Homosexual Suspect

Straight-Acting

2006-05-29T14:49:00.000-04:00

"Hot, 24 yo, Straight-acting masc vgl guy"... ahh words that are repeated over and over on Craigslist day after day...

As I mentioned earlier in a post that generated some response from Stolie, I certainly have an opinion on the use of the term "straight-acting" or "bisexual" in describing oneself to a potential fuck buddy. Now, I myself am not "ultra-feminine or queeny," but I wouldn't say that I exude masculinity and gruffness, either. However, I did write a term paper on this phenomenon in college. It is all based on one small theory-- why is it hot for a potential fuck buddy to appear straight to another guy when obviously the two would never date?

Now, I realize that the obvious answer is most gay men don't want a relationship, and would rather fuck all day long as many times as they can. But this answer is also so pre-Brokeback Mountain and all those other "it's cool to be gay like Jake Gyllenhall" fads. This is when it seems all gay couples in the New York area suddenly starting walking hand in hand and making it utterly apparent that they were happy with their life partner/boyfriend/fuck buddy/daddy/little bro/slave/bear/twink/Chelsea boy/power bottom.

Then again... I think it's symptomatic of something much worse: gay-bashing within the gay community. It's almost like gay men end up hating other gay men who are feminine or queeny. Does this make sense? Of course it does. There is this kind of "inner group" hatred in every demographic you can imagine: I'm white but I hate white trash; I'm Bill Cosby but I hate thugs; I'm from West Virginia but I hate the hicks from Eastern Kentucky; I'm Samantha Jones but I hate other sluts.

In the gay community, there is literally a book describing just that. Sissyphobia is an excellent resource that offers a more expert opinion on how this dynamic works in the gay community. for a good laugh, you should check out Straightacting.com. I just went back to it for the first time since I wrote my paper three years ago, and found that it looks cooler, but had crashed recently. It used to have a feature where you could look at pictures of other guys and rate how "straight acting" they appeared. Yeah. You read that right. But, they describe themselves as "Masculinely Politically Incorrect," but I think a better description would be "Gay Politically Incorrect." Because they aren't warping the idea of masculine. They are trying to warp the idea of gay. And that's all fine by me.

You may recall from some of my previous posts that I don't really think there's anything wrong with specifying the type of guy you'd like in your online dating profile. If you want to sleep with a black guy because you like black guys, then why not say that and save other unsuspecting guys the time? Similarly, if you like young guys, even if you're 50, why not say that up front and save the other oldies who might want to get with you some time?

However, if you like masculine guys, then say just that-- because saying you like straight-acting guys makes you sound fucking retarded.

Guilty Pleasure

2006-05-23T22:53:00.000-04:00

So the movie Straight Talk starring Dolly Parton and James Woods is on HBO right now. The other day, HBO was showing Rhinestone with Sylvester Stallone and Dolly. Incidentally, I'm also eating Edy's slow-churned caramel ice cream. I also found some good porn earlier.

Thank God for guilty pleasures.

Cyber-sex? Seriously?

2006-05-20T02:06:00.000-04:00

What was I thinking?

No, really, WTF?

I work in a profession where gay men are abundant. This is great for other gay men, except there's always the whole, "Dipping your nub in the office ink" bit to contend with.

We've already seen what terrible things can happen by hooking up with guys who END UP working with you (remember the guy who looked familiar to me, and then turned out to be a relatively bad anonymous hook up? DAMN!)

Currently, I've got two very fucked up work relationships going on. One is with a very young guy who found an ad I placed on Craigslist a while back. We'll call him Junior Boy. Well, for some reason, even though I knew he worked for the same company as I did, I just decided to lie and say I USED to work for the company, only now I've since moved on and I now work elsewhere. I thought it was going to be anonymous one-night so-so sex. I mean, really, what is it with this new, clingy generation of anonymous sex fiends? LET IT GO! First there are fucking psychos like Round Peg out there who want to jump me (not in a good, 1998 way), then there are guys that just get hired by your company, and then, there is Junior Boy.

JB is always texting me, asking to hook up. He always asks, "What do you want to do?" WTF kind of question is that? If we hooked once, you know what I want to do, and, Jesus, there really aren't all that many choices (well, at least not for JB; like all members of the oldest profession, I reserve for kink for special occasions). I always want to reply to that question with something like, "Get off, what the fuck else?" But I usually want to keep them coming over. Damn this addiction. It really has brought me in contact with some fucked up folks (note the irony that sentence-- I know, pot, kettle, both black...). Well, Oreo and Todd (my roommates) both work for my company as well and somehow I think Todd ran into JB. (This is due in part to that fact that I received a message from JB asking what my other roommate's name was-- "the gay one" I did, in fact, consider outing Oreo as a big old lesbian, for the record.) I'm not really sure, but I think JB would flip out if he found out we worked for the same company. He's just kind of weird-- in that way that he says he's bi but then really just wants to get off. (Don't even get me started on Straight-acting or bisexual men... I might flip out myself if I get going on that topic).

But then there is PAC man. PAC man is pretty much the exact opposite of JB. PAC man and I met almost a year ago and I totally thought he was hot as hell. He's my type of Latin man with hairy chest and goatee... tall and built. Perfect. But also taken and appeared to have no interest in a fling or two. Fine by me. I didn't see PAC man again until we started working together much more closely in January of 2006. I started to notice he was always checking me out, but it really felt like it always does when older guys look at me-- you know that weird, "Aww, isn't he cute?" look. (P.S. PAC man is like 31, I think, so don't worry about me sleeping with another member of the geriatric word just yet).

Of course, I did a little research on PAC man and found out he has a partner (they all do) and is going to school for some kind of degree (tell you how interested I really was). But then, last night, he responded to an email I had sent. That would have been all fine and good if I hadn't been drunk. I then responded to his email with a thank you for his quick response to mine and asked him how school was going. That would have been all well and good if he hadn't responded by telling me and then mentioning something that I took and ran with. Somehow he said he was glad I was "finally opening up and offering"... At which point, I asked him if we could take the conversation off company email. He have me his screen name and we switched venues rather quickly.

I should mention that up until this point, Oreo and I had been sitting on the sectional flipping between the Food Network and Beetlejuice. Incidentally, we were both marveling at our abilities to flirt so well over the Internet with men we really didn't have anything invested in.

Obviously, I knew when my conversation with PAC Man was going and I needed to get some privacy. As soon as PAC man got chatting, he asked for my email address and sent me a picture of his cock. It wasn't as big as I hoped or had imagined (Cock Shock). But he was proud of it. Somehow, I've managed to make it through the world of online dating without ever taking naked pictures of myself. (I did take a few shots on my camera phone once, come to think, and I also used someone else's pics for a while, but it was just an ass shot, and it's kind of hard to tell. White boys' asses all look the same, right? And, besides, I never got caught). Well PAC man and I started chatting and things seemed to be heading the way of cyber sex.

I know.

I know.

Cyber sex is so 1996. And I knew it. I really did. But the words just gushed. It was like I was going down memory lane. I mean, this is how I passed much of the time in middle school. (ahh... The days before Dateline was arresting all the guys who like dot talk to 12 year old boys... HS SARCASM ALERT: I do not condone being 12 and cyber-fucking with older men, nor do I condone being an older man and cyber-fucking with 12 year-olds. Gross.)

All was going pretty good with our chat session and we were going pretty strong when he drops the whole, "Well, I like and respect you, so I should tell you I have a partner. But he doesn't know about this and we have problems... it is what it is."

I ignored him and told him to sit on my face.

Insensitive is not the correct adjective to describe my cyber sex personality- horny is.

But you know, even after, like, a year's worth of fantasizing about PAC man, I couldn't finish with our cyber sex. I had to think about some past boys to get off just because I was too invested to just let it go and go to bed (without risking a huge case of blue balls). I suppose that means that I'm just not that into him.

It apparently doesn't much matter because he never really responded today and I think it was a one-off encounter. Please explain to me how it is possible that men you have cyber sex with are more capable of pulling one night stands than guys you actually meet!!!??? Whatever happened to manners?

*********************

In other news, I met some new friends tonight whilst out and about with Polly: Betty and Downtown. Great gals that will certainly provide more entertainment in Friday nights to come, I hope!

Thoughts on Watersports

2006-05-17T22:44:00.000-04:00

Perhaps it's the shock I feel from the busy work day I had today.

Maybe I'm still reeling from Chris Daughtry's absence from American Idol this week. (Oh, for the record, I still hate Katharine McPhee).

Whatever the reason, I just feel like telling a story of years gone by. This one involves urine, piss, water, Viagra, prostitution, and, well, bad things.

So there was a period in my life just after college when the new job, the new apartment, the new everything-- didn't really work. I ended up looking for alternative sources of income. In fact, I played to my strengths, and thought I'd see if I could make some money off of what I was good at. Of course, thanks to things like Craigslist and the dirty old men of Manhattan, I was able to make ends meet for a little while longer. (Truth be told, I was able to buy everyone on my Christmas list great presents to feed my shopping addiction as well, but I digress. Sexual addiction feeding shopping addiction-- is that the Circle of Life or what?). I ended up meeting a man we'll call Lumpy (he looked a little like what I would imagine an animatronic serving of mashed potatoes would resemble).

Lumpy lived just up the street from me on the Upper East Side, except he lived on Park Ave. and not First Ave., but I digress. From the first time I went to see him, I knew something was off. I'd walk by and wonder if the doorman knew I was just one of the "boys." I'd always count money in the elevator on the way down because I just felt it was rude to do it in front of Lumpy. Finally, I'd always wonder if the IRS would ever catch me for depositing unaccounted for income into my bank account (for those of you out there wondering, and I know you are, I went for like $160-$240 per event. Total, I think I made about $1600 before I finally decided that no amount of money was worth that kind of self-degradation.)

