The Mega Pot Gayness

I have always preferred Kyoto to Tokyo. It represents all the Japanese elements that we are familiar with, i.e. the wabi, the sabi, and of course, the wasabi. Tokyo in my mind is but another overly internationalized mega pot that washed off the majority of its own identity. But I guess I'm wrong, partly, sort of.
After all the hassles that I went through looking for a hut and getting all the foreigner documents, I finally got time to sit down and appreciate the city. The one word I would use to describe this city is STRANGE. There is nothing more bizarre than Tokyo in many aspects. It is especially the gay side of the city that bewildered me the most. Like what I had expected, the gay culture is somewhat oppressed here. Sure, there is Shinjuku Nichome, there are the bathhouses and the hattenbas where essentially are just sex houses. But I don't see anyone standing out to fight for their rights. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Tokyoites are intrinsically afraid of standing out; say, there are only four colors in the city during winter - grey, olive, khaki, and black. And when I posed the question about what it is like to be gay here, I always ended up with the same answer: it is better not to tell. So I get it, DADT version 2.0. But then again, as I thought that gay rights are non-existent in this country, I was informed that gay marriage is actually legal here, provided that one of the spouse being a legal dependent. Why is that? I couldn't figure out for now.
There was one night when I went to 24 Club, the most famous and infamous sex club/hattenba/bathhouse in town. It was depressing. The lights were dimmed down in the rooms and moaning sounds were teasing everyone's ears, and more. The glory holes on the wall of the shower cabins were obviously frequently utilized. People are standing in the hallway, lying in the bed, scavenging every inch of the space for their next prey, or just being the next prey. I had my fun times. But it felt empty inside. An unspeakable feeling arose when it all finished. I wanted to talk to him. However the next time when he saw me, he just walked away without looking. OK, that is cultural. I thought. Body knowledge is supposed to bring two individuals closer, but now it kind of did the opposite. And I feel sorry for some of the patrons there; they made it feel like that it is the only place where they can get laid. Especially when I saw an old man with his hair all white and his body shaky when he walked, I felt a tinge of guilt and pervertness. It is inexplicable and I am going to leave it that way.
Later when I talked with a friend of mine about this, he just said, "you know, they may be executives at their work, they may have a wonderful family, they may be super rich. You don't have to be sorry for them at all. Quite contrarily, you should feel happy for them, for that they have found a place to enjoy being themselves." Well, why not? I guess I was just thinking too much.
I am sure there was something more I wanted to say today. But I am so unorganized. Maybe next time I will make it up in another journal. But anyways, as I am gradually settling down here, it is time to sink and start to appreciate the Tokyo side of Japan, and the Tokyo side of the boys.