#SoapboxSunday

A new phenomenon has beckoned this weekend created by the Gayboy Clones™: #NakedSunday. Before now it has been incubated in the petri dishes of the nations Gay Dating sites for some years, like the STD test of the local bar man at the grottiest nightclub. But more recently, it’s taken to Twitter, bubbling under the surface like a parasite, threatening the very existence of the lovely, wholesome social network, (hyperbole, me? Never).

Groomed by some of the most prolific wannabe budget porn stars on the #UkGayBoyCloneScene, #NakedSunday was forced down our throats by various perverts and sleazy gays, desperate to get the sordid hashtag into the Trending Topics, (I think I’d rather #Death2BeiberH8rs or #HarryStylesMarryME!!!). All this in the hope of seeing some egotistical offerings of someone who visits the gym twice a week and who decided to take the photo of themselves posing ‘sexily’ for the camera in the bedroom their mum hasn’t bothered to decorate since they were 7.

Some might even think the hashtag and weekly feature - good God, I hope it doesn’t turn into that - is a good idea. I mean, it’s win/win right? If you’re a dirty pervert, you get to ‘brighten’ your grotty bedsit with a laminated print out of some teenager sponsored by Clearasil. And if you’re some teenager, you hope to attach a footpump to your ego and inflate. Fabulous.

What about those that don’t want our otherwise wholesome feeds populated with dicks - and not just the personality variety? We have to put up with your egos forcing aside the excellent, insightful and often-humorous posts of 140-character goodness from our normal selection of people we follow. Along with the RT’s of people desperately trying to get the attention of people they hopelessly hang onto in the hope of gaining some second-hand popularity.

If I didn’t eat for 2 weeks, I would have a 6 pac, but despite being incredibly hungry, I wouldn’t post a #NakedSunday photo, even in return for a 6” subway. Why? Not because I’m a prude, (trust me, I’m not!) but because I have something I can’t buy, and that followers cannot give me: Dignity. And with Dignity comes self-respect and class. Now, don’t get me wrong, I might be looking down at those of you involved with #SordidSunday from my high horse, but I can roll around in KFC grease and drink until my liver screams as much as the next 21 year old. But I can also keep my dignity and my self-respect in tact.

The biggest thing about some of the photos on display is not in fact the guy’s manhood (dream on, sunshine,) but the egos. I’ve typed this as feverishly and angrily as some of you may have wanked over some of the egos put on display as part of #EgoSunday, and I fully intend whore this post out as much as some have whored their unwanted nudity.

Twitter is a social network; we all follow celebrities, some of us even follow Porn Star celebrities, y’know, the ones who describe themselves as ‘Model/Actor/PornWhore’. But, first and foremost, it’s a microblogging, social network. It’s not here to populate the darkest corners of the Internet that are not already inhabited by Fitlads, gaydar or the dedicated XTube account you fill with pictures of your knob.

Is it any wonder that as a sexuality we’re painted by the Daily Mail column trolls as being without morals? We, as a gender, are incredibly sexual creatures; we enjoy looking after our bodies, which is why many guys go to the gym. But how are we to change opinions on what Melanie Phillips calls, ‘the gay agenda’, when we’re represented by some as sordid sex-mongers, who desperately seek gratification from people on the internet, by posting pictures under the guise of #NakedSunday.

The problem with twitter is that it promotes the myth that the higher the follower numbers, the bigger the popularity. However, Internet popularity is meaningless. I would much rather be followed for the content of my posts, than the definition of my pecs.

Previous Posts

This blog has been long neglected, and I apologise to Blogger for that.

If you read on, you'll reach some posts which were written well over a year ago, and that if I re-read I'd cringe into a pit of 'OMG, I SOUNDED LIKE THAT?!' So yes... Anything ^^ is new anything below is old.

Thanks for reading.

While some elements of this post are philosophical and reflective, others are of a confessional feel. Aspects are ‘Confessions of an older me,’ while others are mantras I need to start living by. I just wanted to put pixel to screen and write what I felt. I’m incredibly proud of the journey I’ve taken and the man I’ve become, although, I look back on point 1 and feel like a little boy again.