So anyway, Lumpy was one of the guys I saw the most. I probably went there 6-8 times in total. I even helped him put us his Christmas tree that year. Lumpy's story goes like this: He came over from England, met a woman in LA, fell in love, then moved to NYC and raised his family. His wife and he are business partners and may or may not have actually been divorced. Whatever the real story, Lumpy still had some weird fetishes. He was definitely a bottom. He owned this like toilet seat cover that you could sit on so he could rim you easier. Pretty gross if you ask me. But what made it particularly sick was that after each session he'd carve a notch into the little seat cover with my initials "HS". Gross.

I remember the first time Lumpy asked me to pee in his mouth. I was shocked. Appalled. A little turned on. I didn't have to pee either. But, I figured that even though I would never drink someone's piss myself, why deny him his pleasure? And Lumpy figured if I drank 3 glasses of water, I'd be good to go. (Incidentally, have you ever noticed that whenever you go to a stranger's house to hook up, they always offer you a drink first? It really is amazing how polite guys are eve when they know they'[re going to be cumming in your face in about 20 minutes-- if you're lucky!) If it makes you happy... BUT PISSING IN SOMEONE'S MOUTH IS REALLY HARD! Well, it's hard not to get hard. I mean, your dick is in his mouth and all, so it's hard to convince your dick that it's not getting a blowjob and is supposed to pony up as if it's back at a urinal. When it finally happens, he's all, "Don't go too fast." Well, it's so difficult to control the stream sometime.

I'll definitely be writing more about Lumpy and my time spent as a less-than-admirable man of the night.

Essentially-- it's gross. But sometimes you have to live by the mantra: Whatever floats your boat, just don't sink mine! (translation, I'll piss in your mouth, just don't piss in mine.)

Disastrous Backsliding

2006-05-14T00:36:00.000-04:00

It's kind of funny: when I first started writing this blog, I got the impression that it would actually be therapeutic for me "purge" all of my ridiculous sexual history. In the beginning, it really felt like "outing" my addiction would be the answer to so many problems and that things would finally start to work themselves out.

But you know that didn't happen. Since I started Homosexual Suspect, I ended up getting involved with psycho crazy Round Peg and all that shit, and then I went to Chicago. Really, I could have made a porn in my beautiful hotel room in Chicago. I put an ad on Craigslist there and the midwestern men, they came a-running. From 5:30 pm until about 9:00 I had 3 different men show up to my room for blowjobs. Let's give a quick rundown- first guy was creepy and kind of smelled bad, but had a nice enough dick and it was over pretty quick. Next guy had a nice body and a small dick, but that too was over quick enough. The third guy is the interesting one. He was younger than me (interesting plus!) and hot. He had a great body and one of those rare actual huge cocks. It was perfect and beautiful except it had a wicked bend in it so you know he could never actually have comfortable sex.

It bend downward so that, even when he was hard, it looked just like a monster limp dick. I'm not sure if I'm accurately describing this or not, but that's just how it was. He was one of those guys who just likes to be worshipped. Basically, I ended up giving him a one hour blowjob all through American Idol (but I still was able to write down the lines to text my votes in for Chris and Paris-- although we all know how far that got me)...

It was one of those blowjobs where you end up snotting and actually crying because it's gone on so long and you need tissue in order not to look totally disgusting. My favorite part of this encounter was that this guy's Chicago accent was just as thick as his cock. Literally, he was saying things like, "Suck my cock" that sounded more like "cack" and it just made laugh. I guess I'm just used to the NYC guys who have so many accents it's hard and actually rare to find a native.

Now, we could look at this obvious backsliding or return to sexual addiction as a simple case of lack of willpower. Maybe I need to go to some more meetings. Who knows. I think what happened was that I thought I was healing and I wanted to see instant results. But an addiction that's been growing for more than 10 years can't be cured in just 8 months of meetings. At work we went through this great training where we were learning listening and counseling skills. One of the things they focused on was the idea that people approach problems in their personal lives the same way they approach work problems. This of course is just plain wrong. At work, when a problem comes up, any good employee looks to quickly find the best solution and get it worked out ASAP to keep the boss happy. This ends up working its way into our personal lives, too and causes us to expect the same kind of quick fixes to make out personal lives better. In reality, we don't realize that our personal lives don't have deadlines, and that we should take our time to sort that shit out.

So, while I did backslide, it's probably better if I look at it as just part of the process and continue to figure out what triggers these "episodes". More to come on developments on this front.

In the meantime, I've been out a few times with some of the NYC Blogger-elite. If anything, this blog is therapeutic, but has also helped me to branch out and meet some amazing, albeit ridiculous, people-- Polly, Dolly, Stolie, and Pookalu, just to name a few! I am definitely enjoying these ridiculous women, and who the fuck knows what additional trouble I will end up in when I gallivant around NYC in the company of these ladies.

You Might be a Sex Addict If...

2006-05-07T12:36:00.000-04:00

In the spirit of the Kentucky Derby, my birthday, and all things redneck shabby chic, I offer Jeff Foxworthy-esque comical observations about sex addiction:

You Might be a Sex Addict If... even when you're sick, sunburned, or otherwise physically repulsive, you still look for ways to convince someone to get you off.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you file a grievance with your health insurance claiming that STI/STD/HIV testing is, in fact, preventive medicine and it should therefore be 100% covered.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you've ever been turned on or got off to the cooing of the pigeons outside your New York apartment window having mistaken the fowl noises for the rough grunting of your neighbor upstairs getting laid.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you check people out in church including, but not limited to, priests, pastors, deacons, nuns, members of the choir, eucharistic ministers, et. al (I'd include acolyes and altar boys/girls here, but that's just sick-- while most pedophiles probably are sex addicts, it is important to note that most sex addicts are NOT also pedophiles so this is just like one of those "a rectangle is a square, but a square is not a rectangle" things.)

You Might be a Sex Addict If... even though you're grossed out by them, you still wouldn't mind trying watersports, or bondage, or fisting.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you've ever had one of those moments during sex where you suddenly realize this position is just like one you saw in that porn you haven't seen in ages.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... if you linger way too long looking at the "escort" or "companion" parts of the yellow pages or the pink pages or one of those great alternative newspapers that offer lots of sex advertisements.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... when your parents let you look at the Sears catalog to pick out toys for Christmas, you always ended up flipping past the toys and looking at the underwear models instead.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... when there's no porn around and you need a little visual stimulation, you go dig up those catalog underwear models of yesteryear to push you over the edge.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... by the time you graduated high school you had had a sexual fantasy or, if you were lucky, a wet dream about almost your entire graduating class, and most of the faculty and underclassmen too (this includes the ones that weren't "classically" sexy-- the girl with the wolf shirts on in chemistry class, the teacher with the tuft of gray chest hair that somehow managed to work its way out of every shirt the guy worse, no matter what... you get the idea...)

You Might be a Sex Addict If... when your doctor tells you you've got gonorrhea you're secretly happy because it's one of the ones that you can treat and have it go away without it coming back every month or so (unlike that inconsiderate HPV).

You Might be a Sex Addict If... when you do test positive and the doctor/department of health ask you to contact your sexual partners, you aren't nervous about having the conversation with them at all because you don't even know their name, let alone contact information.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you start to recognize the writing styles of the Craigslist regulars.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you've ever masturbated to one of those late-night infomercials with the muscle-y guys and hot-ass chicks working out on the beach (Bowflex, Soloflex, 8 minute abs, whatever...).

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you live in perpetual fear of erectile disfunction or frigidity.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... after every unsafe/abnormal/otherwise fucked up sexual encounter you start to think of all the ways that you could lose your sex drive (smoke pot, take Zoloft, etc.)

You Might be a Sex Addict If... every time your friends talk to you about their sex lives you feel like it is a personal challenge for you to be able to solve their problem by offering advice about sex toys, cock rings, new positions, etc.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you are fluent in Online Dating lingo (PnP, ff, vgl, c/uc, jo, s2r, bb, parTy, and the list goes on and on).

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you've ever lied to someone about your age, weight, height, sexual preference, or position preference just to get them to sleep with you so that you can get off with someone else.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you feel like you've jacked off enough times to realize that it's not going to make you blind, but you still can't help but wonder if this next time will be "the one."

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you find yourself constantly disappointed by all of the sexual amateurs out there who just don't seem to be nearly as experiences as you are.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you pretty much lie to everyone you know about the full extent of your sex life thinking that, really, it's your business and it should be private.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you rationalize all of your sex partners as just a necessary part of the "hunt" to find the right mate.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you would bring someone to fuck with back to your place even if your parents, your roommate's parents, or your boyfriend/girlfriend's parents were staying there too; but you're always sure to use another room.

You Might be a Sex Addict If... you got the end of this posting and thought, "Hey HS, you forgot this one..."

Please help me add to this list! Submit a comment!

What I Thought About "I am a Sex Addict"

2006-04-25T23:01:00.000-04:00

Friday night, after Oreo and I went out and about with some of the choicest New York Bloggers, we headed over to the West Village to catch "I am a Sex Addict" which was showing at the IFC Center.

I should preface this story by letting you all know that I technically discovered "I am a Sex Addict" after I stumbled upon the director's (a man named Caveh) blog on the google during a quick search for blogs about sex addiction. I glanced around the blog but didn't really pay too much attention to it, because I was just glancing around. Well, then, of course, Craigslist intervened. Oreo was once again scouring the "Men Seeking Women" ads and found a most peculiar ad. It seems there was this gentleman who was looking for someone to go spend the afternoon with him at a showing of "I am a Sex Addict." Is it just me, or is that, without a doubt, the worst date movie in the history of the world? I mean, really. That would be a bad date in the first place, but to go on a blind date to that movie just seems too funny even for my blog.

I went to the movie for all of the obvious reasons, and Oreo went, because, well we were dressed really cute and she likes to be seen with a handsome man in his best spring Seersucker jacket.

This movie is funny. It's even funny to people who don't like to hear about sex. I think this is because Caveh is not an attractive man. In fact, I think part of the ultimate irony is that this man is a sex addict, but you just can't imagine who would ever want to have sex with him in the first place. In fact, Caveh is actually a sex addict with a prostitute fetish. I would venture to say that "prostitute fetish" is really just code for "If ugly guys are sex addicts, then since they can't get anyone to have sex with the for free willingly, then they either wind up as sexual predators or people with prostitute fetishes."

