Happy Holidays

It has been a little hectic in my little circle of a world these past few weeks what with the usual family drama that always seems to surround my holiday experience and the unusually large amount of traveling I've had to do recently. Nonetheless, I wanted to stop for a minute and wish everyone a wonderful holiday season. For some, it can be a sad time, melancholy seems to abound; for others, a time for joy and endless parties; for still others, a time of reflection.

Wherever you are at in your life this year, try to take a moment to enjoy what you have, count your blessings, and give thanks for all that the year has brought you.

I wish you all the best. Happy Holidays!

My Deepest Sympathies and Love

When you are not directly involved, there is something about the grieving process that leaves you feeling, well, rather useless. You want to be of some use, some support, say the right words, provide some sort of peace; and, yet, there is nothing you can do that quite feels adequate. You don't feel like you are helping at all.

One of my dearest friend's father passed away this past week; and this is how I feel, completely useless. I never met the man personally, but still there is a sense of loss, even if only peripherally. I have been through the grieving process more times than I care to count. I know the drill. I know all too well the chaotic mix of sadness, duty, unfamiliar distance relatives, cards, flowers, strangers patting your shoulder expressing their sorrow and asking if you are alright. I have found no words that truly comfort. There is nothing anyone can do to really ease the pain, the sadness, the tears. Thus, this feeling of uselessness.

How do you balance supporting your friends while still allowing for personal space and necessary personal grieving time? I don't think there really is a formula here. Death is and always will be a touchy subject, and because the depth and time for grieving is such an individual response, one person's boundaries are not going to be that same as the next. Some people need to talk about it, others need silence. It pains me so much now, I think, because I know the process, I know what my friends are going to be facing from now until the grieving is over, if it ever really is. It hurts to watch anyone go through it.

The only thing we can really do is be there, be present, listen. There is no such thing as a hero in these sorts of situations. We are not going to magically lift anyone's spirits or make anyone forget the immediate, often devastatingly painful situation. The important thing is to remember the good times, honor the memories, and be there when a shoulder, open ear, or Kleenex is needed, when it is asked for and not when you think it should be given. The important thing to know is that we still have each other, that our love for each other is strong and will get us through to the next day. All we can really do is keep on living, keep on supporting each other, growing as the the families we have created.

For me, in the grieving process, it was only this that brought me comfort, to know that I was not alone in my grief, that there were people to stand by me and that would help me with whatever I asked them to do. It was not that I needed them to do anything, just knowing they were there was enough.

If I knew a funny story to tell about him, I would, something to remember him by. While I never saw him in the flesh or have any personal memories, what I do recall are conversations of childhood, memories of chocolate milk and candy bars brought home from work as bedtime snacks, country music concerts, and trips to the lake in the boat. This is how I will remember him, even if it is only an imagined picture in my head. This is how I will remember a life that was held so dear by those so close to me, if not by me directly.

So, to chocolate milk and candy bars, and an irreplaceable, wonderful father.

In memoriam

AG 1953-2007.

-to ADG and AN, my deepest sympathies and love.

Words To Live By

One of my favorite calendars is one that I bought last winter at a little alternative book store on the campus of the major university here in town. It is black and white, and each month offers a quote of some kind. I wouldn't put it in the same class as one of those inspirational items with vast pictures of landscapes and what not, though. This one is more food for thought.

I was turning the pages to December the other day (a few weeks late, I know), and I came upon the best quote I've yet come across. There were several really great points in a rather long entry for the month, but one particular line struck me quite deeply:

Give so much time to the improvement of yourself that you have no time to criticize others.

Words to live by. It is my new motto.

(quote attributed to Christian D. Larson).

Please Stop Crying!

I just had a quick note today. I was watching Project Runway the other day, which I usually enjoy thoroughly. However, there is one certain aspect of the show this season that has annoyed me enough to feel the need to voice my opinion here. I really, really wish Ricky would stop crying every time they do the personal interview segments. I mean, I know that it's a life-changing experience, that it's great to be there, and all that jazz; but is every little event worthy of shedding tears over? I mean, really, you're cute, love the hat, if I saw ya on the street, I'd probably look twice, but please, please, just stop crying so much!

Trying to Enjoy the Fruits of My Labor

Why is that we so often make life more difficult than it has to be? We create our own little worlds of drama and worry inside our own heads until it nearly drives us crazy with grief and anxiety. Is it really that difficult to just enjoy what we have, the things we've earned and the people that care about us without concerning ourselves with what we don't have or what those that don't care to be part of our lives?

I laid in my bed last evening in one of those states of unrest, knowing that I needed to fall asleep to rest for an early work day the next morning, but being unable to do so. I grabbed my i-pod laying next to me as always, my trusty companion occupying the empty space where a human companion did not. I am in one of those blue moods brought on by my own insecurities, my own worry and preoccupation with the past and things I cannot change, remembering less joyful times and the heartache of years past. My fingers turned the dial of the small black box in my palm to my ever-present muse of sadness, Lucinda Williams. Several months had passed since had touched on her name in the screen; but instantly, after seeing it, I knew what I wanted to hear.

I've been trying to enjoy all the fruits of my labor...she belts out, ever so heartfelt. She knows the complication of it, the desire to enjoy what we have, what we have toiled over and worked so hard for, to enjoy some small space of peace and contentment; but also how tainted it is by the incompleteness of our hearts, the constant unrest, the reality of imperfect and heart-broken lives. How easy it is to wallow in the sadness, to let the depression and defeat seep in and take over instead of allowing ourselves the joy of our accomplishment, to allow new love. The real courage comes in not allowing ourselves to fall into the trap, to not allow anyone else to have the power to control our emotions, to pull us down into the darkest parts of our hearts and minds.

The saddest part is that we do most of the damage to ourselves, trying to control the perception others have of us, people who should have no consequence on our sense of self-worth, staying in emotionally or physically draining relationships instead of having enough faith in our own worth to move on.

If we only allowed ourselves to be happy, if only we opened the velvet curtains, wouldn't life be so much simpler?

On Day Must End For Another to Begin

It's Just A Little Sting, But It Hurts Nonetheless

No matter how over someone you are, no matter how long it's been since you've even thought about him, no matter how deep you are into a new relationship, it still stings a little when you find out one of your exes is seeing someone else.

It's funny all the nonsensical things we say when we end a relationship. I wish you the best, I see great things in your future, I hope you find someone to be happy with. If only we actually meant what we said. Sometimes I think it would be easier if he just said, "I'm over it, your not what I want, bye," and just walked out the door without another word. Maybe it's the fear of coming off as an asshole, or just the cowardice of facing the truth, but few of us have the courage to do it that way. So often it strolls along in an up and down roller coaster of confusion and betrayal until he finally ends it, or he finds someone else. Yeah it's gonna hurt, but personally I'd rather just pull the bandaid off all at once. Of course, it's different if you're deep into a relationship, but if you've only been dating a short time, just cut it off at the root, move on.

I might have said myself to a boyfriend or two that I wished him the best, that I hoped he found happiness, but frankly I don't think I did at the time. In trying to be mature, trying to move on, trying to be an adult, I have honestly made a sincere effort to wish happiness for all my past loves, boyfriends, and flings. But deep down there is an evil part of me that just wants to see some of them live the rest of their lives in misery, unhappy and alone as retribution for the heartache and pain they left behind. As wrong as that may be, I can't deny that it is down there somewhere. And today, it has reared it's ugly head once again as I somehow came into the knowledge today that not one, but two of my previous love interests are off into new worlds of romance. While I want to be happy for them as I have honestly moved on and am once again happy with my life, it still stings a little to know.

The thought will pass, I know. I have enough, almost too much, to occupy my time these days. There is no use in dwelling on the past. I could really use a photograph to burn right now, though, or a voodoo doll to stick a pin into, or a punching bag.....

We Do What We Want

Ever invite him to go out to dinner with you and your friends, to which he says 'sounds cool,' but then doesn't show up?

Ever make lunch plans with a friend that end up not actually happening?

Ever have a lover say he wants to go away on a trip together, but then never quite getting around to making the plans?

Ever try to include someone from work in a social outing but never actually seeing them out or making the effort to actually show up?

Ever have a man tell you he loves you, but never take that step further into commitment, often even pulling farther away after he's said it?

One of my dearest cousins once said in a conversation of which I cannot recall the subject, simply that "people do what they want." It's funny how such simple words can hold and evoke so much meaning and understanding. It explains every one of the scenarios listed above, it explains most of our actions as human beings. Behind our feeble excuses: not feeling well, forgetting, or getting wrapped up in something else, it all boils down to this one simple phrase.

Why didn't Julie show up for the party? Frankly she would rather lie in bed and vegetate.

Why didn't Mickey go to work yesterday? He didn't feel like it.

Why doesn't Ann help her elderly mother like her sister does? She has better thing to do.

Why did Brandon leave Jim for Charlie? Charlie was better in bed.

Why didn't Henry answer or call Rod back? He was out with his friends and let it slip his mind.

