Dick in a Box

Freshman year was a pretty rough time for me.  Not only did my grades "suffer", aka I did not study and smoked too much weed, so my grades suffered, but also socially it was a challenge.  Although I attended a hippie college, where you think life would be carefree and lovey-dovey, I was still in the throes of an overly oppressive southern culture.  There were just as many Preppy Young Republican Southern Baptist supportin Fratty Mother Fuckers floatin' 'round.  Just enough to make you feel like shit for not wearing croakies around your neck and wearing Rainbow flip-flops throughout the winter.  

I immediately made friends with people that were connected all over.  I had many girlfriends in sororities, and of course, they wanted to bring me to all their mixers.  The only problem was that at the "University" that I attended if you were a guy, you had to BE GREEK, to PARTY GREEK.  And I was nobody's Greek!

So it proved tough to snuggle me into parties.  It always seemed easy for my girlfriends but it was always an awkward feeling for me to walk up to the doors where the guest lists were being reviewed and cross my fingers and hope that they would let me in.  Making your way all the way out to a party up the side of a mountain is not as fun if you don't know whether or not they will let you in.  

One night my friend Hilliary and I had decided to venture out.  I say the term "one night" very loosely seeing as how I am referring to the THURSDAY we went out in the same week as the TUESDAY that we had gone out as well.  Damn.  What was college REALLY about?

The previous Tuesday night Hilliary and myself had found ourselves at Klondike, the local fratty hang out.  It was THE place to go for ALL GREEKS!  Tuesday night was a private party for just Hilliary's sorority (which, to add, she later dropped out of).  When we arrived at Klondike we figured out that they put red "21" on your backhand if you were over and black ex's if you were under.  In our sober state's we left and went to one of her "sisters" apartments where we found a red pen and made ourselves 21 for the night.  When we returned to the Dike we found no problem or hesitation buying beers for one another all night long.  It was perfect.

So why wouldn't we try again on the following Thursday?  You are only a freshman once, right?

So we drank before.  Hilliary had what I would refer to as TOO MUCH to drink and I had "enough".  It was one of those nights where I kept drinking but "couldn't catch a buzz" pretty much because I drank so much during freshman year that my tolerance levels were through the rough.  For the record, it is NOTHING that I am proud of.  

This time we brought our own red pen and decided to "fix" ourselves in the bathroom.  Since the bathrooms did not have doors and the bouncers stood outside of them, this was a dumb idea.  But as I mentioned before, you are only a freshman ONCE!  Hilliary came out from the bathroom and LOUDLY said "IT GOES ON YOUR RIGHT HAND!"  I looked up and saw a bouncer staring directly at me, I told her to quiet down and she didn't get it, she was already a goner.  I guess that I did not think the situation through thoroughly because I fixed my hand markings anyway.  Later while dancing (let the record show I bought and had NO beers at the bar that night, even though I had fixed my hand markings) a bouncer approached me and asked for my ID.  I tried to think fast and I gave him my student ID.  This turned out to be dumb because it was also my key to get into my dorm.  First the douchebag gave it back to me and escorted me outside.  He told me to leave.  I went around to the front where there was a big window to the dancefloor.  Hilliary had made her way over and was flailing her arms about mouthing "what happened? what happened?"  I told her to come outside.  I motioned, I mouthed, she did not get it.  She was stuck in a box.  A dick in a box.

While trying to get my friend to come outside to my rescue the bouncer walked up to me again.  He apologized and asked to see my Id again.  Then he took it, told me that I could swing by the next day and get it from the manager.  Dick.  Box.

Then this douce-a-louche from my hall came up to me.  He was underage too and was drinking a beer out of a mason jar.  (did this prove to you how much of a douce that he was yet?  there's more)  Then he tried to calm me down as if I was one of his friends and offered to walk back to the dorm with me.  I figured I would let him walk me back since he at least had a key and could at least get me into the dorms.  The price to pay was high.

I had to listen to him speak about how the bouncers know that he is underage.  They let him drink from a mason jar outside of the bar as long as he does not bring it in.  I had to listen to all of this knowing in the back of my mind that one of his frat brothers had already told me that none of the people in his fraternity liked him and that he would be blackballed soon.  I began to understand why.  He also had braces.  He was a freshman in college.  And he had braces.  and he was a douche.

If this was not enough then there was definitely more to follow.  He began to ask me stupid questions.  I could tell that he was beating around the bush.  "So...uh...you hang around a lot of pretty girls huh?"  