Caveh and I don't have a lot in common, short of a penis. He's from Connecticut and into film and the indie scene (hell, for like 90% of the movie, he is in this outfit of black pants, a white shirt and this heinous black vest). I'm just not either of those things. But, we definitely have a similar sense of humor about our sex lives. As he progresses deeper and deeper into sexual addiction, he makes light of the situation and talks just as matter-of-factly as yours truly. That was how I was able to recognize that the movie was certainly based on reality-- it definitely struck a cord.

The whole movie focuses around Caveh's three major relationships throughout his adult life and how he struggles the whole time to deal with sexual addiction as the relationships crumble. In the end, he realizes that he might have and addiction, and goes to a Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting to cry, testify, and presumably go through a 12-step program, all in the last 10 minutes. Then, of course, the movie ends with Caveh in a church getting married to someone.

You might have noticed that I seemed to really enjoy the movie but still hate the ending. That's because it felt like a cop-out. It's so easy to make the process of sexual addiction funny. It's easy to make light of all the ridiculous decisions the brain of a sex addict deems wise and judicious. In the end, it would be great to see a movie that really shows the difficulty of recovering from this addiction. (By the way, I realize that at the moment, my blog is all about focusing on the funny parts of the addiction, but I know that over time, things will bounce in and out of serious. Yeah, I'm mostly a hypocrite, but just bear with me.)

In the meantime, I'll settle for "I am a Sex Addict" just because I know that at least between the creepy AA sponsor on Desperate Housewives and this new film that long over-due recognition of this addiction.

Round Peg update: Nothing new. Things are quiet... too quiet. I did discuss the situation with Annelle (my friend in LA) and we talked about how funny it would be if he took posted the flyers around and pasted my face onto the body of a naked guy. See, I never took naked pictures, ever, so all he has is a face pic and the subject of my post "Get Your Dick Sucked." Really, I see his plan as just basically free publicity. And even bad publicity is still publicity, right?

Round Peg Interruptions

2006-04-24T23:43:00.000-04:00

Holy hell. What a night.

Work was very stressful today and my brain just was unable to comprehend facts or write clever things about movies I saw last weekend.

Then, to top it off, I got home to find 4 messages from my new Craigslist stalker, Round Peg.

He offered the usually psychotic bits of messages, including things like, "What are you up to?" to "I see you and your lies after lies."

Great. But today, the email battle ends. It's just not worth it.

Today he wrote the following,

"I am seeing your true colors. lie after lie after lie. I am going to forward this and other mail and your posting on cl that I saved to all addresses and some very special ones known to you. I was just checking out how sincere you were of the apology. Not at all interested in meeting you. I am goin to do this and the posting in the bldg. I also have the pics that you took off from the website. I saved them before you could even think about it. ?

(at least this time, he spelled everything correctly, the nasty bastard.)

To which I (should have) dutifully responded,

"W. T. F."

But I finally came up with this:

"[Round Peg],

I am through. I have done all I can and offered my schedule when requested.

I wish you all the best and I'm truly sorry things were unable to be resolved. At this point, there can be no resolution to your satisfaction.

Take care and have a nice night.
[HS]"

And here's why-- really, what the hell do I care if he sends emails to guys on Craigslist or even posts that I'm a whore?! First off, I'm not in the closet, or even discrete/discreet. Second of all, I kind of am a whore. Maybe I'll get some good play out of it. Secondly, if he does jump me, that would be awesome (assuming I'd survive) because I could use the money from the hate crime settlement against the nasty son-of-a-bitch. Finally, if he does post pictures up in the building,I'll just deal with it. I've dealt with worse before (coming out to parents who were retired drill instructors in the United States Marine Corps coms to mind). I also sat through Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous.

So, I blocked him from my email account and I'll just wait. Let's Google him and his email address really quick. Hold, please. Ok, I got nothin'. If things get out of hand, I'll be sure and alert the masses. In the meantime, watch the news for hate crimes in New York. But, do try and keep the blog out of it-- I am trying to be anonymous here.

Tomorrow, I promise, my review of Caveh's "I am A Sex Addict", a discussion of going out with other bloggers and friends, and a look into the gay pick-up artist scene. Also, I'd like to start a discussion about what happens when acquaintances all of a sudden start sending text messages with "..." and other suggestive punctuation.

BUT WAIT, just as I was closing ou the blog... this came:

"Cliff,

I got your mail. Your call kept me up as I was anxious to see the mail. Not surprised. I have seen this face around. Lots of flames out here and so I do not bother to look at them. I am surprised at the post and the boldness that one would so foolishly give the address. The guy must be really frustrated. I will give you a call tommorrow.

Ciao
Attached Message
From: Round Peg
To: Yet Another Sick Bastard
Subject: Fwd: get your dick sucked/fuck some ass - 23
Date: Mon, 24 Apr 2006 11:54:19 PM Eastern Daylight Time
Hey bud,

This is the guy from your bldg that I was telling you about. This was his posting looking to suck and get fucked. I was reluctant to show you the pic out of respect for privacy. I am sending you one so you may know the face if you have seen him in the bldg.
You could forward him the mail when you get it so he knows it, but do not communicate or even call if he gives you his tel#. He could be nice and rude too. After what I told you he did and the apology and games. He has blocked my mail and so I am goin to do what I never intended even though I said. Are you able to print color copies of the pic and mail in your office printer as you have privacy at your workplace Let me know or I will get it done elsewhere. Call me tommorrow [sic]."

I am just going to wait until it all blows over. Sigh. But at least it's entertaining to watch them put so much energy into it, when, as mentioned before, it's actually not too big of a deal to me. Hopefully we'll get a few good blogs out of this one. Psycho.

Update

2006-04-24T01:39:00.000-04:00

Too hungover form long weekend/ was sick mid-week...

But prepare for tomorrow's triple play of fun and frisky HS postings....

1. Review of the film "I am a Sex Addict"
2. Discussion on the Gay Pick-up Artist Scene
3. homage to other NYC Bloggers I met this weekend

Stay tuned.

Lies My Roommate Told Me

2006-04-18T21:40:00.000-04:00

Oreo did bring home her Brooklyn Bridge man last night (which is quite a trip for them). I received a rather innocuous email whilst at work this morning:

"Oh, I hope you didn't hear anything last night/this morning."

What? What the hell is up with Oreo and her stupid, cryptic messages? Just come right out and admit you really wanted to get some and you were horny.

This confirms a suspicion I've always had about people who don't talk about their sex lives. I know, deep down in my heart of hearts, that I do have this problem with sex and that everyone else doesn't. I also know that addicts always think they're normal and that everybody else has the same problems they do. But seriously, I really think that some people just need to fess up. Let's call a spade a spade for God's sake. We have absolutely no reason not to talk about our sex lives. We learn a lot when we talk about sex. For instance, if it wasn't for me watching porn and then talking about it with a friend after sex, I would never have been prepared when I was faced with the prospect of double penetration (two penises, one asshole).

All too often, I think people are still freaked out by the idea of talking about their sex life. Short of sounding too much like Samantha from Sex in the City, there are times when talking about fucking just makes sense. That is, after all, the theory behind sex education, right?

To illustrate another story of one of the online hookups gone by, I'll offer up the story of my stolen wallet:

It was the summer after my senior year of high school. I was working at the mall, hanging out with friends, and checking out AOL chatrooms every night. I had a favorite porn site at this time. Now that I think about it, that summer, when I got my first credit card, I ended up signing up for my first membership to a porn site. Looking back, I can't imagine how the hell I managed to look at porn with a dial-up connection. (Maybe that is how I built my stamina; but I digress.) At any rate, porn you pay for is just basically paying for convenience. It's not like you CAN'T find enough for free online, but usually you only get like 10 pictures for free in the "tour" section. If you pay for a site, you get access to so many to so many pictures immediately, that there's no reason to click around all over the internet looking for that picture that's going to finish you off.

That summer, I met a guy online in a chatroom who was in his 20's. He seemed all right online and we planned for him to come over for some fun. He pulled up in one of those brand new VW Beetles that everybody wanted that year. Since I didn't have any condoms on hand I got in his car and we drove off to get some at the gas station. It was the first time I had gotten in the car with a complete stranger (and, of course, my "Stranger Danger" alert was going crazy). Anyway, we got back to my house and this guy just was not worth anything. He was a bad kisser, had a bad body, basically no dick, and because of that, he surely couldn't fuck me.

Hey, here's a quick question: why do guys with no dick still think they should be allowed to top? I'm not talking about ROY, he had a small dick, but it could get in there and do something. I'm talking about this New Beetle guy. He had maybe a thumb's worth of a cock. The other night, Oreo and I were watching Sue Johanson again on the Sunday Night Sex Show and a caller asked about the male G Spot. Sue said that you had get at least 1 and a half inches in the anus to get to the anterior rectum that presses on the prostate and makes you feel good. So, do you think I'd be completely rude to ask someone with a dick that small to just use a dildo already? (By the way, all of a sudden I have this amazing mental image of a tattoo on my ass that is like one of those things at Disneyland; I can just picture Peter Pan with a ruler right next to my asshole declaring "You must be at least this big to ride". Damn that is funny.)

Ok, New Beetle and I really couldn't have sex. The mechanics just didn't work. So, he left and we went about our business. Oh, but after he left, I noticed my wallet was gone (!). Now, this was perhaps days after I finally convinced my mother to let me have my Social Security Card. I ended calling this guy every day for one week. He finally agreed to bring my wallet back. It had all of my information in it, but was missing all the cash. Moral of the story-- be careful with your wallet around complete strangers. I just hate the buzzkill guys like Round Peg and this New Beetle bastard who make you get nervous about hooking up online.

Oh, by the way, anyone who caught the reference to the Lifetime movie "Lies My Mother Told Me" should be very ashamed of him or herself.

Oreo Grows a Set

2006-04-17T23:27:00.000-04:00

I received a very harrowing text message from Oreo today while I was at work:

"I was invited to go to Brooklyn Bridge he loves it. Should I go?"

