Bumpin' Uglies

Negative

2005-07-07T21:28:00.000-05:00

*yay*

Not that it wasn't expected, but as I mentioned before the uncertainty of the result until it comes is awful.

So, I feel more secure, I feel in control of my health. The feelings of terror have dissolved into confidence.

The odd thing is I kind of feel as though my encounters from the past year are somehow negated. Like they never happened in the first place. Which is actually kind of comforting, considering there were plenty that I didn't exactly feel proud of. (To be fair, there were a couple that I relive nightly, but that's a different post all together.)

So, now I urge whoever's reading this to follow my lead. The test is simple to do, anonymous, and fast! Here's the link. It's hardly the worst prick you've ever inflicted on yourself. ;)

http://www.homehealthtesting.com/hiv-aids-tests.htm

Gettin' Testy

2005-07-05T21:17:00.000-05:00

Yeah, no, I didn't mean testes...I'm a better speller than that :P

Today I broke down and grabbed an at-home HIV test. It's been over a year since I last got tested, and frankly my status has been weighing on my mind. Not that I feel I've been particularly exposed, it's just the uneasiness of not knowing. Odds are, I'm still negative. However to be the utmost of responsible to both myself and my future partners, I need to find out.

Ulitimately, the feeling of responsibility is a burden. Not that I don't believe in getting tested, or believe I and everyone else should. Simply, it's terrifying and emotionally painful. It demands you recount your life, your choices, your behaviors. Being that I'm not one for regret, or really dwelling, it's hard.

So I pricked my finger, bled in the circle appropriately, let it dry, and popped it in the FedEx box. Within a few days, I'll have my result. Again, odds are I'm negative. But sometimes when you're scared to know the truth, and feel like you want to hide--you just gotta put on the big boy pants.

To be updated...

The MoPod Show!

2005-07-05T21:11:00.000-05:00

Thanks to iTunes, I've succumbed to the latest technological trend--the podcast. Of course I found the best, gayest way of doing such...The MoPod Show! The link is to the right--download it and love it bitches!

Shot Through The...

2005-06-26T23:28:00.000-05:00

Nipple.

There, I said it. A word I have never really liked. But now it's said, so we can all get over it.

Why the title and the lead in? 'Cause I pierced my nipple on Friday. Did it hurt? Really for only a quick second. The throbbing the rest of the night was worse. The slight bit of re-bleeding tonight sucked. But the payoff should be worth it. :)

it really is an aesthetic thing...obviously it's not for everyone. The bit of pain is undeniable, especially the slight reminders that something unnatural is in your skin. However, it's not anything I can't handle, or am not willing to endure to try something new with my body.

We'll see how fun it is in a few weeks ;)

Suddenly Nothing

2005-05-17T23:42:00.000-05:00

There are times when the chase of finding someone can really become more important than actually finding someone. Or at the very least, it can be the thing that excites you the most—an addictive adrenaline rush that isn’t duplicated once the prey is ensnared.

Can being single for too long hinder one’s ability to engage successfully in a relationship with someone? Or am I simply too fucked up to comprehend what it would be like to actually coexist sanely and rationally in the presence of another person?

The reason for the questioning is simply an unshakeable feeling that despite my best attempts, my current endeavor is going to be an awesome failure. I can’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t be checking out other guys and wishing I could take them in the bathroom. I don’t like the feeling that I SHOULDN’T in the first place—but then I’m not really so good with following any restrictions placed upon me. Why, I suppose the question should be, do I feel so restricted in the first place? Shouldn’t the beginning of a relationship (and the first few months fall within in that time frame) be completely consuming? Or at the very least, produce an inability to think about anyone else?

The thing that really bothers me is that I know I’ve felt that “blinders” effect before. I’ve gotten so wrapped up in someone that everyone I see just becomes background noise, and I couldn’t conceive of anyone else in the place of that person. Of course it never worked out, for whatever reason at the time. The lack of that feeling, and as a result the continuation of my “single” mindset, concerns me quite a bit. In fact, it makes me seriously question whether I’ll ever experience anything outside of the two states (complete obsession or remarkable indifference). It’s hard to admit that I could be such damaged goods—and even harder to think that I’ve sucked someone else into the breach unwittingly. There are thousands of phrases for this, I think, even though I’ve always dismissed them as bullshit: going too fast, needing space, feeling trapped…the list goes on and on. Unfortunately, even I am subject to such vacuous-sounding reasonings, and what’s worse is that they sometimes do ring true. It’s just a tone I don’t like hearing, even if I’m the one striking the bell.

*Note: The writing of this article actually spanned over 12 hours, and within that time something indeed became nothing. Although my last hiatus was unintended, the new one (as of today) is. I plan to return once bearings are gotten again.

Attraction

2005-04-18T22:39:00.000-05:00

There's something about attraction to another human being that is completely disturbing and awful. As a collective it appears that we've decided to overlook this gut-wrenching emotion and pretend it boils down to something as innocent as "butterflies." However, they could only be butterflies if the insect in question had 3 inch incisors that gnawed on your intestinal track like it was taffy all day and night.

*ahem*

Images of Mothra aside, I'd rather be spared the platitudes that the agony of liking someone is worth it based on the rewards reaped from a relationship. For one, the whole "R-word" doesn't ever seem to coalesce into existence for me. Also, based on the relationships I see around me, that agony never really goes away. It lingers when one half is away, it haunts in the silences after a fight. It chokes the party swallowing its pride, like a cheap beer chaser. Even before such advanced stages are acheived, the glean of attraction draws eyes to non-ringing phones, stirs the soul to tedious distractions and ice cream, and just plain makes you wish you could think about anything but the source of such consternation.

The only thing worse than the agony of attraction is the longing for someone to be attracted to. It's 360 degrees of bitch.

