Bad Dream: The Fight for our Rights continues

by Slavin

Woke up feeling pretty frustrated and slightly angry today from a dream which touched on a number of personal topics.  The dream started with me and my sister Tracy standing at some street corner with a pair of wigs on.  I wore this weird brown wavy number while she wore this blonde tall wig.  And you know how in dreams, you "know" why something is happening?  Well, in this case it was me "knowing" it was because she had no time to fix her hair before we stepped out, so good thing I "had" wigs in my bag.   WTF right?   Anyway, we walked down a few blocks and eventually stopped at a bus station which had a mirror-like wall.  There, we saw how bad the wigs looked and noticed they had heated the air between them and our heads that our heads now looked nicely stylishly done.   So we removed the wigs and waited for the bus.

While waiting, I noticed down the road my ex-girlfriend walking with her family.  I then realized that in the dream, we were in Canada.  I felt worried that if they saw me, I would ruin their Christmas.  (This is the point in the dream I "knew" it was set during the Christmas season).  So I ducked behind the waiting seats so they wouldn't see me.  My sister looked at me oddly and told me the bus was here.  So I stood up and hurriedly boarded the bus, but in my eagerness to get on board, two things happened:  1) She noticed me and turned away, with a frown on her face.  2) my clothes somehow got all left behind.  So I boarded the bus with nothing but a towel around my waist.

In the bus, my family was there.  My mom and dad were on the rearmost seat.  My brother, Ate Ives, and the two kids Sophie and Jam were there on the next row.  And finally it was me and Tracy.  Behind us, a lot of other people.   This was the part that got painfully frustrating for me.  In the dream, my mom suddenly starts talking about how, "It is annoying how you have these people who think they have the right to be married."

I realized suddenly she was referring to marriage being given as a right to gay people like me.  Suddenly I realized that was why we were in Canada.  In the dream, it was to attend the wedding of someone, and there happened to also be a wedding between two guys in the horizon.

I spoke up, "I think it is more about how sad that there are people who think others should not have that right."

My mom, in the dream, shook her head and said, "Ay, I will say no more about it."

But this time I pressed on.

"You know how back in the older times, women were not permitted to work, or show their clothing, or how pork and shellfish was not permitted, or how playing with pig skin was even seen as wrong.  These are all in the Bible too.  But now, these are either considered normal or acceptable.  Why?  Because they REVISED it."

My mom chided in, "Exactly they revised it... but no one has revised that gay people should.."

I interrupted, "But that's my point.  The only reason people view that we can't get married is because no one has revised it yet.  All are just falling back on the "it is traditionally seen as wrong" as an excuse.  There is no actual logical reasoning behind it.  And that's what is sad."

My mom, in the dream, looked away in contained disappointment.

I still pressed on.  "Women made a stand.  They expected equality, and perhaps it hasn't been fully won, but it has been enough that women do have the freedom to get jobs now.  Women do have a recognizable role now outside just being the housewife.  Women gained a voice.    Now, it is our turn to gain a voice.   Our turn to expect revisions to what has simply been excused away as tradition.  It is our turn to be given the right to be treated as equally as EVERYONE ELSE."

They remained silent.  I felt so angry I wanted to scream.
But then I woke up...

... to a phone call from my Mom reminding me I had to go to Paranaque today for my Dad's birthday mass and dinner.   Yep.  Can you imagine the struggle I felt with my emotions being raw that moment and the phone in my hand just a few key presses away from contacting her.  Gah.  I didn't answer.  I just cooled my head off, then texted back, "I'll be there."

That was in some ways cathartic.  But in some ways, a reminder of the truth of where I do stand in life so far.  I am very happy to be sharing my life with rOckY.  I am very lucky to be with a family that still accepts and loves me.  I am very fortunate to have lived my life as I have, with every single experience adding up to what made me who I am.  But I shouldn't forget that there are still some emotional issues that are, out of courtesy or whatever other reasons, do stay mum about their own emotional conflicts with me.  And that's just the way it really is.  People deal with things in their own way.

And maybe, just maybe, we all learn to open our eyes a little bit more.
See the bigger picture.  And embrace what truly is best for everyone.

Be proud. Come out. Stand tall.

DADT (Don't Ask, Don't Tell) has finally ended.  And we can see how many are embracing the joy of having the freedom and the right to come out and be themselves.  Sad and ironic how in other places, like Manila, so many are still too afraid to come out and be proud of who they are.  While the rest of the world struggles for the right to be proud of who they are, and for the safety of identifying themselves as gay without a mob literally out to kill them, here we have people who claim "coming out is unimportant" and talk of being recognized as gay as something to be ashamed of.