I felt as though the strength it took to move wasn’t worth where I was going.

1. You might not think it. But it will get better. You will have a bright and promising future.

When I was 15 I fought with depression, or I thought I did. I was fortunate enough that it was mild and that I had an incredible support network... But I ignored it. It was as though any step I took towards development was meaningless in light of the distance I had to travel. It wasn't long before I turned hatred in on myself. I would imagine a world where I wouldn't have to deal with the terrifying thoughts in my head, where I would prove my mortality. Sadistic images began to creep into my mind like a parasite; it attacked the pillars of my stability, weakening me.

Spiralling out of control I couldn't focus on the advice I was getting from someone I reached out to. My coping mechanism wasn't healthy and they advised I spoke to a nurse to ensure I wasn't at danger. The opinion was that I was a danger to myself. Have you ever had a moment where you're paralysed by fear, where white noise encompasses your senses and leaves you numb?

I got through it, although there was a point in my life where I could only ever find happiness in conjuring dark and sick thoughts, I have made it to a place where I am confident and I am happy. I know there are things I am scared of, but I know I can cope with them. I am physically scarred and I am scarred by the memories of something that at the time was more powerful than I was.

I guess what I’m saying is:

2. It gets better.

Now, I’m more offended by someone who’s right handed than who they find attractive! I’m sure while in our teens, battling with the idea of finding the same sex attractive caused us to act naively. I was no different. I didn’t act on my feelings in the best way, and there was one time where someone threatened to ‘out me.’ Now, I’d end up saying

‘You think they don’t know… Have you seen me mince from club to club after one too many vodkas?!’

I don’t treat my sexuality as a secret any longer. It’s a fact about me, no different from the colour of my hair, the scar on my forehead, or my sense of humour. Someone being offended by my attraction to the male form says more about their prejudices than my sexual orientation. I’m loved by the people I love for everything I am. I won’t waste my time considering all the ways I could wrong people who dislike me.

3. WORK. WORK WORK WORK.

You’ve got an essay in next Tuesday? You’ve got a week, why not start it now? No, you want to start it the night before? Cool. NO. NOT COOL! Sure, you didn’t fail anything and you did ok, but OK? ‘Ok’ won’t get you the job you want when you’re up against ‘exceeding’ or ‘outstanding’. Grades and education didn’t seem like everything… But when I look back on it, all I have from my time at school are some great and some grim memories, and my grades. Memories won’t help me make money, or support a family, or give to charity… Or buy me an Audi R8.

4. If it has a dick, he’ll behave like one too.

He felt like the best thing to happen to your life? No one ever made you feel so special? Until the day where you welcomed a rain, to clear the air, purge it of your hurt, but mainly to mask the tears he caused. Now, I wasn’t and I’m not naïve enough to believe that it was love, but I could certainly see myself growing to. I remember I was in my best friends kitchen and I said, ‘Do you think my mother would like him?!’ He laughed and said, ‘He hasn’t even shown an interest.’ I wanted to see it so much; I looked for something that was not there. In films, there can be the manipulative, calculated one who knows the right buttons to press and when, not only to get your juices flowing, but to get what he wants. He played the part like a pro.

I’m not cynical enough to believe all men would stab me in the back shortly after flipping me onto it… Or maybe I should be. Guilty until proven innocent might be a good mantra to live by for dating.

5. Love yourself… And lighten up!

“Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow.”

Albert Einstein.

A cross section of a troubled sexuality.

"Always recognize that human individuals are ends, and do not use them as means to your end. "

Emmanuel Kant.

It's the 21st Century. iPhones, Smartphones and the Internet have revolutionised(?!) gay dating. Or they would have done, had the male mind not been predominantly sexual based. What I mean is, what were once social tools, have now become a means to getting sex. Maybe that's the way their creators always intended them to be used, who knows?! I think you can categorize the majority of people on these sites into the following:

The 'Serial Boyfrienders':

Relationships don't last long, a week, two if they're really 'special'. They have a new boyfriend every week. They're normally seen with 'new meat' hanging from their arm, and their every word.

