I Used To Think

I used to think there was a heaven,
And a place where people went,
When they didn’t follow the rules set by man.

I used to think things would make more sense,
When I walked across the stage after four years,
But now I feel like I have more questions than before.

I used to think that love was a powerful force,
And I still believe this to be true,
But it’s hard for me to grasp it in all dimensions.

I used to think that things would turn out fair,
And that I would tell my kids a story of the old days,
But now I don’t know if the stories will be happy or sad.

I used to think about a lot of things,
And now I think about a lot more,
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I used to think about my future,
As I sat with my back against my door,
With Nirvana playing across the room,
My parents had told me to go to bed hours before.

But I couldn’t fall asleep,
Because I knew my future was coming,
And I just couldn’t wait to get there.

Generation Y Sex Tips

Our generation is one of the most carefree and liberal that America has ever seen.  That being said, this mentality has also transformed us into a kinky group of individuals. 

Here are two suggestions to add a little spice into your sex life – and I don’t mean spice in the literal sense – as I once tried to incorporate salt and pepper into oral sex and it didn’t quite go the way I planned.

Reverse Road Head – Road head is so 10 B.C.  Here’s a quick history lesson. The wheel was invented.  A cart like device was created.  Road head occurred.  I’m over it.  But, since a majority of us in Generation Y are creative and experimental, let’s put a new twist on an old sex act.  As this is a little risky, I suggest you do said act while traveling under 35 miles per hour.  For reverse road head, the driver must lean over and perform road head on the passenger.  Bonus points if you can reach a dude in the back seat.

Angry Dick- Instead of paying a costly 99 cents for the Angry Birds app, you can bring the fun to life.  First, the man must get a boner.  Next, you must place your girlfriend or boyfriend on the other side of the room.  Prop them up on a pillow with their mouth open.  The angry birds now have a modern, real-life update and are replaced with ecstasy pills.  Bend your little fucker back and let em fly, brother!  The more pills you make in their mouth, the crazier and kinkier the sex, so make sure not to miss.  To make things more interesting, replace ecstasy with a more hardcore drug.

I’ll post more tips in the future, but until then, make sure you learn Why You Should Have Sex On The First Date.

A Generation Y Perspective On Love

The concept of love is something I think about from time to time; most often during my various walk of shames, as I believe these little strolls are the most ideal time for reflecting and thought gathering.  I think about the relationships of those in my family, my friends, and even those that are portrayed on television shows and in the movies.  While growing up, an overwhelming majority of us in Generation Y were raised to believe that there is one person you are meant for and that was that.  Most often, there was “the one that got away,” which was typically a high school or college love – a first love, so to speak.

But am I that jaded, already, at 22-years-old, to believe what we have been raised to believe is a complete crock of shit?  I’ve been in love and fallen out of it.  I long for a steady and stable relationship with another, but if that does not happen, I’m OK with it.  Or, at least in my 20’s, I am OK with it right now. 

We as a generation do not need to lock down on one individual and be done with it.  If you stay together for the rest of your life?  Fucking awesome.  If you fall out of love?  Embrace it.  Don’t cheat, don’t stick around and bicker, and don’t waste your damn time in a relationship that’s turning sour by the moment.

Much like the generations before us, no matter how we try to fight it, we are a youth consumed by status, power, and reputation.  Our personal relationships and our partner are an extension of ourselves, and our mentality is often, “oh shit, if people see my long term relationship is coming to an end, what are they going to think of me?”  Well, honestly, who gives a fuck?

I’ll let you in on a little secret; most of the time, people are too worried thinking about themselves to give you a second guess, so just do your thing.

Maybe, as humans, we are meant to have a variety of long term relationships.  Ten years here, five years there, maybe fifteen years down the line.  I think that by opening up yourself to the possibly of a plethora of relationships and individuals, you will ultimately meet the one you were “meant for,” or, that you believe you were meant for.

There are a couple billion people in the world.  If you believe that there is only one true love out there for you, that’s great, and I’m not going to knock you.  But, then again, think of the past 100 years of “modern love,” not only in the United States, but the entire world.  What are the odds that most individuals have ended up with someone from their same hometown or city, within a couple of years of each other, with the same religious beliefs, typically the same nationality and race, and on and on and on.  With this considered, this concept does not make sense, at least for me.

