What happens when a Go-Go Boy grows old

We all dread growing old (turning 30, 40). But what happens when a Go-Go Boy enters his twilight years.

The Day I Shit Myself.

A while ago something really traumatizing happened to me. It was a Friday that started off like most of my Fridays do. There were no signs to suggest that my day would have a horrifying start. No sign that this particular morning would be the start of a particularly bad day; such a bad day that it henceforth will be known as “Black Friday”. It has taken me months to muster up the courage to write about it here because I was embarrassed and ashamed of myself. I just hope you, my readers and Facebook fans, do not think any less of me after reading this blog post. But, before my courage wanes let me tell you about that shitty “Black Friday”.

Fridays are my favorite day of the week. Mostly because I only have to endure 8 more hours of work before it’s officially weekend. Fridays are also the only day of the week that I can honestly say I am almost a morning person, with the emphasis on “almost”. On this particular Friday I followed my usual routine, woke up at 6:15am and proceeded to get my early morning caffeine and nicotine fix. I then sat down in front of my computer to update my social media and scan the interwebs for gay news worthy of sharing with my Facebook fans. It was a normal Friday morning by any means and there was nothing out of the ordinary, but that would soon change.

You see my bowel movements are predictable and they are regular and that is just the way I like them. I usually have them in between the time I spend updating my social media and the time I get dressed for work. On this fateful morning it was not to be any different. As I was finishing updating my social media presence I could feel a slight rumbling in my stomach. This is normal for that time of the morning and it usually is my body’s way of notifying me in advance of having to make an imminent deposit in the loo. Not concerned that the rumbling heeded a sense of urgency, I decided to hold off going to the loo and instead went to the studio to select my outfit for the day. That would prove to be a dreadful mistake.

As I unlocked the studio door the rumbling in my stomach went from a mild loo notification to a more prominent warning groan. But, I know my body (or so I thought), and believed that I still had a good 6 minutes before my loo call. As I was taking my outfit off the clothing rail, the groan in my stomach took on a more ominous tone. It wasn’t long before I realized that the 6 minutes I thought I had would expire earlier than what I had anticipated. So, I took the clothes and, this time with a sense of urgency, I attempted to lock the studio door. Then it happened, suddenly and catching me totally off guard I found myself at the wrong side of the loo count down.

My bowels were about to move and I wasn’t ready for it. All I could do was to clench my ass as tight as I possibly could and pray. It was crunch time! Out of absolute desperation I abandoned the key in the door all the while clenching my ass so tightly I could have made a diamond in there. Rather frantic I rushed into the house and as I entered I realized that only clenching my ass muscles was insufficient. I needed a backup defense system in case my rectum fails me so I proceed to also clench my rectum muscles as tight as humanly possible.

 “Holy Mary, Jesus & Joseph” I thought “this CANNOT be happening to ME!” In my final desperate moments I dropped my clothes on the floor and were about to leap into a sprint. But one thing no one ever told me is that if you are clenching every muscle in your ass and rectum to prevent yourself from soiling your pants, sprinting will nullify all those efforts. So I guess what happened next should not come as a surprise.

To my horror in mid sprint halfway to the loo the unthinkable happened. -I began to shit myself. At first only a little and then the flood gate opened only 9 feet away from the toilet. "I was so close! So damn close!!" I thought. Then a strange sensation overcame me, the sensation you only get when you shit yourself. Apart from your pants becoming heavy, I also experience an euphoria of guilt, disgust and shame combined with relief.  My self-esteem was also as soiled as your pants and I felt ashamed. Very ashamed! The kind of shame you cannot put into words. The kind of shame nobody who haven't soiled their pants would understand.

As the sensation of my own excrement was weighing me down, I went to the only place in my mind that would make my situation remotely acceptable. I went to my favorite place - denial. “Nooo, I didn’t just shit myself. No... not me.” “This didn’t just happen, it must be a bad dream, come on now, on the count of 3 wake up!” But it wasn’t a bad dream. I did shit myself! I shit myself right in our dining room. I shit myself and the proof was in my pants and whether I liked it or not I now had to accept it and I had to do something about it.

So I held my head high, breathed in deeply a couple of times and with my chest out and shoulders back I uneasily walked the remaining nine steps to the toilet, took off my pants and pretended to finish my business in a dignified manner. The last time I shit my pants was during the time my parents potty trained me and I really was not expecting to do it again until much later on in my life, like let’s say in my mid to late 90’s. But, at least when I am 98 I will be wearing an adult nappy so technically I wouldn't actually have soiled my pant.

After I removed the evidence of my hugely embarrassing bowel disaster, had a shower and got dressed. The trauma of my experience hung over my head and I had to share it with someone. So I phoned my husband “Honey, something awful just happened to me. I bet you will never guess what it was!” and I was right, he didn’t. The rest of that day pretty much went downhill from there. It was not my finest hour, proudest moment or fondest memory. May this never happen to you! Shitting your pants really has a way of ruining your whole day! And Black Friday was indeed really a shitty day.

Till next time.

An Open Letter to Porn Addicts. You Know Who You Are.

If you are reading this you were probably on Google searching for porn and landed on my blog by accident.  But, before you put down the tissues and lube to close this window, I just want to first ask you a couple of questions, if that’s ok?  It’s totally anonymous but you should probably clear your search history when you are done, just to be on the safe side.  I mean, I have seen your search terms that landed you on my blog and you seem pretty messed up.  Honestly, the visuals I now have in my head are going to give me nightmares and will most probably cost me a couple of thousand bucks extra for therapy.

But enough about me, let’s get back to you.  I want you to clarify a few things for me about the stuff you search for on the internet, you know, the things that “help you get off”; the same things that accidentally landed you here.  Look I am grateful for any hits I get on my blog no matter where they “cum” from but some of your search terms just confuse me, and I don’t mean the obvious ones either.  So let’s get started.  Also, if you are not a porn addict, you should totally read this too.

The first thing that troubled me is how many times you search the internet for Clown Porn.  I know that is a “fetish thing” because I blogged about it once before and I am still traumatized by it.  Also, being terrified of clowns and believing there are way too few clown stabbings in the world I don’t understand how this is a fetish at all to start with.  Firstly, clowns should never have sex.  Period!