Yeah.  I do.

"And you have been to the gay club before?"

Yeah.  I have.

This went on for the better part of our walk home.  It was not the longest walk ever to make way from Klondike to Frank hall, but it was long enough to make me wish it had never happened.  After a few more blundering questions I decided it was time for him to come out and ask...

"If you want to ask me if I am gay or not then just ask!"

He stumbled over his words a bit and then admitted that my roommate had put him up to it.  He said all the guys on our hall had been curious if I was or not and that my roommate had wanted to know.  I told him that if that asshole wanted to know that he could ask me for himself.

I was in a paradox.  How is it that two of the biggest fucktard douchebags on the planet could make ME feel so out of place.  One being this little kid with braces who was about to be KICKED OUT of a fraternity, which is so much more embarrassing than not being accepted into one.  This means that they THOUGHT you were cool but then realized you WERE NOT!  He had braces.  And he showed all the guys on the hall porn vids of young (under 18 yo) russian sluts.  Nobody liked him.  Even the people that said they did.

Then the other was my roommate.  A guy that had chosen to beat off in the BUNK BED BELOW ME every night beginning on the first night that we were there.  As soon as the lights would go off he would start up with it.  If this was not bad enough he was in the business fraternity and carried a briefcase to class.  He was running an investment business out of our dorm room and he NEVER gave me my messages!

These to fucktools were the ones making me feel singled out and awkward?  Really?

I should have just beat the fuck out of that dude with braces.  Let him tell my roommate about it and then beat the fuck out of him.  

I handle things a lot differently these days.  It would be nice to give myself a pep talk back then.

Black Like Me

Growing up I always had a fascination with them.  They intrigued me.  I yearned to be like them.  It is interesting to me that MOST gay men long to be one yet where is the correlation between the two???

Black Woman.  I have always wanted to be one.  Most gay dudes have.  They are fun.  Loud.  They are confident and self-sufficient.  They command respect and they get it.  Who doesn't want to be a black woman?  I can remember having an affinity for black girls since grade school.  My first black girl interaction was with a young girl that blackmailed me for my crayons.  She had caught me picking my nose (in third grade) and had threatened to tell the cool kid, Billy, that sat beside her about it.  Billy was only cool because he was being raised by a single mother who undoubtedly had no control over him as seen by his impressively long rat tail and Van Halen Tee-shirts.  They eventually became Nirvana tee-shirts while we were in junior high and the coolness of a boy with a white trash single mother wore off quickly.  It wasn't long before he became the UNCOOL kid that lit newspapers on fire in the boys bathroom.  Weird.  

But this is a story about black girls.  She black mailed me and I told my mom.  Mom called the principal and they made her give back my crayons.  They spoke with her about what black mail was and I am still surprised to this day that I learned for myself what it was in the Third Grade.  But Good for her.  Like I said, Black girls know what they want, and they get it.  

In Middle School I spent most of our recess time with the black girls on the playground.  Mainly because most of the other boys spent it playing basketball and yet I would have rather learned how to do the tootsie roll or the butterfly with LaKreisha and Nay-Nay.  I remember there was one time in particular where this other (somewhat effeminate) young boy was on the playground with me and my homegirls.  Jamal.  He was a swayback little asshole and nobody liked him.  He was rail thin and arched his back when he walked.  He has hand mannerisms that would make RuPaul look butch and yet nobody made fun of him the way that they did to me.  Jamal also had these huge pouty lips that were too big for his own head and he would purse them and suck them as just to add fuel to the fire that was his attitude problem.  Although nobody seemed to care for Jamal since he was mean to everyone, when you are a member of a subculture even if only by default of the color of your skin, you are one of the family.  I was singing a song and Jamal stopped me and informed me that I couldn't sing that song because it was a black song.  Luckily my girls had my back and reinforced for me that I was aloud to sing whatever song I wanted and that there were not black and white songs but just songs for everyone.  

Jamal pissed me off and I had written him off for the rest of my life, or so I thought until I ran into him at the club many years later.  I walked by this tall sexy black man with broad shoulders and a manly swagger.  We caught eyes but kept walking yet checked each other out along the way.  After we passed I began to feel as though I recognized him and I doubled back to check.  Jamal???  He confirmed.  He remembered me and was caught up a bit.  I could tell that he had grown out of his deviant behavior, and had matured into quite the sexy and distinguished young black man.  Everything about Jamal seemed to be quite proportionate in comparison to the goofy looking son-of-a-bitch that I had known so long ago.  I admit that I had a slight moment of regret when I remembered the looks we had exchanged in hatred during our Middle School years and I suddenly hoped for a bout of forgiveness.  Then Jamal went on to introduce me to his boyfriend and I just thought to myself "Well, fuck him anyway!"

