“Gay Otter?” What on Earth?
I never saw it coming.
There I was, standing outside my therapy office in Lakeview, the hum of Chicago life all around me — dogs being walked, the smell of coffee drifting from a nearby café, the familiar rumble of the Brown Line overhead. I had just wrapped up a deep therapy session with a client and stepped out for a breath of fresh air.
Then I heard it: “Hey, hot gay otter!”
It came from two young guys walking by — one laughing, one glancing back over his shoulder with a smile. It wasn’t aggressive or mean, just casual, like they were tossing a pebble into a pond and watching for ripples.
And ripples there were.
I froze for a second, unsure whether to laugh, blush, wave, or pretend I hadn’t heard it. My therapist-brain immediately kicked in: What just happened? Why did that hit me the way it did?
Between Compliment and Category
On the surface, being called a “hot gay otter” sounds flattering — maybe even funny. In gay culture, an otter usually refers to a man who’s hairy but not as big as a bear — someone in the middle ground of the body-type spectrum.
But underneath the humor, I noticed something more complicated: I felt seen and labeled at the same time. It’s a strange duality — to feel noticed and boxed in simultaneously. I could sense a quick mix of pride, confusion, and mild embarrassment running through me. [It’s a topic that comes up often in queer focused therapy].
Was it a compliment? A tease? A stereotype? Maybe a little bit of all three.
That moment stayed with me because it touched on something I talk about in my therapy practice all the time — especially with men in Chicago who are navigating identity, masculinity, and vulnerability.
Visibility: The Double-Edged Sword
As a therapist, I often work with men who struggle to feel seen — by partners, friends, family, or even themselves. Yet, being seen can also feel exposing.
That one sidewalk comment brought me face-to-face with the tension between wanting to be visible and wanting to feel safe.
Being called hot stirred up both pride and discomfort.
Being called gay reminded me that visibility in queer identity is still a layered experience, even in an affirming city like Chicago.
Being called an otter was playful — but also a reminder that even positive labels can flatten who we really are.
So much of therapy for men — gay or straight — is about learning how to handle being visible without feeling like you have to hide parts of yourself.
The Therapist Becomes the Client
Later that day, I journaled about it — something I often encourage my clients to do, particularly people who are engaging in Internal Family Systems (IFS) therapy.
What came up surprised me. I realized I’d been seen through someone else’s eyes, and that reflection didn’t fully match how I see myself.
That small mismatch — that gap between external perception and internal identity — is often where anxiety, shame, and insecurity hide out.
It’s the same emotional space where so many men get stuck:
– The guy who’s “the strong one” but feels lonely inside.
– The man who’s “the funny one” but uses humor to mask sadness.
– The husband who’s “the provider” but feels disconnected from his partner.
In that brief moment on a Chicago sidewalk, I got a taste of what my clients describe every week — that feeling of being noticed but not necessarily understood.
Labels Can Both Define and Confine
In the therapy room, we talk a lot about labels — how they can help us belong but also limit us. It came up recently when a person was called a “gay troll” at LGBTQ Pride
At any rate, “Otter” is harmless and funny, sure, but it reminded me that any label — even positive ones — can reduce a complex person into a single dimension.
In therapy, men often say things like:
“I’m the stoic one.”
“I’m the fixer.”
“I’m the one who never cries.”
And then we slowly peel those labels back to see the full person underneath — the parts that want connection, softness, curiosity, and care.
What That Moment Taught Me
That random “hot gay otter” moment didn’t ruin my day — it enriched it. It became a mirror.
It reminded me that being visible is a daily act of courage. And for gay men, it can carry an extra layer of vulnerability, even in a city as open-minded as Chicago.
It also reminded me how humor, attraction, and identity are all tangled together in queer culture — how we often joke our way through the complexity of being seen.
A Takeaway for Men Reading This
If you’re a man who’s ever been labeled, teased, complimented, or misunderstood — here’s what I want you to know:
• You’re allowed to notice your reaction. Whether it’s pride, shame, confusion, or curiosity — it’s all valid.
• You don’t have to define yourself by others’ words. You get to decide who you are.
• You can talk about it. Therapy isn’t just for when life falls apart. It’s for moments like these — when something small gets under your skin and you want to understand why.
In therapy, we slow down the moment. We unpack what it means. We find your voice beneath the noise.
Final Thoughts
That afternoon on the sidewalk, I kept walking, still smiling a little. Maybe I am a hot gay otter. Maybe I’m just a therapist who needed a reminder that even healers get humbled by life’s strange little moments.
Either way, it made me grateful — for visibility, for humor, for the work I get to do helping men navigate their own identities here in Chicago.
Because in therapy, as in life, the labels may come and go — but the goal is always the same: to be fully, authentically seen.
Men’s Therapy and LGBTQ Counseling in Chicago
If you’re a man in Chicago looking for a safe space to talk about identity, anxiety, or relationships, I hope you consider reaching out. Several of our counselors identify as queer and may be a really good fit for your counseling needs.
