Thursday, January 22, 2009

Crack and Sack

I had a particular rough week. By Wednesday my optimistic mood was shattered, and I was left feeling pissed off, dejected and particularly annoyed with all my colleagues. So I stuffed my face with carbs then attended a high impact cardio kick boxing class at the gym, to burn off the carbs. Thursday morning I decided to take a deep breath, adjusted my attitude and put all my frustrations in a bubble and blow it away. I then did what any gay man would do and attended to my personal grooming - gay therapy!

Gay grooming is a complicated affair. Depending whether you are a Bear, Bear Cup, Butch, Femme, Twink, Muscle Mary, Drag Queen etc, gay grooming have different rules for different groups. But no matter in which group you fall, one rule stands – pubic hair should never be left to grow unattended. If you have an Amazonian jungle in your jockstrap or panty you are sure to get a disgusted stare from any potential sex partner. No one wants to go down on a monkey and very few homosexuals prefer a hairy ass to a smooth bubble butt. Homosexuals prefer genitalia to be neatly kept as we want to see what we have to work with. Correct grooming can make anything look shiny, bigger and better, it’s also is more hygienic. There is no handbook explaining these rules, you learn them through trial and error and if you are really unlucky through a sex partner who will rudely point out your grooming errors. (All homosexual have a bitch gene, in some the gene is more dominant and we all know who we are!)

My waxing routine is painful but simple. All hair from the neck down is removed, apart from that which is covered by a g-string which I attend to myself. I have considered having what they call a “Crack and Sack” (the male equivalent of a “Brazilian Wax”) but the idea of it gives me nightmares. I can’t imagine having to bend over in awkward positions, having to pull my cheeks apart, having to tightly grip the skin of certain parts of my anatomy in order to assist my waxing technician to get to all those nooks and crannies. Besides being embarrassed to do so, I imagine the pain would be horrendous. It will also add an extra 15 minutes to my 45 minute appointments.

After my waxing session I leave the spa free of unwanted hair, I leave feeling happier, lighter and less frustrated. I caught up on all the gossip and realized that my problems are far less significant than those of other clients.

At home I attend to the finishing touches, which do included contorting my body into awkward positions, but at least I have a good understanding of my own anatomy and have no audience (apart from our 3 cats who find the whole routine fascinating to watch). It’s amazing what one can achieve with a pair of clippers, shaving cream and a razor. You can transform your body from that of a cave man to a porn ready super stud. Maybe it was the change that happened in the gay porn industry during the 90’s that inspired the big change in gay male genital grooming. But what ever the instigating factor was, I am grateful for it. The days of bushy pubes, hairy balls and hairy asses are over. Gay genital grooming has claimed its rightful place in the Top 5 spots of gay therapy: Hair cuts, Gym, Clubbing, Sex and Genital Grooming (Not in order of preference or importance). Till next time

You're Fabulous! (Now You Know!)
With Daily Drag Queen Affirmations, a man in a dress will make you feel good about yourself, EVERY DAY!

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Condoms, Pepper Spray and True Love

My husband and I have been together for 10 years and 10 months. That’s like 28 in straight years. In gay terms it is admittedly miraculous and we should qualify for the guineas book of records. It is not always sunshine and roses, fabulous sex and holding hands while skipping through flower beds. Relationships are hard work. Some mornings I wake up, look at my husband I think “oh my god, your face again, what the fuck have I been thinking the last ten years”. His small habits which was enduring at first are now the biggest annoyances: His tendency to let his work stuff take over our apartment, the way he leaves the stove after cooking, the fact that he gets cranky if he doesn’t snack at least 5 times a day and I can go on... But every so often I take a pause from my life, look at my husband when he’s not aware and think I am one lucky bastard!

Having many single friends I realize that I would hate to be in their shoes. Dating in our day and age is hazardous to any self respecting homosexual mental health. With internet dating (and we all know how people lie on the net) you never know what you are going to get and pepper spray is always an advisable piece of protection for a first date, not excluding condoms that is – hopefully the use of both will be never be required on the same date.

A dear friend of mine has had particular bad lack in recent months. He has dated three guys in a span of 14 months. All three relationships failed and he was broken up with twice; once over msn and once with a text message. Luckily he had the opportunity to dump one out of the three, but he had the decency to do it face-to-face over dinner. I can not imagine how I would react being broken up with via text message. I would most probably hire a hit man or develop self image issues.