Ok, well, so many thoughts went running through my head right from the start. I mean, seriously, who invited her to go to the Bridge? What does one do at Brooklyn Bridge (drive? jump? cross the river?) And what does he love? How do I respond to such an odd text?

I did the only thing I could think to do in this situation- be unabashedly honest with Oreo.

"What about Brooklyn? I don't think you'll like it that much when you never see the guy again."

See, I think it hit me right then-- oh my God-- I am some how glorifying anonymous sex in this blog. By finally talking about this, and explaining that even a normal, relatively together guy can look like he's got it all, but also fuck like a wild man and not even care who gets it. Somehow, I thought of all the folks out in cyber space that might be getting the same idea.

Holy shit. Ladies and gentlemen, boy and girls whose parents don't pay enough attention to what you view on the web: THERE IS NOTHING GREAT, GLAMOROUS, OR EVEN EXCITING about living the lifestyle of a sex addict. In fact, nothing in my life should be envied. From what you've read at the beginning, you've seen the tales of a dirty old man, and some rather unfortunately endowed men my age. That was the beginning. What follows is a nasty case of rectal gonorrhea, a fight with the Department of Health, a prostitute in Vegas, a man who paid me $150 to piss in his mouth after fucking him. Oh, and did I mention that I can offer the first name of not more than 28% of the men I've slept with? If you want first and last names that percentage drops to the single digits.

I called my best friend. We'll call her Annelle. Annelle is also someone that I had always had the sneaky suspicion that I somehow influenced to explore anonymous sex. When we first graduated college and I was living in New York and she in LA, I mentioned I was meeting men on Craigslist. As time went on, Annelle kept looking at ads on Craigslist for men to have sex with her. She was just kind of lonely and horny at the same time (ain't that a bitch that those feelings always come together?). Well, when she finally decided to meet a guy, she called me freaking out, and gave me his address and phone number in case she ended up dead in the LA River (ha). When she got to the door, she freaked out when a very large man who looked nothing like his photo answered the door. ( We've since dubbed him, "The Butter Fatty.") Fortunately, that was enough to scare Annelle away from Craigslist for good.

And that is the difference that Annelle so poignantly pointed out to me today-- what separates people like Annelle and Oreo from people like me (read: Sex Addicts), is that they don't sleep with creepos like Butter Fatty (I would've sucked it up and closed my eyes and gone to town to try and finish it off as quickly as possible. Yeah, it would have been gross as fuck, but getting off is still getting off, right?) . Additionally, sex addicts don't learn their lesson when something bad happens. One of the easiest ways to recognize an addition is to identify persistent use despite negative consequences.

So, while we don't yet know if Oreo is going to continue in this path (who knows, maybe she IS sex addict), I hope I've made it abundantly clear that there is nothing romantic or exciting about the life of a Sexual Addict.

Before I wrote this, I checked in with Oreo, who has been out on Brooklyn Bridge for at least 5 hours now. She responded, "[I'll be home] Eventually... he has roommates and I don't give it up on the 1st date. We're have a drink at some random bar."

What a bitch. Now, see there, self-control-- THAT is something to be envied.

Round Peg Strikes Back

2006-04-16T20:11:00.000-04:00

Oh boy.

So last night, I finally got a response from Round Peg. Apparently, he thought it over, and he finally decided that he wouldn't post the pictures of me around my building. Except there was a catch. I have to "do what [I] said I would at least 4 times." Umm... what is that about? So, I asked what exactly I said I would do. His response, "I want my dick sucked. Isn't that what you like to do?" Now, is that a fair question? How could I say no? Moreover, 4 times? What is this, like some kind of like penance? Something like, "Okay, my son, please say 10 Hail Mary's and your sins will be forgiven"? Wow. Luckily, I've been able to defer and try and evasion tactics, and he seems to be friendly now. Oreo is very nervous about me inviting this guy to our place anyway, so I can use her as an excuse. Really, though, the way I look at it-- even if I did suck his dick 4 times, I still don't think he would go away. I just need to slowly cut ties to this guy. I am hoping, like so many other guys out there, he'll just go away.

What pisses me off is how he and the other guys like this all seem to be ruining the potential fun and (relative) harmlessness of my beloved Craigslist. Assholes like this guy who can't take no for answer, pricks who just collect pictures, and freaks who can't just let someone get on the site and request a specific type to hook up with (you know, those guys that say, "No Asians" or "Black guys only") are absolutely ruining what should be otherwise a very private/satisfying experience.

On another note, I think I may be corrupting Oreo. The poor girl has been home sick from work all week and we've been chatting a lot about Craigslist. Lately, she's been looking at ads on the "Men Seeking Women" page. I keep telling her it's just not healthy and that bad things will come out of it. Luckily, she's already had a few amazing experiences. I'm kind of jealous, because I can only imagine the kind of awesome ads that women can respond to from straight men. Here are some of the Oreo vignettes that I'll highlight right now for your reading enjoyment:

1. Oreo finds Jesus: Oreo found an ad that apparently talked a lot about fucking girls with tattoos of Jesus on their ass, and then lighting a candle and dripping the wax on their ass. I'm not sure why, but she responded to the ad, only to be immediately spammed by a religious message lamblasting her for being a sinner and the offering her a free Bible.

2. Oreo gets Herpes?: So, some guy posts an ad looking for someone with Herpes. Now Oreo things this is hilarious and responds. Her thought process? "Oh, who would actually say they have Herpes on Craigslist?" Poor, naive Oreo. He responded to her with stats and information and then, Oreo asked him if he really had Herpes. His response, "Yes." And then there was no more interaction between Oreo and her would-be suitor. Note to all out there--- just as people use Craigslist to satisfy that little fetish for feet or whatever, people also use it to find a lover who doesn't mind if they have any STD's or whatever.

3. Oreo Opens Her Mind: Oreo asked me to define a few of the terms that are so loosely thrown around the site. I ended up having to explain to her that "skiing" means blow and "420" means pot.

I'd like to present these 3 vignettes to the jury as proof positive that this girl is a hot mess and should steer clear of Craigslist until she's better prepared for what's in store for a girl like her.

A Whole New Look/ Going Forward

2006-04-15T15:47:00.000-04:00

So, here is the new look. I like this template better than the last one. I'd really like to make some little edits to this template but I don't know enough about the whole html coding. If you're reading this and you do know something about this stuff, drop me a line and maybe you can help me with it. I've also added some new suspect sites that link you to even more crazy (and dirty if that's possible) sex blogs on the net. Note to all ye sex bloggers who read this: Go ahead and link to me on your site and let me know if you want a link on mine. It's only fair that we share the love and really link ourselves to each other.

Moving on, quick Round Peg report: nothing is up as of yet. I'm still waiting to see what happens with that.

So back on to the history of Homosexual Suspect. I think at this point it's important to note that, despite my best efforts, this blog will never be able to document every sexual encounter. Simply put, I just can't remember them. Moreover, they won't come in any kind of chronological order. To that end, you should probably get a quick handle on where my life has gone and where I've lived.
1. It all started back home somewhere in the middle in one of those red states.
2. Next, we go to college in a hip town filled with lots of eligible college students.
3. Finally, I ended up in New York working in the travel industry. Lots of travel= lots of bad things. Currently, I'm still in New York, only now I don't travel anymore.

After my disappointing encounter with a guy my age (and his ears), I think I finished my senior year the way any young sexual compulsive/addict would- with another guy. This time, though, it was actually legal for me to find a guy to hook up with. Looking back on it, there really never was a better hook to catch guys online than, "Hey guys! It's my 18th birthday so be the first to wish me a happy birthday and tap this legal ass." Seriously, I remember lots of guys responding to that ad. (Come on, cut me a little slack; momma said that it was just a little white lie that'll never heart nobody.)

I was lucky enough to find a very attractive military man in his 30's to come and just lay there and let me take care of him. Looking back on it, this is the kind of sexual relationship that I have wanted to see duplicated in all my future relationships. This guy was built with broad shoulders and just enough stomach to make him real. He also had a little chest hair, and good strong hairy legs. In today's online world, he'd be in his 40s and ugly, I'm sure. I guess back then I was a daddy seeker. That's a scary thought. Of course, he had a great cock, and an even better attitude. He came in knowing that all I wanted was a birthday fuck. He was the first guy that I think I was using just as much as he was using me. I rated this guy a seven in my book because I don't think he lasted very long.

In my current life, I'm not really sure exactly what kind of guy I'm looking for or interested in, but I know what kind of sex I want and that was definitely it. Thank God for men who know what they want and go out and get it. I was recently reading The Truth About Cocks and Dolls http://cocksanddolls.blogspot.com and got into a discussion with Dolly about the tragic absence of the aggressive male in today's New York dating scene. I have a couple theories on this apparent revolt against our natural instinct. If you think about it, even going back to old school Neanderthals, the men are supposed to be the naturally aggressive ones who go out and get what they want and continue to court their mates. (I am loosely applying this theory to the gay Neanderthals as well). Now-- go with me here-- I see New York as so far removed from the natural habitat of man, that we can hardly blame men for not taking a club and beating the shit out of each other just take us back to their cave to have their way with us. However, I do see the tide turning and, starting with Uggs and now Abercrombie's summer line, it appears that fashion is becoming increasingly rugged. Maybe there is hope after all.

In the meantime, I encourage you all to join me on my quest to spread one simple message to all the chicken-shit men out there who pussyfoot around commitment and dating: GROW A SET.

Quick Detour

2006-04-14T22:47:00.000-04:00

Today's post will focus on two very odd and traumatic things that have happened to me in the past two days as a direct result of consorting with Craigslist. Don't worry, for those of you who want to hear more about my disgusting/funny/gross/painful sexual history, I'll be getting back to that in due time.

So I was at work the other day when the first incident happened. A new guy was hired in a department right next to mine on my floor. He looked kind of familiar and all, but whatever. Well, at the end of the day yesterday, I was giving out donuts to the whole gang that we had leftover from a meeting and I finally stopped at his desk. I figured I'd introduce myself and all and I might be able to figure out where I thought I knew him from.