I am proud to have come out.
Yes, it hasn't been an absolutely smooth ride.  Yes, my parents were hurt by the truth, since they did want their son to be straight and have children.  But still, there is strength in being recognized for who you are.  There is courage in being able to stand up for yourself and say, "I am proud to be me."  And there are stronger and deeper bonds that form when your parents learn the truth, and now relate to you with the proper knowledge, and eventually, understanding of who you are as a whole.


I really hope more people realize staying hidden in the closet is no way to truly live.
And I do hope they realize this before it is too late.

Is Tom Strong Strong Enough?

Read this earlier tonight and found myself amusedly thinking about the geekwood entry I posted on Tom Strong. DC Comics has been making interesting moves as of the late (with one of the biggest ones I question being the removal of certain popular Vertigo characters from the Vertigo universe due to legalese I rather ignore.)  With DC comic's cancellation of the Wildstorm line, Tom Strong sadly was to be one of its casualties.

Ooops, wrong Tom.  Then again  I guess you don't mind either.

In some ways, this did make me think about change in general.  About how things may become familiar to us that sometimes, while change may be good, the idea of letting go of something familiar can be a horrific idea.  Life has its moments where change can be good or bad.  Whether it be the small things such as changing the brand of soap you buy, or bigger things like choosing to move to another city, change will always have repercussions one way or another.

But what we forget is, while change may seemingly be inevitable, it does not mean it cannot be productive.

Ang matakot, talo.

Most of the time, the resistance to change is the fear of something new.  Familiarity is always a powerful comfort zone, even if what is familiar may be unhealthy or unwise.   Finding the courage to take a step towards something new can be difficult, but if one learns to focus on the facts, one can see the wealth of opportunity waiting ahead of them.  I recently learned to cook and for a long time, I refused to step outside the omelets and fried food I was making.  My partner insisted I try doing other things and eventually even got us an oven toaster to help me take a brave step away from the frying pan and into the baking oven.     Now, thanks to his support and faith in me, I have made a few new baked dishes, learned to even take a stab at doing more interesting salads (you should try my Cilantro-Eggplant salad one time!) and have dreams of actually moving towards baking my own bread and cooking steaks!

I love this book.
Someone should make a movie out of it.

Many also forget that change will always need time.  If you've made a habit of using Internet Explorer for years, the thought of switching to Chrome or Rockmelt might sound like too much effort.  Or might even be seen as *hard* since it will mean having to learn how to do things a bit differently.   I recall how I used to hate  the new World of Darkness system, with its strange similar-yet-different feel to the old Storyteller system that I loved.  I used to despise how it felt more like it had influences from d20 and tried to make things seem so basic.  But now, I find it hard to jump back to the old version of the rules.  After some time of getting used to the new system, I have realized what the creators knew and wanted me to learn; the new system is so streamlined you can not only easily mix their products into the game but was simple enough new players can grasp the idea with a single session!   If you take into account the fact that time will be needed to start to actually feel how the change is a good thing, you will at least be making a far better judgement call in the end.

Admit it!  You also at first thought Robot Unicorn Attack was stupid,
until you played it and ended up LOVING it!

And lastly, one must always remember that change will only truly reflect what it offers if you give it an honest chance.    Diets tend to suffer from this the most.  When a change is experienced, many far too quickly declare it a failure because they never really gave it an proper chance.  Once I told myself I would never get into driving.  While young, I actually already learned to drive my mother's car.  But far too quickly, I dismissed the freedom driving brought because I knew once I could drive I would eternally be the person my parents order around to buy stuff.  So I ditched the skill and proclaimed, "I don't like driving.  I prefer the freedom of walking around."  While it was partly true, the joys of walking and commuting were not joys that I would deny myself once I started driving.  They were just joys I used as an excuse to stop.   I, too quickly, shot down the chance for driving to be a true experience.  But now, with a few more years of being behind the wheel under my belt, I am extremely grateful a good friend of mine helped me find the courage to get back behind the wheel.  

