforcement to actually see myself with my classmates. 

 

Only I didn’t.

 

I found a shot of me onstage (all contestants were captured at least once onstage at the opening ceremonies), but there none of me in the candid pics.   I saw lots of pictures of guys that I was with… but never with me in the frame. 

 

There were, of course, plenty of photographs of the beautiful people.

 

And the emotional rollercoaster hit another low point.  What the hell was I doing here? I thought again, quickly returning to self-pity mode.  If I’m not the right type for IML to take pictures of, I have no place here…

 

And just as quickly as that mood swing struck, fate stepped in again. 

 

On the lower right corner of my screen, I saw notification from hotmail that I received a new message.  And when I opened it up, I found a heartfelt note from a complete stranger, who wrote to tell me that he found my podcast on iTunes by typing in the keyword “leather.” 

 

In his email, Gregory told me that he was listening to my experiences at CLAW and related to it.  I read his note aloud to my boy, choking on my emotion when it came to this point:

 

“Thanks for being direct, honest, humble, and human.  Thanks for your comments about machismo being unresolved self loathing (my interpretation), about cuddling, etc.  Thanks also for your humor… Glad you are out there doing what you are doing.  Just needed to let you know how it has inspired me to go deeper with being more authentic with my kink and my desires.”

 

Gregory’s email thankfully cut short my pity party.  He reminded me that being a part of the IML experience was about being a leader, about being a man of integrity, about being the type of person who celebrates kink and human connections.  I’m sure it would be more than nice to look like Mr. Hoist (England) or Bolt (Sacramento, CA), but I was fine just as I was.  Why be satisfied with being an object of lust when you can be inspiring?!

 

It turned out to be a good night after all.

 

My boy, demonstrating infinite wisdom, suggested that I write Gregory’s name down on a piece of paper and to keep it with me when I went out onstage for Pecs and Personality so that I would remember why I belonged among this particular company of men.  And I did just that.   (So, Gregory, if you’re reading this column or listening to this podcast, please know that you were onstage at IML XXX.  And that you yourself inspired at least one contestant.)

 

Aided by my boy’s love, Gregory’s name folded in my pocket, and a dose of Xanax (in no particular order), I was actually feeling pretty good for Saturday’s Pecs and Personality competition.  Among the bodybuilders and porn stars and pretty boys, I somehow managed to remove the shirt. 

 

In the middle of a sea of photo-worthy beautiful people, I exposed myself with all my flaws: loose skin, stretch marks, zits, patches of hair, a fake tan.   And something most incredible happened—I felt even more welcomed and a part of the class of IML than before. 

 

The more I opened my heart and let go of my baggage, the walls kept coming down.  I even got groped a couple times myself!  Connections and self-esteem can also be democratic.  Hallelujah.

 

By the time Sunday came around, many of us secretly admitted to each other that we just wanted the weekend to be over.  We were promised an emotional rollercoaster, and they delivered!  Former IML Guy Baldwin’s pre-rehearsal pep talk and meditation– completely canned but seemingly genuine— reduced most of us to tears.  Some of us to sobbing fits. The emotions just kept building.

 

After Baldwin’s remarks, contestants were paraded across the hotel to the dressing room, to prepare for rehearsals.  As we passed through the crowds at the Hyatt, people stopped what they were doing.  They watched.  They smiled.  They cheered us on, some madly. 

 

Although it sounds hokey, I believe most titleholders serve their communities because they feel a personal obligation or desire to make their corner of the world a better place.  Most of us don’t do it for the validation—these days, there’s very little clout to having a title or sash.  And a “thank you” is often more rare than a self-douching hole. 

 

So seeing the cheering crowds welcoming us, I felt a tremendous sense of pride.  And joy.  We were appreciated.  These folks may not have known exactly what it took for us all to win our respective titles, but they appreciated our accomplishments and our involvement.  It was a simple moment that will remain with me for a very long time.

 

For the men who did not make the top 20 finalist positions—including myself—Sunday’s contest involved coming out onto the stage twice—once to be introduced, once to be dismissed. 

 

The second time we were brought onstage, it was from the back of the audience.  As we approached the stage from the back of the ballroom, it was disheartening to see so many open seats at the contest—after all the talk about how important IML is, all the motivational speeches and hype, all the tears we’d shed over this moment, and given the thousands and thousands of men in town for the event, it was shocking to see how few bothered to show up for the contest.

 

What a reality check.

 

I realized, once again, that IML is what we make of it.  This is true for the judges, the contestants and the winner.  Unfortunately, it’s also true of the public.

 

For me, competing in IML was an exhilarating ride because I view IML to be the embodiment of the leatherman ideal.  For that reason, to be considered at all, is a tremendous honor.  It was incredibly meaningful and personal.

 

But objectively speaking, IML is a contest.  And a money maker.  Perhaps for the majority of the community (non-titleholders and non-sash-chasers), IML is nothing more than a weekend of parties and hot men and wild play time.    For men seeking a good time, but not an iconic titleholder, there was not enough to bring them into the contest.

 

 

IML’s success rests not only on its history, but on good marketing and promises of sex.  Good marketing means hot men on their web sites, and promises of sex are not fulfilled on the contest stage but in the other rooms of the host hotel. 