In my opinion, this life and your happiness may be all these is, so make it the best you can.  Like most people, I would enjoy an awesome long term relationship, but for a generation like ours - which I hope will crank out some movers and shakers and changers - the relationships that may work the best for us may be what works for us right now.

Be open, be free, and if it’s done, call it quits.  And above all, know that any form of love will find you once you are at acceptance with yourself and allow all individuals to pursue the ones they love; no matter their respective race, gender, or religious background.

My Visit To Occupy Los Angeles

I arrived to Occupy Los Angeles at 5:20PM on November 28^th.  By 5:23PM, while taking in the scenery and wondering where to explore first, a guy stumbled over and was the first person to talk to me.  “Hey, dude, is that a joint in your mouth?  Do you have any pot?” After I informed him that it was a pen and that he shouldn’t smoke - especially in public - he told me to keep my opinions to myself.  This, ironically, was funny, as he is part of the 99%; a movement in America that appears to be one of the most iconic forms of public expression and activism in recent years. 

I laughed, grabbed my notepad and started to walk around.  This man is the poster child for which is often portrayed to the general public by media outlets; a disheveled, inarticulate guy on a quest for drugs and alcohol.  This is not the movement and sadly, this aspect of portrayal is what people eat up, which makes it easier for folks to brush these protests aside.

When I arrived, the occupation had been in occurrence for 58 days.  Many hours before, at 12:00AM, an eviction order deadline was given by Los Angeles Mayor Villaraigosa.  The reason for said eviction was:  “It is time to close the park and repair the grounds so that we can restore public access to the park.”  Restore public access?  Although I am new to Los Angeles, it didn’t take an expert to understand this was probably the largest and widespread use of the park in the history of the city.

In all honestly, the park did smell like urine, pot, and body order – but any recent college graduate has probably smelled worse at an off campus house party.  It does not matter what the park smelled like, or the type of people that were there, because at the root of it, beyond the shenanigans of the “tag-a-longers,” also known as, the people who are occupying for the hell of it, there is a core movement that was started well beyond the recent recession.  And many people at Occupy Los Angeles believe so.

David Pierce, 33, of Santa Barbara

Among the people I spoke with, one of the best versed, intelligent, and articulate was David Pierce, 33, a Santa Barbara native who was laid off from IMB, known as one of the most influential companies in the world, just six months earlier. He came to Los Angeles to use his college degree, past work experience, and determination in order to find another job.  Instead, he found Occupy Los Angeles.

“The LAPD hate the mayor; they fucking hate him.  Well, most of them,” he said.  “They are part of the movement, every last one of them.  They are underpaid, overworked, and at 3AM, when there are no camera crews around and it’s just us and them, we talk.”

Pierce expanded and said he believes if the LAPD are given the order to make arrests in the future, most will lay down their badge and return home to spend time with their families.  He added that, “just because they are not here with us, camped out in front of City Hall, does not mean they don’t agree with us.”

I told David Pierce about my website and the how it is catered to Generation Y.  We spoke about how, quite possibly, our generation has the upper hand on a lot of things, particularly when it comes to social movements, activism, and freedom of expression.

“You are all hackers.  Well, most of you,” he said.  “And not hackers in the general sense.  You guys know your way around things.  If the cops are flashing lights in your eyes, you’re not only going to find a way to escape it, but to reflect it back onto them.  If you can’t get in the front door or the window or even the sewer, you’ll find another way.  Your generation, or more so, our generation, has that unique ability that many other generations don’t possess – and it’s going to be an awesome tool for activism and change.”

After our half hour talk, I realized that I probably picked the best person I could have at Occupy Los Angeles.  Slightly older than the Generation Y demographic, he is one that is able to look upon are age group with hope and inspiration; David knows, and can see, the awesome tools that we take for granted.

“When it comes down to it,” said David, “they can arrest us tonight and we’ll be back tomorrow.  They can arrest us the next day and we’ll be back and so on. I don’t think people realize that.”

As I left, I realized that the first step of any movement of standing your ground; even if you are knocked, dragged or pulled away.  And quite honestly, the saying is true:  you can arrest a person, but you can't arrest an idea.