Clowns belong in the circus and that is why I have not been to a circus, other than Cirque du Soleil, in well over thirty years.  Clowns are way too jovial and wear way too much makeup.  Besides, if a clown was in anyway sexual or, god forbid, ever made a sexual advance at me, I would die.  Literally. Actually I would most probably first pee my pants, run away and then die.  Also, imagining a clown orgy, of any kind, is unsettling on so many levels I would not even know where to start expressing my mental outrage.  If you have a clown porn fetish you should be ashamed of yourself and it is something you should totally declare to your therapist who is treating you for having such a shitty childhood.  Bozo the clown says “Shame. On. You.”  And there is no Bozo the clown who works in porn.  I checked!

The next search term confused the hell out of me.  “Gay fellations anus blogspot”.  Firstly, I think you meant to write fellatio and you need to work on your spelling.  Do you expect Google to correct your spelling forever?  Secondly, in context of that search term I think you wanted to find a blogspot about rimming and/or blow jobs.  And in case you didn’t know, those are two very different things.  Seeing as I am not a pornographer or a sex therapist I am not going to guide you through these two types of oral sex.  I suggest that next time you Google these types of things that you first check your spelling and be more specific.  The only “oral” you are going to get from my blog is “oral diarrhea” that comes mostly from me and of which this particular blog post is a prime example of and, for that I apologize. I'm not a very good blogger. Although I have won awards but the people that gave me those awards were in all probability drunk. But I digress.

Unfortunately not all the porn searches that landed people on my blog were so straight forward.  Some were rather disturbing and resulted in me also having to do a brief internet search.  A good example of this was “adderall and diaper fetish”.  Firstly, adderall is drug used to treat Narcolepsy and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).  Why you would have an adderall and diaper fetish in the same context, I don’t know.  I mean, do you want to be a chilled out baby?  Do you like shitting in your pants while your on a psycho pharmaceutical induced buzz?

If you suffer from Parafilic Infatilism or as it is also known, Adult Baby Syndrome, you need to see a psychiatrist because grown men are not supposed to shit themselves on purpose.  The only time which that is really ok is if you are in fact a baby.  Sure I have a background in psychology but there is a reason I don’t have a practice: I don’t like dealing with crap like this and if you are a grown man who likes shitting in diapers you really aren’t the type of person I want to associate with anyway or would want to treat as a patient. I don't want to be your daddy!

More disturbing than grown men wanting to behave like babies are some of your searches that deal with Donkeys.  Sure this is sort of my own fault as I have been going on about wanting a gay donkey on my blog and that we would call him our “challenged unicorn”.  But how you managed to sexualize poor donkeys is just wicked and scary.

Normal people don’t search for donkeys having sex with each other and if this turns you on I have serious concerns about the health of your sex life.  Also furry gay donkeys do not want to sign porn deals with people, because they are, you know – fucking donkeys!  Let them be and stop creating a market for gay donkey porn!  They are sensitive innocent creatures who should not be corrupted by your need to get off on them getting off.  They are bloody unicorns in disguise.  They are magical for fuck sakes!  …I apologize for my rant, I just really like donkeys y’all…

The last thing I want to address is how obsessed you are with your anus and the plethora of “anus” searches that landed people on my blog.  I still don’t know how Google links this particular search to my blog but hey, it is what it is.  The new trend some people are into these days, according to my blog statistics, is “fire in anus”.  And no, I am not fucking with you!  I am not sure what they do but it just sounds dangerous and painful.

Are people literally setting their assholes on fire?  Is “fire” a euphemism for something else?  Is “fire in your anus” a new STD?  I don’t know what kinky sexual shit the kids are into these days or what new sex lingo they have but I think somebody should notify the medical fraternity and forewarn them that there may be a few new anal burn wounds coming their way.  I, for one, know that I wouldn’t want a fire in my anus, but hey maybe that’s just me.

Look, I don’t judge a person for surfing porn on the internet; after all that is what most people use it for anyway.  Also, there is nothing wrong with sexual fetishes, although I don’t understand why some people find certain things that I find gross sexually arousing, but hey, we cannot all be the same.  If you want to tie your boyfriend up and do unsanitary things to him, well I guess that is your prerogative.  If you want to wear diapers and dress up in an onesie, it is your choice but just know people will judge you.  So if you landed on my blog due to searching any of the search terms I wrote about today, welcome.  Also, I am sorry that you didn’t find what you were looking for.  You can now take your tissues and lube and close this window.  That will be all. Happy porn surfing you freaks.

Till next time.

No, I don't want to friend your cock.

I have been on Facebook since 25 June 2007.  That is like a really serious commitment or relationship in the cyber world.  I have been on Facebook longer than what most people’s relationships last; longer than what most people, including myself, stay at the same job.  Through the last nine years I had my fair share of dramas on and with Facebook. It's like having a really needy lover. I have also learned that there are seriously unstable people on Facebook who desperately need to be fucking medicated and in therapy.  They make me lean toward being a misanthropic person as I don't like to deal with fucked up people in real life nor do I want to in the cyber world. Reflecting back on my, sometimes tumultuous, relationship with Facebook I could not help but wonder, are people really as fucked up in real life as they seem to be on the internet.

During the last nine years I have been banned from Facebook twice.  Yes banned! Twice!  Coincidentally, both times were preceded by some rather disturbing hate mail I received from some fanatical religious freaks who took great umbrage at my mere existence.  These were the same assholes who, in all probability, reported me to the gods at Facebook who in return, instead of investigating the “complaints”, rather opted to disable my account.  Both times it took weeks and a torrent of emails for the Facebook gatekeepers to come to their senses and to reinstate.  It was much like being broken up with. It was horribly emotional. The most recent time they threatened to banish me was because I had too many friends.

You see, Facebook has a 5000 friend limit.  I have reached that limit a couple of times at which point I was instructed by a faceless bot message to clean up my friend list OR ELSE.  Facebook can sometimes be a very mean and domineering lover. Do you know how long it took me to scrutinize my entire friend list?  It toke not take days – it took weeks!  The last time I was threatened to clean up my friend list was last year and it took me a whole week to delete just over 2000 people.  My criteria was simple:  If you don’t have a profile picture of yourself, you were unfriended.  If your name is “Gay Love”, “iFuck a Lot” or “BJ King” or anything ridiculous like that you were deleted.  And if you have your private parts as your profile picture you were unfriended.  And this leads me to my next point.  Why do some people think you are primarily on Facebook for sex?

