90%

Oh my.

Crazy metrics.

http://www.slate.com/articles/life/moneybox/2015/05/sex_history_calculator_is_your_number_of_sexual_partners_low_average_or.html

Check yours.

Hahahah!

This.

Even better if its to that one single person you're meant to be with.

What's your Seduction Style?

Fun quiz to try out!

http://www.seductiveshorts.com

Katy Perry and Jake G?

 Crazy editing but admittedly, pretty fun :-)  I just don't get why they chose *that* song.
This could have worked with a different song.  One by Katy Perry instead.

PG4M Question: Which should come first?

Sex, Love or Friendship?

GG and me developed friendship first.

We allowed each other to get to know one another.

We saw each others strengths and weaknesses.

We saw and shared each other's passions and interests.

Mind you, we already were having feelings for one another, but rather than let feelings take charge in the start, we gave each other a chance to recognize each other's differences and similarities.

The love that bloomed eventually grew so strong, we had to admit we didn't want to be just friends.

And now, we're still together, and still getting stronger.

Recommended movie: Shelter

If you let friendship form before sex, the love that is created is a strong and pure one. 

If you let sex come first before friendship, you'll confuse lust for love and eventually find yourself looking at other people, because you "think" you're in love again with someone else.

That's how I've seen it, that's how I've experienced it, and that's how I am honestly answering this question.

Sex does not equate a relationship.  Or love.

It is just an act, anyone can do, with the right skills.

But love.
And friendship.

This is sooo true.

Those things need to be given time to bloom.  To develop.

To strengthen.

And sex too soon can weaken the foundations that love and friendship take root on.

Weekly Musing

from Brokeback Mountain

Found myself wanting to ask all my readers this week:

When was the last time you didn't have sex, but instead made love?

Reading Between the Updates

The foundations of a relationship can sometimes be gleaned by simply keeping a keen eye on what either of the two seem to celebrate the most.    While a great connection and a rich sex life are both vital to a relationship, one can discern quite easily by glancing at the details what one or the other celebrates the most in their relationship.  It is in such introspections that social media such as Mark Zuckerberg's blue logo monstrosity, Facebook.com, or one's blog can be much more revealing than one expects.

Who needs to worry about losing one's privacy to Facebook
when we're all too willing to already over-share information?

I know of a pair who when I first heard of them was talked about as the perfect sweetest couple EVER.   In many ways, their relationship was deemed to be a prime example of a perfect gay long term relationship.  But then in the scant number of months leading to their break-up, it was quiet evident that all their posts were about themselves and their own INDIVIDUAL celebrations of life.    Updates tended to focus on how one, rather than both, or even at least one talking about the other, enjoyed their day.

"Hit the gym.  Feeling good.  I love today."

"Decided to catch the latest Bond movie.  Should be fun."

"Got a haircut.  Love my new look."

Me.  I.  All about the person and not about them.  All about enjoying life alone.
I couldn't help but wonder when I read them, "Where they not ever together?!?!?"  At one point, the two ate at some Italian restaurant.  Their updates then followed.

"Had delicious pasta today.  Love the food here!"

Came one update.  Okay, so he was enjoying his night... even if it sounded alone.

The other, around the same time, sent this update:

"Bored.   Anxious to go home.  Good food at least."

And again, barely any hint of being together. 

Maybe it was a case of being in the closet.  Or maybe it was a hint that the other wasn't too keen on where they decided to go that night.  But one would have thought the updates would have at least hinted that they were hanging out at the same place.


When things fell south, many were devastated.  To many, it was unthinkable.  How could they have ended such a "perfect" relationship?  I didn't even bat an eyelash.  I could see it a mile away.  They were too happy with their own lives they did not really enjoy sharing it with one another.

Yep, the POKE icon is actually a hidden taunt at what you are.

Another pair I heard of is a stranger mix.  While I don't know them personally, the mutual friends who we share often tell me of what they read in their newsfeed.  Supposedly, the updates that flow have a clear theme.  Travel.  Expensive things.  Costly food.  Outlandish indulgences.  While living a money-landen life is not bad in any way, celebrating them alone does make one wonder:  what is the other doing other than financing all this?    Even worse, all these celebratory posts are to cheer about "they are mine" rather than "we now own this!"  In some ways, I've tried to be more open-minded about such relationships, but deep down I fear the day when the shit hits the fan.  Somehow I already can tell if things go south, "How do we survive this" will come only after the question, "What do I keep?"