Four Years Ago : My Coming Out

Freshman Year

Four years ago, as a somewhat quiet freshman at a Catholic college in Buffalo, New York, I decided that I was going to come out as the person I realized I was -- a gay guy.  For me, I never really understood the people who said that being gay didn't "define them."  Quite honestly, it does, and it will define your entire life.  However, the more people that remain in the closet, the harder it will be for full equality and acceptance to come.

Over the years, I have helped a few friends and strangers along the way, and as I reflect upon the last four years of my life, I hope this old "coming out letter" can help some more people find guidance and courage.

Winter 2008

Acceptance. Does anyone really know what this word entails? Over the past few weeks, I have been able to grasp the concept of this act in relation to myself and what the word means to my family, friends, and peers. For those of you who don’t know, I’m gay. It occurred to me a few months after arriving to Canisius that I was attracted to men. I believe that one is born with a set sexuality: straight, gay, or bisexual, but I also believe that the way one is raised has a lot of influence of how said person will respond to their surroundings.

Who would have thought that the small, private, and Jesuit based Canisius College, nested right in the middle of the Queen City, would turn out to be the homosexual college capital of the United States of America? This, of course, is just my opinion, but one does not need to walk far to see tight designer jeans or a ragged pair of Birkenstocks. When I came out a few weeks ago, I was not propelled to do so because I thought I was keeping a secret. I came out as gay because I believe that the people that are important in my life had a right to know. In regard to my parents, and my close friends, it was a shocking revelation. Listed below are some of my favorite responses to me coming out or reasons of why I may be gay:

You want attention

You are jealous of your sisters modeling career
Your parents are getting a divorce
Gay people convinced you to be gay
You’re going through a phase
You’re trying to be well-rounded

I’m already over arguing or convincing people about my sexual orientation, so I just agree with whatever theory they have. I would just like to thank everyone for giving me personal input on my own sex life. Thank-you. I think everyone was right! All of the things listed above were heavy factors in pushing me into the realm of homosexuality. In this day and age of soap box preachers and the “I know everything” mentality, there must be a logical explanation for my behavior. Everyone wants to see in black and white, but more often than not, it’s meant to be seen in gray.

Another thing that bothers me is ignorance. Sure, you don’t agree with two men being in a relationship. Call me a faggot, call me disgusting, and let me know why you feel this way. I do care, but just tell me once. I don’t need to hear this day after day or conversation after conversation that “God did not intend humans to behave this way”. My favorite thing is when I hear this from someone that has never stepped foot into a church their entire life. Ignorance is throwing stones when you live in a glass house.

The reason I decided to write this and post it online is to give other people a voice. It was also a chance for me to get most of my feelings and ideas out without being interrupted or trying to defend myself in the process. I would also like to apologize to some of my friends. Not for being gay, but for throwing everything at them all at once. It was a lot to take it, but we have never been closer. Like I said before, I feel like people need a voice. Sure, I was comfortable in letting people know I was gay and was ready for the consequences: losing friends, getting a reputation, or even being disowned by people I loved. Then I thought: If this is who I am, and I’m disowned or neglected for it, then that was the way it was meant to be. My father told me “I’m shocked, but if this is who you are, I love you for it. You’re my son, and there is nothing that will change that. Don’t be ashamed or be embarrassed, then you’ll start to think it’s wrong. If your happy, then so am I”.

I’m sure you see it all the time: A person comes out at the age of forty-five. They are married, with children. Or another homosexual teenager commits suicide because of how their family and friends responded, or the fear of not being able to come out. I was raised to be comfortable within my own skin and to be true to myself. I’m not trying to pat myself on the shoulder, but secrets, of any shape, color, or form, will slowly start to eat away at you. It will be hard, you will cry, you may lose friends, but in the end, the truth will always set you free.

People have different variations and opinions of why someone may be homosexual. Talking with some of my gay friends, the common diagnosis after coming out was that they would have to see a doctor or priest to “change their ways”. Do you really think someone would choose such a hard life, filled with hate and rejection? Would someone straight be able to turn gay, or vice versa? I guess I’m that oddity that goes both ways, and I really have no explanation of why I feel that way. I believe that no one has control over what sex you prefer, what person they are attracted to, or who they fall in love with.