I ventured off to college in the year 2000.  I attended Appalachian State University which could also be known as "the whitest place on earth", (that is, of course, before I landed in Massachusetts!).  I remember that it was the first day on campus (after our parents had all dropped us off on our own).  I was getting breakfast with the only two girls that I had known (from high school) and I met these three black girls in line for eggs and pancakes.  They were Punkin, Kayla, and Rita.  Little did I know that they would become my new best friends and that they would carry me through my entire freshman year.  

We exchanged numbers.  I joked around with them.  They laughed.  Throughout the year I helped them find weed.  I taught them how to make jello shots.  They taught me how to eat hot wings like a black girl (you put the whole thing in your mouth and pull out JUST the bone!).  I still eat them that way today!!!

I can remember the smell of burnt black hair and cocoa butter from hanging out in their room.  There was one night in particular when it was me and all the black people.  They had invited all of their friends over and we all watched Higher Learning.  It is a really good movie if you have not already seen it.  But in the movie there is a white guy played by Michael Rappaport and he rooms with these loud and obnoxious black dudes that play loud music and have parties.  They treat him like shit through the entire movie until he goes crazy and joins a band of skinheads.  They start killing all his black roommates on campus.  It was clearly not the most fun to watch being the only white dude in a room full of angry black girls and half of the college football team, but I got out alive.  When the movie was over they all looked at me and said "Don't you be pulling some shit like that!" and I just nodded and kept my mouth shut.  

Whoa-MANizer!

I am excited to embark on a new, and full year, in this new place of mine.  I love it here.  Although I miss my old friends I am excited for the new ones and possibilities.  I get frustrated with myself sometimes because I feel as though I miss chances to experience new things here and there.  I mostly mean when it comes to the men in my life.  I am terrible at flirting and even worse when it comes to knowing who is flirting with me!

I seem to clam up around guys that are actually attractive and it has become an incredibly hard thing to deal with and leads me to regret many of my interactions.  A guy came into the store on the first day of our big sale.  He was the first customer of the day.  Johanna had come down to my floor to help ring our presell and she witnessed the whole thing.  It is easier when I am the only witness but when there are others around to rub it in my face that I missed out on an opportunity it makes it much harder.  I felt as though we were somewhat flirting.  Johanna made sure I knew that we were.  He was cute.  His name was Sal.  But he lives in San Francisco so what would be the use anyway?  I would like to make it out to California but I have not looked at San Francisco.  

Then there was a guy last night.  Ed.  Mr. Ed.  How cute would it be to date a gay dude named Ed?  He was built.  Young.  Had a goofy smile.  He seemed nervous when I first spoke with him.  He lightened up a bit.  I swear he kept asking to try on different jackets just so I could keep putting them on and taking them off of him.  I didn't mind.  As I finished ringing him up we continued our conversation.  I asked what side of town he lived on.  Without missing a beat he asked "what about you???"  He seemed eager about it.  He was enthusiastic to tell me that he lived in the North End.  I mentioned the great restaurants there and he said he mostly just ate subs.  He said he pretty much ate whatever was in front of him.  This was a turn on to me.  This is the point at which my memory goes cloudy and I forget how we ended things.  I think that these cloudy instances are heightened anxiety levels that make me rush through the conversation to get it over with so that I don't have to get nervous any more.  We were having a conversation and it ends abruptly.  I gave him my card.  I feel like when I say "If you ever need anything give me a call or email", that I am getting the point across.  I am sending out the invitation.  I would love to go into work today and have an email or voicemail from him.  Guys my age aren't so inclined to do these things.  

Every time I have an interaction like this I become obsessed with checking up on it on Craigslist.  I never have posts on Craigslist.  The only one that I have ever seen about me was from this married man at the gym that thought I was cute.  He pulled up beside me in the parking lot while I was on the way to my car and tried to have a conversation with me.  I told him that I thought his wife was expecting him.  He didn't say much and pulled off pretty quickly.  I don't know why that wasn't a clear indication of disinterest because like I said before after I got home I saw that he had posted an ad on Craigslist about it.  

I keep getting offers from all the wrong men.  I want guys my age to post these messages.  I want guys my age to flirt with me.  I don't want it to be so confusing and misleading.