My Facebook profile clearly states “married” under my relationship status.  Surely the people who inbox me on Facebook can’t be illiterate?  I have gotten countless messages over the years ranging from people who were soliciting sex from me, wanting to know if hubby and I were into gang bangs, asking how big my dick is, what fetishes I am into and the best ones were “ASL” (age sex location).  Now if you need to ask me that on Facebook you are either just fucking retarded or super lazy!  I mean honestly, don’t these people read your profile before sending you profanities and wanting to have carnal knowledge of your body?  If I don’t know you chances are good that I also don’t want to play occupy the anus with you especially if we are not even on the same continent. Have these people never heard about fucking Grindr?

And then there are the people on Facebook who firmly believe that their dicks are their best physical attribute.  They are so very proud of their penises that they prominently display it as their profile pictures.  Now if you invite me as a friend and all I can see is your erection that is pointing the wrong way which barely disguises your unkept bush and hairy balls, chances are good that I will not accept your request.  Chances are even better that I will report your profile to Facebook and the message you will get in your inbox from me will read “No, I don’t want to friend your cock!”  I mean seriously, would you walk around in public with your crown jewels hanging out of your pants?  Doing it on Facebook is pretty much the same thing, don’t you think? You should be ashamed of yourself and possibly be arrested or lewd and lascivious conduct. There should really be a law about stuff like this. Just saying.

But Facebook don’t just have overly horny folks on it, they also have the spammers.  You know who I am talking about.  Those people who like to post products on their timelines, obsessively tag you in photos of brands, inbox 50 people at a time with “You can win an iPhone 6S” and those folks who troll groups and pages and post links to websites ranging from pornography to dating sites.  I believe there is a special place in hell for these fucktarts right next to telemarketers, homophobes, Hitler and Robert Mugabe.  I don’t know why Facebook doesn’t ban them.  Most of their profiles are fake anyway and this is why I never accept friend request from girls posing in sexy positions that have a lot of friends but never post anything on their timelines except for spam. Spam like dildos and cock rings. The latter making the song "If you like it you shoulda put a ring on it" pretty indecent. Shame on you Beyonce. Shame. On. You.

The other crowd of the people who occasionally annoy me on Facebook are the folks who clearly need to be in therapy and who are always airing all of their dirty laundry in public.  Sure sometimes it is entertaining reading their status updates in my news feed.  Following their mental meltdowns during the course of eight hours or reading how they are trying to get rid of their one night stands the next morning is quite entertaining.  But have these folks no shame?  Are they not aware that their friends are reading these status updates and are judging them?  Some days while reading my news feed on Facebook I feel so much more normal and mentally stable in comparison to some of my internet friends.  Watching their shit go down in real time feels a little voyeuristic, but hey if they post it who am I not to read it. The little melodramas is like watching a soap on television the only difference being that you can comment and engage with the characters. Not that I do that but I have been very tempted to.

Lastly, I have a certain group on Facebook which I have been trying to close down now for well over three years but with little success.  Apparently winning a war in Iraq is easier than closing down a group on Facebook.  I decided to close the group down due to spam, people using it as their personal sex hookup spot, endless “add me” posts and a few other unsavory reasons.  I have closed the wall, banned hundreds of folks and outright threatened people.  Yet, the group continues to grow and currently have well over 22 000 members.  It boggles the mind.  Why would people stay in a group where they can’t do anything?  Moreover, why the hell would anyone want to join the group either?  The group is called “Gaywarfare” but it should be called “Whores, Orgies & Spam” instead.

Yes, Facebook is filled to its cyber brim with some fucked up people.  Perhaps some folks on Facebook think that I am fucked up as well, the lord knows I too have my moments. The internet and Facebook is the one place where you can truly embrace how fucked up you really are. You can confess all your secrets to your lover called Facebook. You can tell him about all your problems and have a meltdown in front of your laptop and Facebook will comfort you. You can be a hot mess and Facebook will love you anyway. And we will all read about it and secretly judge you while liking your posts. Facebook never said he was the monogamous type. You should really have read his terms and conditions. I think all relationships should have them. If I had terms and conditions which you accepted you cannot later be all like "I did not sign up for this" because you did.

*mental note: start writing my terms and conditions*

Till next time.

Weird Questions Gay Couples Get Asked

Let's face it, gay couples get asked a shit load weird of questions. Here are just a few...

The Gay Bottom Bible

For anyone who have never bottomed before the idea can be quite intimidating. And even for those who have spent a lot of time in the "saddle" there are still a lot to know and learn. In this video YouTube celebrity Davey Wafey and vloggor Colby Melvin teamed up to create the ultimate Gay Bottom Bible. Watch and enjoy. 

All I Want For Christmas Is You.

Steve Grand romances a scruffy babe in this new music video "All I want for Christmas is you".

This song is also available HERE.

An Unconventional Lesson in Anal Sex.

Oddly, there seem to be a couple of evangelist pastors out there who allegedly are experts on gay male sex. I kid you not.  Apparently they seem to know a great deal more about gay sex than what the average homosexual does.  Especially surprising to me is the resilience the male sphincter muscle (aka your asshole muscle) has according to them.  Apparently you can shove a whole baseball bat up there, your iPhone and a gerbil.  No wonder so many people get rectal exams in prison:  You never know what they could manage to smuggle in there; it could be anything from a nail file to a ladder.   Reflecting on some past comments of a certain Pastor Patrick Wooden I could not help but wonder, have we gay guys even begin to explore the wonderland that are our rectums.

Pastor Wooden seems very preoccupied with gay male genitalia the and male anus.  After all it is in that general area where we like to keep things neat, tidy and in some cases bleached and pierced.  But, in Wooden’s defense, the anus is a wonderful organ.  It is resilient and can stretch when needed.  And the best of all you don’t even have to be gay to have experience this phenomena.  Straight people can experience this too.  I'm speaking to all those straight guys out there who like it when their girlfriends stick her fingers up their ass. You know who you are!  And I know that you are worried and wondering about being fingered and if that makes you gay.  The answer is no, it makes you ass bi-curious. But it's not just through sex and ass play when you can experience this.  Normal bodily functions also helps you experience the elasticity of your sphincter muscle more frequently than what you may think. 