Then, there is this pair I know of which loves to play the switcharoo game in their social network updates.  The two are greatly in love and passionately care for one another, but due to personal reasons are openly exploring having sex with other partners.   My feelings on open relationships aside, I am happy that they do at least keep an honest and open flow of communication between them - honestly sharing if they found someone interesting and discussing whether or not it is alright to have fun with the said person or not.  None of the "I'll claim to be single/your ex" manipulations in play.  So their social network updates are tailored to hit the said "market".  I applaud them for their courage in choosing to wade in what I feel is potentially dangerous waters.  The risk of tearing apart trust can be tremendously detrimental to a long term partnership.


I do however pity the poor soul who becomes the victim of their united front.    I can only hope that the poor sod at least is given a clear understanding of what the situation is, and isn't lead on to think he's in a relationship with a single man.

To quote, Sharleen Spiteri and Johnny McElhone,
"You can say what you want, but it won't change my mind, I'll feel the same about you."

And of course there are those who keep their private lives to themselves.  A friend of mine is married and between the two of them, only she had a facebook account.  Her updates are often hilarious, giving an insider glimpse of the industry she works in and she rarely posts actual updates about her husband.   However, on the times that she does, one can easily see the honesty and affection they contain.  No pomp and overly dressed statements that try to make the relationship sound more fantastic than it really is.  Just an honest statement of how well things are between them.

There will always be them liars out there.
Or worse.

Ultimately, people who embrace the idea of having a virtual presence in a social network tend to seek an outlet to share openly things they appreciate and celebrate.  And what these things are can give another a good glimpse of what to expect of the person who wrote those updates.   While it ain't a precise science, I think it wouldn't take a special degree in anything to discern what kind of a guy one would have to be to post affectionate messages aimed anonymously to someone as status messages, when the guy's said partner is clearly someone who supposedly doesn't go online.  Or what to expect from a date with someone whose profile picture still shows him wearing the favorite shirt his ex gave him.   

Sometimes, deny what one wilt, the updates reveal the details indeed.
So if you have a facebook account, well, maybe you ought to take a step back and look at how your updates normally sound.  That may give you a better idea on why some people know you better than you think!

In the Dark

His hands were fumbling against my belt.

We first met during the night of a full moon.  I was bored and online, surfing through profiles upon profiles of men who seemed to have fit my list of preferred qualifications, when his private message reached my inbox.  I stared at the tiny black number one that was bordered by a yellow burst of color and for a moment wondered if it was really meant for me.  Not being out back then, I did not sport a picture of myself in my profile.  Everyone knows people who did not sport a profile picture rarely received any messages in a social network.  More so in a gay one.

I reached down and offered to unbuckle it myself.  He grunted and instead spun me to face the other way.  With his arms wrapped around me from behind, he slipped the belt free.  I could feel him hard and ready against me from behind.  His jeans did little to conceal that fact.

As rare as it was to get a message, the one he sent was far from conventional.   Most opened crudely with inquiries on one's preferred sexual role: Are you top?  Do you bottom?   His message, while far from the eloquence of Shakespeare, did stand out:

Was wondering if you were bored as I was tonight.  

Hitting a bar and was hoping to drag someone along with me to drink with.  

No promises.  Just company.  

It sounded smug.  Arrogant even.  And clearly, while written to not sound like a sexual invite, clearly implied that the idea was considered but left "on hold" pending actually meeting.   I glanced at the time and realized it was nearly midnight.  It took me barely a second to realize I too was bored.

My last meet up was a disaster.  The guy, while not unattractive, was far from what I had expected to see.  Photoshop seems to be liberally used on profile pictures as of the late, and his showed a greater mastery in the art of smoothening and blending.  His name never lingered in my head.  What did were the craters that marked his face by the unforgiving powers of acne.  But it wasn't his blatant act of deception of his looks or his apparent marked countenance that earned him the label of being an absolute bad night, it was his desperation to convince me to sleep with him.