"Hey man, I've seen you all over the office and just never stopped to say hello. Hi, I'm Homosexual Suspect," I ventured.

"Yeah man, I know. We've met before," he replied.

"Oh, did we, like, work together or something?" I asked innocently.

"This is the first time we've met in the office," he said with a cocked brow.

"Holy shit," I replied in my head. We met off Craigslist the night before your interview here and now you're working five feet from my desk. And you weren't one of the rare hot men you meet on Craigslist, but rather, a relatively forgetful one. I can't even remember who fucked who. (And you all can attest that I must have a good memory if I can keep track of all the other bad fucks like VOM).

"Oh, right," I finally said aloud. "RIGHT."

"Yeah," said Blast From the Past.

Let the awkward games begin.

Well that encounter ended up paling in comparison to my next incident.

So, the other night I started some basic emailing with a guy off Craigslist. It seemed harmless at first. He lived near me, but was "discrete/discreet" and wouldn't share pictures (really, this is a readily recurring- albeit that it definitely happens less now in this age of digital cameras. For me, I get so delusionally obsessed with getting off while someone else is with me that I end up not really caring if I even come close to seeing what they look like first. Case and point, VOM).

Well it took a few days but last night he emailed, "Hey man, I'm gonna take a walk, I'll be on the corner at 11 if you want to come meet me to see what I look like." Well, Oreo and I were watching some good movies, but I quickly made an excuse and ran out to see the guy. He had described himself as 35, 6'1 in good shape with an 8 inch cock. Well, that doesn't say much since, unfortunately, most guys don't walk around naked, and every guy looks tall and 35 to me. Great. So I walked to the 7-11 and back and didn't see anyone making eye contact with me. I saw a young looking Indian (as in from the country India) but he didn't seem to fit the bill.

Well I got back and emailed the guy to see what was up and then it all went downhill. Turns out it was the guy that didn't fit the bill. We'll call him Round Peg. According to RP, I was walking quickly down the street pretending to talk on my cell phone. Now, this is true, but only because none of my standby bullshit talk friends were available. So, really this could be all their fault. Next, he started emailing me with some crazy shit.

"For being so rude I will get you. I just spoke to a friend in that bldg who says it was cheesy of you to do that and then not respond or apologize. I will print your posting with you [sic] pic and post it all over the bldg."

Now, what the hell is this? Really, what is this? Who does this? So, I had to make a snap decision- get defensive and drive the lunacy in deeper, or just start apologizing and placate the bastard. So, I tried to apologize, reason and even use works like "miscommunication." Well there was no response until...

"I have nothin [sic] more to say. You obviously were not responding because you knew you were out of line. Never ask someone to leave their place and walk over so you could get some thrill out of it and then pretend [sic] . Everybody has their own taste bus [sic] some level of respect prevaills [sic]. That's what fags [sicK] do not decent folks. I am not vengeful but you so boldly pushed buttons and then lie instead of apolozing [sic] . Its [sic] just nice that I am not an evil person. Someone nasty would probably jump you. When folks in the bldg see your post and the pic you will know what the feelin [sic] is like. I will make sure its [sic] there by the weekend. I have nothin [sic] more to say."

So now it got physical. Can you imagine me getting jumped for something like this? WOW. I sent another request for understanding and got nothing again until the final...

"So you never do that to anyone again. If you were honest and sorry you would have responded to the mail. You ignored and then responded after knowing that I was annoyed and would do what I said and then lied about goin [sic] to sleep. So what keeps you up now? My friend in that bldg is so curious to see the post. Since he is married and closeted I cannot e mail it to him to respect his privacy. I dont [sic] feel good about it at all but sincerely annoyed . I will think about this tmrw as he will be comin [sic] over to my place on Sunday since he is goin [sic] out of town. I do not even like the thought of doing it or showing him the mail. I have 2 days to think it over. You may be a nice person but never play such games again. At this point I am not interested. There are plenty of them in this neighborhood and I do not really associate much. I have recd you subsequent mail and I will think about it but do if you do not hear from me either tmrw or sat that means I am not interested in knowing. You could e mail your cell# and I will call if I feel like it.

Have a good nite [sic]."

I'm not sure if he will actually follow through with his threat or not this weekend. After all, nothing says, "He is Risen," quite like having your face and most intimate sexual desires posted all over your new apartment building for all the little kiddies to find on their Easter Egg Hunt (ooh, wait, they're all Jewish. But still, even little Jewish children shouldn't be exposed to that kind of image). I will keep you all posted on what Round Peg decides to do or if I hear from him again. What a mess.

Incidentally, I have only had one other slightly sketchy experience from the internet dating scene and it happened when I was like 17. This one involved an asshole who stole my wallet after we had a failed sexual encounter (read: He couldn't get it up). But more on that later.

To allay any fears any of you have out there: HS got his semi-annual STD/HIV check up and is still negative, clean and free. We'll get to the STDs at some point.

I think I might use a part of this weekend to revamp my blog. I mean, it needs to have a better layout. Additionally, as it would appear I've finally found a good and real purpose for this blog, I think I may need to make a new description for this blog so that it actually reflects my goals and intentions. Stay tuned for more.

Frustration (At Least He's My Age This Time)

2006-04-12T23:28:00.000-04:00

No wonder I went with such an older guy. At least that was worth taking my pants off for.

Obviously, after my encounter with the Very Old Man (VOM) who offered to buy me a printer, I was understandably a little shaken and very deterred from AOL. What if it happened again? What if I got someone really creepy who would abuse me and kill me? What if I was a victim of some creepy child predator (again?).

LOL.

It was several months later over the summer before my junior year that I finally was able to set up another online tryst.

OH, at this point I think it's important to note that I had great parents, but that by the time I was 16, mom decided to make more money and work 3rd shift and dad went to bed early and in our big old house, the basement was a safe bet for turning tricks. Just a heads up that I realize things could have been more restrictive, but my parents literally had no idea any of this was even happening. Read into what you will, but God love my parents (or at least, I'm sure that dirty VOMs everywhere are indebted to their negligence!)

Ok, this guy hailed form a rival high school and was a band geek. He was younger than me (a new first!), but seemed like he had done this a lot. When he came over we ended up making out a lot and eventually engaged in my first my 69 (hooray! another first... Those were the days when everything was a first.)

This guy had a relatively average dick Abut frighteningly disproportionate ears. I mean they were huge. I remember at one point just grabbing on to THEM during that hot "press the head down" move that I believe is reviled by less-slutty men and women everywhere. What I came to notice during this event was that all three guys I had hooked up with to date had TINY balls. I suddenly realized and gained a whole new appreciation for my own sac. This time though, I experience my first frustration with oral sex. I do appreciate the idea that oral sex can be good foreplay or a good substitute or teaser but I think that it works when you have another relationship and also have penetrating sex as well. Otherwise, blowjobs to strangers, while hot, aren't as fun as getting fucked. They just aren't. I got really frustrated (and still do) whenever I run into any guys who are just apprehensive about fucking.

I never saw Ears again. It's kind of a shame because he wasn't that bad. I think he was my first example also of why 2 bottoms can't get together. This was, of course, long before I realized what those words meant and which role I played. So much more to write about.

In real life news, I was at the gym today and, at my gym, there is a plethora of men in European speedos in the locker room. Anyway, I am determined to begin an HS examination of the locker room and gym sex shenanigans so analyze the scene there. Expect periodic reports.

Another First

2006-04-11T22:14:00.000-04:00

The first guy I hooked up with online was easily over 55. If you're keeping score, that means the second guy I slept with was at least 3.5 times older than me. I wouldn't put it past him to say he was in his sixties.

I remember we met on some random night in an AOL chatroom. This was before you had to send pictures, and even though I was only 16, I'm sure I must have lied and said I was 18. Either that or he was happy to get some illegal booty.

However it happened, it was a pretty horrifying experience. In general, I remember being happy he had at least a dick worth looking at. He was fat, old and worst of all, I just felt like I was having sex with my dad. Even at 16, I knew enough about Freud to realize that was pretty fucked up.

My favorite part of being fucked by this guy (who, oddly enough, isn't actually the oldest guy I've fucked) was that afterwards he asked me where I was going to college. He then offered to buy me whatever I wanted (funnily enough, he started by offering me a printer, which is definitely still the weirdest thing anyone has ever offered to me during our post-coital bliss.)

Now, this came long before I actually did start taking money for sex, but at the time I began to wonder why it is that older men always want to offer money for sex. I mean, seriously, I know that being old doesn't make you feel hot, but clearly if you are old there are still horny ass guys like me out there who'll do it anyway.

Apparently you just have to know how to get my attention by typing. Fucking guys off the AOL circuit was certainly pretty easy, it just requires a certain literary knack. And you need to be persistent and have good control of the copy and paste function. (Otherwise you're typing the same self-statistics like 800 times).

The End of the Innocence

2006-04-10T22:48:00.000-04:00

I never really thought I'd give it up when I did. For some reason, even with all the porn, all the jacking off, I still thought I'd have a very romantic and easy going first time.

Instead, I had a good old trashy one. Like all high school students, I worked in the mall through school. There was this one boy back then who looked remarkably like the guy from Rookie of the Year (I think the actor's name is Thomas Ian Nicholas, but I digress). Anyway, we'll call this guy ROY. He was pretty much the only out gay guy (who wasn't super gross and creepy) I knew from high school. Well, one night he picked up from work. The date was December 23. I remember going back to my parents house and watching some movie called "The Shadowlands." ROY kept complaining of a back ache and I remember finally deciding I would offer him a massage. I believe I created some statistic back then where I said that a back massage was the second most sexual thing a person could do with their clothes on (the first, of course, being dry humping. Duh.) Well in the process of massaging ROY's back, I got around to ROY's crotch. There are some interesting things to bring up at this juncture. First, we were in my parent's house at Christmastime and, well, mom was definitely awake upstairs immersing herself in holiday merriment with cookies and the whole nine yards. Second, I ended up giving ROY a blowjob long before we ever made out. Jesus, I was sucking cock before I even had my first real kiss. What the hell is that?

