Rather than give a step-by-step account on my pride'04 craziness, I figure it would be more fun if I tease you guys with little tidbits and conversation snippets. Put two and two together.
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To the ear, I whisper: "Your boyfriend's cock is in my ass...". From experience, I find saying this drives couples wild.
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"You're bossy!"
"Yeah, you are!"
"I'm not bossy. I just know what I like." I reply.
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At a club: A guy brushes his hand on my abdomen. I grab his hand and pull him towards me. "You're hot!" I tell him and we talk briefly.
"He's a great kisser." Out of nowhere, a friend gives me an assessment of his "skills". Oh dear.
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In bed: "Aw, man, that was messy!"
"Let's take a shower" Trying to downplay my excitement: "Uhhh...okay." I love showers. LOL.
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At a house party: "Your drag queen name is now Mahogany!" I like!
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At another house party: "Find me a boyfriend. I want to get rid of this one."
"Uhhh...." How am I to reply?
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"You are so adorable, my mighty mouse."
"Thanks for spending the night."
"I love Canada."
"Well, I love America!"
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At a pre-pride party at Sunday noon, this is me saying to 3 strangers I just met each equipped with his own camera: "Literally, this is 30 pictures in a row. I've never seen so much purple dots in my life! This better not end up on the internet somewhere!"
UPDATE: received an email yesterday morning with a link to a pride photoalbum. Email says: "Hey I found this. Check it out. You're in it!" Uh-oh.
UPDATE#2: received an email today from a guy named Tony asking for an alternative way of "sending" the many pictures he took. (who the hell is Tony?)
As per verbatum: "I have to say, you are a very charming guy and I can not help thinking of you when I was driving back to Montreal this morning.^_^"
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Walking north on Church street: A tap on the shoulder, "You have a great body."
"Oh, thanks!" I smile.
Then, the guy literally runs away.
So... do I chase him?
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Another stranger on the street, "If you're ever in New York, call me. I'll hook you up." Hands me his business card. Hmmmmm... very tempting.
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At 5am in the morning, my heart begins to melt as I am told this: "For the past two days, I felt so proud walking down that street holding your hand." Aw. Sniff sniff.
It would be rude of me if I neglected to mention: Canadian Bloggers In Toronto. Like any gay man running on GST time, I was trend-settingly-late (like two hours late.) Ahem.
By the time I got to Zelda's, the gang: BFT, TQGB (plus one), and WCB were just about to head out. I was saddened: "Guys, I just got here. Don't leave me alone..." I was quickly informed that the party wasn't over. Phew.
We then proceeded to Woody's:
* BoiFromTroy: It was a hoot watching you take those pictures of unsuspecting hotties with your camera. I'll know to do that when visiting south of the border again. I love the statistics page - I was looking at it in detail this morning.
* ThatQueerGeorgiaBoy: You have quite the expressive face. Despite the fact that you couldn't see my eyes, me and WCB enjoyed listening to your stories. I have to apologize for not following through with Remington's.
* Watercolourboy: Need I say more? Love ya babe! You know how I feel.
Overall, I had a wonderful time chatting it up at Woody's. My only regret is that we didn't get to spend more time together. Nonetheless, I'm glad that you Americans love us here, the men as well as the beer.
I woke up on a breezy Saturday morning thinking how true this was, and yet my pride weekend was yet to climax. Saturday was even better than Friday. And Sunday was twice the fun of Saturday.
Now it is a gloomy overcast Monday morning and I'm still in bed and it's past 9am. I just had a long farewell to a lovely American I met two days ago. I'll do a recap and share some of my fun on another post.
Having said all this, I received a call from my older sister with unfortunate news last night. It seems like someone up there knew that I was having too much fun and had to rain on my parade. It's not fair. It's like a cruel joke.
So how do I cope? Have the best sex I possibly can. Nothing is better than bittersweet sex.
Tonight, I'm trekking it eastbound to visit family, which I rarely do on a weeknight. I want to be there. At the heart of it all, after the fun and laughter over the weekend, nothing is more important than family... especially in times of loss and in grievance.
What a relief! I just came out of one long job interview. It was a panel interview which is always nerve-racking! I hate those things.
I did okay. I wish I nailed it with flying colours though. I still have my job. I'm not about to go anywhere just yet. I've been studying for the past two days for this, looking through media clippings, reviewing legislation, procedures and codes. So it's been stressful. Can't remain complacent, ya know? It was only last night when I realized that I just need to have fun with it.
