As usual, the WALK TO STOP AIDS was a success.

I'm getting bored with the ongoing excellence and pride that STOP AIDS (formerly AVOC) takes in its crown jewel of event. Every year, it's the same old well-organized, fun event where hundreds of people show up and hundreds of thousands of dollars are raised. I'm annoyed by the free stuff I get, the competition I generate raising money against friends, the hugs you get from everyone you know when you're walking around Sawyer Point, and the exhausted relaxation in the grass with your Dixie Chili at the end of the 5 miles. And, I know, I know. Those people they get to cheer along the route and hug you, give you high fives, and tell you how great you're doing -- I know. Bothersome.

This was my sixth year there. And it's just annoying to have to be involved that much, isn't it?

And this year, I'm glad to see so many of my fellow homosexuals agreed with me. See, when I came out and thought "gee, I want to get involved," I did what every self-respecting queer does... get involved as much as possible everywhere I could. And then I started dating, made friends, got laid a couple of times, and became more jaded than my own good.

Maybe I'm not as active as I have been in the past.

But, I would like to whole-heartedly agree with every single homosexual who decided to sleep in the morning of the WALK TO STOP AIDS rather than drag their hung-over asses out of bed, write a $10 check, and walk for about two hours in the interest of supporting their community.

You're right, the whole noxiously cheerful and feel-good-ness of the event was just too much to deal with at 8am. STOP AIDS should really do something about that.

And, you're completely right, when you say that everything you go to has the exact same people show up. To me, it's almost a disappointment that there are few dedicated individuals in the community that really try to make things work so there is an ongoing set of gay things to do. I mean, after all, it's not like there is something to do every single night of the week at a bar or otherwise. I mean, the volleyball and softball leagues are practically silly with the amount of people that participate. There should be fewer attendees. And, while we're at, less people should spend time playing competitive sports with other people of the same persuasion in order to have fun.

I've been to the bars, too. And the great community-oriented focus of many of them does get on my nerves. I hate going to places where people know my name, where it's fun to move around and dance with guys that may actually want to sleep with me, and get harangued by an ugly drag queen who has
nothing but love in her heart.

Personally, I'm glad Universal Grille closed. It's one less place I have to think about going on a Friday or Saturday night. I would much rather spend my time in a bar where I don't have to be gay.

I think there should be more barstool activism. After all, that fits much better into my life than this whole "getting out and doing something" thing that actually makes sense. Why can't GLSEN -- whose primary focus is high school's and younger -- just do something at my favorite local watering hole? That's where we'll be, after all. It seems absurd that they would ask me to pay to go to a dance in support of the dozens of gay kids who want somewhere to go and not worry about possible harassment.

Speaking of the kids, aren't they so cute when they participate? Wait, when does that guy turn 18?

But, back to the Walk. . .

It's really sad that no one is dying anymore, isn't it? It's really inconvenient that anyone would mention that you could. It is a real downer.

It is wrong that people are getting better and living better with the disease; after all, just 20 years ago, gay people were dropping off like flies. And maybe it was better that way. Then we all understood just how serious it could be. It's not like STOP AIDS/AVOC has gone out of their way to make sure everyone is included that can be included, and it's not like they haven't done everything in their power to make sure that no one leaves their events with a positive feeling in their soul and that maybe you've made a difference that day.

All the hugs and "thank you"s in the world can't make up for, apparently, a couple of well-placed deaths to get us off our asses, right?

Wrong.

My snarkiness aside, I am disappointed with all of you. Every last person that slept in rather than getting your butt out of bed, writing a check, and high tailing it Sawyer Point -- you missed out. A lot of people will say, "But, Barry, you don't go to everything." You're right, I don't. But I make an effort to attend when I'm interested or when I know it's important. And, yes, AIDS is "my issue." Maybe you have your own.