Barely fifteen minutes into the conversation, Mr. Pimple asked nonchalantly, "So, you are a top, right?"  I was driving and tried not to scowl.  I failed miserably.  "Was that the only reason you wanted to meet up?"  I don't think he heard my reply.  Because what followed was an unabashed admission of how he liked it rough and dirty.

He ran his hands across my body, with his fingers coming to rest against my chest.  I did not have much of a body, I must admit.  Going to the gym was just a recently gained interest of mine.  His body suggested a much longer affair with free weights.    I was about to say something -- perhaps suggest we move to the bedroom -- but he quickly clamped one hand over my mouth and slowly shook his head.  I felt his rough chin brush against my nape as he did so.

I wanted to turn around and face him.  I wanted to kiss his lips and taste his tongue.  I wanted to see his eyes.  But his hand on my face held fast and firm, keeping me from moving.  His other hand pried free the buttons of my jeans and allowed the denim to hit the floor.  My body felt trapped underneath the rest of my clothes.  I strained to move, but his embrace had a power over me.  A control.  And while I knew I had the strength to push him aside, deep down I felt I did not want to.

"If you didn't want to fuck, why did you message back?"  I stared at Mr. Pimple and tried not to sneer at him.  He reached for my pants for the fourth time and I pushed his hands back like I had earlier.  I told him that wasn't what I wanted.  Was it too strange to want to actually spend the first night getting to know one another?  Was a conversation so alien a concept?  "You know, you can just fuck me quick and I'll head home.  At least my night won't be an utter waste."

I shoved him out of my car and left him cursing on the street.

A disaster.

But this time, the message sounded more like what I had been hoping to find.  I ran his words through my head again.  As bored as I.  Drink with.  No promises.  Company.  I quickly typed a reply and stated yes a drink would be nice.  My fingers moved faster than my brain and added how not having sex was fine too, but definitely not off the menu for future meet ups.  Thankfully, my eyes caught up and alerted me from clicking send in the nick of time.  I deleted the last two lines and kept it simple.  There was no need to sound like I was looking too far ahead.  No need to sound too anxious.

"Yes, a drink would be nice.  Where and what time?  I've got a car."

I stared at the full moon as I waited for the light to turn red.  I had a simple pair of jeans on and a plain white tee.  I wasn't much into clothes.  Didn't care for the labels.  He looked like he did.  Or at least his profile picture suggested that much.  Few people who cared little for clothing brands would ever have their picture professionally taken.  His clearly was.

He was standing at the corner where he said he would be, illuminated by the windows of a nearby convenience store.  His hair was longer.  Messier.  His clothes much simpler than his picture offered.  He was tall, just above six feet, and that made him taller than me.  A soul patch on his chin.  A cigarette lit against the night's cold.  I stopped the car and opened the door.  We exchanged hellos.  He waited to be invited in.

We drove to a nearby cafe and ordered something to drink.  We traded stories.   Hobbies.  Anecdotes on what we were interested in.  He shared his recent attempts to find new friends.  I shared my disaster stories.  We were both veterans in the search for friends in a sea that sold only sex.    We talked for hours and yet I barely felt the passage of time.   It was an exhilarating feeling though, to talk and feel like you could say anything freely.   And he gave me that.

I felt him pulling against his own pants.  His hand fumbled once more against the buttons.  I reached back to help.  He pulled my hands away.  I obeyed.  He kicked his pants off and I heard land a few feet away.  His hands grabbed my shirt and pulled it upwards, forcing my hands to rise up with the cloth.  Blind for that moment, I felt him clamp his hands over my chest.  Rough fingers hunted for my nipples.  He squeezed.  I shuddered.  I pulled the shirt over my head slid it completely free.  He squeezed again.   I wasn't sure when he slid his own shirt off, but when he pulled me close I felt his hairy body press against mine.  He was warm.  Comforting.  A heat against the cold of the metal chain around my neck.  In the feeble light, the crucifix reflected nothing but shadows.  

And then he pushed me against the wall.

We met a few more times.  We talked often.  Instant messengers were close allies.  Text messaging more so. Barely a week in, our conversations began to touch on things that were far more personal.  Dreams.  And the roots behind them.  Fears.  And the incidents that left their scars.  He learned of my last relationship.  Of the four long years of lies that I was never blind to.  I simply told myself it was better than being alone.

And he told me of his son.