So why is this a blame it on the rain,bro article?  As I was thinking of what to blog about today, I found myself thinking about a number of things.  Among them was how a friend of mine who seemed to believe she was unlucky in love.  All the guys she had met were sweet and sincere, but after some weeks of sex and dating, would drop her to find the next warm body.  I suggested to her that maybe what she needed to do was to simply spend the nights out enjoying time with her friends rather than hunting down a boyfriend.   "Try to find time to just enjoy being you.  Stop trying to always be the person the other one wants.  And stop thinking you can't be happy as yourself."  She never tried.  She thought the idea was too weird.  She felt the idea meant she was "giving up" (although what she was giving up I never understood) and as far as I know, she is still diving into clubs hoping to find her Mr. Right in the very place where Mr. OneNightStand simply hangs out.     There is also the other friend who used to think the bar I love was a dump.  The friend was a regular of this bigger bar; a place that equated expensive entrance fees and even more expensive drinks as a symbol of class.  While the bar I loved was a single-storey venue with a cozy floor area and affordable prices, his was a veritable palace of a dance club with numerous floors, peek-a-boo friendly restrooms and enough disco-lights to blind a star.   A few years back, I invited the said friend to a birthday party to check out the place, enjoy the company and have some drinks.   Nowadays, I find myself bumping into him on some nights, there with a host of his friends, enjoying the place.  I wonder sometimes if I should ask.  But then again, doing that might just raise his defenses about it.

Yeah... don't expect love in a place where sex is the main point.

But yes, change can be good.

My coming out was a huge change.  I had a host of things to be afraid of, and frankly even until now there are some things related to my coming out that make me worry.  But overall, the change has been for the best:  I don't have to lie to my parents anymore.  I don't have to pretend my partner is just my friend.  I don't have to act like gay bashing is something I am okay with when family members might happen to do it.  I don't have to make excuses on why I'd spend "certain" days or nights with my partner anymore.  They know I am with the guy I love and they know that on some days of the month, he becomes my priority over everyone else.    And even better, I know now that I can honestly share with them why he makes me happy.  And how I make him happy too.    Our relationship, save for the fact it is homosexual rather than heterosexual, is pretty much seen the same way as any other:  our business.  They are HUGE changes.  Especially for someone who spent the better part of his life making excuses whenever his bisexual heart fell for a person who had a cock.

Me and my partner.
No, we aren't just "best friends."

Change can be very good.  And while it will always be scary, change should always be given some level of consideration before being thrown out of the options immediately.

So I guess, I guess I just need to remind myself of that and do what I can to bring it to a more positive direction.  Tom Strong, here's hoping to see you in print again someday soon.  Wildstorm or not, I believe you will find more readers willing to shell out money to support you.

Let us meditate on the immortal words of Charlie Chaplin:

"Nothing is permanent in this wicked world - not even our troubles."

(although admittedly, I have no idea when he said this.  Doesn't he usually perform absolutely silent?)

Musings on Coming Out

Coming out to my parents was something that I have long wanted to do.  For many years I had been wanting to take that final step but there was always some "reason" that would come up that would "convince me" that it wasn't the proper time.  I would find myself blaming concerns about their health, worries about whether or not I was ruining their day, etc.  For many years I would find myself getting depressed on my birthday with the thought that it was another year that my parents did not know their own son.   And while the thought of coming out was always there, the push I needed to make that final step was not to come until I met my partner.

My partner has been out of the closet for years before I met him.  In many ways, he helped me realize how much I had been keeping myself from truly making that final step forward.  I would like to share some quotes of his which really struck me:

"There will always be a reason not to come out."

For someone who isn't ready, there will always be a reason not to.  This was the very truth that I had been living the last few years.  It didn't matter if I was actively part of some event that called for Gender Equality.   It did not matter if I was working on a production that enlightened people on Gender sensitivity and the importance of being aware of the politics behind such things.   It did not matter if I was going to dress up in women's clothes for a play production.  My parents saw me as a young man who viewed the world much more openly than they did and was willing to do anything for his art.    They never assumed I was anything but straight.  They never questioned the fact I would have a "best friend" who stayed over so often, and eventually  replaced with a new "best friend" who would stay just as frequently over.

And while that made hiding in the closet easier, it never changed the fact that the choice to come out was a choice that I had to make for myself.  Others don't have it so lucky.  Others find themselves thrown into the spotlight of coming out by the actions of other people.

But unless the choice to do so is embraced, there will always seemingly be an endless number of reasonable excuses not to.

"Coming Out is a Personal Thing."

No one, ideally, should be the reason for your coming out save your want to be out.  Being outed is never a pleasant experience.   (While there have been instances where the reaction is favorable, the moment of being outed is always a stressful moment of helplessness which I have heard is best never experienced by choice.)   Coming out is a personal choice.  It is an act of self empowerment.  It is a moment of recognizing yourself and being able to say who you are.