Why did Joe say he loved Robert, but then go off without him to get drunk on Saturday and not reappear until Tuesday? On the first count, it felt like what he was supposed to say, and on the second, it's what he wanted to do.

We can't make anyone love us, we can't make anyone want to be with us, we can't make anyone do anything they don't really want to do. But where is the line drawn between independence and selfishness? Is there any sense of loyalty or obligation anymore? Does anyone go out of their way to help other people anymore?

If we all do what we want when we want to all the time, then how are we even really connected as human beings? Aren't we here on this earth together for some purpose, in some capacity to affect and assist in the lives of others? The connections and the relationships we build are, by design, a matter of compromise, a matter of melding two ideas, two lives together. If we only ever do what we want, then how is that possible? How is it possible to have any kind of meaningful relationship? Any kind of meaningful life?

Waning Attraction

"My husband and I have a strange relationship," she said. "We have three kids, and we've been together about that many times. I'm probably exaggerating, but you get the idea. Seriously, we have sex twice a year or so, and I have to initiate it."

"Why, what's the problem," I ask, patiently listening.

"Apparently I'm too heavy," (and to this I give a gasped surprise as the woman in front of me may be a few pounds over a size 9, but by no means obese or in any way unattractive because of her current weight). "I am heavier than when we got married, but I have three kids..."

As my conversation with one of my co-workers continued, a lot of thoughts went through my head. We could go one of two ways with this, the first being the idea of losing your attraction to your partner, the other being a relationship with little or no sexual activity involved. Let's start with the first one today.

I once had a relationship myself in which the sexual part of the relationship began to wain after a while. When I pressed the issue, I was often told that I had gained too much weight. I had in fact gained about 30 pounds since our relationship had started, but still 220 pounds on a 6'1" frame is hardly obese. Yes I was overweight, but why did he have to throw it in my face? And in fact, it was the sex that started to dissipate before the weight gain. I often think that I had started to substitute chocolate chip cookies for the sex that wasn't there any more.

If it wasn't actually the weight gain that started the problem, though, then what was the problem? Was there a loss of attraction on the part of one or both of us? Was the physical part of our relationship waning and disappearing? And if the attraction does disappear, what can be done about it?

My co-worker had decided long ago to stay married to her husband despite their problems in the bedroom; but it often seems that most people don't stick around to wait it out or try to fix the problem, especially gay men. Often as soon as that spark wilts even the slightest bit, he's gone to the next man that catches his eye, off to the next bedroom and the next good lay.

Yes, sex is an important part of the relationship, but there is also a lot of other things that make a partnership fulfilling. If you care enough about each other then surely you would try to work on the problem rather than just walking away without even trying.

In the relationship I was referring to earlier, there were a lot of other issues that build up that not only affected our sex life but also ate away at many aspects of our relationship to the point that it was not healthy for us to be together anymore, but at least I did try to address and correct the problems (although unsuccessfully). If I had just walked away, I would probably always have that question in my mind as to whether it could have worked or not. As it stands, I know there was no way it could.

And on a final note, I must say that flat out telling your partner he or she is unattractive, whether from gaining weight or otherwise, is rarely productive. If you care about your partner, then work on the problem together. One of the most basic needs that most of us have as humans in the need to feel desired, and if you tell us you don't want us, it's a pretty big blow. If the relationship needs to end, that's one thing; and if the fire really is gone, then by all means look for a way to relight it, but at least be civil about it.

Worrying for Nothing

Whether it’s the uncertainty of a new love, the instability of a blossoming romance, or our own insecurities, it is often difficult not to think the worst or want to give up when even the slightest problem or misunderstanding arises. I’ve seen it a hundred times; I’ve been guilty of it myself. He doesn’t return our call right away or goes M.I.A. for a few days and we think the worst, imagine him with someone else or assume he’s lost interest. We call our friends, analyze his last few text messages, go over it in our heads a hundred times. We do a little boy-bashing; wonder ‘why?’ wonder what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. We do it all except wait patiently or ask him directly what’s going on. If we just did that there really wouldn’t be a problem. But instead, we agonize over it and prepare ourselves for the worst, start thinking about moving on or what our other current options are in the romance realm.

Then he finally calls or our doorbells ring with him at the door. Everything is alright again, it was just a misunderstanding. In fact, it had nothing to do with us at all. We’re back on cloud nine. We were bad-mouthing and full of doubt for nothing. We’re happy and alright, at least until it happens again and the roller-coaster starts anew.

Is it worth it, though? Is the constant worry and up and down what a relationship is supposed to be about? In the beginning, when you’re getting to know each other, it is a necessary evil. You can’t know for sure what’s going on or if he’s telling the truth until you’ve had a chance to establish trust. You just have to wait it out until that point is reached. It takes a little bit of a faith, but for some of us, even that little bit is difficult to muster as our hearts are riddled with the bullet holes and shrapnel of past heartbreak. But that doesn’t mean it’s not possible, it may just take a little longer. The beginning of a relationship is about that back and forth, that wonder and uncertainty, testing each other and establishing limits and boundaries until the relationship matures and you grow together as a unit.

Having said that, you would think that the issue here is trust. To some extent it is; but there is an underlying problem that we are ignoring here if we leave it at that. When we subject ourselves to this roller-coaster of doubt and uncertainty (and yes, they are most often self-imposed), when we agonize over his apparent disregard for our presence, we often do so in response to our own insecurities. We worry that we are not go enough, that we do not hold enough interest for him to want to be with us. We doubt our own value and forget that it’s supposed to go both ways, that he has to trust us and want us just as much as we do him. We go on the defense, trying to hold on and hold his interest. But if we do it for too long it becomes a game, and the relationship becomes nothing more than a contest, a pointless exercise in control and an inaccurate measure of self-worth. And in that case, it is no longer a relationship at all.

While we may have moments of doubt and wonder about our partners once in a while as we grow with them and relationships development, it is important to remember that there are always going to be times when he has to do things on his own, and yes he may not return a call right away or be around every day when and where you want him to be. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you. You’ve just got to have a little bit of faith, and enough self-esteem to know that it probably has nothing to do with you and that everything will work out fine. And if it doesn’t, then you’ll move on just as strong as you were before it all started.

Complaint Fool? or Breaking the Rules

I was nearing the end of my work day today when one of my least favorite fellow employees decided to stop by for a visit, making a pretty hectic day only that much worse. He is one of these useless middle-management types that find one small, insignificant part of your job that he feels you are lacking in or are not complying with policy in and continually reminds you of this one minute detail every time he sees you. All the while in his own mind thinking that he is somehow doing his job by reminding you of your noncompliance whenever he sees you.

In my case, the policy is dress code, and the minute detail so meticulously, repeatedly harped on is the use of a tie in my wardrobe. He once even asked me where my tie was when I was wearing a turtleneck. Not that I am a rule-breaker by any means, but when the tie is currently out of fashion in most instances and professional dress does not demand it's use anymore, I find it ridiculous that such a detail should be so adamantly enforced. If there was something wrong with my job performance, I might understand the incessant harassment, but as it stands, I don't get it. It's a good thing I only see the asshole once every few months.

I think what it comes down to is being able to think outside the box, beyond the constraints of the pages of an employee manual. Any effective, intelligent manager or employer is going to know that there is more than one way to do things, and as long as the job gets done and done well then there really isn't a problem. For a close-minded fool, however, there is only the thick black lines and letters on the pages, there is no gray area.

I may be stretching the situation a bit, but the purpose here is to illustrate a point. When you only follow the letter of the 'law' or your own expectation of a situation, then you live a very close-minded existence. You block the possibility of seeing things in a new light, from a new perspective. There is rarely only one way to complete a task or to live a life; and if you're following someone else's idea of existence, then you're missing out on an opportunity to make your own way, to live life in a way that truly makes you happy and discovering new ideas along the way.

I am unable to live a life that much of society feels is normal by the sheer fact that my sexual orientation doesn't comply with the majority of those around me. As a a gay community, we are (or should be) much more aware that there is more than one way to live life and to be happy, as there is more than one way to get a job done. If I choose to be with another man and to share my life with him instead of a woman, it is not wrong simply because is doesn't follow someone else's guidelines. And my job is going to get done right and on time whether I have a green or blue silk stretch of fabric tied around my neck or not.

Finding Balance

I am at a point in my life at this moment where things feel somewhat settled and, dare I say it, normal for the first time in a very long time. My life does not seem quite so aimless and my time is filled with meaningful tasks and meaningful, lasting relationships. I feel a confidence in myself that has been lacking for quite some time and I feel like things are flowing smoothly in most respects.

That being said, it seems that I am still having some trouble finding a sense of balance in my life, finding a way to juggle and integrate all the aspects of my life together without neglecting anything or over-attending to one aspect of my being over another. It seems that there are still adjustments that need to be made in the overall scheme of my existence.