One thing I noticed is that all homosexuals have standards in what they look for in a companion. Starting out the standards is quite high and lower with time. First the priority is outer beauty, age, work and income status and how you’ll look as a couple in public. Then you graduate to looking at inner beauty, age, income and whether you would want to go out in public. Finally, sitting opposite a potential suitor having had a string of failed relationships, you are left with the question “Am I prepared to stoop to this level and can I bare having sex with this person more than once?”

The gay community believes in fast love, quick sex and is obsessed with appearance. This is what makes us special. However this is also our achilles heal. When it comes to relationships we face unique challenges unlike those of heterosexuals which make finding true love rare. We have particular issues with Monogamy, Marriage, Children and Growing Old. Making relationships work is our most daunting challenge, but when ever you are ready to take the plunge, realistically determine what you want in a companion and honestly be who you are, it will happen. I believe we all have a sole mate, some of us have a few, and he\she is out there waiting for you; once both of you are ready you will meet. Whether there is a happy ever after, I don’t know, but it sure as hell is worth trying to find out.
Till next time.

"Hedwig and the Angry Inch - Origin of Love"

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

A bitter pill to swallow

Returning from a holiday is always a bitter sweat affair. On the one hand I languish at returning to the monotonous status quo and on the other hand I am delighted being home around all that’s familiar and comforting.

Our return home was a shitty affair! We got food poisoning on our first day back – damn pizza! My husband and I were close to death; or rather that’s how I felt. I was waiting for the white light and the short film of my life to flash before my eyes.

Between nausea and diarrhea, I learned one important thing about modern medicine: Suppository pills were invented by an evil person. The first time I got intimately acquainted with a suppository I swear I didn’t know what it was. Then someone explained to me how it worked and I was briefly traumatized. The second trauma came when I had to take it. Basic human anatomy dictates that no foreign object wants to stay lodged in the human rectum and naturally wants to get out, and I feared the damn thing was going to slip out. Then when I learned that body temperature melts the pill I was concerned about anal seepage. Hence, my first suppository experience was stressful, painful and unpleasant (not much unlike when I lost my virginity) and I was not looking forward to a repeat performance even though this time I would be better prepared.

Unfortunately the suppository pill was the only thing that helped for the nausea and at one stage I weighed up which was worse - taking the pill up my bum or surrendering to the nausea and letting nature take its course. The suppository won! I know this may sound weird, a gay guy complaining about taking anything up his bum, but I have the firm belief that medication should be taken orally and the other way round is just wrong. Luckily the food poisoning only lasted 24 hours. It was the longest and most uncomfortable 24 hours I experienced in quite some time.

I few days later I returned to work. I didn’t feel ready to go back, I didn’t want to go, I felt sorry for myself and I felt like a seven year old school child going back to school (but without the tears and tantrums). I was not the only one whose jaw could plow a corn field being so dreadfully unexcited at being back at the office. Returning back to work is always fraught with obstacles. The first few days back felt like I was navigating my way through office politics without a compass. It takes a couple of meetings and reading through my overflowing e-mail inbox before it all to comes flooding back: The overbearing colleague, the colleague with the tumultuous and violent lesbian relationship, the back stabber, the adulterer and the self pitying singles. Reestablishing me in the tribe takes some skillful diplomacy, grinding of teeth, faking smiles and reconnecting with people who for a few weeks will feel like utter strangers. The only solace at this point is the reality that nothing has really changed, the work remains the same and the people too, it’s just my mindset that needs to reset to an acceptable compliant state. I have to grind my teeth, fake a smile and push on. However, diplomacy as always will remain the most challenging.

Till next time.

"Queen Tom boy, Dance Gay music
This is a song for all Bisexual,Gay,and Lesbian around the world.
You can download hight quality video clip here
thanks to His Majesty Tom boy and Webmaster Dennis Tran"

Friday, January 9, 2009

Dipping my toes into fire

This is my first blog and it is scary as hell!!!!