In turn, I decided to go commando and wear a pink tie with purple flowers. I think it made me a tad too "relaxed" during the interview. I like having that extra touch of gay.
"Don't you like me?"
"I do... but I just want to be friends." Ouch!
Rewind five minutes earlier...
"So cancel your plans and hang out with me."
"I'm sorry. I can't."
Fast forward ten minutes later...
"Why don't you want to have sex with me?"
"Honestly? I'm not physically attracted to you." Double ouch!
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Everyone can all relate to the above conversation somehow.
I've been the desperate pathetic guy before with questions like: "Why don't you hang out with me?" I wish there were better ways to launch a hurtful reply through less damaging means.
This past weekend, I was on the other side of the coin. I was the heartbreaker. I realized there isn't a good way to tell the truth. For a time, I always wondered if those people who broke my heart in the past had any heart to begin with. And now, I find myself come full circle. I am now the asshole. But then, my intention was not to hurt.
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Who's the guy?
Pink DJ, a slim, soft-hearted soft-spoken 30-year old boy I met at a bar two weeks prior. Truly, a very nice guy, but I never had intentions of taking it to the next level. I knew it from the moment we talked. My impression of him was that he was honest, kind, and deep down, I sensed loneliness. I wanted to give that lonely boy inside him a hug. Innocent as it sounds, I wanted to be his friend.
Am I a sucker for the downtrodden? I guess so.
A few days ago, Pink DJinterrogated confronted me towards venturing forth in a romantic relationship with him and even proposed sex. So, I told the truth. Also, while I did not want to hurt his feelings, I became very angry because my good intentions were clearly misinterpreted. He accused me that I lead him on and gave him wrong signals. I was insulted. I thought I was being upfront by saying I want to be friends. I have referred to friendship repeatedly. Apparently, wanting to be friends means much more in gay terms.
The last time we got together for coffee/tea, I thought it would be a good idea to change venues to a more civilized and comfortable setting. So, I suggested my apartment. We had a bonding moment at my balcony watching the sunset together. Romantic setting perhaps, but I insist that not once did I lead him on.
Everybody knows that body language is the key to finding out if the other person is interested. The three feet rule was followed all through the evening. The only time I physically touched Pink DJ was with a hug goodbye.
I'm partly to blame though. I did open up a can of worms when I sat there like a psychiatrist encouraging Pink DJ to talk about his past, present, and future. He opened up to me and I was greatly appreciative. I gave him an undetailed assessment mirroring what he has revealed to me. (I believe he is an ISFP).
I don't particularly want to be friends with Pink DJ anymore. I guess this makes me an asshole.
It's mating season and us gay boys are 'in heat'. I love the fact that (almost) every person I know is getting laid. Me too... consistently and so effortless sometimes. Ah, I love summer.
By the way, I finally ended my "blonde streak" not once, but twice. And there's nothing like a great Sunday morning fuck to put myself in such a good mood to see my dad for Father's day. I love ya, dad!
So off I take the GO Train to my parents' house. After the "political confrontation" with my mom two weeks ago, I expected her to be ready with her battle gear to convince me to go to the dark side and vote 'Conservative'.
Turning left to my parents' street, I see their house plastered with blue images. There's no mistaking to the neighbours as to who she will be voting her. Oh god. That's right... blue posters all over the lawn and my mom is on the balcony equipped with her Super Soaker Machine Gun. What a sight! She's already waving at me with a big smile as I giggle like a schoolgirl at the other end of the street.
Pow, she wets me. "Very nice, ma!" I tell her as I approach the front door.
My mom does try to start some sort of political debate, but quickly realizes that I'm not going to participate.
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Chicken was the theme for the Father's day feast: Jerk Chicken, Curry Chicken, Chicken Souvlaki, Chicken wings, etc... I think it's pretty obvious my dad is to blame. I love visiting my parents because everytime I'm around, I am fed like a king. Normally this would be a good thing but Pride is right around the corner. So... I've been closely watching what I eat.
Here's a snippet from a phone conversation with Scuba last Thursday night:
Scuba: "So...Pride is next weekend." Me: "Yeah, I'm trying to get myself comfortable with the idea of taking off my shirt. I've been working extra hard at the gym."
I can relate with the departure of Sissy. It can be scary. Because I initially divulged personal information through blogging, the price to pay was my privacy. I had hoped for cooperation to those who might understand. Recently, I was disrespected and called a hypocrite.