ROY had a tiny penis. Even in my "This is my first" state I knew it was small. (Hell, he was two years older than me and two inches shorter than me, not to mention inconsequentially thick). Somehow I knew it was a good idea to have sex with him because it just couldn't hurt. After all, at this point I had a very intimate relationship with our plunger. And ROY had nothing on the plunger. For the record, I still can't look at a plunger without remembering all of the adolescent flings.

With ROY, we didn't have a condom and he didn't have lube. Instead, he ran out and got massage oil. WHAT?!?!? Do you have any idea how much it burns when your ass is ripped open and all that you have rushing in to soothe it is some fragranced massage oil?! BURNING. That's all I remember of my first time is the smell of some massage oil, that awful movie, and BURNING. Yeah, yeah, I know we didn't use a condom, but even at 15 I knew enough to make him pull out first. Not good, I know. History is history.

Boys and girls reading this: Always use a condom.

There I said it.

ROY and I had a few other notable trysts. Once again in the basement at parents' house. Same massage oil, same quick end. I don't think I lasted 8 seconds. The third time, in an increasingly sick twist, was in my sister's bed. But this time we used Jergen's. Much nicer. This was the first time I did it doggie style and actually lasted awhile this time. In fact, I think we came together. How romantic.

The other times with ROY were all pretty much the same. He never wanted anyone to know to was happening. A few times he came over late at night during a school week after we had chatted online all night and got each other worked up (early itchings of online whoredom). Also, ROY had pretty loose parents, insofar as he could do whatever he wanted. My favorite time was later that summer during a party at one of our friend's GRANDMA's houses (this was one of those parties where you got the grandparents to leave for the night so everyone could spend the night and someone could get booze and you could all have one sip and get stupid.) Anyway, we had some good sex in the laundry room at 5 am one night. Notable from this encounter would be when he asked me to "squeeze" him while we were going it. Obviously, the squeeze technique should be reserved for power bottoms with experience. All I ended up doing was farting. It was my first really embarrassing sex act.

ROY was a good start insofar as he was someone who I knew. That should've been a good thing, right? When I look back, my sexual relationship with ROY ends up easily in the top 5 most healthy.

ROY was also the first guy I ever hooked up with in a car. I ended up sitting my naked ass on the horn, but the music in the car was so loud we never noticed until it was too late. Ahh memories. In the end, with ROY, I just got angry, because I really wanted to fuck HIM. After all, I had the bigger dick and that's how it works, right?!

Oh no. Not at all. More on that later.

History 101

2006-04-09T17:09:00.000-04:00

Where did life go so wrong so young?

I think it all starts back on spring break of seventh grade when I used to watch scrambled Cinemax porn. I remember it so clearly, I can even hear the opening sequence music. At any rate, I knew how each episode went. Scene one- random girl and random guy fucking. Scene two- random girl masturbates until she is "interrupted" by random other girl (usually a maid or something) who then joins in for the lesbian scene. The third scene was always the hottest- hot guy, hot girl (sometimes a three way, if you were lucky). I don't remember what happened in the fourth and final scene-- but for me, I never cared (usually done by then-- 45 minutes was the apparent attention span of penis). All I ever wanted to see was the penis. I mean really, you saw like every possible angle you could ever want of come girl's "bearded axe wound", but no matter what, they always passed over showing you the cock shot (and, while we're at it, the money shot.)

The first time I ever got off was during that spring break in seventh grade. I was wearing these horrible hunter green cotton shorts and probably a shirt that had a tiger on it with some message about that tiger being endangered underneath . Of course, the shirt was tucked in, and my hair was slicked back. I definitely blew my first load all over those shorts and then, as if I were in some movie, my sister came upstairs. For all those guys who can recount the first time they got off, I was a) paralyzed, b) confused, and c) quick to make a really good excuse as to why there was a huge wad of tissue sitting next to me by the TV. "Oh Jesus, sis, I just had this awful sneezing fit."

Right. It took me a while, but I quickly realized how I could get off without the TV anymore. What a treat. Too bad it took a lot of Vaseline and then who knows what other lotion I was able to drum up from mom and dad's bathroom (also gross). It became a ritual, me, the lotion and my scrambled porn.

It just got old after a while, even though it always got me off. I remember the day I decided to watch the episode so closely I could find some address of the production studio (mind you, I was 12 or 13). See, I intended to write a letter to the directors, the producers, even the editors, so that I could DEMAND to know why they just weren't showing any dick. I just didn't think it was fair. But that was before I discovered gay porn. Oh, for the record, I wasn't quite sure I was gay yet. I thought I was taking a stand for civil rights or something.

Who knows why, but I never thought they made gay porn. Luckily, the internet happened and porn was pretty much everywhere. I have such mixed feelings about kids getting "NetNanny" or other cyber censors. I just feel like porn and the internet were such a vital part of my development, you know? So, of course the internet also led to that inevitable time my mom walked in on me looking at porn/pants down/going at it/etc. GREAT. I even remember saving pictures to those little 3 1/2" floppy disks and then printing them or even putting them in my own little slide show of porn. SICK.

But, that was high school. And middle school. And that was just before real sex. So, I guess in trying to analyze my sexual compulsion, I have to start by looking at the internet and porn. It all started there.

After the pictures came the cyber sex. Who knows who/where the guys were. Who knows who/where the girls were. I do know that the typing was always ridiculous and the words werealways fucking retarded. I mean does it really get you off to read things on a screen said by someone else? Does it?

???

?..

...

DAMN RIGHT it does. It's like choose your own adventure erotica and you get to pick all of all the factors. You make up how hot you are, how hot your fuck buddy is, where you are, what you do, and best of all... What you're capable of. I mean, how cool to be able to say that you can get fisted during cyber sex, when you know damn well that in real life, there is no amount of Crisco in the world capable of actually letting someone put their whole FIST anywhere IN your body. (Just to allay any fears/deter any of you in light bondage or fisting-- I have never been fisted nor will I ever fist anyone. I think I saw fisting happen once. But my personal best is three fingers. That is all.)

Basically, it all kind of comes down to this: scrambled Cinemax was a gateway drug for me that became internet porn, cyber sex, and eventually, as you all know, phone and cyber sex. Any real relationships I had were merely a coincidental side effect of my natural beauty.

But that is of course what we're all most interested in, right? So, without further ado, we'll kick off the 100+ days of 100+ men tomorrow where I'll recount the tale of men and women gone by.

It's Gonna Be a Bumpy Ride

2006-04-08T23:46:00.000-04:00

Rather than focus on those obvious inexcusable reasons I haven't written in so long... I'd rather just lament the fact that writing in this blog someow became like going to the gym. You know how, at firstwhen you sign up, you always get really excited to go to the gym? Initially, you're ready to do it and you go all out because you want to see instant results.

But then like you don't lose weight and then your schedule doesn't allow you to go one night and you realize that it's really easy to miss a night. So then, well, you just stop all together because you see like all the other things you could do in that time you spend at the gym. Like watch TV. Or jack off.

Well, to that end, writing in this blog just kind of took a major back seat as I settled into my new job and new apartment and new found financial freedom.

But, like every fat-ass gym promise I've broken, I am now rebounding with a vengeance. After all, way too much shit is going down for me to let it all just it all go by without properly recording it for all to read.

As I moved and began to consolidate my whole life, I ended up with all the memories from my whole life, minus the two teddy bears that my mother refused to let go. The more I went through those memories, it became clear that I was actually tracing the beginnings of my sexual compulsion. Hell, I even found the page in my old-school journal, that lists all of my former sexual partners (many not even by name just because I really just don't know them.) My favorite part of this is that I actually took the time to score them each on a 1 through 10 scale. Oh that, and the disclaimer at the bottom that says that "NOTE: All of this blank doesn't have to be filled up." There is also a little scribble at the bottom that offers a brief warning that "reading this page makes me very horny." Finally, I did include a short disclaimer declaring that this number actually includes +2 handicap, to account for those men I may have forgotten (which is probably many more than just the two).

I think it would be beneficial for me, and maybe fun to read for any who read this blog, if I try and recount the tale of each and every one of the men on this list. This gives me a guide to follow. Plus, maybe it will be good therapy.

So, starting this week, we'll go through the whole gory story of sex and relationships (however short-lived). One boy/girl per post. Fasten your seatbelts, bitches, I'm not sure even I'm going to be able to hold on for the ride.

Oh, and P the fuck S... no more definitions at the start of each blog. I think it's a little too Bridget Jones.

HS MIA

2006-02-05T10:51:00.000-05:00

grabby sex- the kind of sex where your hands never leave your partner's body; often associated with groping. see also, light bondage

Aside from just being busy with work, moving, and shopping for the new place, I really have no good excuse to have been gone so long.

Mr. Lee and I are still just in the "seeing each other" phase. I guess we DID finally have sex actually. At first, I thought I would consciously take it slow and it would just be obvious to him that I was doing that without us actually having to have that stupid conversation. (e.g. "I think we're moving too fast." In my HS reality, I think that when people have that conversation they're not even moving too fast. That conversation should be reserved for that friend that we all have that met a guy and got engaged three weeks later. I think that conversation is used so often by singles who are just not really interested in each other, that is out of stock for the fuckwits who really need to have that conversation.) It is definitely great to have a boy like Mr. Lee in your life who you kind of think actually might be into you as much as you're into him. Whatever the "status" or level of commitment you establish might be.

Of particular interest to HS readers: Mr. Lee is a dirty talker. I remember when I was like 17 in high school and we'd rent porn just for fun and then sit around and comment on the sex like we all really knew what the hell we were talking about. Specifically, I remember one movie, "Black Anal Memoirs" (which I believe received the acronym "BAM" and ended up in a lot of yearbooks, and on the back of senior shirts, etc.) At one point there was a lot of dirty talking, and I said then, "I think you must be having pretty bad sex if you can put sentences together while you're getting fucked." How naive!