My first thought when my husband suggested i start one was "what the fuck have you been smoking?!" No one on the net would want to read what I have to say. Then I had a couple glasses of wine and the idea didn't seem as stupid or daunting, after all alcohol does give one courage to attempt all thing against better judgment. Then when the buzz of the alcohol really kicked in the idea seemed even better, because why should I only bore him with my rantings and ravings if I can do it with so many more people out there, and also bore them into a second rate non Valium induced coma. So here goes, my first blog entry.

I just returned from a very nice and relaxing holiday, or rather the week at the beach was the nice and relaxing part - before that was xmas and family and all the drama and family stress that goes along with it (if you have ever cooked a turkey and had one unsavoury family member you wish would have been dead by now you would know what I mean).

I planned my holiday in such a way that I could get the family part out of the way first because:

1) I am married so hence there are two families to keep happy;

2) My family is dysfunctional but I love my sister and she had her second child on 15 December 2008, so I kinda knew that this part of the family would be little effort as new baby equals "low key: get the family out of my house by 10pm";

3) My father is screwed up and I knew he and my codependent psychopath stepmother would try and fuck xmas up for all of us, so I had to be prepared for that drama;

4) My in-laws, who I also love to bits, are very big on xmas and it is always a production. With production, i mean you need staff and a project manager to coordinate the "event"!!!

Xmas went of as planned. We left my sister's house at 21:40 and everything before that was very pleasant and we all had a fabulous time. As expected my stepmother did phone me two days before xmas and tried her usual demonic psychodrama on me, but due to me being hung over, from the night before, I lacked the attention span to be adequately affected. The Xmas extravaganza at the in-laws was a major success, apart from my sister-in-laws desert that bombed - i am sure she cried herself to sleep, as my turkey was fucking amazing!!!!!

My beach holiday was relaxing. Mother nature was not as kind as she should have been, but we made the most of the days of sunshine we had which we spend on the beach, sunbathing and swimming. I love the ocean. It one of the places that makes me feel safe and at peace. Watching the waves role in, hearing them brake on the shore, feeling the cool mist on my face and the smell of the sea puts my sole to rest.

It funny how you never quite put much thought into what goes on under the water. The last day we spent at the beach I had a little diving accident. I was diving underneath a wave a scraped off the top layer of skin of my noose. I didn't realize this until my husband pointed out to me that it was bleeding. Now I am standing shoulder deep in the sea, where I know there are quite a few sharks not so far off shore, and I I'm bleeding. I kicked into drama queen mode, still trying to keep my composure. In my mind I was bleeding profusely (actually it was less than one drop of blood squeezing it's way through not so baldy damaged skin). All the National Geographic shark attack programs plays through my head and the only thing I can remember is - sharks can smell a drop of blood from miles away!

I need to get out of here!!!!

I spot at least five people in close proximity and calculate my chances of getting out of the water alive at 80%, as they are all fatter than me and I am convinced a shark would go for a victim with more meat. Not trying to look as if i am freaking out I gracefully try and swim towards shore. I use the excuse to my husband that I am cold and think it's time to get out. He looks at me (I know he knows my real motive and he can see me trying to conceal my panic) but the gentle sole he is he agrees and we make it safely to sore all limbs in tact.

New years eve we decide to go to the only gay club in the town we are spending our holiday. Going to a dodgy gay club beats sitting in an apartment listening to fireworks and hearing other people get drunk and having good, don't you think?

We arrive at the club and I swear it's no bigger than our apartment at home. All the people look weird! For a few hours we weren't even sure it was a gay club. We had a few drinks and settled into this queer setup and I figured things out - all these people were bisexual (or at least that's their cover story). The biggest queens were there with their "girlfriends" who in a few years will become their fag hags and the butch guys were on the prowl for "straight girls". What a load of bullshit! Most of the butch guys there will end up being nelly bottoms eventually! The whole night my husband and I were the only gay people there who ever made any physical contact with each other. It felt like Mormon bazaar.

As we left there at 4am in the morning I had a strange sense of sadness for all the regular patrons of that dreadful establishment as I asked my myself the question "How the hell does any gay person ever get laid in a place like that?"

Having survived xmas and new years eve, I look towards 2009 with a cautious optimism. If have made it this far in 31 years and I sure as hell can make it through 2009. There will be highs and there will be lows, and I am sure to share it with all who read this blog.

Till next time.

More articles you might like

Related Posts with Thumbnails