Before we get too deep into the philosophy of it all, let's backtrack for a moment. Perhaps we should start with the source of this line of thinking, and work from there. As I sat watching television on the evening of the Thanksgiving holiday with my mother, we began to talk. She pointed out to me that since last Christmas I had been rather distracted at our family functions, participating in conversation only when forced to, not focused on the activities or the people in the center of the current attention, often lost in my own world and apparently disturbed or saddened by what occupied my mind. While it wasn't as bad on this particular Thanksgiving day as it had been on previous holidays, it was still quite noticeable and was becoming a disturbing pattern or behavior.

As I sit and think about the implications of the current observation, I am struck by the truth behind it. Last Christmas was, perhaps, the worst holiday I ever experienced as my grandfather had recently died, I had been dumped on the sidewalk by a man I thought loved me deeply, and I had just come out to my immediate family to a disturbing array of responses. So, of course, I was distracted then, but why was it still so noticeable, why was I so unable to just relax and enjoy the current company and the holiday itself completely and without distraction? It's not like I was purposely trying to be rude to the company or trying not to be a part of the celebration. I just can't pinpoint why exactly that mood, that desire for silence and alone has struck at the most inopportune moments over and over this past year.

I think it has to do with finding that ever elusive balance in life, combining all the aspects that make us whole beings in a seamless way. I have worked so hard this year to rebuild my life, to build the new family that I have here in Lexington, to find myself again. The only problem is, I haven't found a way to combine it all with what used to be me, the family that has been a part of me since birth, that put the blood that flows in my veins in there to give me life and love and heritage. I still have work to do.

What I realize in this process of thinking, this introspection, is that I will never be completely settled, never be perfect and without room to grow. It is the definition of evolution, a constant change, hopefully for the better. There will always be details to tweak, pieces to add and remove, parts to repair. It wouldn't be life if it wasn't that way. I just have to learn to accept that and keep working towards a better me, valuing all the aspects of my life and enjoying every minute that I can on this earth.

Thank You Only Begins to Express

Before this Thanksgiving weekend is gone and we move onto the more complicated endeavors of this winter's holidays, I would like to take a moment to do what we are supposed to on this holiday, reflect for a moment and give thanks for the blessings of the year. Often we are so wrapped up in the gorging on turkey (although I'd say I could do without for a while, I am about turkey and dressinged out at the moment) and the shopping and the pumpkin pie that we forget sometimes to remember how blessed we truly are.

Last Thanksgiving, I spent the bulk of the day at work while half of my family spent the holiday in the Caribbean for a belated birthday celebration and the rest of the family spent the holidays at their children's houses or the like. After work, I went home and prepared a small meal for two, which I shared with a new love, in a new, rented house, and a smile on my face that hadn't been there in months if not years. For that moment, I was happy, or at least I thought I was. The only problem was that just a few weeks later, everything had fallen apart and I was stuck in an aimless, severely depressed state of confusion and angst. That's why I try not to think about last Thanksgiving, why I often wish it had never happened at all.

Now fast forward a year later, 2007. I stand in my kitchen in front of 12 of my closest friends, a new family I have created out of the ashes of an incinerated previous existence. There is an abundance of food on the tables and counter tops in my new, purchased home, and the drinks and conversation flow freely. I give a short speech, thanking everyone for coming and expressing my gratitude at having gotten to know each and every one of them on a much deeper level in the past year, which is the complete truth. Each of the people in this room before me has brought me closer to finding my true self again this year, has brought me love and guidance in times of deep despair. It is why I consider them my family, why I wish so deeply to spend this holiday with them in celebration of making it through a year of strife and constant change. But in saying this, I know that is has taken that fall into despair in order to build these relationships, in order to be in this place in this moment with these people the way that we are. The pain was necessary for my overall evolution.

And so, I give thanks today, for the help and friendship and love that I have received this past year. The unquestioning acceptance of me as flawed as I am, and the patience in allowing me to slowly find myself again. In that way, I am thankful for the pain, as well, for without it, I wouldn't be standing here as strong and so well surrounded with support and friendship as I am today. I raise a glass to all of you, and perhaps a turkey leg as well, and hope that you can truly understand how truly deep my gratitude reaches. Thank you all.

Happy Thanksgiving!

If I Could Be Who You Wanted

If you are a loyal reader, you know that I often refer to music when writing, usually spring-boarding into a larger topic based on a lyric or song title. Even the overall title of this blog came partially from a Yeah Yeah Yeah’s song. I find myself doing that again today as I was struck by a line from a song I have heard a hundred times before while driving down the road on a very rainy Kentucky afternoon on my way home for the Thanksgiving holiday. It’s funny how these things happen at specific moments in our lives, an album I hadn’t pulled out in nearly a year just suddenly appearing at my fingertips and then into the player in the dashboard. Then suddenly I am transported into that time, when I was listening to the album incessantly, absorbing the words and feelings of it. It was not a particularly happy time, but one that I have worked hard to leave behind me in the effort to move on into a happier existence.

The song is “Fake Plastic Trees.” The band is one of my favorites, Radiohead. From the title, I’m sure you’ve already decided it’s one of those very oddball pieces, alternative rock just a little beyond alternative, something unrelatable. But in that assumption, you would be incorrect. There is one specific line near the end that struck me then and still invokes deep thought today. It goes, “If I could be who you wanted….all the time.” Such deep, emotionally jarring thoughts wrapped up into one simple line. To me it’s about being at the end of a relationship and knowing that your partner is pulling away, knowing that you are not what he or she wants, about not feeling good enough for that person and feeling them slip away from your apparent inadequacy in complete apathy.

Of course, at the time that I discovered the album and began listening to the song so heavily, I was going through that very situation. It’s why the words spoke so loudly to me, gave me something to relate to. It fed my depression over the situation at the time, but perhaps it gave me a glimmer of hope that I wasn’t the first, nor would I be the last person to go through such a situation. It is one of the worst feelings in the world to not feel adequate, to feel like you are worth less than another person who you’ve loved or who you thought loved you, but in reality wants nothing to do with you. Some of us never recover.

But the lesson we have to learn here is that we cannot be what someone else wants, we can only be ourselves and know that that has to be enough. Even our spouses, our life partners, are not going to be perfect all the time, are not going to be who we want them to be all the time. If being ourselves isn’t enough, then we have to let go, regardless of how much it hurts, in hope of finding someone who will love us and accept us for the flawed beings we are. That was the most difficult thing for me to accept at the time. I didn’t want to give up, I wanted to change or prove that I could be what he wanted, that I could be good enough for him. I wanted him to want me again, like he did (whether he was honest about it or not) in the beginning. It took me a long time to realize that he was the one that wasn’t good enough, that he was the one that should have been fighting for my attention, that I was, in fact, good enough if not better than he deserved. It is very hard to let go when you are not ready to, though; and, thus, I struggled.

Thom Yorke sings, “It wears me out,” on the cut; and that, it did. I wore myself out to pure exhaustion at times worrying about things that I could not change. It was a futile waste of energy. Once I finally let it go, though, and was able to move on, knowing that I was good enough to make it on my own, I was finally able to rise from that ashes so to speak, or maybe out from amongst the forest of “Fake Plastic Trees.” All I can do is be who I am and hope that that’s enough. That’s all any of us can do.

The Problem With Threesomes

I was walking through the mall on a first date once long ago. We were asking each other general questions, trying to get to know each other, when he looked at me over a pile of sweaters and asked me if I believe in threesomes. I have never been one who was good at immediate answers as my brain generally requires some time to mill over even the simplest of ideas, so I had to stop and think for a second before answering. Of course, I believed in threesomes in the sense that they existed and people did partake; but I knew that the real question was whether or not I found them to be acceptable. He was testing my morals.

Have I indulged in a threesome or two? Yes. Would I do it again? Of course, there is always that one-in-a-million opportunity that might come up that I couldn't possibly say no to, but generally the answer would be a resounding no. While it may be immediately satisfying to some degree, in my own experience, there is generally no residual benefit to such an endeavor. More often there is more complication involved than is generally worth the effort.

First, let's look at the technical aspects. Generally, there is more interest in one person than the other on the part of at least one of the participants, leaving one person out and not equally involved. Not exactly fair, is it? But if you're happy with whatever you can get, more power to you. I know what you're thinking. It would be great to be in the middle, like a sandwich, or getting it from both ends. Yeah, not so much. It tend to spread the focus and leave the whole experience less satisfying as you try to do two or more things at once. Don't let the moan of the porn stars fool you. It's not as satisfying as they would lead you to believe. Now if you're lying there and the other two are focused on your pleasure, it can be pretty fun; but often you are then obliged to return the favor, times two.

Now let's move on to the idea of spicing up your sex life when in a relationship. Often times, when the sex has become routine, perhaps even boring, couples will try new things, even new people in an effort to rekindle some kind of physical spark. I've done it. When my longest relationship felt stagnant and we had lost our connection, my partner and I made some attempt in this direction. It didn't even come close to solving our problems, however, as it seemed that when a third person was present, we focused all of our energy on him, never even touching each other. If anything, it spread us farther apart.