 

And what makes an IML?  Well, it’s completely subjective.

 

Judges are not given criteria for their scoring.  Each judge brings their own background, agenda, interests and fetishes to hopefully culminate in a winner that represents everyone well.   It sounds good on paper, right?  (It does to me.)

 

But how many people outside of title circuits can honestly recite the names of the last 3

IML winners?  Or even last year’s?  How many people have felt represented?  Does IML touch the lives of the average leather man?

 

Could he?

 

Before our initial introduction on Sunday, we stood backstage while IML owner Chuck Renslow delivered a rousing speech about the changing kink scene—how the leather scene evolved from biker leather to include latex and rubber, then skinheads, then boys and pups.  There was a public call for inclusion that sounded wonderful.

 

I would have been moved, but as a contestant, I heard very different messages leading up to the contest.  I specifically recall hearing from MORE than one judge that, “This is Mr. International LEATHER.  I want to see LEATHER.  Not rubber, not skin gear, not other stuff.”

 

Now that the weekend is over, now that my heartbeat has returned to normal, I’m wondering if contest seats would have been more full if, in fact, the men of IML Class of 2008 were encouraged to represent the full spectrum of kink and not simply leather?  Should we have been allowed to practice what organizers preached?  

 

If people felt connected to and represented by IML, would there have been more seats filled?  What the title be more meaningful to a larger audience?

 

As Renslow noted, we are now in a world very different than it was when IML started. What, if anything, should IML mean to the community at large?  Are we holding out for a hero, a role model, a thought leader, a pretty boy to inspire new fantasies?  Do we want an icon of mythic proportions, or perhaps someone that we can relate to, who makes us feel that we too belong?

 

As usual, I don’t have answers, only questions.

 

As I got to meet my fellow contestants, I was impressed by the diversity of the group—men in their 20s to 60s; muscle men and pretty boys; bears and cubs and wolves the gamut in between.  There were men with little experience but great desire and enthusiasm, and men with a great deal of experience in playing and community service.  Many of these latter men did not place within top 20, while youngsters and personal trainers and porn stars did. 

 

As I said, I was impressed by all of my classmates.  And since there are no objective criteria for selecting an IML, it really felt that any one of us (except me) could be going on as a finalist during Sunday’s contest.  Of course, this was not possible.

 

Not being privy to the contestant applications, and since the judges interviews are closed to the public, it can be difficult to understand the decision of the top 20 finalists.  Not that I believe any of the finalists chosen were unworthy—but why these men and not some of the others?

 

Were the most exceptionally attractive chosen because they gave good interview and personality?  (Interviews were worth 60% of initial scoring, and Pecs & Personality for the remaining 40%)  Did judges grant more latitude (consciously or otherwise) to the beautiful guys in order to put on a better show?  Were younger men whose only fundraising events were for their own travel fund chosen over men with true community service in order to inject new blood and The Next Generation energy into the proceedings?

 

I’m not questioning the decisions made, but I am curious about HOW they were made.

 

In order for IML to remain an iconic ideal (if that is what it should be), there needs to be a greater understanding of what it means to be International Mr. Leather and what it takes to represent the best of the best. 

 

I have a good deal of respect for many of the IML judges (I  might even say that I have a good deal of respect for al of them, but to be perfectly honest, I don’t know enough to have an informed opinion about all of them). 

 

Over the past few months, I’ve met our new IML Gary Iriza on a couple occasions.  He’s a beautiful man on the outside, and seems like a great guy too.  I’ve remarked to others after having exchanges with him that I find him to be not only sexy, but exuding confidence without arrogance, which is a great combination in my book. 

 

Gary also happens to be a personal trainer and porn star, able to earn a living off his looks and body.  Good for him.  That he also happens to be a sweet man with a boyish exuberance and a talent for fundraising is great for us.

 

But is he an ideal leatherman?  Who is he representing?  How many of us can relate?

 

I hope that being honest about having gone through the IML process, and what it means to me, grants some me the license to ask these questions about IML without sounding like a bitter loser.  I feel blessed and enriched by the experience, and have absolutely no regrets about it.

 

But I do ask myself (and have heard others asking in whispers): If the judges aren’t given criteria on which to judge, if there is really no ideal IML winner, then what is the point of it to the community at large? 

 

Why are the interviews closed to the public?  If the winner is supposed to represent us all, don’t we all have a right to know him as much as the judges?

 

For the larger community, is IML just another circuit party with a terrific leather market and a beefcake show?  When you look at the crowds at the host hotel and the men chosen onstage, it does make you wonder.  And, sometimes, draw some sad conclusions.

 

But long after I stop asking these unseemly questions, my impressions and memories of IML XXX will remain powerful and positive and affirming.  The contestants were extraordinary; the support staff and volunteers were a nurturing godsend.  And I know that I came away from the weekend feeling better about myself, and more energized for my community, than I did going into the events.

 

IML is what I made of it—full of challenges met, friends made, quality butt ogled.  I was reminded that I can still be inspired and that, to some, I can be inspiring.

 

And to the folks that matter most, like my devoted boy, I don’t have to be a beautiful person to be an ideal and a hero.  As the CLKC said, I need only be myself.