Out in the Open...This new year I will plan on pursuing the things I want with a passionate intent.  I plan on accomplishing a lot.  I am going to really push to get into great shape.  At least for this summer, so that I can strut around P-town in short shorts and a tank top and get looks from all the dirty old men that have boyfriends and wives.

Just a little Crush...

I can remember my very first crush.  Well.  Not the first crush EVER so to speak.  But more importantly, my first Gay Crush.  

His name was Gary.  I saw him on my very first day at college.  I was attending Appalachian State University in Boone, North Carolina and my parents had literally JUST LEFT after dropping me off with all of my personal belongings.  I was scheduled to live in "Frank" dormitory and they head RA had called an all dorm meeting in the lobby.  Only the freshman had arrived at this point, hence having something so dramatic as an all dorm meeting in order to talk about the rules and regulations (or lack, thereof) of dorm living.  

We all crowded into the compact lobby of the building.  I was edged with the only friend I knew from High school in the middle of the elevators.  I remember it like it was yesterday.  As soon as I sat down I saw him from across the crowd.  He was opposite of me, standing in the doorway to the back patio.  He was WAY too cool to be sitting down on the floor with his legs crossed so instead he was standing outside smoking a cigarette.  Of course, at the time, this seemed cool.  I had just abandoned my parental influence and was now setting my sites on the future evil endeavors that I would begin to embark on in the next few years.  This would otherwise be known as "My Adolescence".  Gary wore a tie dyed shirt, with khaki cargo shorts, birkenstocks (we were in Appalachia) and a bandana on his head.  I thought, at the time, that he was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.  He was tall and thin, and had an olive complexion.  When he laughed, his smile was the sexiest thing about him.  

I made it my mission to stalk him.  

When I saw him walking back to the dorm from class I would speed up so that he would have to hold the door for me as I closed in close behind him.  "Oh! Thanks a lot!" I would say.  I had no clue what I was doing at the time.  Keep in mind, I was in the closet Freshman year.  So this feeling of having a crush on a guy was really new for me.  I had always thought about other men in that way leading up to this point.  But this had been mostly fantasies of the images I had seen in media or from online.  This image.  Was real.  It was living in the same building as me and could actually talk and smile at me.  It was a face, with a name.  It was also completely frightening.

The first weekend away from my parents was the start of me living out loud (aka the start of a 1.61 GPA during my first semester).  I found a guy to sell me some pot but had forgotten the smallest detail.  I had no clue how to roll a joint, even if I HAD papers, and I did not have my own bowl.  That first weekend while riding the elevator I ran into a guy that had been in my freshman orientation group.  He, of course, was a pothead (everybody in Boone is a pothead at least for freshman year, most make a career of it).  He offered to let me use his bowl as long as I smoked him up so I agreed.  When we got to his room it was very "earthy".  If it was a bumper sticker it would say something like "Hippie's on Board" or "Ass, Gas, or Grass...Nobody rides for Free".  There were tie dyed tapestries, empty bottles of NewCastle, remnants of burned incense and the leftover aroma's of patchouli and weed.  As he looked for his bowl under mounds of dirty mildewy smelling clothes his roommate walked into the room.  It was Gary.  In a towel.  he had just come back from the shower.  When he couldn't find the bowl in his room, he remembered that he had left it in a buddies room down the hall.  He left to go get it, and left me in the room with Gary.  It was the first actual conversation that Gary and I had ever had.  I can't for the life of me remember what we talked about because I just remember that he was in a towel.  I remember that he got onto his computer and had a webcam.  I remember trying to see what was on the screen and feeling as though I saw myself in the video screen of the cam.  I tried to imagine that he was taking a picture of me because he had thought I was cute but I never found out what really happened or if I had made it all up.  I can remember however, that during our conversation Gary seemed so confident and happy with himself.  I on the other hand was nervous and unsure.  Gary represented what it was like to live without care.  He showed me what it was like to be out, and content.  

I later found out through the grapevine that Gary considered himself Bisexual (at the time everyone did, it was very 2000).  His roommate, from my orientation group, was his best friend from high school.  I was fascinated at the idea that Gary was out of the closet and his best friend had not held judgement for it.  It also seemed as though Gary had a group of people that surrounded him with love and care and did not judge him solely based on sexual orientation.