If this was true, would I still have a boyfriend when I know I would be accepted for dating a female? Why would the women who gets beat by her husband everyday stay with him? Why does the successful doctor stay with his wife who has a meth problem? What about the guy who knows his girlfriend cheats on him, but stays with her because he loves her so much? It’s so much complicated then what people see on the outside.

Another reason why people tell me homosexuality is wrong is because “it’s not normal”. Yes, it’s not normal, but what the fuck is normal? Does someone need to be normal to be happy? This may be a shock to some people, but no one is normal. People may come across as being so, but underneath it all, everyone has secrets. People are under this charade of normalcy, perfection, and living the “American Dream”. They parade around; clinging onto what keeps them “normal”. I’d rather much rather be an outcast. A happy freak that is a peace with himself.

There are many aspects that define me as a person: I do community service, I get good grades, I tutor at a local high school, I’m a good friend, I’m involved in many clubs and organizations, I’m an uncle, I’m respectful, I want to be a lawyer, I want to make a difference in the world, I love to travel, I love to write, I like to help people.

Another aspect: I’m gay.

I know what defines me as a person. My sexuality is a part of who I am, but is only a small part of what makes me unique.

I’m happy and grateful for the life I have.

Life is not about necessarily changing who you are, but becoming the person you were meant to be.

Do you know who you are?


----
If you are struggling with your sexuality, feel free to contact me at Jeffrey.Hartinger@gmail.com. My time spent at Canisius College was also a major influence for me to accept myself, as it is a very inclusive and diverse place, so please take a moment to read about Unity, which is the gay-straight alliance.

The Time I Dated A Millionaire

I called my mom last week and told her I was pregnant.  After a long pause, she asked why I called.  Now don’t get me wrong – my mother loves hearing from me, but I have been prone to text and call her at odd hours of the night.  Some guys drunk text their exes, but I drunk text my mother.

I informed her that I called things off with the millionaire I was dating.

“What do you mean, you called things off?” she asked.

“Uh, I told him I didn’t want to date anymore.  He was obsessed with me. And not in a good way, sister.” I replied.

 “Isn’t that what you wanted?” she pressed.

“Someone to be obsessed with me?  No, not really.”  I said.

“No, don’t be silly.  Someone who was rich.” She said and laughed.

Yeah, I suppose everyone wants to date or be in a relationship with someone who is rich, but being a gold digger is not something people should pursue.  My $40,000 student loan debt isn’t going to disappear if I bang a rich guy – and believe me – I tried. 

After a few dates, he told me he wanted me to move my things into his house.

“Just a tooth brush,” he said, “and then we will see how things progress.”

“How about not.  I’ll brush my teeth at my own apartment.” I told him.

“Well, what if you have to be somewhere in the morning at don’t have time to stop home?”

“Then I guess my teeth will rot out from one missed session.”

He also told me that he was used a lot by people who took advantage of him for his money.  It made sense – being Los Angeles and all – especially within the gay community.  In New York, it seems that people are always waiting for the next big thing or relationship.  Los Angeles, on the other hand, seems to be like minded, but relationship wise, people hold on to what they got because they are not sure if something better will be around the bend.

It’s funny when I think about it; I was dating someone who was wealthy, attractive, funny, and considerate.  On our second date, we passed out food to homeless people on Santa Monica Boulevard. 

He had his assistant print out and highlight the important documents I needed for my fender bender.  He cooked me dinner for three hours when I had too many glasses of wine and borderline blacked out watching Bride Wars.  New low?

The thing about dating - whether gay or straight - is being with that person who you have a connection with; it’s cliché, but as someone who has been in the dating world for close to six years, it’s the most honest and legit advice I can give others.

Life is all about experiences and adventures, and it’s not alright to date someone based on the size of their bankroll.  But their dick or boob size?  Now, young grasshopper, that’s another story.

The Jeff & Ally Series : When Harry Met Sally

There are some people that come into your life and quickly leave.  Then there are some people who cum quickly and hang around your apartment until you ask them to leave.  Thankfully, my friend Ally falls into neither category; we never had sex because I like dudes and we’ve been best friends for close to ten years.  I caught up with her tonight and we laughed at all the shit we used to pull while growing up in Buffalo.