But this is in no way directed to the mass of regulars you see. This is not for the Scott Knox's, the Kathy Laufmann's, the Jill Benavides's, the Dan Ley's, the Doug Meredith's, the Harold Keutzer's, the Michael Chanak's, or even the bar owner's of the world.

The ongoing depopulation of gay events and locations is indicative of a broader issue -- the community's growing disinterest in itself. In a time when we get to be gayer than ever, when we get to be out and proud, we have, apparently, decided that we don't want to be, anymore. We want to be just like everyone else. The revolution is dead, and the interest in what we can offer to each other is dwindling.

Don't tell me about how you want to have kids until you tell me how you want to help build community. You don't get to have children or get married until you've paid back the people and the places and the organizations that have worked so hard to allow you those rights.

You don't get to tell me, anymore, that you have a picture of your partner on your desk and that's all you ever wanted. First, you have to hug Michael Chanak and all the other pioneers in employment in Cincinnati.

You don't get to talk to me about how supportive your parents are, not until you go to a PFLAG meeting or at least tell a PFLAG parent how important they have been to the cause.

You don't get to talk about the great strides we're making, or even celebrate the passage of Cincinnati's human rights ordinance, until you thank Jill, Gary, the NGLTF, or the countless of volunteers who fought. Or, talked to Equality Ohio.

You don't get to mention how many gays are in the media, until you listen to Cheryl and the great crew over at Alternating Currents... or any of the countless people that made the gay TV show in the 1980s (and that's not hard, as Burger of Serpent fame is a former contributor).

You don't even get to talk about gay history until you can list off at least five pioneers and what they did... it's easy to learn, just contact gohi.

And, more salient to the original topic, you don't get to talk about how important a condom is, or how valuable testing is, until you use one, get tested, or at least write a nice email to STOP AIDS thanking them for 20+ years of tireless efforts they have putting into saving all of our asses ... literally.

Guess what? You have a responsibility to be there to pay homage to all those who came before. And you have a responsibility to learn that history. And you have a responsibility to honor it.

You no longer get to sit across from me and say "Well, I just don't do gay stuff" because you are doing "gay stuff" just by talking to me. And you wouldn't have been able to do that years ago, if it weren't for the hundreds and thousands of people who worked, were abused, and died for your right to sit there and be condescending and complain about the lack of community engagement.

It is your responsibility to be engaged in any way possible, in every way possible.

Where have all the gays gone?

The same question could be asked of a hundred different events for a hundred different organizations at a hundred different times. Again, this is not person or group specific, but it's about a "community" that has all but lost interest in itself.

Bars are closing and homo's are flocking to straight bars in record numbers. Gay pride is dominated by nice hetronormative homo's. Drag queens are looked upon as a menace rather than the glorification of gender anti-norms and challenging the system. Drugs and sex are bad, while sitting at home with your partner and a dog is what we hope to achieve. And no one is getting laid on gay.com. It is, increasingly, a "community" that doesn't take itself seriously anymore.

They are just fading away, and we'll have a generation where the gay bar is for special events (or a special night at an otherwise straight bar), and prides are no longer liberally disseminated throughout the country but reserved, instead, for a few choice locations where "I can go and really be gay rather than this backwoods bullshit town I live in."

(Sound familiar? It should. One of my readers said those exact words to me.)

And that's disappointing because those were the places and events that helped me and directed me out -- and, when I lost my way, reigned me back in. I know I won't go to everything, but I'll make a damned better attempt than most people.

But it shouldn't just be about me, or Mike Volmer, or Penny Tration, or Chris Seelbach, or this person or that person. It should be about everyone. And that's why I'm not pointing fingers ... because it's not their fault. It's all of ours.

All because these places we should be -- AIDS walks, drag shows, group meetings, -- are dying and I don't want to find myself twenty years from now at some empty event thinking Where did all the gays go?

Barry blogs regularly over at QueerCincinnati.com, and you can either email him at queercincinnati@gmail.com, or follow him on Twitter.