If you have ever been constipated and finally had that bowel movement that sets you free, you probably have experienced that glorious sensation.  You know that feeling when you push and push and you feel it is just too big to come out.  Finally, as the monster turd crowns and you feel like your asshole just is not big enough and about to exploded, it makes it’s way through and takes its final plunge leaving you relieved, proud and semi euphoric.  Well, gay anal sex is not completely unlike that.  Apart from the turd being a cock and instead of it coming out it goes in. I apologize for this graphic image that will now be stuck in your head for weeks to come. In my defense I did not make you read this, so technically it is your own fault. But I digress, lets get back to your asshole.

Like any good homosexual I am also partial to some ass play.  I, like some gay tops, can also be “ass curious” at times (If you don't know what that means Google will explain it to you).  But I can honestly say I have never shoved a baseball bat up my rectum nor have I attempted to insert any live stock or rodents.  Mostly, because I do not understand the logistics of it and I don’t condone animal abuse.  I mean honestly, how exactly do you force a little gerbil into a dark crevice if it doesn’t want to go in.  Doesn’t it have teeth and sharp little nails?  Or is that part of the fun?  I’m sure PETA would have a lot to say about this issue.

Inserting foreign objects into our rectums is something gay men do.  As per definition a foreign object is anything “originating elsewhere” or simply put “outside of your body”.  So it can be pretty much anything including someone else’s penis, which is predominantly what gay guys prefer.  Some gay guys are also over achievers and sometimes like to have more than one penis up their man hole.  It's true, I have seen it in gay porn.  It doesn't look comfortable at all and not something I am inclined or interesting in doing. Ever.  In my case we have a drawer in our bedroom with preferred foreign objects.  Now don't pretend to gasp for air, you know you have a secret sex drawer too. 

Our drawer contains nothing particularly out of the ordinary for a professional homosexual on the go.  We have the usual socially accepted objects, you know what I mean.  My father-in-law, a few years ago, accidentally opened this drawer thus destroying any illusions he may have had of his son and I being celibate and not engaging in anal sex.  He emerged from the ordeal pale as a ghost and dramatically quiet for the rest of that day.  He’s probably still traumatized and digesting what he had seen.  I believe that mental pictures that were inadvertently burned into his mind still haunts his dream till this day.

Using foreign objects that you can buy from any sex shop or online to enhance your sexual experience is one thing, but what if you don’t have the time or money.  Well, like any resourceful homosexual will tell you, there are a plethora of everyday household objects that you can safely use.  Let’s turn our attention to your kitchen.  Fruit and vegetables like bananas, cucumbers and carrots are perfectly safe.  You won't get any nutritional value from them but you will have fun and in some cases vegetables can be orgasmic. Just don't use them in a salad later.  That would just be gross.  Butternuts on the other hand are not safe nor are any frozen items, fish or cutlery.  The broom closet is pretty self explanatory as most closeted right wing evangelist pastors will tell you.

When it comes to the bathroom and the bedroom wardrobe it could get a little dicey.  Firstly, it is not good hygiene to insert anything into your ass that you will not be able to get out again later, having to wash your face with or have to put in your mouth.  Secondly, electrical items and anything bigger than your hand and arm could pose some serious medical repercussions and should always be used with extreme caution.  I would advice you to first consult with your physician but I can see how that conversation could be awkward.  It is also extremely important to remember that KY conducts electricity extremely well, as I can attest to from personal experience, and electrocution does not enhance an orgasm, it does quite the opposite and it's not fun nor is it sexy!

My iPhone is the one item I have never considered inserting into my rectum and people who do clearly have no respect for their phones, themselves or other people and they should be ashamed of themselves!  Honestly, what if you get a very important call, a Facebook message or a tweet?  Are you going to phone, message and tweet that person back apologizing by saying “I was busy stimulating my prostate, and thank you for calling me at exactly the right time – you really hit the spot for me!  It was the best orgasm EVER! Thank you for making me cum!”  I didn't think so people.

  

Contemplating the good Pastor’s recent comments and especially the part about gay men’s rectums being mutilated resulting in some gay men having to walk around with butt plugs and diapers, I consulted with a medical professional.  My pharmacist told me it was bullshit!  Sure with regular abuse and inserting very large objects the sphincter muscle can get damaged and deformed over time; but for that to happen the person must have been doing some seriously fucked up shit to themselves and their assholes.  And surely this is not the norm.  To conclude, any person who walks around with a butt plug up his ass for a whole day has some serious skills and I am sure that would be dreadfully uncomfortable.  As for wearing diapers, I don't think I am into that baby fetish shit. I mean who would want to shit their pants on purpose?

Whether Pastor Patrick Wooden spoke from personal experience or secret desires, I guess we will never really know for certain.  His fascination with gay anal sex and brevity of knowledge on the subject does however slightly impress.  But, I am sad to say Pastor Patrick Wooden, there are some things gay men will not put up our asses and your dick ranks number one on that list.  Even though I do admire the fact that you are so very adventurous with your own anus, I will never be as able a power bottom as you do.  Your accomplishments are awe inspiring!

Till next time.

Heterosexuality - A Queer Perspective

In all my gay years I have often been asked many questions by well meaning heterosexuals, questions that often times starts with the phrase “Can I ask you something personal?” The questions that follow usually would be about my queerness, our gay old lifestyle and homosexual intercourse. And I have always answered these questions, frankly and in great descriptive detail, sometimes to the regret of the questioner. So now I thought it appropriate to flip the tables and ask a few questions of my own about heterosexuality that I have been burning to ask for years. So here goes…

I have always wondered whether straight folk where "born that way" or whether heterosexuality is actually a lifestyle choice. You see I have been pondering on this for a while. Why on earth would any person choose to be straight? Straight folk never have any fun. They never have any colorful parades.  They only dress up once a year for Halloween. Very few have any fashion sense and then there’s the small little horror of accidentally falling pregnant – something that never happens with homosexuals!  Or at least the ones I know off.

Straight folk’s lives are also predictable and scripted. They are expected to achieve certain milestones at certain times in their lives – get married, get pregnant, raise the kids, get them out of the house at 21 and nag the next generation to procreate in order to reach the final milestone of becoming grandparents. Gay folk don’t have these pressures. We can meander through a full life without being expected to do any of these things - we only do some of it because we choose to.