I wrote a long rebuttal to an email, but I decided against posting it (also, a blog will remain nameless as his embarrassing arrogance is not worth of mention anymore). My anger subsided when I realized that it is my fault for letting the ignorance of another affect me. I understand my mistake. There's no need to rub my face in the mud. Having said that, I bear no more ill feelings as my frustration had dissipated.
My final stance: 'who fuckin' cares?' Life goes on.
But I do have to say that the karma YOU gave will come back to you with five-fold intensity the next time you ask another individual for a simple favour that can easily be granted.
On a grander scale, perhaps it's naive of me to believe that when you approach people with kindness and sincerity, it will be solemnly reciprocated, not laughed at. My belief is not shaken. I hold to it even stronger.
I have dealt with various people from all walks of life, primarily through volunteer work for the past ten years, and now through my current profession. I've met some good people, some bad. And, I've always dealt with their unpredictablity with great tact.
To the ones who lack courtesy, I feel sorry for you.
I passed my one year blog anniversary on June 5th. Who knew that I would still be blogging today? Over the months, I have received many words of encouragement from you, my readers. I thank you.
But yesterday, I received the most disturbing email to date. It's causing me to be extremely paranoid. I don't know what to make of it.
Anyways, on the upside - how appropriate that the next submission to the Shower Room Gallery is actually from the first blog that I have ever followed about a year ago.
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SUBMISSION #11
All hail, Master XXXXX! He nailed it! His pictures capture exactly what I've been looking for.
I refer to XXXXX (AKA XXXXX XX XXXXX) as Master for a number of reasons. I admire him for the textual aspect of his blog. Don't get me wrong here, he's great eye candy. I like the visual physical aspect - I mean... the proof is in these pictures. But there's more to him, like his mind and his way of expression. From reading his site, XXXXX has revealed many intangible and personal things about himself. This XXXXXX native has such a way with words that I have to give him the title of 'Master Blogger'.
There's only so much a person can reveal on their blogs, but the psycho part of me can literally write a ten page essay dwelving and extrapolating into the thought-patterns of this hockey playin', diana ross donna summer lovin', rock-climbin', club-hoppin', curry-digestin', political-minded, level-headed, family-oriented XXXXXXXXXXX who's working his way towards his XXX. (Man, even I'm freaking myself out!)
He doesn't need any more praise from me. He already knows of my "admiration". So, it's up to the rest of you kids to send him praises. Maybe if you ask him nicely, he'll send you a picture of him in the shower nicely showcasing his defined six-pack? Trust me. It exists.
Sparky actually sent me five "wet" pictures to choose from. I automatically went with his pool pictures because it's different from the ones I've already posted on this site. He'll probably post the other three pics he sent me at his blog.
Sparky loves taking pictures. He even says: "When I have nothing important to say, I shall post a photo. There will be many photos on this blog." - March 10, 2004
I had an introverted mentality when I first started blogging. I had no desire to meet other bloggers in the flesh in this large underground blogdom community. I was content with my kind of voyeurism: watch but not touch.
But then, through interesting circumstances - I met the ever-so-wholesomeness of Watercolour Boy, and it was very positive. He even admitted that he feels closer to his blogmates than the actual people in his life.
Which brings me to the bigger question: Is blogging here to stay for good as it establishes itself as the new step for building friendships?
It looks like these bloggers are having so much fun meeting each other. And here I am reading their stories. Guys, I'm so jealous.
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SUBMISSION #9
I really 'dig' Homer, an archeologist from Tucson, Arizona. He's a testament that not all the good guys are taken.
Homer recently returned from New York City where he attended the above mentioned blogger gathering. Based on other blogger testimonials alone, everyone who meets Homer is quick to say that he is an adorable sweetheart. I have yet to meet Homer, but in the times that we have conversed - there never is an air of pretense. He is who he is. His genuity comes across clear as day.
Among the few pictures Homer sent to me for his shower room submission, I chose this as it was the "wettest" of the bunch. After reducing the size of the photo, it's hard to tell just how wet 'Homer' was. Nonetheless, he had fun posing. But as he indicates to me: 'I've got a horrible farmer's tan from doing the latest archaeology dig.'
By the way, did I mention he's quite the family man? He has 3 kids still left in the household: Mama Cat, Puff & Joey (pictured above).
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