Now, reverse the situation. I was briefly involved with a couple that had been together for several years and was looking for a little outside pleasure. I would have to say that there was equal involvement physically, but it became fairly obvious rather quickly that one of the two was more interested in me both in and outside of the bedroom. In fact, at times it seemed that there was tension between the two over my presence, which made the situation rather uncomfortable. That's why my involvement was so brief.

Based on my own experience, I haven't seen any good come out of the threesome scenario beyond a little temporary pleasure, regardless of the moral implications of such a sexual act. It generally won't fix what's wrong with a relationship. If anything, it's only going to make things worse, if not create problems where there weren't any before. If you're single and just want to experiment a little, more power to you. If you're in a relationship and feel the need to look elsewhere for pleasure, perhaps there is more wrong with your relationship than you are willing to admit.

Like Watching A Train Wreck

It seems that no matter how vile and disgusting something is, there is something in our brains that overpowers our sense of reason and decency and demands our attention. It's as if our sense of curiosity overtakes us. It's like watching a plane crash or a car accident, or a gory movie. We know it's going to be bad, there will be blood and gore; and yet we can't take our eyes away. We can't turn our heads.

You would think there would be a limit to what we could stand; but, it looks like the latest internet obsession would prove otherwise. I can't say that I am innocent in the matter as I was forewarned before entering the address 2girls1cup.com into my window browser, but I can say that I regret doing it. I think it may be the most horrific thing I have ever laid eyes on. I only made it through about 15 seconds or so before I started to feel sick, but I am told that it goes on for about a minute. Whoever could find what these 2 girls do to each other sexually arousing must have something wrong with them.

You'll notice I've failed to divulge any details about the site, but I can't hardly think about it much less describe it in detail as I nearly vomited from the brief seconds I was able to keep my eyes focused on the screen. I just wonder if your own curiosity will lead you to be one of the many who have viewed this horrid nonsense. Just don't say that I didn't warn you.

The Injustice of HomeOwner's Associations

You will have to excuse me as I have been a little distracted this past week. I have been in dispute with my home owner's association over the placement of a satellite dish and it has taken up most of my energy. In fact it has nearly drained my energy trying to follow the rules to the letter as defined by a new set of policies that the association enacted at the end of October.

I realize that this has nothing to do with the main subject matter of this blog, but I'm feeling the need to vent somewhere, so I thank you for obliging me.

The main reason I wanted the satellite dish in the first place was because our local cable company does not provide the LOGO channel and has refused to add it to the lineup despite numerous requests. LOGO is, of course, the gay oriented channel with news and drama programs oriented towards the gay community. Without the satellite dish, I am stuck without it. The home owner's association has enacted new policies, however, that restrict where and how a satellite can be placed, which leaves me with no choice but to scrap the whole installation or pay out the nose to accommodate the rules. So I am stuck with no LOGO, and a pitiful number of HD channels after paying a fortune for a new television to watch it on.

Needless to say, I am frustrated by the entire situation. As a result, any romantic thoughts have entirely left my brain at the moment, and I apologize that I cannot focus enough to provide you with a more appropriate entry. Although, I suppose that distraction to the point of a lack of intimate thoughts is a romantic problem. But perhaps that is stretching things a bit.

Anyway, I suppose we should have a moral for today. Let it be that all should have fair access to the LOGO channel, and if your area does not provide it, request it until they do! Thanks for listening.

Happy Howloween

Perhaps it is just the child still lurking somewhere deep inside of me or the mere fact that it allows for a slight deviation from the normal pattern of life; but, no matter what holiday it happens to be, I find a need to get into the spirit and celebrate!

Sometimes it's about tradition, sometimes it's about catching up with old friends or family, and sometimes it's about throwing back a cocktail or two and dancing the night away. There's nothing wrong with an excuse to do that, now, is there? Halloween is not exception, of course. The biggest gay bar in town throws the biggest party of the year the weekend closest to the trick-or-treat bash. Even furnishes a $500 prize for the best costume. It seems that every gay man alive is either there, at a house party, or wandering belligerently drunk down our downtown streets in tight, skimpy underwear, glitter, and angel wings. There's the "Rocky Horror Picture Show," too, shown Friday and Saturday night at the theatre next door with full audience participation. Fishnets and corsets abound. It seems that even those guys that never go out, disappear from the public eye for months at a time, show up for Halloween.

But, what is it about Halloween that makes it such a party? Why does it seem that so many gay men list it number one on their favorite holiday list? Is it the makeup? The dressing up? The complete disregard for convention and laxing of behavioral rules? Is it the idea of being someone else for a night, leaving your own skin for an evening and trying on someone else's? It's like an orgy of role-playing fantasies all rolled up onto one dance floor, filled to overcapacity and busting at the seams. Pink cocktails at hand, and hands creeping down slowly towards the pink flesh of manhood. A temporary liberation of spirit, of mind, of body.

Or is it the letting go, the fear and trepidation of walking through a haunted house and being completely vulnerable to the whim of a masked teenager in the dark. The exhilaration of being trapped in a pitch black maze alone with your closest friends screaming behind you. The sudden burst of adrenaline when the chain-saw carrying man almost leaps out of the screen and you fall into the arms of your boyfriend sitting on the couch next to you.

Maybe it's just the idea of tricks and treats and gobs of candy, forgetting our figures for one night and filling our bellies with sugar and sweetness (if not something a little more savory). It is the one night we are allowed to be bad, when evil is put up on a pedestal and awed at, wicked green fingers, magic spells, ghosts. The freaks and outcasts are glorified and revered, if only for one night. At least until the sun comes up and the light of days streaks through the windows onto our lipstick stained faces, running mascara, and tattered clothing. Then it is back to reality, back to the gym for another set of crunches, back to the normalcy of life. Until another holiday hits and we can deviate for a split second again....

Of course, I missed it all again this year. I seemed to get jipped out of Halloween every year, somehow, some way. So I missed to bar party, the infamous gathering at my friends' houses, the costumes, the candy, the fun over the weekend. All so that I could sit at work all night and wish I was somewhere else. I am off tonight, though, real Halloween, although it means little for the party crowd as it is a Wednesday night and they are still recovering from Saturday. I guess I'll make a date with my sofa, the 'Great Pumpkin,' and a pumpkin full of sugar sweetness.

Happy Halloween!

May your tricks be plentiful and generous with their treats!

First Taste

I have been dreading this entry for quite some time, but I thought perhaps since this month featured a poll on first sexual experiences, that I would be open enough to recount my own first experience at the age of 18 whether it exposes my vulnerabilities or not.

The reason I have been dreading this entry, the reason I considered not including it at all, was that my first sexual experience was not exactly the most enjoyable moment of my life. It is one of those dark moments that you try to forget, that doesn't really represent who you are as a whole. It was one of those moments in which you don't quite feel like yourself.

It is sad that the culmination of years of pubescent angst and sexual yearning, years of hormonal boiling and curiosity should come to an apex in such an anticlimactic manner. I'm just glad I'm not the only one. It seems to be a common thread among a number of people I have talked to that the first time was not the most satisfying. But then again, I guess you can't exactly be perfect without some practice.

Obviously I'm stalling here. Could you tell? Well, let's get down to business. I won't bore you with all the details, but my first experience did begin in a public park (but no, I didn't have sex in that park, at least I wasn't that stupid) with a complete stranger. I don't know why I even remotely found him attractive, I don't think he even had all of his teeth. I had read books in the library about cruising at park restrooms and in the woods. As a teenager, the idea excited me. So when I saw this man parked near one of the bathrooms, walking around seemingly aimlessly, I figured that that was what he was probably doing. I don't remembering being nervous or excited or anything like that, like I said, I've tried to block it out. It sort of just happened.

What ended up occurring was that we got to talking a little, figured out each other's intentions, and he took me back to his trailer home in his broken down little blue car with a broken back window covered in black garbage bag (god it just gets worse and worse, I'm really regretting this now). Actually, I don't even think it was his trailer, I think maybe it was his mothers. Anyway, we proceeded to, well, don't even make me say it. Really, it ended up being just a jumble of awkward bodies. Lasted about half an hour or so I guess. He couldn't even keep an erection, since it seemed that he masturbated 4 or 5 times a day and had worn it out for the day. At least that's what he told me. What the hell did I know about it? I put my clothes back on and left as quickly as I could, felling sick and like I was going to vomit all over the gravel outside.

I was turned off by the whole idea of sex for a long time after that. I couldn't believe I had done such a thing with someone I didn't know at all and who I would never see again. I vaguely recall he even said he had been in jail, or was being sent to court for something...ugh, my head hurts. What could I have possible been thinking? I hated that sick feeling afterwards, and that happened a lot over the next several years. When you have been taught for so long that something is wrong, it is hard not to feel that way, and I fear that that disapproval, that nonacceptance of gay sex is what creates this culture of discretion in sex, this underworld just under the surface where anonymity and discretion feel necessary. If it were accepted as healthy and normal, there wouldn't be a need to meet people in parks or any other secret place for that matter.