We went out often, drinking and dancing at times, depending on the mood.  We never kissed.  We never flirted.  But oh, how we danced.  We moved with the music like the world ceased to spin.  We moved and we danced like it was a language we alone could speak.  We danced.  And we never danced with anyone else.

I felt him press against me again.  I felt his breath against my neck.  I wanted to speak.  I wanted to ask where this was leading to.  Was this the turning point?  Was this the time we finally admitted the presence of a growing desire that had been well nurtured those last few months?  Were we finally at that moment when we realized how much we had in common?  How little we had to fear of one another?  Was this the moment when the seed of friendship bloomed into something far more tangible?  Far more real?


I turned around and this time he relented.  He looked at my body, a stark white against the darkness, and slowly began to smile.  I was breathing heavily, uncertain if it was the time for words.  He was dotted with sweat and slid his thumbs behind the band of his boxers.

The rest of the world understood.  Our favorite haunts would open their doors for us when we arrived, together or on our own.  His favorite haunt was this place in Quezon City.  The second floor was exclusively meant for guests of the owner.  And Him.  But each time I showed up ahead of him, I would be allowed upstairs without a second thought.  It felt special.  It felt nice.

Waiters knew what our drinks were.  And the deejays played our songs.

Was I falling for him?  I wasn't sure then.  I was, however, happier than I had ever been.  I felt a connection and felt that was enough.   I felt my company was appreciated and enjoyed and thought nothing more of it.  He never flirted around.  I never felt I needed to.  We were just happy.  We were just together.

It was nearing the end of a friend's birthday party when I decided to ask if he wanted to come over.  I had never asked before.  He said yes.   We reached my house after half a bottle of tequila and a few more shots of Jagermeister.  He asked to use the bathroom.  I locked up and lead him to the closest one.  The lights were out and the windows were open.  The dawn was still an hour away.

We fumbled in the dark.  He stubbed his toe against an unseen chair.  I steadied him from falling.  He clutched his hands around my waist.  His hand found my belt.   He fumbled.

That was a few seconds ago.  

Now, we stared at each other's face.  We breathed in unison, feeling a growing passion that was fanning into a flame.  I think this is how it begins.  How passion grows into something far greater than one night stands. I think this is how one falls in love.

He reaches for his boxers.  I grin, excited to make love to the man who has grown to know me.  I am happy to know he knows me as well.

This was no one night stand.

"No promises."

And that quickly, it was cold again.

-----
In the Dark
a quickie fiction by tobie

Sex, Love, and No Regrets

I was at my favorite haunt to celebrate a friend's birthday party when a guy came up to me asked for a light.  Having pretty much stopped smoking save for the odd occasion when the need for nicotine hits me in an attempt to keep myself calm, I motioned to the nearby lighter that was on the table and gave him a friendly smile to say, "Go ahead."  The guy wasn't that bad, to be honest.  Much more fit than the usual monkey that hits on me, the guy ran a wide hand over his semi-skinhead and reached past me to get the lighter.  He lit the cigarette, took a deep puff, before holding the lighter out in front of me to take it back.  I cocked my head and gave him a blank stare as if wondering why he didn't just place it back on the table.

Sometimes I wonder if I should let the bouncers toss these people out.

I guess I should have known.

The DJ had yet to shift to the next song when the guy returned, planted himself beside me, and started to dance. I reached for my glass, refilled it with some beer, then added a dash of extra joss as usual.  I wasn't particularly in the mood to shoot down monkeys as usual and I had promised my partner that I would try to be nicer, so I stayed close to the table and gave the dancing guy enough room to dance his heart out.

Before I knew it, I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard:

"So why aren't you dancing?"

I turned to face the guy and raised my eyebrows.  I offered a smile and motioned towards my friends, explaining, "I'm having fun hanging with my friends."  Realizing he was probably trying to ask me to dance with him, I added, "I usually just dance with my partner.  It is just that he's at work right now."

The guy shrugged and reached for my glass to try and take it from my hand.  I looked at him incredulously, wrapped my free hand against his, and shook my head to say no.

Monkeys.  Maybe I should devote a blogspot to explain why
I call them monkeys?  Hmm...