And then there is the sex. I don’t understand heterosexual intercourse and I find it puzzling. Firstly, the equipment that’s to be utilized for pleasure differs vastly in mechanics, design and general function. At least with homosexuals we have an innate understanding and intimate knowledge of our sex partner’s erogenous areas, the only thing that differs is the model size, religious cosmetic alterations and grooming.

Queers don’t necessarily have to learn how to swim in the sea of pleasure, we can jump right in, have a splash and both can make it to shore satisfied. With heterosexuals I suspect this may be slightly different and some experience is required before they get their sea legs. This being said, heterosexual sex must be terrifying and possibly dangerous!

Imagining the experience of heterosexual intercourse could easily make a standard homosexual lightheaded. Having seen the female anatomy in all its glory a few times in my life (for which there will follow no explanation or elaboration) I just can’t figure out why straight guys enjoy it.

The vigina must be the strangest organ in all creation. It’s a curious little fleshy miniature canyon with understated accessories sometimes hidden by a forest and other times just plain bare. Then there are the breasts for which I fail to see the purpose off during intercourse. It seems like they would just get in the way and could potentially be hazardous. Depending whether they are coconuts or tennis balls they do have the potential to cause a concussion or lead to suffocation.

The actual act of heterosexual intercourse I think we can all figure out on our own. The train goes into the tunnel and then comes again, as Freud would say. But, I have heard some straight guys boast, when trying to make straight sex seem better than gay sex, by stating that they have a choice of three orifices to choose from, whereas gay men only have two. To which I ussually candidly resond "Well honestly, I do really just care about the two!" Besides I always also tend to take matters that one step further by asking the said heterosexual guy’s girlfriend whether she has taken it up the ass before and if not I am always willing to give her some pointers.

But then having sex with straight men could be daunting too. For woman having to deal with a penis and testicles could pose their own challenges as not all men are created equal and not all men tend to their gardens, if you know what I mean. Being faced with an erect penis and not knowing how it works could easily lead to confusion.  And when it’s surrounded with a moist and uncultivated tropical rain forest, its appeal factor can easily drop to zero. Then there are the differences: some wieners are turtle necks and others are kosher, and some women prefer the one over the other as do we queer folk.

The last thing I have wondered about is, can heterosexuals see and appreciate the beauty of people of their own gender. If a straight guy walks down the street and see another guy who’s attractive, well build and groomed can he say to his mates or girlfriend “Wow” without having his own masculinity threatened or questioned? Or can a woman admire another without thinking she has lesbian tendencies. We queer folk can do that all the time, gay guys appreciate good looking women, lesbians can acknowledge a fine male speciment, but that does not mean we want to sleep with them. Can straight folk do the same?

Yes, heterosexuality is a queer phenomenon that’s highly prevalent, very public and truly fascinating. I don’t think I will ever understand it and the fact that they flaunt their sexual preference and lifestyle choice in our streets, offices, shopping malls and on television sure isn’t making it easy to ignore them. At least they don’t have a flag yet, but I’m sure that too will happen someday. Even though I don’t understand it, sometimes don’t approve of it, I accept my heterosexual friends, family and colleagues just the way they are – they are people too and the heart doesn’t choose who you love.

Till next time.

Margaret Cho: Beautiful

What moms say to gay sons

"Did you need more hugs?  So that's where my cucumbers went? But you like girls?"

Yep, at some time or another we have all heard these questions from our moms.  Check out this video for a giggle or two, or three.

The Straight Girl's Guide to Gay Boys

This is what all straight girls need to know about gay guys.

Sexing It Up

I have been a fan of Cazwell and his steamy and sexy homoerotic music videos for a while.  So in case you have never heard of him or seen any of his videos, here are a couple for your viewing pleasure.

Am I a Stepford Fag?

With my thirty something birthday coming up (a queer never reveals his true age after 30) in just over a month I took some time to sit back and reflect on my life. After all I am now closer to forty than I am to twenty.  And isn't it strange how different we view life while you are in your twenties than how you view life when you are in your thirties? As I measured how my life has changed since I was 20 and how different it is now than what I expected, I came to ask myself a shocking question – Have I become a Stepford Fag?

Stepford Fags are described in the urban dictionary as “a gay couple who are nice, sexless and nonthreatening. Typically they live in the suburbs, have an immaculate house and yard and don't scare the neighbors while they are in fact just as much a slave to heterosexual establishment as everyone else.”

While in my twenties I could have been described as a social butterfly. Most nights I partied the night away and knew all the regulars at all the night clubs by name. As my long suffering husband and I started dating (shortly before my 21st birthday) all the club celebs came to know us as a couple rather than individuals. It was bound to happens that way as my husband and I share the same name.  We became friends with the elite gay socialites, at the time, and became regular fixtures at all the popular LGBT events.  In between my busy social schedule I managed to finish my studies and started working. However, during this time my social life gained priority and my studies and worked was seen only as a time filler until the next party.

I went to class and later to work with very little sleep, sometimes a hangover and the odd glittery souvenir of the previous night’s party stuck in my hair. On one occasion I showed up for work minus one eyebrow because at the previous night’s strip show at the club the flame throwing stripper scorched it off. My husband and I also thought it funny to wear matching outfits to clubs, which in retrospect was silly not only because it’s such a cliché thing to do but I mean really wasn’t it bad enough that we share the same name? As the years passed our regular feature on the nightclub circuit became less frequent as work demands and responsibility increased and we reduced our social excursions to weekends.

Being young, wild, attractive and popular I didn’t give much thought to the future – being that age I thought I would stay young, pretty and thin forever. Never once did I consider getting married as I was of the firm belief that it was something straight people did to make it more difficult for them to split up. Being in a happy and committed relationship and having moved in together I was quite content with the way things were. We didn’t need a contract so ensure our relationship would last! Apart from marriage the house with the white picket fence, dogs, cats and children was as frightening to me as a cheesecake to an anorexic. I was happy, thin, in a relationship with the man I loved and surrounded with glitter balls, strobe lights, music, drag queens and hot young guys. What more does a young gay man want?

During my late twenties my metabolism decided it would skip a few years ahead and slowed down. As the pounds started packing on and my infamous leather pants and tight, skimpy shirts started to take strain to the point of me no longer being able to squeeze into them, it was time for them to be retired. The late nights at clubs over the weekends also showed signs of taking its toll and became less frequent. Before I knew it my social butterfly days were numbered as my priorities had shifted just like my weight.