I find the idea ridiculous now, meeting people in this way. I don't regret anything in my life, that first experience did serve some purpose in the overall scheme of my being; but it still makes me cringe. We all do things that make little sense in our lives. It was a rite of passage, moving from abstinent to sexually active being, but if only I could have chosen someone a little more, shall we say, appealing? I guess it's good to laugh about it though, just a little. Then let's close the book on this one and move on to more pleasant ventures.

Glory Days?

As I just happen to be browsing the channels on the television into the wee hours of the morning the other night, I came upon a documentary entitled Gay Sex in the 70’s. Naturally, my interest was peaked, so I sat and watched as half-naked men filled the screen along with stories and recounts of the glory days of gay life in New York before the days of HIV and cautious sex.

“Must have been nice,” says a dear friend as I recount the film over a telephone call. What stuck out at me from the film most prominently was the pure freedom and uninhibited abundance that surrounded sex at that time. Over and over during the hour, men admitted to sex at all hours, in all forms, anywhere and everywhere in the city from the abandoned piers or the inside of dark 18-wheelers, to the back room of clubs, public parks, or bath houses that never closed. Sex three, four, five times a day, often with complete strangers, often with several men at once. “Life was like being in a porn,” said one man. It seemed almost an obsession for some, sex came before everything else. And there was no worry, no inhibition whatsoever as everything you could possible catch was treatable. As the film states, men would take penicillin before a long weekend out on Fire Island or stop by a trusted doctor’s office whenever anything unsightly occurred. Everything was a quick fix, and he was off again to the races, often cruising in the waiting room while waiting for his shot. He may even get laid in the doctor’s office itself, by a staff member or the doctor himself. It’s just another shot, right?

Perhaps it would have been nice to have that freedom, to not worry about anything or anyone. A sex that is purely recreational, purely without consequence, and available in incredible abundance. Perhaps the essence of it is that freedom to be who you want and do what you want with whoever it suits you to do it with at that moment. Of course, we know that there were consequences, consequences that stay with us even today. It couldn’t last, and perhaps it shouldn’t have lasted. However you look at, when you indulge in anything to such a vast extent, it is gluttonous, it can become an obsession, and it can take over your life. But in the overall scheme of things, in the ever evolving history of gay men, I think that perhaps this period of pure gluttony was a necessary evil.

Perhaps I am just playing devil’s advocate here, but the idea brings up a lot of complicated issues. One man in the film stated that he felt like every young man needed such a time to explore this sense of freedom of flesh, to explore his physical sexuality. Perhaps young gay men are robbed of that today with the reality and consequences of promiscuity and drug use that was not present in the 70’s. Although, it would seem that the warnings are not heeded by many of today’s youth as I have discussed previously in this forum. One might even go so far as to state that the current generations of gay youth are still paying for the sins of our predecessors. It is hard to say.

I digress. Returning to the idea of the necessary evil, I ask you to look at it in a broader perspective. This period of free love and abundant sex (which was not purely a gay phenomenon, but shared with much of the youth of this generation) created a place in society where gay men felt comfortable, could be themselves, did what they wanted without fear of persecution or backlash. It created a community. If you were in the presence of another gay man, there was an immediate sense of brotherhood, and shared respect. One of the most memorable lines from the film involved the idea that when the AIDS crisis began, it was the gay community that stood up and fought back. “It was the first time that the people inflicted by the epidemic took control of trying to stop it.” Community is what we need in order to have a voice, in order to protect and assist each other, and if it took a decade of overabundant genital exposure, then I can’t say that it wasn’t worth it. The sad thing is that that sense of community seems to be lost on current generations, but that’s a topic for another day.

One of the men interviewed for the film relayed his experiences from that time. He had participated heavily in the promiscuous sex of the day, but relayed a deeper desire through the whole experience to find a special someone, to find ‘the one’ to share life with, to be close to. I find it a common thread among most people, whether gay or straight. It seems to be the essence of some people, from that time and now, regardless of how much sex or how many partners they have until they find it. Perhaps it would have been nice to be alive at that time, to experience such freedom and know so much flesh; but if I had to choose between that and a special someone, I’d pick the special someone every time.

Big Blond Foam Wigs

There is a wonderful old movie house here in the city where one can catch a cult classic on most Friday nights at midnight. It is one of a dwindling number of cool places to patronize in the ever-changing town of Lexington, where it seems that it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Everyone is welcome. In fact, diversity is encouraged.

On one particular Friday night, I found myself carousing with one of my closest friends. We ate, we drank, we painted the town, biding our time before show-time at the historic downtown theatre, where our eyes were about to feast on the glamour and the glitz of the rock-musical classic, “Hedwig and the Angry Inch.” There were dregs and pierced noses along side nerdy, black glasses types, along side gay and straight and a hearty college crowd. Everyone in line for popcorn and root beer, excited to see the horror and the beauty of it all on the big screen.

For those of you who don’t know, the story is rather bizarre and twisted, unlike any other. But isn’t it always that way with the true cult classics. We were informed that the writer was a Lexington resident by the theatre manager as we walked into the main viewing room, quite proud to have someone tied to the project so close. But, apparently, he is not one that you would immediately think was capable of creating such a story by mere appearance. But I imagine that writers are rarely what we expect them to be in person based on their work.

The story here involves an East-German child that is seduced by an American soldier and taken to the United States as his bride after a botched sex-change operation (that the soldier insists he have). Once in the United States, the American soldier finds a piece of fresh meat and leaves our main character behind. As the story progresses, Hedwig becomes a song-writer and falls in love with a young lad, who later steals his songs and becomes a huge pop star leaving Hedwig in the dust without any credit for his work. Hedwig forms a band of the same name as the title of the film and begins following this lad across the country, playing each city he stops in for a concert in a smaller nearby venue, fighting for credit to his work and struggling to reach this child that has left him in the dust. What is the angry inch, you ask? Well, the botched sex-change operation left poor Hedwig with a useless (and apparently angry) inch of flesh where his genital used to be. “It’s what I have to work with,” he says as his lover discovers his malfunction. Such tragedy, such drama, such classic cult style.

Why do we love them? Why are they classic? Because they are so different, because they are so unlike anything else out there. If nothing else, they prove that maybe there is someone out there more screwed up then we ourselves are. They are as unique as each one of us and take us to another place, however bizarre and surreal. Where else can we put on our big blond foam wigs and sing about deformed genitals. I couldn’t think of a better way to pass a Friday night into the wee hours of the weekend.

The Romance of American Football

While I do not claim in any form or fashion to be a fan of American football, I cannot help but awe a little at the magic that seemed to occur here last night in the Midwest town of Lexington. What I awe at is the way one single event, one stretch of hours on a single autumn afternoon can suddenly stop time, erase all differences, and unite a city in purpose and energy.

It seems that hotel rooms were very scarce here in the city last night, traffic a virtual nightmare as tens of thousands of people fell upon the campus of the University starting as early as eight yesterday morning for coffee, bacon, sausage and eggs off the back of pick-up trucks followed by lunches of beer, bratwurst, and corn-hole games. Some go just for the food, the friends, and the alcohol. The real action began at 3:30 on this afternoon, though, as a perpetually close game ran through four quarters between the best team UK has seen in years and a #1 ranked LSU football team.

“I don’t think a single fan has left the game,” came the voice of the radio announcer, “fourth biggest crown this stadium has ever seen.” Four hours into it, the game comes up tied, we’re off to overtime. The crown chants, “Go Big Blue.” Another tie, another overtime. The tension in palpable as the crowd, the home audience, the radio listeners sit poised and focused. The energy of the city suspended in this one moment, this small stretch of time, all is lost and forgotten: gay, straight, young, old, worries, troubles, arguments, disagreements, prejudices. It’s all gone for the moment as something greater takes hold of the heart of the people and demands full attention.

Finally, third overtime, “TOUCHDOWN UK,” and then a failed score attempt from LSU and the game is over. We win. Records, trends, expectations shattered and left in the cold grass. Fireworks shoot overhead, the crowd rushes the field, music plays. There is dancing, drinking, joy. It is a moment when nothing else matters, all is well, we are one as a crowd, as spectators to a great event in college sport history. As much as you may loathe the idea of sports, as casual a fan as you may be, at that moment you cannot deny the magic, cannot deny the romance of what seems to be possible, a peace in the world, a place where our individual differences mean nothing, where we are all united for a greater cause. It is the romance of a better world.

The party continues into the night, the downtown streets saturated with people. There is an air of celebration in the air that does not want to end, for in the morning, as the sun rises over the cluttered streets and parking lots littered with the remnants of ten of thousands of people, the romance slowly fades and the reality of our world returns. We pick ourselves up and do it all again next week in the hope that that magic, that romance, will begin anew.