"It is just a dance," the guy reasoned, and perhaps in a bid to get me interested, reached up to scratch his head again and flash a hint of his meaty bicep and the dark valley of armpit hair.  To his dismay, I just pulled my glass free, took a deep swag, and told him, "Thanks but I'm good."  It was an opening for him to just walk away.  It was an opportunity to save face rather than be shot down.   I guess I was hoping for too much.

"It is your fault you know.  That's what you get for being 'married.'"

I stared at him as he said these words.  There was a smart-ass expression on his face.  It was a futile attempt to make me "realize" how much I was missing.   What he failed to comprehend, however, is that I'm not the one who is missing out on anything.   My life with my partner is a life filled with reasons to be happy literally each and every single day.  As cliché as it sounds,  our being in a relationship has not reduced the happiness in our lives.  Nor has it made us feel like prisoners as some would try to make relationships be perceived as.

This incident reminded me of something my partner shared a few days back.  There was a series of status posts and updates from friends of his that were exulting their being single.  They sprouted out declarations of how being single was a choice equated to choosing to live happy, exciting and adventurous lives.  Now I'm all for embracing happiness as a choice of how one views one's life, and frankly I don't think happiness can only be achieved if one is in a relationship, but I don't however think that embracing a life of sleeping around with some new boy toy each night is more fulfilling that finding someone whom you accepts you as who you are and is someone you accept in such a way in return.  Having access to a variety of orgasmic joys might be sensually  intoxicating but people who think sexual excitement dies once one chooses to be loyal and exclusive to another person are clearly people who fail to know how to truly make love to another.

Yeah, you guys can go fill them bottles over and over again.
I'm no longer part of the stupid repetitive machine.

Fucking is more than just point A being inserted into point B.  Satisfying your partner is more than just having a scheduled fuck day, and it is even far worse if the days in between are spent fooling around with whatever new conquests hits the other's fancy.  The human body is filled with places to explore.  And even more secret places when you consider what happens when two people in love truly choose to explore each other's bodies together.

It is called making love for a reason.

Ending the Run.

As I stated about it in an earlier entry, our relationship didn't start with sex.  But as our relationship continues to grow stronger with the passage of each and every single day, so does the many ways we learn to satisfy each other in many different ways.

"That's what you get for getting married."

You betcha.
I'm absolutely sure that I can speak for both of us when I say we have no regrets being together.     Things aren't perfect, that's for sure.  But things keep getting better each and every single day.

I only wish someday, Mr. Monkey, you get a chance to experience what I do on a daily basis.
I'm sure someday you'll realize you'll grow tired of waking up in the next morning and showing him the door (assuming he even opted to stay the night, that is)  But until you grow up just a bit more, sadly, I don't see it happening any time soon.

So yeah, enjoy the dance.

Don't worry Jakey.  We're still reserving some space on our bed for you.

I'm fine here at the table.
You should see us dance when we're both at the bar.
Maybe then you'll see things a tad better.

The Cock or the Egg?

In my relationship with my partner, each and every single day has its own mushy moment.  In Filipino, we refer to such moments as our personal "baduy" moments.  It might be something like me sneaking a stuffed toy duck into my partner's packed lunch bag for the day, or him waking me up (with a little something-something) then surprising me with a magazine featuring some celebrity I like on the cover, or him coming home to find a bunch roses on the table waiting for him, and so on and so forth.  To a large extent, this ever present willingness to make each and every single day as romantically special as the first few days when we had just met seems to stem greatly from the fact that when we did meet, sex was not the first item on our agenda.

Spit or Swallow?  Why not just Cuddle?

My partner and I met because we were both happy to have found a fellow geek who was interested in something the other was.  In our case, it was a long discontinued collectible card game called Netrunner.  For him, the game was something longed to play but never really got the chance to do so.  For me, it was a game I truly enjoyed which I had long left untouched ever since my gaming group had started to move onto other games.   The moment we both realized we shared an existing frustration for the game, we realized it was by meeting up that we could finally put that frustration to rest.

NetRunner.  God it opened all these geek flirtations.
"Are you making a run?"  "No, I'm jacking off." "What??!"  "OUT! Out! Jacking out!" *blushes*

While there may have been a healthy heaping of witty banter and flirtatious comebacks, our early days of getting to know one another revolved more around sharing more of what we loved rather than indulging on the  act of making love.  Webcam sessions were for us to watch episodes of Battlestar Galactica in synch rather than randy attempts to cum on cue.  Late night trysts were more to share dinner at some fast food place or restaurant rather than escape away to the noise-resistant confines of some motel room.