The process was so gradual one and it happened without any distinct detection. What seemed important and satisfactory to me a few years ago no longer had the same appeal. More time was spent focusing on my career. Night clubs was replaced with dinner parties and movies with friends and quiet evenings at home. However, we still go clubbing when we have the time. My relationship had evolved to a more mature level and friendships deepened beyond superficiality and hedonistic interests.When gay marriage was legalized my husband and I didn’t give it a second thought and tied the knot literally a few weeks later. My twenty something view of marriage was replaced: I now had a more mature view and understood that marriage was more than just a contract that would cost you half of everything you owned if you want to get out of it. The house with the white picket fence now also drew my attention and became a reality. The twenty year old finally grew up. I transformed from a club hopping shooter downing socialite to a career driven married man. Does this now mean I become a Stepford Fag? As per the definition I would have to say Yes and No. Yes, we are a nice couple, live in the suburbs, have an immaculate home and yard and we don’t scare the neighbors (on purpose that is). However, we most certainly aren’t sexless (of that we have quite enough) and are not slaves to heterosexual establishment nor do we want to imitate it. We are who we are; some people might still find this threatening and not approve but I say the hell with them. So if I am considered a Stepford Fag, I am very proud to be one and highly recommend it. All fairies have to grow up some time!

Till next time.

Grindr Queen

Another one of Sherry Vine's brilliant pieces.  You're a GRINDR Queen.   Enjoy.

Don't Tell Me You're Gay

This week I decided to publish my favorite guest blogger GeeGee Curtained from the Two Fat Cows fame.  She is possibly the biggest Fag Hag this side of the equator and this week she shares with us a few little opinions about drag queens, guys keeping it on the DL (down low), and those queens that are so deep in the closet they would need a team of firefighters to Out them.

Daaarlings!!

As you very well know, I’m a HUGE fan of drag queens because they’re like fuck you butterflies who don’t give a shit what anyone thinks about them and I LOVE my gay friends to pieces – they’re so much fun! I’m not usually one to judge, but seriously dollies, few things irritate me as much as a closet queen. I mean really, who are they kidding? And their wives... oh dolls, their wives... have they been lobotomised or are they so far down that river called denial (not the one in Egypt) that they don’t know their men prefer cock when it’s so painfully obvious to everyone else?

I was sitting in the lounge the other day when an agent brought some people round to view the house when it was still on the market. All I saw through the window was a fabulously flamboyant man limp-wristing, mincing, lisping, prancing and dancing through the garden and I thought “great, done deal, this house is a party palace, perfect for a gay couple... whoohooo” Happy bubble burst 5 minutes later when his wife (!) who looked like a little brown sparrow next to him walked in carrying a baby on her hip. I have a sneaky suspicion that my jaw did actually drop. Now, seriously, the Rabbit Hole downstairs is the best party place and man cave ever, and when the agent showed the man the pub he barely looked at it twice and I swear I could see a speech bubble above his head saying “bitch please, i don’t drink at home, I go cruising for cock”

I had a friend for many years, Himself always said her toes looked like slap chips, but I digress. Anyway, she was dating a man in his 30’s for four years and all he ever did was kiss her. Once. This man took her to see all the best musical theater productions *jazz hands*, took it upon himself to be her stylist, shopped with her at all the best boutiques... wonderful, yes. For a gay best friend. She could never understand why she was told that rule # 1 was Never. Visit. Unannounced. Oh puuuh-lease, that’s because he's having ‘special time’ with his ‘special friends’. Angels, she honestly thought he never tried to put moves on her because he respected her! Poor thing was devastated when he came out to her and to this day she is trying to pray the gay out of him.... Bless!

I have another friend I’ve known for almost 20 years who shall remain nameless – one of my drag queen friends has dubbed him the ‘Jimmy Swaggart Faggot’ because he’s ‘born again’. (By the way, the same drag queen told me he always knows when a potential lover is 'straight' or married if the guy asks him to keep his bra and high heels on in bed...) Anyhoo, for the first 5 years we were friends I accepted him as gay. I did his make-up, we played dress up, great fun. Imagine my surprise when he introduced his girlfriend to us one day, I almost choked on my vodka. So, they get married and they have 2 kids. He swears to me that he’s straight. I pretend to believe him. 3 months ago he’s visiting with us when Hawtentawt comes rushing into the pub with eyes as big as saucers. Mr ‘Straight’ went to stand behind Hawtentawt outside and started fondling his ears, then asked him if they could meet up at Q-Bar – a gay bar here in town! Personally I think Hawts could have taken one for the team so that I could out that fucker once and for all. It just pisses me off that he has huge opinions on homosexuality and religion / adoption / marriage – to the point where we have stand up arguments and then he’s so deeply fucking closeted he hasn’t seen anything but dust bunnies for years!

I guess the moral of the story is be yourself, be true to yourself, respect yourself and the world will do the same back – and if they don’t, well fuck them.

Geexxx

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Queer Myths Explained (Part II)

-Part II-

We queer folk are an interesting bunch and this must be the reason our community’s flag is that of the rainbow. Queers comes in all shapes and sizes usually packaged in well thought out designer outfits and gorgeous accessories, sequence and feathers or draped in flannel or strapped into leather. No wonder heterosexuals sometimes are so easily confused when it comes to the gay community. This is the second installment of my dispelling and explaining some common myths about homosexuals.
Is homosexuality just a phase? Seriously people, one confused and semi crazy actress called Anne Heche does not represent the gay community. Apart from thinking she was gay while with Ellen DeGeneres she also believed a spaceship would come and take her away. Homosexuality is as much a phase as the earth is flat. Many parents of gay children may want to cling to this myth hoping that their kids will one day wake up and be “cured”.

Homosexuality cannot be outgrown like childhood allergies and no amount of therapy and/or prayer will magically cure a queer. You may confuse the average homosexual for a short period of time with threats of "Hell" and psychotherapy by an unethical therapist, but this will only lead to a brief phase of pseudo heterosexuality, which is the breeding ground for many Brokeback Marriages.
Lesbians and gay men are homosexual because they have been hurt by the opposite sex. Even though some research has suggested that some women who experienced sexual abuse may be attracted to other women, it should also be noted that the same research suggested that these woman also would have a tendency to be overweight.