What I find fascinating is that generally, the bad ass guys I've been with are never the dirty talkers. I'd say that often it's the super-cute, very nice guys who suddenly make me their "bitch boy" and continue to ask me "how I like it" and "do [I] want more?". I myself would go into that category of nice-looking boy, but I kind of stick to the relatively clean sex talking (you know, I repeat things a lot, "Mr. Lee, Mr. Lee" or "yeah" or whatever). But Mr. Lee himself is pretty graphic sometimes and it really turns me on. I don't enjoy being treated like someone's bitch, and thankfully Mr. Lee doesn't do that. Instead, he like channels some of the nasty girls in BAM and says things like, "I want you inside me." It's kind of great to feel wanted in bed.

Another way I think people make others feel wanted in bed is to just be very grabby. I myself am definitely into grabby sex. That's the kind of sex where afterwards you both end up with lots of red handprints on each other. Please understand that grabbing does not mean slapping the shit out of someone. Instead it's just like rubbing and all. Grabby sex also makes me feel wanted.

Because of the sheer nature of my last job, I spent a lot of time in hotels. My roommate, Oreo and I were discussing hotel sex with Oreo's big black friend/lover last night (we'll call benefriend MIB, because he's kind of a secret agent and I love Will Smith). At any rate, it so turns out that Oreo and I will both be in Washington this week for work, and MIB is planning to come visit. So, MIB was saying that he could maybe bring one of those blacklights like the ons in CSI to the hotel room to check out all the semen stains. Well, Oreo had mentioned that she was recently watching the "Sunday Night Sex Show" on Oxygen with that awesome woman, Sue Johannson and Sue was working with 5 couples to improve their sex lives. Each couple was to try out a different position each night and then report on the show the next night. Well, apparently, many of the positions were consistently tried out on the desk in the hotel room. And of course they were. We all know how nasty those comforters are in hotel rooms, so if I'm gonna lay my naked ass down anywhere, you can bet your sweet naked ass it would be on the fine veneer finish of the desk. That's a surface I know that can be adequately cleaned. In fact, I was telling Oreo and MIB about how one of my top 10 best sexual experiences actually took place in a hotel room on the desk. It was great sex where we just kind of moved the desk all over the room with all the fucking. At one point the lamp fell of the desk and came out of the wall, but I digress.

For the next week, I'll be traveling for work to Washington, DC and I certainly plan to come back with much to report. I've spent a lot of time there and have met lots of interesting men there. I had my first real "conquest" fuck there -- and came out thoroughly disappointed. I met a man that liked to give himself enemas and then whip my balls with his belt. Then there was the man who liked to have everything incredibly clean and couldn't let germs get anywhere. I also met my first foot fetish man who insisted I wear shower shoes (regular flip flops just would not do). So, I think, in honor of my visit to our nation's capital next week, I will be dedicating my blog to the crazy men of Washington and the crazy sex they make you have.

Additionally, I think that starting the week of February 13, I will be seriously thinking back on my top 10 sexual encounters and will discuss them in countdown form starting that week. I'll need to check my notes on this, so I'll work hard to have all of the research completed in time.

Good Plan

2006-01-21T19:42:00.000-05:00

Skating With Celebrities- the greatest thing to happen to television since My So Called Life.

What a good idea it was to offer the mantra that it didn't matter where you met a guy, but that you should just go with it. Or, "Say yes!"

Mr. Lee and I had 3 dates this week. You know, it was that weird cosmic alignment where you can spend (maybe too much) time together on consecutive days. Sometimes this can be a bad thing because things start to "move" way too fast. Other times, it can be nice when you're trying to see if it's worth it. It's like you have the first, second, and third dates all at once, so you don't waste a whole month on a particular potential date, only to find out that that bad kiss on the first date wasn't just nerves-- that was just how he is.

On our first date, Mr. Lee and I went to one of my favorite Mexican restaurants in East Midtown and, although the conversation never lingered, I often got lost in that "I'm-staring-at-you-because-you're-so-beautiful" trance where you forget to say all the things you mean to. At one point, some Canadians (who were staring at us the whole dinner, not because we were so beautiful, although in hindsight, maybe they were) had me pretend to be some random guy to one of their friends on a cell phone and Mr. Lee seemed to really get a kick out of the fact that random things like that always happen to HS. Later that night we went to a great Fondue place on the Lower East Side (he'd never done Fondue--- give me some credit, I'm not that cliche). We had awesome conversation and got to watch other couples make out; we didn't make out there because (thankfully) that's just not our style.

After a night of cuddling, I awoke and went to work, only to find out that we had plans for the next night. I decided to offer to bring home dinner to him and then we could eat and cuddle on the couch. Well, after I made an awesome stir fry, we watched American Idol and Skating With Celebrities (both of which were thoroughly entertaining). I have to say Mr. Lee had me definitely ensnared.

The next night, we ate out and watched a favorite movie. That's pretty much it.

Let me just offer up a little of the good stuff:

1. Mr. Lee is hairy. Now, since he is Cuban it's all short and very well-spread out. Most men hate this but I have to say it is so nice to run my hands through, etc. Maybe it's just me being lazy because I'd like to say hairy is hot so that I can be ok with me myself being hairy! But I dig it.

2. He's totally easy to flirt with. Hands down, a nice guy. I've been able to text, call, and pinch-in-public Mr. Lee to the point of a very satisfying erection!

3. Tragic flaw: he works at my company. So, I know I'm supposed to say, "Don't dip your nub in the office ink" but we'll see what happens. As you all well know, for this HS, 'tis better to meet a guy at work over a guy via "The Number".

And this is all a part of this whole "don't pre-judge" men mantra. Who knows where it will go with Mr. Lee, but suffice to say, I'm satisfied.

Except. Well, he won't "go all the way". I feel like I need to work my way into real sex. Is this how it really works outside of online hook ups? Like, no wonder boys always hook up online because they always get the whole thing all at once. Really, is it just jacking off and making out I'm guaranteed for the guys who are saving themselves. Clearly this is a part of the Sexual Compulsive within that is speaking out at this time. Basically, I'm afraid I don't want to break in any other guys. I need someone who is sexually compatible, because that sex is important to me, otherwise I might stray. I realize it sounds insane, but know myself and know that I want/need sex. Aside from going elsewhere, I'd like to know I can at least work with what I've got at home.

After all, isn't it just "settling" if I'm with someone who's a nice guy, but isn't ideal in bed? Is settling a bad thing?

Recent Developments

2006-01-20T22:50:00.000-05:00

Sorry for my unforgiveable/inexcuseable absence.

BUT, I ended up actually going out on a few dates/staying in for a few dates with Mr. Lee and things have progressed quite nicely. Suffice to say, Mr. Lee has, to date, proven to be nothing short of a fantastic date. To the point that it makes me almost not even be able to type anything else about him.

Compared to my previous relationships, he's a star. He's not self-loathing, doesn't wet the bed, and actually responds to sexual advances. It's almost refreshing to remember that you are sexy, wanted, sought after.

I intend to write a full account of the dates and provide some more HS history within the coming weekend. Getting a new apartment now, so with moving and all, things are a little behind.

Dilemma

2006-01-16T23:59:00.000-05:00

to settle- 1. to make a conscious effort to reject all other offers and accept one that seems most appealing. Often times, settling occurs due to fatigue in the dating world. 2. To remove oneself from the meat market in order to create a foundation with one other person (who is, hopefully, not opposed to occasional threesomes or sex toys).

A friend wisely pointed out that 2006 is the year for saying, "YES!" to everything. My roommate has declared 2006 a year to "be more slutty." Somehow, the two don't seem all that different to me. Perhaps I'm taking their resolutions out of context. Let's examine.

After yesterday's indiscretion, I was obviously a little divided. But I always get this way after meeting someone through a medium that I myself ridicule. Even if I met the love of my life on Craigslist, or through Robin Byrd's "number", I don't think I'd ever allow myself to actually form a committed relationship with this person because I'd always judge them for going to one of those chatrooms, etc. And it's not really a double standard because I end being the hardest on myself for indulging such a ridiculous desire in the first place.

Concurrently, while I am judging serious relationships created in this online dating medium, I end up overthinking possible new relationships. For instance, last night I met a friend of one of my new roommates (for simplicity's sake, let's name my roommates now; the boy is Todd and the girl, we'll call her Oreo). Anyway, Oreo has a friend named Mr. Lee. Mr. Lee immediately caught my eye, but I was just kind of going with the flow of the conversation. As it turned out, Mr. Lee and I have a lot in common, and he has so far been easy to talk to and hang out with. But that's just it. Suddenly, I start to think that, well, just because he's one of the first decent guys I've met outside of the online dating world doesn't immediately mean a) he's interested in me or b) that he's even worth dating. In fact, I start to tell myself I'm just settling, which is ridiculous because I hardly know the guy, and even at that, Mr. Lee is not the kind of guy you end up settling for. He's just not.

It does get a little complicated, but in that very fun, friendly-competition way. Todd was definitely flirting a little with Mr. Lee both last night and tonight at dinner, which makes it interesting because I'm just not sure how to compete with a friend for the attentions of a gentleman caller. It's to the point that I've tried to level with Todd to see if he's totally into Mr. Lee or if I should back off. I've decided to let Mr. Lee make his own decision, and in the meantime, focus some attention on Mr. Lee, but to keep my options open and my guard up. I'd hate to get burned or into any kind of awkward situation with Todd.

Of course, I seem like a total flakey "Flavor of the Week" guy seeing as how I was convinced Oliver was "the guy for me" last night, and now tonight I'm raving about the dating potential of Mr. Lee. That's exactly the problem with the oversaturated gay market. Too many dating venues are presented for gay men now, and it's to the point that everyone is confused and prices and product quality are at an all-time low. It's like, even when Todd is online looking for guys, he ends up signing up for Gay.com and adam4adam and checking out AOL (wisely, he avoids Craigslist, but that's because he's a more quality person). There's just too much gay going on around us, no wonder our community has a rampant prescription drug addiction problem and no wonder so many people have ADD/ADHD/learning disabilities. With all these half-naked college boys sticking their asses in the air and waving their hard-ons at you from cyberspace, how in the hell are you supposed to settle for just one?

I think that's just it-- you don't just settle for one, you settle for THE one. However you meet him, wherever he comes from.