The 'Serial Boyfriender (The Devoted ones)':

These ones are much like the above, however, every new boyfriend is 'THE ONE.' The name once lovingly tattooed at the top of their arm is now scratched out... they're running out of skin.

The 'Already got a boyfriend, but looking anyway':

These ones already have a boyfriend, sometimes Long Term, their picture won't be their own, it'll be of someone else, probably hotter. Usually the alter-ego would regularly boast that they're with 'the wife', 'the missus', 'The Boy', etc, but would drop them if a better model fluttered their eye-lashes.

The 'Open-Relationship and Three sums':

These ones are making no attempt at hiding that they've got a boyfriend, nor that they are still looking for 'No Strings Fun'. It's a mutual thing they've decided. Let's face it, 2 years of eachothers company can get draining, so let's invite the world and his wife into our bedroom. (Please note: I have nothing against this, no one is getting hurt, and there are no lies.)

The 'Genuine Relationshippers':

I'm not so cynical and embittered that I think these don't exist. They do. They're hiding in plain sight. They're so comfortable with each other that they're not flaunting their love for all to see. They don't buy into clichés, they are who they are, and they love each other for that.

The 'I spend my life on my back, but I'm not a slag':

These ones are sneaky. They'll pretend that they're interested in you for you. You're 'really cool,' 'OMG SO FUNNY!' and they 'LOVE spending time with you.' But only when you're both naked... You go for a drink, you're really enjoying things, telling yourself it's going well... BUT OH NO! You get to his, his clothes dissappear, the moment comes, and you never hear from him again!

The 'I'm old, but I'll still make a move and make you feel uncomfortable':

These guys don't take no for an answer, nor will they take 'I'm sorry, you're not my type, however I hope you find what you're looking for.'

The 'Single':

These guys are single, they hold out hope that there are guys BEYOND the above.

The 'Single Part II':

These guys are happy in their own social circle, they don't mind being single, whatever happens, happens.

I'm sure this has seemed bitter and cynical, however, I've been around for a while. While I like to think I know it all, I certainly don't. I'm wrong. Happiness IS out there, there WILL be a happy ending. Glass isn't just half full, it's spilling over the top... onto that nice doily your mother made you.

If you recognise these traits in yourself, I hope I've not offended you. If you fall under The 'Single' don't let people treat you as a means to an end (to cure their horny-ness.) YOU are an end in yourself.

Live in Hope.

Is the juice worth the squeeze?

I've been trying to decide on whether or not to write this blog or not for some time. I have too much in my head to tweet... But not enough to write a length blog. Quite the conundrum. Anyway, anyone who knows me well enough, or even barely knows me, will know that I can be quite neurotic and high maintenance. I'll over think the smallest details of something that matters to me. Although, now this is what perplexes me, it's normally only in regards to love/lust and men. If I like someone, I'll act in a completely different manner to my usual self. Normally I'm a laid back sorter guy, with few hang-ups. But when I like someone, I'll analyse the amount of kisses on the end of their text, I'll think about all the possible meanings of one of their texts. I drive myself mad doing it, but I cannot help it. It's something that's been with me since I started this 'gay-thing'.

I get attached quite easily. This isn't ever a good thing, as normally, it ends in heartbreak. I'm a romantic sorter guy, with traditional values, I try not to sleep about. When I'm with someone, I won't cheat, etc etc. I don't know why I get attached, but for a while, I enjoy it, I enjoy having someone to miss, having someone to look forward to seeing.

I'm happy to be like this, I can endure the mess that I become, the erratic behaviour and mood swings. I ask my self is the juice worth the squeeze.

"Hello. Can't work today, still queer."

If being homosexual was a curse, we'd all be calling in sick to work!

There's been a lot of publicity over homosexuality recently. More and more young guys and girls who battle with their sexuality and the stereotypes they're faced with, are ending their lives prematurely. When you first start to realise you're gay you've got so much going on, if you tell someone, you risk them taking it the wrong way, outing you, and you're in a potentially worse position than if you'd bottled it.