When I met my partner, part of me desired to finally come out in order to be able to proudly say I am with him.  But on further reflection, I realize how that the idea of being able to proclaim we were together was only born from the desire to firstly be able to say I am who I am.  While his presence in my life has inspired me and  lent me the courage to come out, it was my need to be able to be recognized as me that demanded it be done.  All those years of introducing my parents to my "best friend" had to end.  All those years of playing the pronoun game of "with my partner" or "with my significant other" tired me.  I wanted to say, "with HIM".  I wanted to say his name and not just his role in my life.

Coming out also became a personal act of reintroduction to my parents.  I wanted them to no longer have doubts of who I was.  Rumors fly quite easily in a Filipino community, and I was certain there have been those who asked them if I was gay before.  I am sure that they said I wasn't.  And I am doubly certain that they had moments they did ponder if I indeed was.  Coming out was to put that wondering to rest.

Did it make things more difficult for me and my parents?

Admittedly, I have been having it much easier than most.  My parents have been very expressive of how much they love and support me, even if they are still shocked and disappointed by the fact their son isn't as they had hoped he would be.  Their upbringing and personal ideals see my being gay as something they are still in some ways denying to be real, and in other ways, hurting but struggling to accept.  I've had my share of painful comments from them, but ultimately, I understand it is their way of coping.  I feel more the love and support they share than the fear they have of their son having "lost his way."

And while yes, there are those awkward moments (like when I joined my dad for dinner with his friends.  They were grilling me on whether I was seeing someone, and my dad adamantly told them, "No he isn't." even if he was aware of me living with my partner for over a year now.) they aren't anything more than growing pains of a family that is learning to recognize each other as adults and see each other clearer without having to read between the lines.  I had planned to post an entry detailing how the night of me coming out transpired, but as I write this entry, I realize that night will for now be something that I will not have online for the time being.  It will have to be something for me and my parents for now.  Something I may share in discussion face to face, but not something left out on the web for public consumption.

Maybe later on, when the hurting is less there for them (and in some ways, for me), I can give a clearer account of how it transpired.  Who knows, that might even inspire others to go for it to.

They say once you come out of the closet, you can never come back in.

Frankly, I've finally come out and I can't help but think why I even tried to stay in for so long in the first place.

Goodbye Closet.

I am finally out to my parents.  There will definitely be a blog post on that soon.

But for now, I will just relish the joy and happiness.

Thank you every one for your support.

Nearing the end of one era, and the beginning of another.

It begins.

I approached my dad today and told him, "Dad, is the family meeting happening today?"

Supposedly, the family is meeting to talk to my sister who has a few career changes in mind.  My parents want to talk to her about possibly making the most of this transition which in more common speak means finding a way to get her to live her life closer to how they want it to be.  Last week, I had mapped out that this week would be the week I was to come out to my parents.

Many years ago, back when dates were still appended with a 90 something, I came out to my brother on a night he was sharing with me a problem he was foreseeing.  Back then, he felt the world was ending with his problem.  But when I came out to him, he looked at me and said, "Yikes, yours IS going to be much harder."

Earlier this year, I came out to my sister.  She looked at me funny and finally admitted, "I actually knew before you told me."  When I asked why, it turns out a gay friend of mine whom she has worked with in the past accidentally blurted it out to her one evening.  He  was so happy to have met my sister and greeted her with a, "It is so cool that you are okay with your brother being-" "Being what?" she asked and that's when he realized he had outed me.  He made her swear never to admit he broke the news out to her too soon.  But clearly, family bonds are tougher than friendships.

Which makes today something I am in many ways worried about.  In my earlier entry, I spoke about how I might have to actually step from one closet into another just to help my parents accept things better.   I am starting to wonder, however, if that would truly be a better thing to do.  Coming out is an act of honesty.  An act of gaining strength in being finally true to oneself, even at the risk of emotional, and in some cases even physical, pain.   Would lying in the act of coming out just cheapen the act itself?

I was juggling the option of coming out for quite some time now.

After being in numerous relationships with both guys and girls in my life, I had in many ways seemingly perfected the "we're just friends" projection to the extent that I am certain that while there might have been doubts about me being straight before, such doubts were quickly quelled by close-minded logic.  I was into arts and theater and film, which for many parents is a warning sign in itself.  However, I was not into musicals as much as most were.  I was more into horror films than love stories.  And when it came to artwork, many found my stuff macabre and disturbing.   I wasn't effeminate in action or speech, but I did have a softness in how I carried myself.  I didn't have thoughts or cares for basketball or football and wrestling bored me.  I was more fascinated with swords and sorcery and dice and spaceships.

