You say you're proud.
You post about equality.
You've got rainbow trainers, follow Drag Race queens, and have a playlist called 'Queer Bangers'.
But when it comes to dating?
You block the femmes, mock the camp ones, swipe past the chubby ones, and say "masc only" like it's some badge of honour.

So let's ask the question you've been avoiding: Do you actually like gay men — or just the version of them you think the world will still accept?

This isn't an attack.
It's an intervention.
A mirror — tilted gently. But truthfully.

Because the way many gay men talk about — and treat — each other on apps, in clubs, in group chats, and in relationships?

It doesn't scream pride.
It screams projection.
Fear. Self-rejection dressed up as standards.
A culture where we seek love from people we don't even respect — because deep down, we've never made peace with who we are.

"No Drama." "Straight-Acting." "Not Into the Scene."

You've seen it — or written it.

Dating profiles filled with disclaimers, rules, low-key bullying disguised as preferences:

• "Just looking for chill masc guys."

• "Not into gay bars or campness."

• "Not really into the whole gay thing."

The irony? These lines often come from gay men — about other gay men.

But scratch the surface, and it's not "preferences."
It's not even confidence.
It's internalised shame — weaponised.

When you grow up being taught that gay = wrong, you learn to hate the bits that look gay. The feminine, the flamboyant, the soft.

So you reject them. Publicly.
And you call it "standards."

Where It Comes From

Let's get psychological for a second.

Most gay men carry one or more of the following:

• Religious rejection – Being told love is wrong.

• Masculinity policing – "Don't talk like that." "Stop being a sissy." "Man up."

• Media erasure – Growing up without real, positive gay representation.

• Shame from peers – Mocked, bullied, laughed at for being different.

And so what happens?

To survive — we internalise those messages, and turn them inward:

"If I'm not like those gays, maybe I'll be accepted."
"If I'm masc, I'll be safer."
"If I only date masc, I'll be valued."

But in doing so, we create a system where the most visibly gay people are mocked by the ones who should be their brothers.

That's not healing. That's hierarchy.

"Masc for Masc" and Other Myths

Let's talk about the obsession with masculinity.

So many dating profiles act like it's the gold standard:

• The voice.

• The walk.

• The gym body.

• The neutral clothing.

• The chill, aloof persona.

But here's the reality:

Most of that isn't attraction.
It's aspiration.
It's wanting to be loved by the very type of man who wouldn't have protected you when you were 12 and terrified in PE.

And let's not pretend "masc for masc" means "equal footing."
It usually means:

"I want someone who doesn't threaten my own fragile masculinity."

We say we want connection.
But we set our filters to only include people who don't reflect our true selves back.

That's not dating. That's self-erasure.

How We Talk to Each Other (And About Each Other)

The way many gay men speak about others reveals the wound beneath the pride flag.

• "He's hot, but a bit camp."

• "He's cute, but he's not exactly boyfriend material."

• "Too much makeup. Too needy. Too loud."

• "What even is that walk?"

We've built an entire culture where:

• Femme = weak

• Camp = cringe

• Age = irrelevant

• Emotion = unattractive

And then we wonder why we're all walking around traumatised, disconnected, and terrified of being real with each other.

Self-Hate, Masked as Standards

Here's a confronting truth:

Some gay men don't like other gay men — because they don't like themselves.

They might like sex with men.
They might like partying with gays.
They might like flirting when it's fun and safe.

But ask them to respect softness?
To date someone who doesn't fit the mould?
To validate a different expression of queerness?

They flinch.

Not because of that person.
But because it threatens the fragile structure they've built to survive.

The Impact on Dating Culture

When this behaviour becomes normal, here's what we end up with:

• A community obsessed with hierarchy — who's hotter, who's more masc, who's more desirable.

• Shame-based dating — only pursuing people who validate our ego.

• Toxic perfectionism — where everyone's pretending to be someone else.

• Shallow intimacy — where we connect on aesthetics, not energy.

• Romantic fatigue — where genuine vulnerability feels impossible.

And beneath it all?
Loneliness.
Real, raw, buried loneliness.

How We Start Healing This

Healing doesn't mean dating people you're not attracted to.
It means becoming honest about what shaped your attraction in the first place.

1. Audit your preferences

Ask: "Where did this type come from?"
Was it media? Fear? Childhood trauma? Peer pressure?

2. Challenge the "masc only" myth

Is that really what turns you on? Or is it what you've been taught is safe to desire?

3. Spend time with different types of gay men

Make friends with those you might have filtered out. Let yourself be surprised by what connection actually feels like.

4. Stop mocking your own community

Even jokingly. "She" jokes. Mocking the fem guy at the bar. Dragging someone's outfit. It all adds up. It's not funny. It's a mirror.

5. Be honest in dating

If you're only chasing emotionally unavailable men who "don't act gay", ask why. And be kind to the part of you that still feels safer in that story.

Loving Each Other Starts With Liking Ourselves

If we want to build better relationships, we need to like the whole of gayness.
The glitter. The softness. The rage. The history. The nuance. The beauty.

Not just the parts we think are palatable to others.

Gay culture is not a performance for straight approval.
It's not a Hunger Games of masculinity.
It's not about shrinking yourself so you don't scare the boys you want to fancy you.

It's about fullness. Joy. Colour. Truth.

And you can't love someone else fully if you're still trying to delete the gay from yourself.

Rewrite Your Love Language

At GayDatingMatchmaking.com, we don't believe in boxes.
We believe in truth.

In attraction that's curious.
In love that's expansive.
In a community that sees each other — really sees each other — and says "you're welcome here."

Because the men who make you roll your eyes today?
Might just be the ones who remind you of who you used to be.

And the part of yourself you've spent a decade avoiding?
Might be the exact part that's ready to be loved now.

So ask yourself gently — not with shame, but with clarity:
Do I really love who I am — and am I treating other gay men like I do?