Aside from all this, my crush on Gary lasted all year.  I would continue to "strategically" position myself in Gary's immediate direction, and yet consequently enough, nothing ever happened.  The first semester I spent with my friend Nicolette.  We would walk around campus talking about how much we missed Charlotte, and thought everyone was talking about us, when in fact, nobody was.  Nicolette was probably one of the first people who I was ever out to, without, being out to.  If it makes any sense.  Which, to you, it probably does not.  Nicolette and I had an unspoken trust and bond where we did not judge one another and we were pretty open about most things.  I trusted her to know about that private part of my life, but without actually being out to her.  She defended me a lot that first semester.  This is probably what made or friendship strong from the beginning. 

One night I convinced Nicolette to help me stalk out Gary.  She went along with it without question.  There was no asking "Why do you care so much?" or "What is your fascination with Gary".  It was as if she already knew and just silently supported my habit.  

We saw him on his way into the dorm.  Said hello, and carried a conversation.  He said he needed help carrying beer to his room so we helped.  When we got to his dorm room I thought I had died and gone to heaven.  I would have been too nervous and scared for Nicolette to leave us alone together but I can't help but feel as though I wish I could know what it would have been like.  Gary gave us a beer for helping and mentioned that he was in a hurry.  I took the time to notice his cologne because I thought that he not only looked sexy, but reeked of it as well.  "Modern" by Banana Republic.  I will remember it until the day I die.  I went and bought a bottle soon after because I wanted that smell near me at all times.  I was obsessed.  This was another thing that was sexy about Gary.  He was not only a hippie, but could clean up really nicely as well.  He was on student government and would wear pressed khaki's and lightly starched shirts to meetings at night time, and then wear his bandana throughout the day.

He drove a car with deeply tinted windows, which to me reminded me of all the thugs I had a secret crush on in high school, but to Gary was probably so that campus police would not notice that he was smoking up in his car.  

The end of freshman year is the time that I began to come out of the closet.  For the most part that basically meant just saying it out loud, because most everyone that knew me had figured and come to terms with that fact long before I ever did.  I spent the summer becoming comfortable in my own skin and kept dreaming of the day that I would return to campus and run into Gary, Out, Proud, and New.  

One night at the gay club in Charlotte I had been hoping to run into him all summer long and it had never happened until this night.  A lot of friends from my high school had shown up to go out that night and I remember them all being there.  It was not until the Drag Show began that I noticed Gary in the crowd.  I began to freak out.  The drag queen pulled him out on stage and took his shirt off.  I was dying.  I went up to him afterwards and told him my news.  It did not provoke the reaction I had hoped for and by all means lacked the enthusiasm that I had thought would follow after making such a grandiose declaration.  His follow up to my confession was an introduction to his boyfriend, Chad.  Chad.  Was ugly.  

I spent sophomore year saying hello to Gary in front of Chad all over campus.  Chad would give me dirty looks and I would smile bigger at Gary and try to make him jealous.  Ideally I had hoped that Gary would hop on the beauty train and take a ride with me since I was so much more attractive than Chad, but alas, this never happened.  I watched throughout sophomore year as Gary lost more weight.  He had always been thin before but he REALLY began to slim down.  I soon found out that typically the people who make a career out of being potheads during freshman year decide to get promoted to more recreational endeavors as the years pass.  

Cut to me being at a Gay Club in Winston Salem watching from afar as Gary turned purple and green then threw up on the ground on the patio outside of the club.  He was sitting at a table with Chad and a friend.  Gary's two friends did not notice or see this happen.  I watched the entire thing unfold before my eyes and could not have felt more sorry for Gary.  It was one of the saddest things that I have ever seen, and needless to say it ended my long running crush on Gary.

I realized that all he had ever been, was a representation of something I was after.  When I look back on it I laugh because even though I have a great many type of interests when it comes to the man department, Gary is far from placing into any of my categories.  

It was just...a little crush.

i think

that i am an attractive person.

some would say i am quite handsome.

i don't understand.

why the only guys.

that i seem.

to attract. 

are not.  

so attractive.

great personalities...

they don't seem to make up for the fact.  that I can't help but feel as though i keep settling for less.  

taking chances on people i should pass up.

only to be disappointed.

in the fact.

that there are things that i cannot control.

attraction.

being one of these elements.

its like the movie preview the other night.

why can't it just be THAT easy?

Revenge of the 'mos

I can't help but feel as though the only guys that seem to hit on me that are my age have a striking resemblance to that of Booger, from Revenge of the Nerds.  They actually, when I think hard about it, all manage to look like the ENTIRE cast of Nerds.  