In many ways, I was a geek more than gay, and for my parents being a geek was the "answer" to why I probably didn't seem man enough.

But now, nearing my thirty third birthday, I realize I want to be honest at last.  For many years I dreaded birthdays because they always made me depressed.  They always made me think, "There goes another year my parents don't know their own son."  The idea of living another year lying to them was no longer something I could find acceptable.  And this was more so because in the last few months, I have found the one person who really gets me and understands me and accepts me for who I am.  I have found the person who makes love more than a word, and makes cliches more than a literary tool.  And unlike me, he has been proudly out and open about his sexuality.  He has been keeping my identity anonymous out of respect for the fact I was still in the closet.

It was an odd closet too.  

Odd considering everyone else in the world save for anyone directly associated to my parents and my parents themselves were the only ones who didn't know me as me.  To friends, co-workers, clients and new strangers I meet, I am out and proud.  I am the boyfriend of my partner.  I am the bisexual one in the group.  We proudly walk around the mall with our hands held together, or our bodies hugged close.  We would kiss when we felt the urge to.  We would talk about anything we wanted to.  There was no need to censor ourselves.  No need to hide.

So now, this strange closet has outlived its purpose.  It is time to break the doors open, and free the truth within.  Time to let the piggies inside that loves a wonderful handsome and intelligent Egg be free to oink out loud, "I'm here!  And yes, I ain't gonna hide again."

Am I scared shitless?

Yes.

I'm more scared about the revelation affecting my parents health more than anything.  While the pain of being disowned is terrible indeed, I feel that knowing my words might cause actual physical anguish scares me.  I would not want to be someone who sends his parents to the hospital when he tries to finally be himself.

But the fear is no different than the fear I know they too will have to face after this.  Once they know, they will fear others knowing what they know.  And only by showing them others knowing isn't as bad as they think it is will that fear begin to alleviate.   Courage is needed to come out.  Courage will be needed after as well.

Coming out feels to me like a race that I have been on for many many years.  There have been many false starts, especially back when I would try to get my parents to ask the question.  Deep down I always felt that if they asked, that meant they were ready to hear the answer.  But in the last few months, even after clearly speaking about how my boyfriend and I were looking for a place to live in, as well as how we were considering finding something rent-to-own, and the ultimate hint being when I told them I wasn't hoping to get back together with an ex girlfriend because I found the person who completes me (they strangely never asked who it was or if they could meet "her") I began to realize they knew the hints and picked up the clues but intentionally chose not to ask.    I began to consider that maybe just maybe they weren't asking because they thought I wasn't ready to say it.  Maybe they were waiting for me.

So, this is it.  I began the countdown to the end.
The family is meeting tonight to talk to my sister.  I realized it was the best time to share something else the family had to talk about.

I approached my dad today and told him, "Dad, is the family meeting happening today?"
My dad answered, "Yes.  It should.  Everyone was supposed to be here at four, but its just you so far."
I told him, "Good,  I'll want to discuss to you all something as well."
My Dad seemed curious.  He asked, "About what?"
I smiled and told him, "Later... when everyone is here."
My Dad pressed on, "About what?"
I told him, "About me."

Here's hoping it actually ends better than we've all heard coming out stories go.

Tell you more soon.

Here's hoping the finish line is a joyous celebration.

From One Closet to Another

Strange but true, I am starting to realize I might have to lie even when I actually finally come out to my parents.

You see, I am and have always been and shall always continue to be bisexual.  I find both men and women attractive.  I have had long term relationships with either.  I have considered being in a lifetime relationship with either.  To be more brutally frank (at the risk of being rude) I like cock as much as I love pussy.

And I am starting to realize when the time finally comes when I get to come out to my parents, I will have to lie to them and say I am simply, "gay."

Don't get me wrong, though.  I am gay.  I am gay cause gay does, for me, mean a person who is not straight.  Gay is  a person who does get attracted to, and would be willing to have a long term relationship with someone of the same sex.

So yes, I am gay.

Too.

Cause I also am, using that narrow definition "straight."
Cause straight is a person who gets attracted to the opposite sex, and would be willing to have a long term relationship with one.

So yes, I am straight.

Too.