A Question of Race...or....Racism Among Gay Men

"Have you ever gone Asian," says a voice to my right at a pristinely white tablet covered with pristinely white plates and napkins.

I do not respond. He says it a bit louder, and suddenly I'm drawn out of a moment of day dreaming. I am drawn back into the world of the living where myself and several friends are seated for an extravagant brunch after an evening of expensive cocktails and spirited dancing. I politely ask him to repeat the question as it has not registered in my brain as of yet, and then quickly answer, "yes." I am then asked to indulge them in recounting my experience, and then the conversation goes on to delve into the differences in men in the bedroom based on race. We discuss everything from African-Americans to Greek men, to Australians and Latino men. Some experiences being good and others bad, but generally, the conversation was quite interesting and actually invoked a lot of thought on the subject of race in general.

I cannot say that I ever really considered a man's race in deciding whether or not to go on a date with him, hang out with him, have sex with him, etc. It's just not something that generally enters my brain in any aspect of my life. I have been fortunate enough to have had a variety of friends of all different kinds of backgrounds from a very young age so that it doesn't even register into my consciousness that someone is different just because of the color of their skin. It is actually quite astounding that I didn't come out a little bit differently as several members of my extended family can be quite racist. It seems to be a fairly common ideology here in the Midwest with people raised in a certain generation. Nonetheless, I am glad I grew up the way I did. Ever the extreme idealist, I have continued to always try to treat everyone I meet as an equal, which in fact they are. The only exception being stupidity, you will lost points with me on that, but otherwise don't expect me to act differently or treat you any better or worse simply because you have a different background.

However, as a casual observer of the world, I have seen instances that would suggest that not every gay man is as..., let's say open-minded. It seems that there are a number of men who prefer or in fact go so far as to exclusively date one kind of man or one race of men. I realize that attraction is an innate thing. We cannot change who we are attracted to, but I find it hard to believe that such exclusivity is necessary. It seems that such filtration would weed out some of the best candidates who may in fact be right under our noses.

I have one friend who refuses to date African-American men entirely, another who generally won't give a white man the time of day, still another who tends to dwell in a Latino fantasy 90% of the time, and the list goes on. I have found that many African-American men (although I don't know that it is a majority) seem to prefer white men when cruising the Internet or out in gay bars, and quite often, Internet profiles from a number of people in general blatantly state a search for a specific race. But why is it so important? I really do not understand. No matter how you slice it, when you exclude someone because of their race, no matter what it is, isn't that racism.

Of course, when you add in the other factors that gay men use to weed out possible mate candidates, one could easily assume that as a group, we are actually quite picky, if not down right discriminating. There are men who won't date anyone above a certain age, a certain weight, who look exclusively for older men, or men with a certain income, who won't look at you twice if you associate with a certain crowd of people or hang out at certain establishments or are from a certain part of the country. You'd think that after years of being discriminated against because of our sexual orientation for so long that we would have a more enlightened outlook when choosing people to associate ourselves with.

I speak from the idealist perspective here. I realize the people have preferences, that certain things turn us on, and maybe one of those things for some people is the color of someone's skin. All I would ask is that we keep our minds open to whatever comes our way. Life is hard enough being gay, why make it harder by alienating anyone that could enrich out lives?

The Gay Sex Dictionary (continued)

To continue with our comprehensive list...

Sixty-nine (69)- both partners pleasure each other equally and at the same time. With a male and female, generally the female performs oral sex on the male, while he performs oral sex on her vaginal area. With two men, each generally performs fellatio on the other at the same time. Some find this form of sex less than satisfying as you are in the mist of working on your partner while being pleasured yourself and are not able to fully enjoy the pleasure being performed on you. Others enjoy the experience thoroughly.

Cruising- general term for looking for sex, it can occur anywhere, from the grocery store to the local gay bar, Internet, or the bathroom at the nearest home depot.

Trick- basically a one-time encounter, usually involving oral sex, mutual masterbation, etc, and sometimes, although rarely, anal sex. A trick is someone you never intend to see again.

TS- transsexual. This refers to someone who identifies with the opposite sex of that which they were born. Most often, when using this term, the individual has undergone surgery to become the opposite sex, or is in the process of doing so with hormone treatments, etc.

TV- transvestite, drag-queen. This refers to a person that dresses like the opposite sex. They do not necessarily have any intentions of becoming or identify with the opposite sex.

Transgendered- refers to anyone with gender identity issues, including TV, TS, and Intersex individuals.

Intersex- a person who is born with physical or physiological abnormalities and whose genitals may not directly link them to either gender. Their physical being is often sexually ambiguous.

Handjob- sometimes referred to as mutual masturbation, although reciprocation is not always present. Fairly self explanatory, one partner pleasures the other's genitals with his hands.

DD free- Internet lingo for drug and disease free. Generally means he's claiming to be free of STD's and doesn't use drugs.

Nipple play- yes ladies, men are sensitive there, too. It can range from simple touching and rubbing of the nipples to rougher forms of biting, clamping, etc. I've known several men that when touched there, they became instantly aroused, even with only minor touching.

Prince Albert- refers to a common type of penile piercing.

Water sports- sounds innocent enough, but actually involves sexually pleasing someone by urinating on them (or even in them). I knew a friend who went into a bar in England where a man lay in a bathtub in the restroom where gentleman could come in and urinate on him. personally, I don't understand the appeal.

Steamer- (as long as we're getting dirty, might as well go all the way). This practice involves lying down with plastic wrap over the face and allowing someone to stand over you and defecate onto the plastic wrap, thus creating 'steam.' Apparently there are boutiques in New York where you can pay to have this done.

Dirty Sanchez- This one is rather humorous, although rather disgusting as well. It involves doggy-style anal sex in which there may be a little bit of a mess (don't make me spell it out for you), getting it on your finger, and then rubbing it across your partner's (the bottom's) upper lip like a mustaches as you are giving it to him from behind.

Cement- refers to ejaculate (cum) that has been ejaculated into the rectum during anal sex. Physically harmless, but often a little messy when coming back out.

Pig Play- refers to 'dirty' sex. Generally it is sweaty, raunchy, sometimes downright nasty. Can involve water sports, fecal matter, etc.

Douching or enemas-not just for women, there are rather elaborate devices available on the Internet or at your local adult bookstore for the cleansing of the private areas. Of course, with men, it involves cleaning the rectum/anal area. Some even find the process rather sexually arousing. Water or other liquids are inserted into the bodies cavities and the ejected back out to cleanse the desired area. The general purpose is to prevent any unsavory accident from happening during the sex act.

Glory-hole- generally it refers any hole that a man's genitals can fit through for someone to pleasure on the other side. This is the epitome of anonymous sex as you may never see your partner during the act. They can be anywhere, but most often are found between stalls in public restrooms, adult bookstore video booths, or gay bathhouses.

Gay-for-pay- refers to a male porn star who has gay sex for money on camera, but is actually straight in real life.

LGBT- Standing for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgendered, this abbreviation is often used to represent the Gay community in general.

Poz- abbreviation for someone who is HIV positive. Often used in Internet profiles.

Voyeurism- refers to getting sexually aroused by watching someone else naked or having sex, usually without that person/people knowing. Sort of a peeping-Tom phenomenon.

Exhibitionism- refers to getting sexually aroused by exposing one's genitals to others, often in public.

Power Bottom- may seem like an oxmoron, as a bottom is usually submissive during the sexual act, but they are out there. A power bottom takes control of the sex act, often inserting his partners member into himself and taking control of the pace and position of the sex act. Basically, a dominant bottom.

Well, that's all I can think of at the moment, if any term comes up that you do not know the meaning of, just ask, I'll do my best to clarify.

The Gay Sex Dictionary

Feeling a bit Frivolous today, I thought perhaps we'd review a few terms and practices that not everyone may be familiar with, trying to focus the list on the practices of gay men (although most would generally apply to anyone). I know we've clarified a few things on this blog in previous entries, but perhaps a comprehensive list would be more productive for past and future reference if in fact I use some word or term that is unfamiliar with some of our readers. The list may range from tame to downright vulgar, but we might as well put it all out there, provide a little education whether it's pretty or not.

Fellatio- i.e. blow job, oral sex, sucking cock, giving head, etc. A mouth, a penis, you get the idea. Just remember, it's not a straw.

Rimming- licking, tonguing, sucking, or generally arousing a partner's anal opening with your mouth. If you're going to do it or have it done to you, for goodness sakes be clean down there!

Vanilla sex- there are a few different interpretations of this one. For most gay men it means having sex but not going "all the way" (i.e. anything but anal sex). Nothing kinky or extravagant, it's the basics of arousing each other.

Fisting- the practice of inserting one's fist into his partner's rectum. One thing I have no intention of ever trying and find hard to believe that anyone truly enjoys. But to each his own. They even sell plastic versions, like dildos, for personal pleasure.

Dildo- they come in all shapes in sizes, some vibrate, some don't, some have two or three heads for group action. They are generally made of plastic or glass and are shaped and sized like a penis for pleasuring oneself or a partner. They are the anchor to any good sex-toy collection.