If being hurt by the opposite sex is the root cause of homosexuality there would have been a whole lot more queer folk out there, don't you think? I know of at least five of my straight friends who suffered great hardship caused by their former lovers and none of them turned gay.
Why do butch lesbians never wear dresses? They never wear dresses because if they do they would look like drag queens. Some hardcore feminist lesbians also do not shave their legs and arm pits and don’t wear bras. Coincidentally, I know of at least one such feminist lesbian and she only wears dresses. Maybe she prefer dresses because her natural body hair keeps her warm and cosy and if she had to wear pants without natural ventilation she’d over heat.

Secondly, butch lesbians may find it harder to win in a bar fight if they were restricted by a dress and high heels. The only homosexual that will convincingly be the victor in such a bar fight will be a drag queen who have been specially trained for brawls in her sequenced dress and 9 inch stilettos.
All homosexuals will try to get into your pants. Queer folk have better things to do than to try and deflower unsuspecting straight folk. We are far too busy to plot and scheme what the new fashion trends will be for the coming season, planning and attending pride parades, fighting for our rights and not to mention trying to find time to have sex amongst ourselves.

For all the straight guys out there, have a good look at some of the gay boys. Most of us are well groomed, go to the gym, use face products and actually tend to our unwanted man hair down there. None of us have a fervent desire to go on an expedition through your Amazon to locate your “anaconda” or your “chocolate tunnel”.

Unless you are the Marlboro Man and actually knows what to do when faced with another penis you are safe. The professional homosexual will not have the time or patience to break in a straight person and to teach them the elaborate and flamboyant ways of our people.
Homosexual wants to recruit you. I have dealt with this myth before in my article “The Sodomites Wants to Recruit You”. No, we are not on a major recruitment drive. Our numbers are not dwindling instead, through natural selection, our numbers are actually increasing. If we wanted to recruit the unsuspecting heterosexual some major effort would have to go into the vetting of such a person.

He must have an innate sense of style, be able to name at least 6 variation of the colour pink, be able to dance and know all the words of the songs of at least one musical and three Cher albums.

She would have to know what a spark plug is and what it is used for, be able to change a tire, be able to name and be able to use at least five power tools, know the names and words of speeches of three famous feminists and be able to brake a mirror with her fist without cutting herself.

So any straight people who fit any of these criteria please contact your nearest PFLAG centre and ask for the recruitment office.
So there you have it in a nutshell, some of the myths and questions I have been asked most frequently. Yes, we queer folk are an interesting bunch of people and anyone who has ever been to any of our pride parades will most certainly agree. No other community but us would be able to have more fun when it rains on our parades especially if it’s raining men.

All my straight readers I hope you can sleep peacefully tonight knowing that there is no fairy hiding outside your window that will rape you in your sleep. I also do hope that you don’t get any nightmares with the knowledge that the crazy Anne Heche never really played for our team but instead played for yours.

Till next time.

Jackie Beat -Don't Tell Me You're Gay!

Coming Out

There comes a time in every gay person’s life when the claustrophobia and social isolation of the proverbial pink closet becomes too much and you need to step into the sunshine as the fabulous and authentic person you are. A time when you no longer can deny your true nature and the truth needs to be revealed. This experience can be daunting, exhilarating, traumatic and cathartic. All openly gay individuals have their own unique coming out stories and this is mine.

On an autumn Sunday afternoon at the tender age of 16 I decided to step out of the closet. After Sunday lunch I decided to break the news to my utterly unprepared family. My decision to do so was threefold: Firstly I have known that I was gay probably since the age of 6 (I kissed my first boy at that age); Secondly I was growing tired of having to make up lies about why I do not have a steady girlfriend; and Thirdly I no longer wanted to have to lie about the true nature of my “friendships” with certain boys.

I was considerate enough not to drop the bomb during lunch. I didn’t want to spoil the meal or cause anyone to choke on their food and having the family drama spill over to the emergency room. During the washing up the words every parent fear left my lips “Mom… Dad… I am gay…” It was received with a cold silence and a shocked pause. I remember my mother slowly turning around while loosing her grip of a plate that shattered into pieces on the floor much like my heterosexual future she had envisaged for me. In a slow, controlled and slightly strained voice she asked me to repeat myself hoping for a different outcome. “I am gay…” I hesitantly said again. The room flooded with tension, disillusioned stares where exchanged between my sister and father while my mother’s eyes were burning holes through me. In her eyes I could see the death of her imagined grandchildren and the perfect daughter-in-law. Without saying a word she left the kitchen, went to the master bedroom and sobbed behind a locked door for the remainder of the day. My father visibly distraught by my revelation later sat me down and told me that he had always suspected that I was gay. He explained that the gay lifestyle wasn’t what he wanted for me, but if this is what I am he would try to accept it, but it wasn’t going to be easy. My sister was fine with the fact that I am gay, apart from the sex part which “grossed her out”.

The next day at school I was unexpectedly called to the principal’s office. On arrival I found my mother waiting for me. Being in an all boy school, my first thought was that my parents are going to pull me out of school as instead of the testosterone fuelled environment “butching” me up I still became gay. As things turned out she was fetching me to go see a psychologist. After several sessions (10 to be exact) with a slightly homophobic therapist he unenthusiastically revealed to my parents that I was indeed gay and it wasn’t a phase. I remember my mother breaking down, wanting to know from the therapist what she and my dad did wrong causing me to be this way. The fears they had were also revealed: Was I going to get Aids? Am I going to start wearing woman’s clothes or even get a sex change? In retrospect, I guess I can’t blame their ignorance as they never had much exposure to gay people and the stereotypes about the gay community were all they knew. After the therapist explained to them with great compassion that the majority of their fears where unfounded and that they in all probability didn’t cause my homosexuality, their guilt reluctantly started to dissipate over the years to come.

Then the religious issues surfaced. How to be a good Christian and deal with your child being gay? Are you allowed to love your gay son who is condemned to hell by the Church? At this point both my parents had started to accept the fact that I am gay, but both were in denial regarding me being sexually active. You see being gay was not technically viewed as a sin, by them, as long as I didn’t practice the lifestyle. Unfortunately, my mother was yet again due for a rude awakening when she forgot something at home on her way to work. Returning home she walked in on me and my then boyfriend in the heat of passion. She almost died 20 deaths and my boyfriend was expelled from the house and remained in exile for 2 months. I am sure both my parents spend an extra couple of hours in prayer that evening.

