One of the things which indicates that you've become a real, bona fide adult is when, in the ongoing effort to manage & form workable policy governing your sex life, you start to get stress headaches. It just all gets so...so... complicated. And all the more so if you happen to be on a first-name basis with any of the people you shag + you have a Greek Chorus of interfering peers + your sex-drive shows no sign of imminent abatement.
So many men, so little time - and so much drama.
Recent events as well as past experience have led me to the following conclusions ::
:: You Can't Sleep With Everyone. Apart from the obvious logistical concerns (i.e., # of days/nights/coffee breaks in a given year vs # of available semi-conscious tricks), Fucking Everybody's usefulness as modus libido operandi is marred by the law of Diminished Returns. Basically, after a while, the sex gets boring...8 packs seem generic, ecstatic groaning sounds silly, and the top/bottom politics involved start to feel like an especially purient expression of the Gay Need To Succeed. I thought this was supposed to be fun....
:: You Can't Sleep With Your Friends. Sorry, Fellas - but this just doesn't work. Due to many reasons, not the least of which is that a "friend' is the person you call first when you have one of those pesky Syphillis Panic Attacks. Or feel the need to unload about your messy behaviour at the last Betty Page event from which you were ejected. Unfortunately, you may discover one day that at least half your 'friends' portrayed themselves as such solely to have a go at you. Which makes you think twice before accepting any further post-e back-rubs ("uh, that's not my back, Brad...") or offers to lend clothing ("I've got my own boxers thanks..."). Gay Brotherhood? Looks a lot like incest to me.
:: You Can't Sleep With Your Friends' Ex's. Well, of course you can - but don't be an idiot and tell them about it.
:: You Can Sleep With Your Ex's. Just passing along this rumour I heard.
:: If You Don't Make The First Move, No-one Is Going To Do It For You. I am constantly amazed at how many of my more attractive acquaintances go without, due to a patholgical fear of initiating lust & the concomittant risk of rejection. So you get turned down. Big deal. What's the worst thing that could happen? (well, apart from the fact that he could say something like "Sorry - but I'm not a big fan of The Special Olympics myself", or that everyone in the bar is watching, or that this could be the first crucial test of your new Dr. Phil 'go-get'em-tiger' outlook on life......). Ok - never mind - resume posing.
:: Refrain From Asking Them Why They Think You're Hot. For whatever reason, they like you. Who are you to doubt them? Only their therapist knows the whole story. So go with it and don't look a gift horse in the mouth. File under "Do you think I'm pretty?"-type questions which only serve to embarass everyone involved.
:: Don't Act All Platonic When You're Making A Booty Call. "Jesus - wouldya look at that!? I'm giving you a blow job!!!...how the hell!?!" God - that whole front is so irritating. As though having sex with you were some sort of mistake.
:: Don't Act Like It's Not Obvious You're Tweaked Outta Your Freakin Mind. It's probably why you got picked up in the first place, darlin'....remember "Lowered Expectations" from SNL many years ago?
:: Make Sure The Cologne Is Good.
:: Hint - Never Describe. Re: your carnal adventures. This gives your friends plenty of creative leeway for those rumours you're counting on them to start.
Cigarette, Dear ?
Monday, January 26
It's A Banal World After All, pt. II
I spend a lot of time waisting it... [noun-verb-object - it's not that hard, darling]. Anyways, another tune ::
Do yourself a favour & go read The Queen of Comedy this very instant. Unless, of course, you happen to be a certain Ms Cho, in which case you might want to think about re-working some of your material.
Just a suggestion, Dear.
Wednesday, January 21
Whatever Happened to...
...P.L.U.R.? Oh yeah - we grew-up, bought pants that fit and acted like we never used glowsticks. That isn't a metaphor for anything. Anyways - here's something I did yesterday, instead of revising my resume ::
Mmmm'k. Everyone? This year is not getting off to a good start. I no longer wish to deal any further with the following issues from others ::
:: Cancer ( Just scrape it off) :: Pet Trauma ( Feed it - that helps it to stay alive) :: Money ( Don't look at me ) :: Love ( There is someone for everyone. Now, keep telling yourself that & go away ) :: Activism ( 3 years of die-ins was more than enough. See? Look what happens when you vote Liberal. Let the twinks save my benefits, 'cuz, frankly, I'd rather have a martini.)
But they sometimes fuck it up. Usually - overextending themselves.
Which has something to do with being an intermittent train wreck with delusions of grandeur. Give me some time - and you'll see that I'm better than that.
Tuesday, January 6
When Friends Age...
....and you have a blog, you post highly embarassing pictures from their birthday evening, showing them as they grow steadily more inebriated, silly & sloppy.
:: Please note, no-one has dressed to go out yet ::
Not a single soul within a 10 km radius of Church & Wellesley has ever seen any of us looking like this before. For perpetrating such an act, it is likely that I will be killed.
Devyn, who has always professed dreams of becoming a symphonic conductor, let's it all hang out....ok - you can put it back in now, 'right?
You know, when these two aren't actually on something, they present as highly functional humanoids.
And the love starts to flow (thank god for cheap green Armani's)...
...and then, without any warning, someone puts on the John Aquaviva, and WHAM!!! - you're an EXOTIC DANCER!!!
The funny thing about this picture, is that I actually have no idea where I am.
Everyone thinks I talk too much. So they tackle me whenever I try to say something.
Whatever - it's his stupid birthday.
It would take a small battalion of forensic psychiatrists to figure out what the hell was really going on here.
Fake head. It's fun to imitate straight people when you're high. And so easy, too!!
(yeah, and we know all about the strap-on thing, too, n&k?)
This pose can only mean one of two things - a) can't find the keys, or b) no-one bought rolling papers.
:: Happy Birthday O. ::
[Relax - you're still a glamazon.]
Monday, January 5
You have no idea how many fine motor skills are required to turn out a post - until you no longer possess them. Ahem. Anyways - here's the New Year's debrief....never mind the gaps::
:: Hairdresser New Year's Party. Drag-at-home, dancing, vandalism, til 5am. :: New Club Boa. Whoa. Run - don't walk - to this club. DJ's Honey Dijon, Peven E., Nick Holder, Jojoflores, Matt C - attended by all the nice cool people without any of the yucky cool people. Entrance courtesy the uber-fabu (say it quickly) Venus ( as in "House...of....."). Til 11am. :: Sketch party where friend & import/export specialist totally freaked out & flushed all his party favors down the toilet. Rather than get caught licking the bowl, we decided to recamp at O's. Til @ 3pm. :: Quality time with totally delicious guy. :: And intertwined all day. Til @ ...well, like, before we went to LUB.
:: O's Bday at LUB. Complete hilarity ensued as my best friend got spectacularly drunk along with 15 of his nearest & dearest, re-discovered his Jamaican roots, and proceeded to grind - on the floor - every female in the bar. Even the lesbians liked it. Ran into/spilt cosmo #7 on/mumbled insensibly to Jair - who should coordinate his schedule with mine, since some of my friends would like to go on a date with his arms. :: Sentiments - drunken, deep & true - were expressed; Drama doesn't always have to be bad. :: The Barn. Sorry - but I have no recall after this point.
:: Random socializing. Photography. 4 hours of AbFab (trust me - it works). Gossip. Follow-up.Cocktails & treats. The funniest toilet humour movie I have EVER seen ("The Hot Chick", Rob Schnieder). The Long Crawl Home.