It is sad too.  I am quite attractive.  Even if the only people who tell me so are my mother and the desperate and lonely (single) girls I have decided to surround myself with.  

I think I am going to give up.  You know.  Not just give up on life, or trying to seek happiness.  But Give up.  The way they say that is when you are supposed to actually find somebody.  When you are not looking.

I was at the movies the other night and a preview for a new romantic comedy came on.  Boy sees girl.  Girl smiles back at boy.  Instant Love connection.

My friend Steve leaned over and whispered "wouldn't it be nice if it was just that simple?" I said "Yeah, That movie SUCKS".  

It was true.  I feel like there was a time when flirting and dating WAS that simple.  My early twenties.  It is scary to think that I have finally reached the age to which all of my adolescent years will now be referred to in sections of mistakes and mishaps instead of just as one giant blur.

I did not think that I would find him in Charlotte, North Carolina.  I really didn't ever think it would happen there.  I know I have only been here in Boston for a year but I just want dates to happen.  I don't want to get sucked into a "settle slump" where I go on dates with guys that I had originally turned down before, just for the sake of being lonely (and cold).  I tried to do this one time and titled it "Giving people a chance".  My best friend, Adair said that I was full of shit and that all that meant was "Lowering my Standards".  She was right.  I didn't do it then.  I don't feel like doing it now.

It was Madonna that once said "Don't Go for Second Best, baby, Put your Love to the Test!"

When you try to abide by a standard such as this one, it is best to remember, especially in the winter, that "satin sheets are very romantic, what happens when you're not in bed!"

Calling in Gay to Work

I think it is a dumb idea.  Don't get me wrong.  If it was pulled off accurately it would definitely wake up the world to how "necessary" gay people are to the business world.  BUT if we took a step back we would have to realize that it would not be proving any points about Prop 8.  This would only show the world how many gay people are out there making things happen.  It would be as if we were holding our work environments hostage in order to bring about change.  

This is one of the many ways in which gay people just don't see the bigger picture.  I can think of a plethora of things on the gay to do list that would need to happen before igniting a silent protest such as this.  

Doesn't the world already know that gay people secretly run it?  We dictate the majority of the economic flow, current fashion trends, and where the trendy neighborhoods will be.  What more is there?  

I don't see the correlation between not showing up for work and legalizing gay marriage.  We might as well rally together in DC and charge the white house like a bunch of creatures from Narnia, because that is basically how we are acting.  We are AGAIN fulfilling the role that WE have created in the world of our people being a fantastical bunch of (no pun intended) fairies.  We make quick and irrational decisions (much like our spending habits that fuel the economy) and in turn leave long lasting consequences in the wake of our hasty actions.  

In case you didn't know.  Apparently the gays of the world have secretly whispered among each other that they should call out of work today.  This would be in order to show THE WORLD how important gay people are on a day to day basis.  This "movement" would be in order to bring about change to the ongoing Prop 8 debacle.  

For me.  And you can hate if you want to.  I don't care about Prop 8.  A yes or no vote on ONE LAW does not take away from the fact that gay people can't manage to act right.  

If we had it right.  We would get what we want.  We would have a platform to argue on and we would prove our point in comparison to heterosexual marriage.  But since I don't know any gay couples that are bound by laws or personal agreements and that HONOR those vows whether they are open about it or not, then I don't see how we can say that we want to be granted ADDITIONAL rights.  

I go on these websites looking for someone to go on a date with.  I go on websites because when I go out in public I clam up and can't flirt and look around at all the handsome men and begin to judge myself.  Although we are so materialistic in person, as it turns out we are more so judgmental online.  With the click of a button we can elude a come on.  We can ignore what is right in front of us and move on to the next guy with the six pack abs.  The few guys that do email me only have pictures that showcase their private parts and I have to be honest...I don't want to go on a date with your hairy asshole.  Its disgusting.  Yet one of the many ways in which gay people need to seek out to improve their so called "quality of life" or what have you, and start acting right.  If we start from the ground up one day we will reach a point at which time it will be very appropriate that we all band together to call out of work for the day as one big giant F-U to the straighties of the world.

With the way the economy is right now.  This idea is actually awful.  It will actually affect us more negatively than it will the rest of the world, and more than likely some of us will wind up unemployed because of it.  One more notch in the belt loop that is of our irrational decision making skills.

But for now.  Let's just agree to disagree, and get rid of the online pictures of your hairy butt.