If one were to be more honest, however.  Both implies a "but not with" clause that would then force me to embrace a more honest but grossly misused and abused term, "bisexual."  It is a sad but true fact that most of the time, people who call themselves bisexual are either:  too afraid to admit they are gay, just confused and still experimenting both sides, or simple misunderstanding the term to mean being masculine and gay.

But it isn't.  

A bisexual is someone who gets attracted to either sex, and would be willing to have a long term relationship with either sex as well.  Or in my case, someone who doesn't really care what the sex of the person is -- if I like the person, then I do.  Dipping in, being dipped into, or doing both at the same time are all just additional perks and ways to manifest your love for the person further.

I am bisexual.

But yes, sadly, come the day I come out I will have to lie.  On the day I finally see that my parents are ready (and healthy enough) to hear the truth, I will stand up before them and tell them, "Mom.  Dad.  I need you to know your son.   I am gay."  And on this day when I face the music and threat of being disowned, and hopefully not risk their health and mental stability in the same process, I will have to hurt them with this much more acceptable lie.

Much more acceptable?

Why?

Because if I were to tell them I what I am really - if I were to admit to them I am bisexual - then they would never ever accept the fact that I have chosen a man to become my partner for life.  They would always (and rightly have the idea) that I can still someday end up with a woman.  It isn't a wrong thing to think, after all, strictly speaking as definitions go, I can end up with a man or a woman.  But it would not be something I think healthy for them to live with for the rest of their lives.

I can't leave them holding on to a real, though extremely unlikely, hope.

To tell them I am just gay will still, yes, have them wish I could choose a woman still.  Stories about of the many parents who know of their gay sons or daughters and secretly (or in some cases, still openly) nurse the idea that their non-straight child will "break from the phase" or miraculously fall in love with the "right" gender.  Deep down, no matter how they hope however, such parents know they are lying to themselves and merely in denial of what their child has admitted themselves to be.

But to actually know and understand the child CAN still choose the gender they desire the child to have... that would be far more torturous.

No, I will have to lie to them.
I will have to let them believe I could never love women.
I will have to become a closeted bisexual, who will come out to them as gay, after years of being in the closet and letting them continue to believe I am straight.

It is the only way to make it easier for them to accept that I have found who I want to spend the rest of my life with, and he's not going to be someone they can ask me to replace.

Bisexual Pride will have to wait.

Should I stay or should I go

My partner and I have been together for nearly a full year now.

And yet, I have been in the closet for more than thirty years.

It is strange how even with all the progress we have achieved in so far as gender issues are concerned, the fear of disappointing one's parents and being disowned still has its sting.   I had always believed myself to be a brave soul.  I have faced many of my fears before and survived them.  I have even faced the threat of ridicule and embarrassment before masses of people.  And yet here I am, nearing another birthday, and still worried if I will ever be able to face my parents head on and tell them, "Mom, Dad.  There is something I want you to know.  Your son is gay."

It isn't even about me worrying about no longer being taken care of.  For many years I have been self-sufficient, surviving on my meager earnings and balancing out my budget on my own.

I would like to believe it isn't about being disowned, because part of me believes I have already found the other person who completes me.   But I guess deep down, I do fear being told that I can no longer consider myself part of the family.  Call me a wuss, but family attachments are important.  And deep down, I love my family and have no dreams of being labelled a stranger by them.

These are the kind of conflicting thoughts that I find myself going through which I realize I cannot even blog about unless I created a blog separate from my own profile.   I needed an outlet where I could discuss these kind of topics freely.  A place where I can proclaim, "Yes, there are bisexuals who aren't just in a phase.  Not all of us bisexuals are just too scared to claim we're gay."  A box where I can stand up and share my own experiences and views to an audience without being insensitive to my parents who aren't aware yet that I'm not straight.

My partner, who has been very open about his sexuality, once commented that so many of the gay blogs he used to read have suddenly vanished.  Of the few that do remain, some are wonderful sites talking about gay life, while others seem more determined to simply propagate the idea that gay people want nothing but sex and buff bodies and penises.

And so, this blog was born.


I'm no fashionista.  I'm not a fan of Miss Universe.  I don't like cross dressing and I can't name Mariah Carey songs by title.  I don't think Madonna is a goddess nor do I know all musicals at heart.   But I do have my own share of geekiness and my own opinions to share.   I don't even find the typical hairless muscle-bodied pretty boys attractive (I prefer men with meat).  So will this blog be smart, witty, or worth the time to read?

I guess only time will tell for certain.

But if you don't like what end up reading, either drop me a comment or just blame it on the rain, bro.