Simply put, for us sex was not the initial spark that began to burn into a passionate fire.
Or to use my title's analogy, the (creative geeky) egg came before the cock.

I personally still thick the Egg came first.  Dinosaur eggs that is.

Many other gay couples I know met their partners first as someone they were grinding against on the dance  floor.   Others found what they call love from a fellow lonely stranger who offered a smile and a good opening line.   Such  meetings are no different from how I met my partner:  They were meetings which may or may not have happened had certain things happened differently.  They were meetings that finally came to pass because at least one of the two decided to take that chance, reach out, and say hello.

But sadly, a larger number of these chance encounters for some reason choose the bed as the stage where the decision of making someone a partner is made.   For some reason, regardless of the other person's physical, social or mental traits, it seems his performance in bed (and for others, which I think is even sadder, the other man's cock size) becomes the final test which will determine if the person is worth considering relationship material.    One friend once explained this to me in this manner, "If he can't make me cry out his name, then I'm gonna wave goodbye and find someone who can."

Gotta admit, one can always try more creative positions if one does choose to do it.

The Cock came before the Egg.

I used to share that mindset when I was still in college.

Back in those years, young as I was to the world and its sensual affairs (my sexual encounters prior to becoming a college freshman were far less than the number of fingers you have as a human being) and each time I thought I met someone interesting, I saw nothing wrong with expecting a good humping as a key factor in deciding if someone was worth my time.  For some reason I assumed it would be harder for someone to learn to make love better than it was for someone to be smarter.  Or be more in tune with my way of thinking.  Or be more capable of making me laugh without really trying.

See, I love Star Trek now!  :-)

I felt sex was something that on the first try had to be perfect.  

It was that damned Hollywood illusion that if someone was meant for you, plug should perfectly fit socket and the sound of slapping meat should lead to orgasmic tsunamis erupting in unison.   Maybe it was just because it was the 90s back then, but I could not recall much movies where two people having sex would have elbows bumping into faces or insertions leading to bloody painful wails.  I couldn't see why someone meant for me would have trouble swallowing or would fail to get it up on the first go.   My demands for a partner included that he (or she) perform on cue, hard (or wet) when I needed it, without any need for artificial lubrication or second attempts.

There are benefits to being Bisexual.   Yep.

Hell, I was a damn hot guy whose friends nicknamed a Sexpert! Why should I settle for anything less than a masterful toothless blowjob that milked me with the intensity of a hentai flick?

Yep.   Talk about self deluded, eh?

You know what's worse?

Until now, some people out there still have that mindset.
And they aren't exactly still in their younger years.

Sex is still being used by so many people out there as the measuring scale of a man's viability to be a partner.  Don't get me wrong, though.  I clearly understand the important role great sex and its role in the need for physical satisfaction, I am now a firm believer however that there are things that are easier to develop than others.  And better yet, some things are far better to develop together with one's partner than alone.

Sometimes all it takes is one step at a time.

Maybe I sound naive in saying this... or maybe I'm being one of the few mature enough to say this aloud, but if one chooses to make sexual performance the biggest factor of what makes a relationship work, then one should expect never to be truly happy in their relationship since any new guy who comes along might perceivably be better in the sack.  And that, in my opinion, is a relationship doomed to fall apart.

Egg before Cock and you're sure to last longer than the typical cum shot.

I'm very happy to be in a relationship that was born from mutual interests growing into shared ones.  And I love how each and every single day is excitingly a beautiful juxtaposition of shared joy and discovery.    While I have been in many relationships before, this is definitely one which feels like there ain't gonna be a time we will ever get bored of each other.

And that, I personally feel, is a relationship that is meant to last. 

Theorgy. And Why I Blog.

My partner alerted me to an upcoming gay blogger event called Theorgy which has definitely perked my interest.  The idea is to have numerous gay bloggers write on a specific topic on a specific day, with September one being devoted to the topic of Coming Out.

Could this be the start of a good thing?
I hope so.