When I met my now husband I had been out of the closet for just over 5 years. Both my parents, by this time, had accepted my sexual orientation and lifestyle. They have almost come to view it as “normal” and I was no longer the source of family shame or the result of their souls’ condemnation. My family welcomed my husband into our family with open arms, as he was the equivalent of the perfect “daughter-in-law”, so to speak. Unfortunately, at that time he was still in the closet to his family. After a couple of months, I ushered him out of the closet as I didn’t feel comfortable dating a guy and having to lie to his parents. I gave my husband the opportunity to exit the closet on his own time and on his own terms. He came out to his family in a restaurant. Always a good idea as drama will be limited and he went with his own car for an easy exit. After coming out and the truth about our relationship was revealed, I was banned from my husband’s parents home for 3 years, but he was still allowed to see me. After 11 years his parents too have grown to accept my husband and me for who we are and our relationship for what it is. They now treat me like a son. It wasn’t easy for them either, and like all parents I am sure their hearts were broken at first when the son they had didn’t turn out to be what they had wished for.

Coming out of the closet is different for everyone. We all have different families and friends who react in different ways. Coming out is a rebirth and it can be a painful experience for all involved. Those of us who are lucky have family and friends who understand that even though we are gay and live a different lifestyle we remain the persons we were before we exited the closet. They love us just the same and wish us happiness and true love as they do everyone else. I have a lot of respect for families and friends of gay people who support their gay children and peers. They are the unsung heroes who should also be celebrated. As both my family and that of my husband have come to realize, having a gay child and brother is not the end of the world. We can still make them proud and live healthy, constructive and happy lives. This month I have been out of the closet for 16 years and am still proud, queer and here!

Till next time.

Prayers for Bobby- Trailer
True story of Mary Griffith, gay rights crusader, whose teenage son committed suicide due to her religious intolerance. Based on the book of the same title by Leroy Aarons. Stars Sigourney Weaver.

Queer Mating Rituals of Heterosexuals

With Swine Flue threatening global health I am also convinced that a more ominous virus is threatening society and especially my social circle. Many of my friends recently ended their relationships and this is starting to feel like a pandemic on its own with the unexpected revelation of a couple of pigs amongst us! Having more single friends now, the majority of which being straight, I have become privy to their queer mating rituals. This left me with an interesting conundrum: Are the mating rituals of heterosexuals and homosexuals so different?All 3 respective breakups were quite traumatic and one theatrical. My male friend’s girl friend broke up with him because he wanted to get married and she wasn’t ready. For some odd reason she changed her mind shortly after and now wants him back; maybe she realized what she lost, but alas it’s too late to reconcile and he’s keeping his sperm for someone else. My female friend learned that her fiancé was cheating on her via a Facebook message and consequent phone call from his mistress - what a horrific way to learn of your partner’s infidelity! Naturally she was devastated and the breakup was vicious! The most recent breakup was another of my female friends whose boyfriend of 2 years and 5 months (she was very specific about the duration) ended their relationship over the phone without any substantial reason. It came as blow to her and she cried for a few days but with the help of a couple of magic prescription pills she has returned to semi-normal functioning. All of them displayed fleeting homicidal tendencies and revengeful thoughts towards their ex’s and with the exception of 1; I firmly believe that their ex’s safely will make it to their next birthdays.
Observing my 3 heterosexual friends enjoying their new found freedom, their mating rituals have become a matter of particular interest. I have noticed that when straight people become single their social life escalates into a frenzied diary of dinners, clubbing, events and drinks - not much unlike that of gay people. The consumption of alcohol also increases substantially! All, in my opinion, to abolish the painful memory and to maybe meet new people that will help them transition into the becoming again who they where before their hearts were ripped out of their chests and trampled on. However, unlike gay people straight people appear to have a peculiar way of selecting their potential mates. I think this is where natural selection comes in – after all heterosexuals have the added burden of having to procreate to sustain the species! It appears as subconsciously, potential mates are ruled out by a process of elimination prescribed by the flaws they exhibit similar to those with whom the hunting heterosexual have had a previous unfortunate encounter. If any potential mate show any sign of weakness, the words “let’s just be friends” will be uttered. I was also surprised to learn that unlike some gay people heterosexuals are also far less promiscuous when forced into the single life – they rather tend to use the promise of sex as a lure to test the potential mate’s persistence and tenacity. Only after they are satisfied of the potential mate's commitment sex will occur and if it’s bad that too can be the death of a potential relationship.
When surviving a breakup most people tend to swear off relationships, as the wounds are still too fresh. This holds true in both the gay and straight community. There is also always the fear that lurks like a shadow behind you of getting hurt again. So both straight and gay people surround themselves with friends and keep socially active. With straight woman I have discovered they are more flirtatious during this stage following a break up maybe due to the need to be wanted and found attractive, but as soon as too much attention comes their way an Ice Queen emerges and the potential suitor are in danger of frostbite. With straight guys the predatory instinct kicks in and testosterone goes into over drive. Spending more time with their straight single buddies reinforces this. However, after a few rejections the guys will go back to being dejected and become overly cautious bordering on shy as not only are their ego’s bruised but similar to their female counterparts their desire to be wanted and found attractive is also not met. So I deduce that heterosexual men and women’s timing must be perfect for a relationship to occur, hence to term coined chemistry! If the man is too early he will face the cold shoulder and if the woman is too aloof she will end up a spinster. But when the timing is just right and both are ready for it chemistry occurs and magic happens!

The mating ritual of homosexuals and heterosexuals are not so different. In many respects a broken heart is a broken heart no matter what your sexual preference. The pain of a breakup is the same and much behaviour following the breakup coincides. The fundamental difference lies in the obvious - the fact that in the gay community we may find it easier to understand our potential mates as we are from the same gender and our approach to potential relationships progress in an easier fashion. With heterosexual the mating dance is more intricate, prolonged and fraught with caution. But the homosexual community need our straight friends to never give up on their pursuit to find a mate and never give up on relationships no matter how badly their hearts have been broken. Time really heals all wounds! So it’s imperative that all my heterosexual friends never loose hope of finding that special person because until homosexuals find the means to naturally procreate, and believe me we try, technology and heterosexuals are our only means to our continued survival!

Till next time.

Margaret Cho - Gay Men Jokes