Fetish- technically, to be a fetish, one can only be able to get off (to cum or ejaculate) when in the presence of said object or scenario. Without it, arousal is impossible. A lot of people call things fetishes, but they may just simply be something that turns him on but may not be completely necessary for arousal. They can range from things like socks, underwear, or shoes, to being tied up, being choked, or simply being outside. The list ranges from the very mild to the absolute bizarre. I've mentioned this before, but the most unusual one I ever head was haircuts.

Cum- ejaculate, sperm, jiz, cream, whatever you want to call it, it can be a mess if you're not careful.

Top- the insertive partner, whether it be into his partner's mouth or rear end.

Bottom- the receiving partner in either oral or anal intercourse.

Intercrural sex- there is no insertion, but rather the 'top' thrusts his penis between the other man's thighs. Kind of a mock way of having sex. Tends to be more pleasurable for the top if done properly. May be safer as it is a non-penetrative form of sex.

S&M- or slave and master. May be considered a fetish, but generally one partner takes control of the situation and the other does whatever he is told to do. Often involves whips, chains, blind folds, ball gags, nipple clamps, leather, elaborate scenarios, and sometimes pain.

Fucking- anal sex, corn-holing, 'going all the way.' Many gay men consider this real gay sex, everything else being simply foreplay.

Foreplay- everything from kissing to rubbing to dirty talk. It's the stuff that gets you aroused before the main event.

PNP- usually this is an abbreviation seen on internet profiles. It means party-and-play. Which generally means he wants to smoke a little weed (or participate in some other drug activity) before getting your clothes off.

Frot- the rubbing of two penises together. Often when to men face each other, it happens naturally or one will take both members into his hand at once and rub them together.

Tea-room- generally a public restroom or other meeting place where men meet for anonymous sex.

Tea bagging- placing of the scrotum into another's face.

Well, it seems there are more than I thought, so we will have to continue this into the next entry.

All Bark and No Balls

I do not know why exactly I have been reminded of this the last day or so, but I feel the need to express one of my greatest pet peeves today, one of the very few things in life that makes me so irate that I can't hardly see straight. I am not generally one of those people that gets truly angry or even raises his voice more than a couple of times a year or so; but, when it does hit, it can be bad. Nearly 100% of the time, it has something to do with someone I know either flat out lying, withholding the truth, or saying something that he or she has no intention of following through with.

I realize that it is human nature to keep certain things private, to tell little white lies either to cover something up or to keep the peace, to fain excitement or interest when there is none there simply to be polite. Things like "let's catch a movie" and not seeing him for 2 months and never catching that movie. "Let's go on a cruise to the Mediterranean." "I'll call you, we'll go to dinner next week." "Yes, your dress is beautiful, very slimming." It happens everyday. No harm, no foul. We do it to friends, family, and acquaintances alike. It is expected, and because it expected, these things don't bother me so much. Especially with people I don't know very well. We sit at home sometimes and wonder why he didn't call, or why she doesn't want to come over; but really, in the end, it is all very simple. People do want they want. We are selfish in this way. We make decisions about what to do and who to associate ourselves with everyday. We choose to be at this place a this time, we choose to go on this date, we choose to call this person back, and we sacrifice other options in the process. In the end, it seems we choose the most personally appealing options, often at the expense of other people.

These are natural life processes. Decisions have to be made, and something will almost always be left out of the equation. No one can be blamed for that. People enter and leave our lives everyday and we think little of it. A certain points in our lives we choose companions and friends and grow close to them, making that series of decisions that leads to genuine human bonds. The rest just falls to the wayside.

My problem with this is that if we take it too far and become so engrossed in ourselves, so caught up in our own lives the way it seems so many have done in these United States, that life becomes so shallow as to have no meaning at all. We close ourselves off to new experiences and new people so much that our lives become encased in a netting of laziness and complacency. Sometimes we even close ourselves off to love. It is in this regard that I become so irate with the issue. When you are dealing with an emotion as strong and eternally complicated as love, I find it very difficult to put up with anyone who doesn't have the balls to follow through with what they say. I can deal with a friend who never calls to go to that movie. What I can't deal with is a lover (or potential lover) saying the L word without knowing for sure or thinking about the consequences.

In the last few years, I have developed a new perspective on life. I try not to say anything that I do not mean, and I try to follow through with every promise I make. It is a different lifestyle. If there's a show or a concert I want to see, I'll go to it if at all possible even if I have to go by myself. If I tell you we'll have dinner that week, be rest assured that I will call you about it. If I say I want to go to the other side of the world, I am going to do my damnedest to make it happen. If I don't have any intention of doing something, I won't say that I am going to. I don't expect everyone to be that way, but if you are going to be my partner in life, if we are going to embark on a journey or love and companionship, then I generally have to insist on it. If I say that word, if I open my heart to you in that way and put myself in that vulnerable position, then you can be sure that I mean it. If you say it back, you better mean it to. And no, you can't take it back. You can't decide a month later that you made a mistake and try to take it back. You can't decide that you are suddenly not ready, because in that regard, you have presented yourself to your partner in a false way. You have portrayed a false sense of yourself if you were not sure of your love, if you weren't sure of the relationship. And in that way, you hurt not only your partner, but yourself by wasting the time and energy it takes to stay in a relationship.

Call it leading someone on, call it flat out lying, call it placating for the temporary pleasures of sex. We all use those little lines, those cute romantic phrases and compliments that make our partners feel good. I am not naive in this regard. I just have a major problem with someone who portrays a desire for something real, something more than a fling and then suddenly turns his back and deciding that either the time or the person isn't right.

It's about barking the word Love so loud it rings in the ears for hours, but not having the balls to take it, embrace it, to follow through on a heart's promise. This is what makes me angry. I will say the word when I mean it, when I feel it in my heart; but when I do, I'll be damned sure that I am ready to follow that path and live with the consequences. But isn't that what love is supposed to be about. Isn't love supposed to be about caring for someone else so much that you put them first? In that way, it is by design not selfish and therefore demands something more than the superficial existence created by doing what you want and seeing who you want all the time. Maybe that is too difficult for most people. But if it is, then maybe most people are incapable of true love.

Everything decision has a consequence. What makes me angry is when a person fails to look at those consequences before putting someone else's heart in jeopardy. Bark all you want. I can handle it. Just have the balls to follow through.

The Conglomeration of Past and Present

One of the most important things that makes each of us unique in this world is our completely individual and unreplicatable set of life experiences. No matter our place of birth, race, gender, sexual orientation, or religion, there is no one in the world that has lived exactly the same way and with the same complete perspective as you have. Siblings can come pretty close, but even with that, there are differences created simply with birth order if not by outside influences. Even identical twins are going to have some unique experiences that shape them in a different way then their genetic counterpart. It is the sum of all these experiences: relationships, interactions, life events, along with our genetic make-up that makes us who we are today.

What is the point here? Well, the same is true in the realm of love and all that goes with love: loss, joy, pain, fulfillment. Our capacity for love and our current view of relationships is a conglomeration of what we've experienced in the past, what we've seen others go through and what is right in front of us, the experiences that we are currently embarking on. We cannot mature and grow without experience, without loss and hurt and pain along with elation, joy, and romance. It is what makes us better people and ready for our current loves. It defines who we are in our current and future relationships. No matter how much of clean start we may try to make, our present will always be riddled with remnants of our past.

I have no regrets in life. I have to believe that everything we go through is for a reason and will lead me on my next journey and onto better things, even if the reason is not readily apparent at the time. I have made many mistakes in love, pushed too hard, not pushed hard enough, let things go that I shouldn't have, stayed too long, gave up too soon. I've been hurt, heart broken, lonely, unable to immediately put the pieces back together. But still, there are no regrets, because each interaction provided a lesson in some form or another, helped teach me who I am and what I want in life and in love. Without each and every past lover, boyfriend, trick, or experiment, I would be a different whole being today. It is the reason I carry parts of my past with me, to remind me of what not to repeat and what good thing to strive for in the future.

I admit that sometimes I get bogged down in recalling bad memories, in focusing more on what I have lost in my life rather than the abundance of blessings I should be eternally thankful for. The challenge is keeping the past behind us while still using it as the tool it should be in ever fine tuning our futures. Only in the past few months have I begun to feel more like myself, to feel more like a strong and stable individual after a long series of unfortunate events and general unrest. I am at the epilogue in the story of the past year and half of my life, at a point where I can look back and truly objectively look at what has happened without being too emotionally involved in it. It is now that I can truly learn and move on with good people beside me and healthy relationships intact.

It is that sum of what I have gone through, what I have learned along my journey that makes me who I am and makes me capable of loving another in a healthy and productive way. It is what makes me unique. It is why I am capable of truly appreciating the good times and knowing that the bad times will not last forever. It is what gives me the strength and the courage to continue on this journey, this never ending classroom called life.