On Haggery

2005-04-03T23:34:00.000-05:00

Fag Hags are passe.

Not only that, they are ridiculous charicatures that definitely do nothing for the image of gay men in general--nor really speak well of straight women. It's not uncommon for the two to mingle--hell, all my closest relationships are with women. The Hag exists on a separate plane altogether, in a fluffy fantasy land where all the wonderful homos she knows will one day wake up and want to dunk her like an Oreo. But guess what? 15 years pass and she's still in the bag because he's not eating carbs. EVER. Things only get better as she turns bitter, and decides to cockblock ad nauseum. Don't believe me? Watch Will & Grace, the ultimate in Haggery--the complete sterilzation of Homosexuality for the masses, the finest triumph of the Hag.

Don't get me wrong, I love my girls. But if the Hag rears its head, the only thing for certain is that it won't stay in place for long.

The Line

2005-04-02T20:36:00.000-06:00

There's a line between sex for its own sake, and a stronger, more earnest attempt at trying to get to know someone (usually referred to as "dating"). The question is, where does one end and the other begin?

The Hookup is perhaps the most purely defined--sex in its most straighforward form, no pretense, no bullshit. You meet, you do the deed, you leave. It's gained in ease simply because of the Internet, where plenty of websites are designed just for the purpose of getting people laid. While emontionally void, there are plenty of instances where it's not a vacuous experience. Sometimes it's fulfilling a bona fide physical need of release. Sometimes it's to kill an hour. Sometimes it's because it helps one wipe the sexual slate clean after a mistake or breakup. Whatever the reasoning, there is definite use.

Next up is the actual Date. That's right, capital "D." Outfits may be bought (or at least debated over), ATMs consulted for the ability to pick up the check, and parking lot conversations with friends when you arrive 20 minutes early from nerves. This is an emotional adventure, and generally creates a stress level equivalent to that of sheer panic. The issue of being on a Date can bring a whole host of complications on its own: what is or isn't actual dating behavior, when is a date not a date, the ability for it to morph from Date to the dreaded "hanging out" before your very eyes. These complications are worthy of time that I simply will not spend right now (mostly because I'm not Dating anyone right now), so for now we'll assume that the Date is pretty clearcut in itself.

The thing that concerns me more is does one preclude the other? Given the volatile nature of human interaction in general, do the actual terms under which you meet someone dictate your actual relationship with them? Plenty of dates end poorly, so obviously that's not the example. More of concern is if a strictly sexual encounter can evolve into something else? Can the chemistry intrinsic in such an engagement transcend the short-minded task of just getting off? I once read an essay by a gay, well, serial essayist that detailed his meeting of his boyfriend...at a dumpster after the future boyfriend gave someone else head. Essayist was drunk, I believe, and waited for his turn. Somehow afterward the two chatted or something, and so a relationship was born. There's something romantic to me about the accident of meeting the person you feel you were supposed to meet. Ethical mores would prevent these stories from getting written up on the NY Times Wedding Section, but I think it's better than smiling across a coffee shop and hitting on the waitress.

The more I think about it, the more I feel it really doesn't matter how you meet someone, whether you fuck on the first date, or if you save yourself for virginity. It's cliched as anything else in history, but it truly all comes down to the chemistry when you meet someone....maybe lines don't have anything to do with it after all.

Men Are Sluts

2005-03-25T22:14:00.000-06:00

Ok, so the title's not the most original, or earth-shattering fact for that matter...but it's a start.

The compounding problem is the double nature of men--all men, not just the gay ones that I usually focus my time on. You see, dear reader, since men are sluts, they are constantly on the lookout for sex wherever the opportunity may arise. At the grocery store, while driving, getting their teeth cleaned...it's no secret that we as a species are consumed--better yet, OBSESSED--with getting a piece. Everyday life is full of Discovery Channel moments, the kind where the proud male lion stalks the plains of Africa on the quest to mate and aptly timed bone flutes add to the virile tension of it all. You get the idea.

Of course, it wouldn't be interesting if there wasn't a flipside, a yin for the yang, a tit for the tat if you will (hey, I'm trying to be global here). So here's where the fun starts...men are sluts, but also not at the EXACT SAME TIME. We get picky, we hem and haw, we claim to want one thing and then back out when we get it. It's infuriating, confusing, and hysteria inducing--not to mention the source of about 3409 cottage industries, the least of which is half of all television programming on the planet. This is behavior is definitely not exclusive of a sexual orientation either, although when both participants are male the results are certainly intensified. Sure, you can argue it's a product of our times, that disease and the morality of the day tempers this behavior into the sharpened blade that it is, but I'm not sold on it. I think it gets more basic than that--men want it, but still have some standards. We'll search, see what we can get, but even at the moment of having it available, we'll shut off if we realize it's not coming from a source that's really...uh, desireable. Akin to drinking Diet Pepsi because it's all that's around, not because you want to. Sometimes men stop themselves and hold off. Sometimes they don't.

Welcome Back

2005-03-25T00:07:00.000-06:00

Hey there everyone...this is the revamped blog of mine, and I've retooled my thinking a bit. And by a bit, I mean a lot, because I'm streamlining the objective here. I used to whine about everything and wax poetic, but that doesn't really incite creativity or draw (hopefully) readership. So it's time to write what I know, and what may draw attention--SEX. Sensational? Not really anymore, but maybe I can add my take. Interesting? Um, it better be or I'm in deep crap.

Also, as a departure to what seems to be normal blogging, this is going to be an interactive deal....so prep questions, requests for tips/tricks, suggestions, articles, etc. and shoot me an email. All will be anonymous, and it should provide QUITE the entertainment.

Your new fearless blogger,

jt