When I was younger, I always got on with girls better than guys and never played football. However, I had a huge crush on a girl in my year, and if I remember correctly I'd managed to get her to go out with me for quite a while. This was back in Primary School so it was strictly U-Rated, I think we may have briefly brushed lips this one time when we both tripped up, but it's ok! I got myself checked for Cooties!

I remember I was often taunted for being gay when I got into my final years of Primary school. I didn't understand why and this really upset me. I began to create negative connotations of homosexuality from the way I was treated. Then years later, when Puberty grabbed my by the throat and hurled me into a new world of sexual desires for well... guys.

This was utterly terrifying. Do you know what it's like to have unrestricted access to the internet and tentatively search Google images for 'naked men'? I'll tell you, it's odd. It's even more odd getting an erection over it... and then searching 'Cocks'. I don't mind telling you there was a moment of relief where I found I didn't have an erection over a Cockerel, damn Strict Filtering Tool!

My first wank was over the homepage of GaySuperCocks. Just saying it reminds me of how I felt, that curious excitement of seeing someone elses cock. I remember I sat in the toilet for 20 minutes afterwards praying to God, pleading with him to not let me be gay. 'It's just a phase,' I told myself, 'Everyone guy does it, morbid curiosity, right?!' No. Not right. I WISH someone had been there to tell me that it's not something to be afraid of. Because it's not.

The first person I came out to was my best friend named Chris. It was less of a coming out and more of a 'I really like you, I'm not entirely sure why...but... kinda... do you feel these feelings to... do you... er....' yeah... Then he guessed what I was getting at. I was very fortunate in that he laughed it off, didn't take offence nor did he take a bat to my face, Hoorah! He became my confidante, a rock that helped me manage my double life. Then I told my female best friend, I don't think I handled it as well as she did. I sent her a text saying, 'I've got something to tell you, and I really don't want it to affect our friendship.' Just recently she confessed that she was worried I was going to confess my love for her! But she was thrilled for me, she understood the step I'd taken and was proud of herself that she'd made me feel comfortable enough to tell her.

And the rest they say, is history. Now, I've accepted my sexuality as part of my life, I'm happy. I'm comfortable. I've heard people say, 'You've changed since you came out.' Well, of course I have, I can be me, I can be comfortable around people. My double life is no more. I am who I am, and if you don't like it, you don't deserve to be a part of my life. As they say, Be Who You Are and Say What You Feel Because Those Who Mind Don't Matter and Those Who Matter Don't Mind.

"Homosexuality is god's way of insuring that the truly gifted aren't burdened with children."

A Puzzle... One Piece Short.

Do you ever feel like your life is a puzzle? You can often see what you're aiming for, the image on the front of the box... An advert, displaying what your success can look like. Days, months, years in the making... All for that one promise. But what doesn't it show? The hard work that can go into it? The feeling of worth, satisfaction and pride that such a beautiful event or moment has occurred because of your own hard work and determination?

Well, I'll stop the riddles... At the moment I feel that the image I can see is missing a piece... I might not even have all the pieces I need to create the image I need to reach... Which is highly frustrating.

Unfortunately, this is most likely a Larkinist idea. The idea that No matter how much work you put in, it's never going to fulfil the promise of what you expected to see...

I've kind of forgotten what I wanted to achieve from writing this post, which is infuriating. So.... What I'll do, is just write. I do it enough on twitter, but I expect this to have a little more volume...

• I have a short attention span. I cannot help it, but I just get really bored. Some call it lazy (my mother). I'll often start writing a post, and about 10 minutes later, I'll be bored and I'll start youtube video hopping.
• I'm an emotional-mess sometimes. But I try not to dwell on it, otherwise I'll never cheer up
• You probably won't know what I mean by cheer down... but there are times when I just have so much energy that I feel fit to burst... I need an appropriate outlet for it...so I need to level myself out, to a normal point...
• The scene in Mr And Mrs Smith where they fight and they then make love, is one of my most favourite scenes... EVER...

The reason I love it so much is because it's so passionate (probably because there was as much off-screen heat between BrAngelina as there was on! OUCH... BURN!)

I feel I should be doing something... I have the fire in my belly and it feels like I've poured petrol on it... But I cannot see what I can put it towards... As I'm ridiculously short of attention.