The term Theorgy sounds like a play with words to me:  Theory being merged with Orgy.   The idea seems to do suggest that it is about a group of people doing a sharing of views and perhaps a study of beliefs and opinions.  The word play is quite quaint and it does grab attention.

I feel happy to see that there is movement in having gay blogs contain more than the usual mix of nearly naked men, sexual escapades, fashion, rumor or blind item controversies, or porn reviews.  While I will admit to having my own share of interests in such things, I will state a part of me really hopes to find more gay blogs that discuss topics beyond the usual nsfw variety.

Jakey agrees.  Can't always just be about his body, right?

Being gay, after all, is a much more colorful experience than just sex, naked men, and rumors of who is and isn't still in the closet.  While I have been blogging for many years, I only started blogging about my gay life after realizing that I did want to have one which reflected on such topics more freely.  My current blog is already overly cluttered with posts on role playing games, daily grind rants, geekgasms on upcoming movies and games, and the like.  Blame it on the rain, bro became my outlet to discuss things which definitely reflected more of my gay life and clearly that was more than just sex.

Yep.  Too many people ignoring their brains and using their dicks to do the thinking.
Others don't even bother trying to think.

I wonder though why many seem to limit their gay experience to be the sexual kind.  While I understand that it is sex, sexual interest, and gender identity that defines one to be gay, I would not like to think that everything else in the world then becomes default straight.  My partner cautioned me though in believing that there aren't any such blogs out there.  Many, he shared, did exist must most have gone inactive in as the years gone by.

Oh dead blogs.  I hardly knew you.

I wonder if others out there would like to try to help make the presence of such blogs more known.

I've tried reading some of the gay friendly local blogs that I have heard of and some didn't quite rub me the right way.  I wasn't too happy to see blogs that seemed to view the idea of infidelity or fooling around with married men as "an exciting moment" in one's life.  I didn't quite agree with other blogs that suggested wearing branded clothes was the standard which defined a gay man as having class or not.  I was literally turned off by  blogs that seemed devoted to spreading rumors, accusing others of being closeted and celebrating the (what I feel is an abusive) art of blind items.

Why not more gay blogs that talk about life beyond the waistband and lubricated anus?  Why not blogs that reflect we can love sports beyond the muscular guys who wear them tiny shorts?  Why not blogs that talk about how cooking became an icebreaker on how they reached out to their parents and regained acceptance?   Or how being HIV positive opened one's eyes to living a much more positive and appreciative life?   Lots of gay friends I know lead colorful, challenging, and over all interesting lives.  Why can we not celebrate these lives more in our blogs?

Maybe if Will and Grace did this more often, the show would have had a stronger
staying power for today's gay audience?

In many ways I feel the kind of blogs out there nicely reflect the kind of gay friendly shows we finally have access to as well.  Years back, beautifully written shows like Will and Grace showed us that a gay man can be very multifaceted.  Will stood out in contrast to his friend Jack, yet both got along campily well in many other ways.  But then came shows like Queer as Folk and Dante's Cove which seemed to focus more on the sexual energy and abusive relationships that also existed in gay couplings.  It doesn't come as a surprise that a lot of people love the shows, but it does make me worry how many still have the misconception that a gay lifestyle is limited to that kind of a life.   I am still hoping for more people to learn of shows like Torchwood and Modern Family to see that being gay can go much further than just being a guy who loves to sleep around and can't keep their dick in their pants.  Sadly, even a very well executed and written show like Glee still seems lacking in the gay =/= sex department.  I have yet to really see from Curt see more than his right to have feelings for Finn.  I would have liked Curt to be mature enough to understand that Finn does also deserve to have his own personal space.

Oh no, I dissed Curt.  I wonder if that's Hate Mail I hear coming?
Oh Curt can't wait to see me suffer for dissing him.

In a way, the feeling that the world needs to see more gay blogs that aren't obsessing over other's men's genitalia will be a huge source of momentum for me in keeping this blog going.  I wouldn't like people who aren't blessed with the joy of having gay friends to find nothing but meat, meat, meat, and more meat online when they chance upon a gay friendly site.  I think keeping this blog alive would be my part in helping show that the gay experience is far more than just a change of pussycats with roosters.

In can be a whole lot more colorful than they can ever dream.

Shouldn't we then do what we can to help them see that?