I should make THAT my new Homosexual Suspect mantra. So it shall be.

Laying it out

2006-01-15T19:34:00.000-05:00

discrete/discreet [sic]- An imaginary adjective used by men (and presumably women) to increase their anonymity and ensure the anonymity of their online partner; it is almost never spelled correctly.

I've mentioned before that I am enrolled in S.C.A. (which is Sexual Compulsives Anonymous for those who are out of the loop). At the root of my problem is the internet. Growing up, sex was so easy to attain by just logging on to a chatroom (yeah, remember ICQ or mIRC or AOL when the AOL chatrooms were COOL?). At any rate, it developed in college to the point where I met many, many, many men (we're talking numbers to rival Blanche Devereaux). In fact, I used to rate and keep track of them all in my real, paper journal but I had to add a "plus or minus 4 for human error" disclaimer because I couldn't always keep track of how many. Yeah, and, oh, most of them were old, or weird, or just so not my type of guy-- but I would just be so ready for sex, you know so, again, I refer you to a former mantra of Homosexual Suspect: "Friction is friction; A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole."

I've been working on identifying my triggers and my focusing in on the real problem. In the meantime, I'm trying to cut my ties to online websites like the ones I've previously mentioned. However, and this is a very Manhattan-centric-for-New-Yorkers-only reference, but I blame my recent backsliding on Robin Byrd (http://www.robinbyrd.com). Damn her. You should be familiar with her if you live in Manhattan and have ever watched 10 pm local access. Basically, she's this crazy cracked-out woman who invites porn stars and local strippers (men and women) to come and show off (read: get ass-naked) for the viewers at home. I always hate it when she tells us to lie back and get comfortable. I don't know about women entirely, but I have yet to find a man who is comfortable with an erection. But I digress.

She always advertises for phone sex hotlines and I was always turned off by the idea until I quit online dating and had to find a new outlet. So I joined "The Number" and it has been a ridiculous endeavor. Basically, some guys are there to talk, some are there to get you to join a conference call orgy with their family members (yup, you read that right). Then there are hookers (more on that much later once we really get to know each other). But, mostly you just try and find a guy who wants to hook up and is serious enough about doing so that he'll call you "off the line." Just as in real life, it's always so hard to even get a guy to commit to go that far.

Now that I've gotten the backstory out of the way, here's my latest pickle. After apartment hunting in the SUBZERO temperatures this afternoon, I met two friends in Hell's Kitchen for brunch and bottomless mimosas. Hurrah! Well, afterwards, they headed back home and I planned to do a little shopping and head home. But, curiosity/my dick got the best of me and I checked in with "The Number". After chatting with numerous weird, short-of-breath men, I got a guy to call me back off the line who was, most conveniently, actually living in a building less then 5 minutes from the brunch cafe. So I went up to visit him and he is a prime cock shock example. He was a hot, worked out Asian guy with a great dick (FYI: 100% my type). We'll call him Oliver. We had a great time (a great three times actually), but then it gets complicated. I'd really like to see him again. Aside from even the sex, I'd still really like to get to know him and see if maybe something could come of it all. BUT, I lied and told him I was living in Boston and that I just visited New York (I have a certain anonymity to uphold, after all). So, I'm faced with the question: should I just tell him I lied and see if he's into the whole "full disclosure" thing?

See, most of these online dating-type guys are totally into being discrete/discreet and they never want to really get to know you or anything. But he really wants to get to know me and he seemed totally into me. I'd be into getting to know Oliver, but, as with all online hookups (and I count "The Number" among these), I never know how I'm going to introduce him to my friends/family. "Hi mom and dad, this is [insert screen name here] we met in a chatroom called 'hot anal pleasure'. Isn't he dreamy?" Also, even if we got in a relationship, would he still hook up with guys online? I know I did at one point.

Question of the day: Should I see if Oliver is worth it, or just cut my losses (and my phone line) and go back to my S.C.A. meetings?

Disappointment

2006-01-14T13:39:00.000-05:00

Cock Shock- the feeling of immense surprise/disappointment felt by the person (un)lucky enough to be faced with a penis that is incongruent with general social opinion. Derived from the 80's blue-light special-crazed bargain shoppers' "sticker shock" delight.

I don't really care about racial stereotypes. I mean, like, when you go on Craigslist or look at ads, often times people specify "not really into Russians" or "I only want to fuck men from Botswana." Consequently, there are always the martyr types that qualify those people as bigots and racists. Ok, let's be real about this. I mean, do these Mother Theresa gay men actually go out and use affirmative action action-type guidelines to hook up with guys? Seriously, everyone has a specific type. I like blondes and I'm not really into redheads. Does it make me a bigot because I don't want to fuck Ronald McDonald? No. I wouldn't mind splitting a quarter-pounder with the guy and hanging out, but I really don't think I'd ever want to taste his Triple Thick Milkshake, if you know what I mean.

I have a great friend who once told me she lives by the idea of, "Whatever floats your boat, just don't sink mine." I definitely agree with that and I wish at times more people did. The hook-up sections of websites are for just that, hooking up. Let people have free sex there with strange men, and let the people with agendas and political statements go to the "Free Tibetan Prisoners" page. So that way, when I want to fuck, I can go to the hook up page, and when I want to free a Tibetan prisoner, I'll go to that page.

To that end, I generally find myself willing to try anything once-- with regards to sex, I mean. See, I don't need to try Bungee Jumping to know that I would piss my pants and hate it, I just know. With sex, I always wanted to see if what they say about black guys, Asian guys, Latin men, etc. was all true. And I have come to some interesting conclusions. First of all, I really don't mind hooking up with any of the above. To me, sex is sex. Friction is friction. A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole, regardless of country of origin. But, society has weened me to expect horse-hung black men and wee little Asian weenies. So, you can imagine my disappointment when I blew a black guy with a wee dick, and conversely, my shock when I saw my first huge Asian dick. What a treat. This is the phenomenon known as cock shock. Let's face it, cock shock is the number one reason I'm always so apprehensive when hooking up on online. It just goes to show that racial profiling your potential fuck buddies' packages is like following the latest sibling of a current pop star, you never how big they're going to get.

Temptation

2006-01-12T21:35:00.000-05:00

Slut: Someone who delivers on any promises made of sexual satisfaction.

Sometimes, there are really too many things going on around me. For instance, in the midst of trying to locate a new apartment in this ridiculous city, the guy next to me, my roommate is on www.manhunt.net looking up a guy to hook up for the night. Of course, I discovered Manhunt back before Manhunt was even cool. I mean, we're talking the summer of 2002 when AOL was getting old, and all the hotties were on Manhnut.

Of course, as someone who is currently enrolled in a "Twelve Step Program" to curb my interest in these sites, I felt compelled to offer my roommate some helpful tips. You know, things like, "Oh, well you know that rule that if you take a cab there and back to the hook up you get to fuck twice because it's just common courtesy." And of course there's the inevitable fact that everyone on those sites only posts pictures of themselves at their absolute sexiest best. This means that really, when you get there, you're always disappointed. Sure, the package might be the right size and the sex might be great, but the body you lusted after and the face that gave you a hard-on just don't quite match. This was the reason I always posted a decent picture of myself; I used a picture that I looked good in, but one that I knew I could, even on my worst day, muster up the energy to look just cute enough. Often times, I'd hear guys tell me that I was so much cuter in person. And it's always nice to hear how good you look.

So my roommate went out for his little hook-up, and in the morning was raving about it. This of course is the difference between true sluts and those that wish they were. TRUE sluts, people like me, really have lots of sex with lots of people, but most people never suspect us for being like that. I firmly believe that the louder you shout it, the less true it is. I mean, Tom Cruise, case and point. And, the obvious American Pie 2 references aside, it is generally true that guys will say they've had more sex than they have had and girls often deny having any at all.

All this reminds me of the time I was in the internet cafe for the first time one night pretty late. I had been using internet cafes to get work done (legitimate volunteer commitment)... suddenly, I looked over and everyone else was watching PORN on the computer screen and I was worrying about helping deaf people. I felt very out of place. How odd. I never understood why when we were in high school everyone always wanted to watch porn at parties... it always just made me horny. I mean seriously, like we all need more temptation.

Homosexual Suspect

2006-01-08T03:16:00.000-05:00

Homosexual Suspect: to be unabashedly aware that you are in control of your destiny, your sex drive, and your cable provider; one who makes everyone around wonder who or what he's thinking of fucking next; derived from the title of Jenny Garp's acclaimed bestseller Sexual Suspect offered in John Irving's classic The World According to Garp. See also: slut.

In the true spirit of 2006 and the idea that this is indeed the year to saying, "YES!" to everything, I have embraced the cliche world of blogs at long last. But I determined to enjoy my writing as more than just a mindless blog/rundown of my life.

No, I have instead decided to embark on something far more meaningful: the (sometimes) gay sexual compulsive. Yup, I'm the guy who cheats on his girlfriends with (countless) boys and fucks around with girls when he should be faithful to his boyfriend. I'm the guy who sleeps with the person who's showing him the apartment, or who meets someone on a train and decides it's ok to take them home to fuck. And, last but certainly not least, I'm the guy who is willingly pimped out only because he feels sorry for the party that was expecting a blowjob in the first place. But I'm also the guy who hates most other gay men, but really wants to find one so we can cuddle and watch Beaches or listen to Dolly Parton. So I'll talk about the phenomenon of gay dating, meaningless sex, and I'll even offer a blow-by-blow (weak pun FULLY INTENDED) of my weekly S.C.A. (Sexual Compulsives Anonymous) meetings.

Yeah, I'm sure that at times I'll sound just as trite and over the top as all the other blogs claim to be. And it's going to be hard to fight the Bridget Jones references, or, for those poor souls that read Jessica Cutler's lukewarm "The Washingtonienne" I'll try to refrain from becoming a slut just to satisfy my readers. I shall be keeping myself, and all other implicated parties, anonymous.

And to start each and every post, I'll offer a word of the day. Something to theme the post, and get us thinking right from the start. Happy New Year! May God have mercy on our souls.