A Razor and a Bar of Soap

I was riding in the car this past weekend with several friends. We were trying to find a happening place to spend the evening; and, upon discovering none that provided any satisfaction, our conversation invariably led to some rather interesting subjects. Seems to be the case time and time again when outside stimulation wanes; we find our own entertainment in revealing conversation.

I found this particular conversation rather amusing, as our thoughts and words somehow (I really don’t know how) led to the topic of personal hygiene and grooming. It was a mixed group, male and female, but it seemed we all agreed on several key points. However, I wonder if there is a certain etiquette or unspoken standard we go by these days in regard to personal grooming. What is preferred and what is considered acceptable?

We all agreed, with much laughter, that ball hair is disgusting. It seems even straight guys are shaving their scrotums these days, as the girls in our group proclaimed their refusal to go down on the guy or play with his balls if he’s got the little squigglies going on on his sac. I tend to agree. I’m sure there’s a few out there that wouldn’t mind a little fur, maybe even think it was manly; but more often than not, I’m finding that people would rather it not be there these days. When you have to pull a hair out from between your teeth, it tends to ruin the mood a little. And hygiene is a key as well. “A Sweaty ball sac has a smell like no other,” and it isn’t appealing. Hell if I wanted something with an odor, I’d go straight for the tuna taco. (Although, one of my straight friends insists that a women’s private parts don’t really smell like fish. I’ll have to take his word for it).

As far as the rest of it goes, I agreed with my friends that there should be some grooming in the general pubic area. Heck, girls seem to go to great lengths to properly groom; and it seems there a hundred ways to do it, from shaving to full on Brazilian waxes. I’m glad that waxing hasn’t become popular for men down there, though. Eeek. I don’t think that completely removing the hair is really all that attractive on a man, though. Unless your into really, really, young, say illegal young men. I did it once (the shaving, not the illegal young man). I looked like a prepubescent fool. There should be something there at least to signify that you’re at a an age capable of growing something down there.

I was walking back from getting my mail the other day, saw what seemed to be a straight man with the smoothest legs I’ve seen in years. They had to be shaved. I found it unnatural. Unless you’re training for the summer Olympics in the backstroke or butterfly or you have a genetic inability to grown hair at all, you should leave it. At least in my opinion. It seems that hairless chests and shaved pits are becoming more popular as well. I never minded a little hair on the chest, although, the pits should be kept to a reasonable length. I’d prefer not to notice it while you’re arms are down, bushing out like an out of control fur-ball under there.

As far as hygiene is concerned, cleanliness is an absolute key. If a man is dirty, forget it. Ok, I’ll admit it, every once in a long while the moment will hit and be so strong that there’s no time to clean up, you just have to go for it, sweaty as you may be; but for the most part, I’d like to know that you take care of yourself and shower daily, if not more often than that. Cologne is a good thing, too. Sometimes I wonder if in fact the industry is supported solely by gay men and women buying scents for their fellows. I’ve never met a straight-man cologne whore. Actually, I’ve never met a straight man that had more than two scents in his collection. On the other hand, most gay men I know can recognize at least half a dozen scents and have several at home for various occasions.

Of course, I could ramble on for hours about the ins and outs of cleanliness and personal grooming. Everyone you talk to is going to have a different taste, a different preference. It’s just like hair styles and fashionable shoes. At least it seems that the word is getting out there: take care of yourself, not just for you, but your partner as well.

Going With the Flow

Like every one of us, I am a flawed human being. It is the nature of our existence. It cannot be helped. One of my greatest faults has to do with love and relationships; and, while it will reveal to some extent my incapacities to you, the reader, I'm feeling just open enough today to go ahead and write about it in the vein of trying to relay a lesson, to make a point.

While I am quite patient and understanding in most every other aspect of my life, it seems that I lose all of that restraint and calmness when it comes to relationships. I am not proud of it, I'm working on it; but still, it remains a struggle for me. I've ruined relationships over it, I do admit that. I've expected too much and gotten hurt in the end because of it.

There are those of us that fear being alone. That is not my problem. However, it does seem that when someone I am truly interested in comes along, I tend to over do it at times, wanting to jump in head first and go for it. Now, any logical person knows, this is ridiculous. If you make a commitment in the new phase of a relationship, chances are you will wake up one day and wonder what the hell you have done. I've been there, done that. (I've had it done to me, too, though, don't get me wrong). My problem, in the past, has been that I expect too much of a relationship at times, especially when that sense of euphoria takes over so quickly. I start thinking about the long-run too soon, the life together, the 'marriage,' the future. I suppose that it is alright to fantasize about those things to an extent, but to expect them and to count on them generally only leads to the eventual disappointment of unfulfilled hopes and dreams. I'm guilty of it, I admit that. Sometimes it's hard, though, when you feel yourself falling in love and wanting to just go for it, to stop yourself and make yourself do it right, to truly get to know the guy and try to make it a lasting relationship.

It's a struggle I deal with everyday, balancing that want to just let myself go and live in this bubble of love and romance (which is impossible and doesn't really exist, I know) and wanting to remain calm and independent, moving slowly with love and being patient enough to let it grow naturally.

For a while, I was writing quotes in my daily planner, one a week or so. One was 'Go with the flow." It's what we've got to do. Love cannot be forced or fabricated. It will happen when and if it is supposed to, and if it is meant to last, then really you have all the time in the world to enjoy it. I've just got to learn to be a little more patient.

Act Two (The Play's the Thing)

Returning to our theatre adventure in Louisville, I thought today we would discuss a very interesting concept brought up by the second act of the play I recently attended.

As the story progresses and act two opens, we find that the state of the world has suddenly gone awry; and no one seems to know why. Half the city seems to have simply disappeared, leaving our characters lost and confused, and all just one day before the big wedding of the lovely daughter character is to take place.

Suddenly, our fashion designer lead enters the stage and quite matter-of-factly states that he has called all of his friends, who in turn have called all their friends, who have all decided that all the gay people of the world should simply disappear for a day and take a vacation in protest to the proposed amendment on the definition of marriage. Suddenly lawyers, doctors, accountants, dress designers, hair dressers, nurses, artist, and even our lovely maid have simply vanished.

What a novel concept. What would happen if every gay person simply disappeared for a while? Perhaps our world would suddenly become crippled. Or at least less fashionable. And how many of those people would you have never suspected of being of certain sexual persuasion when it happened? Perhaps a next-door neighbor, the cashier at the grocery store? Your favorite movie star. The vice-mayor? Maybe your own brother or sister, father or mother. I'm sure there would be at least one surprise.

I think that what it would prove (besides that you can't tell just by looking most of the time) is that we are all interdependent on each other in this world, regardless of our sexual orientation (or age or race or anything else for that matter). As independent as we like to think we are, we wouldn't make it in the world without each other. Our food, our money, our friends, our homes. All of it depends in some way or part on someone else in this world. So what's the point in hating or discriminating. We need each other no matter what. So get over it, and enjoy your life instead of filling it with hate. There are enough problems in the world.

The Best Fit

I sit at a bar in a little bistro in downtown Louisville after a lovely dinner of pasta , flourless chocolate cake, and grey goose vodka and cranberry cocktails. I am just mentally lubricated enough to talk candidly about relationship and my past mistakes in love.

"I've made many mistake," I say between sips through a pair of cocktail straws. "But aren't they all mistakes until you find the right one?" to which I receive a chuckle from my companions.

Then, a little more seriously, one of my companions begins to describe a book he has read in regard to finding the right person to share your life with. Apparently, it included an exercise in which you write down all the things you are looking for in a mate, the qualities you wish them to possess. Basically, a guide for yourself to focus your search. Upon further discussion, we decide that no matter how many items are on your list, no one person would likely fulfill each and every desire. My dear companion then voiced his conclusion that your ultimate mate choice be the man who possesses the greatest number of those qualities on your list, the one who best fits even if not every quality is present.

I suppose I was a little too well lubricated at that point to really think about the implications of the statement, or perhaps it was the fact that others soon joined us and we were off to our next adventure for the evening. Either way, I really didn't digest the idea until later that week.

I agree with the idea, but only to a point. I whole-heartedly agree that no one is perfect and that no one is going completely fit into any predetermined mold. I also agree that you have to choose the mate that most closely fits what you desire in a partner. However, it seems to me that when you start looking at relationships in this way, there begins to be a very fine line between choosing the right partner and simply settling.

I don't know exactly where that line begins and where it ends. There are so many variables involved in finding a life partner that it seems a wonder that anyone finds a true mate at all sometimes; but surely you wouldn't want to settle for something that will not truly make you happy.

Relationship decisions can be difficult. Even if you know the love is there and it is true, it is often still very difficult if not impossible to know if we are making the right decisions. Sometimes that line is so fine that we could fall either way like a leaf from a tree in a slight breeze. There is definitely a difference, though, between choosing someone for the right reasons and just settling so as not to be alone. We just have to be careful and hope that we don't end up on the wrong side of the fence.