“I have an idea,” she said.  “You should do a When Harry Met Sally inspired blog series entitled When Jeff Fucked Ally.”

“What? I like the idea, but I’m not too keen on the name.  How about The Jeff and Ally series?” I inquired.

We agreed that this name had a better ring to it.  So, this post is the first in the series.  Enjoy.

It was the year 2000 in suburban Buffalo.  Since Ally was a tomboy and I was in the early stages of puberty, aka, recognizing my own homosexuality, we became fast friends.  I remember making a snide comment at our teacher and Ally, who sat behind me, laughing uncontrollably.  A few days later when I passed her a note that said, “Mrs. Z has red ferns growing out of her saggy ass,” I was caught and sent to the office.  When being escorted out of the classroom by my teacher, Ally was laughing so hard she was crying.  Everyone else in the class was just staring at us.  My teacher had my note in her left hand and a copy of Where The Red Ferns Grow in the other.  Like my classmates, the principal didn’t enjoy our humor, either.

After causing minor controversies in the 6^th grade classrooms throughout the school, we were getting bored.  Very bored.

“We need to do something.  This shit is getting old,” said Ally.

“I hear you.  What do you have planned?” I asked.

“Not sure.  Let’s plan something at lunch tomorrow.” Ally responded.

By recess the next day, we came up with idea that would be our first pursuit into extortion, blackmail, kidnapping, and framing another kid for our actions.  By the next morning, we cornered another badass with a mean streak; Stacey. 

“We have a job for you,” Ally told her.  “Meet Jeff and I in our office.”

“What? Where is your office?” Stacey asked.

“The handicapped stall in the guys bathroom.”

We all met there later in the afternoon.  We gave her a couple dollars and told her what we wanted done.  She was going to push one of our enemies into a locker and slam it shut while we watched safely from the privacy of the boys bathroom.  Coincidently enough, the little bastards locker was right near our "office."

Stacey took the money and did what she was told.  But, of course, things didn’t go quite according to plan later that day.

“Get in!” she screamed as she pushed him in. “Byeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

Since he was smaller, he popped in perfectly; sort of like a small dick going into a large vagina.  Within seconds, he started screaming.

“Help!  Help!  I have asthma!  Someone save me!”

Oh fuck.  Our 12-year-old minds couldn’t comprehend a monkey wrench in our little scheme.  Screech always seemed to have enough air on Saved By The Bell when he was put into lockers. We rushed from our hiding spot behind the bathroom door and over to the locker.

“Don’t panic.  It’s Jeff and Ally!” I whispered.

I honestly, till this day, have never heard someone scream louder in my entire life.

“Jeff, look. She put on the lock upside down,” yelled Ally. “She’s sicker than us!”

“Take a deep breath and try to relax.  Well, actually, don’t take a deep breath, you may pass out.  Ally is going for help.” I screamed to him.

Ally ran for help.  Within a few minutes, there was a “Code Annie” lockdown of the school, where no one was allowed to leave their classroom and all doors were locked.  A band of teachers, in addition to a janitor yielding a crowbar, came to the scene.  Everyone was screaming, the janitor pried off the lock, and the little drama queen emerged from his chamber.  Ally and I looked at each other.  We knew we were in deep shit.

One of the teachers walked over to us with a stern look on his face.

“You two,” he said slowly, “are heroes.”

The Fire Escape

You jump out of bed,
And toss on the pants you wore last night,
Your right hand untangles your hair,
While your left tries to unwrinkle your shirt.

Fuck fuck fuck,
You say,
And we both know,
You won’t make it on time,
You’re going to be late again.

You don’t bother looking in the mirror,
Cause we both know,
Even at your worst,
You look the best.

Bye,
You say,
And kiss me on the cheek,
Then rush out the door.

You forget your keys,
Like you always do,
And when you call,
I answer,
I know. Fire escape.

I’m out the door and into the hall,
Through the small window,
And down the escape that wraps around our building,
See you at seven,
I yell to you,
And the keys are in the air.

I’ll be late,
You yell back,
And I smile,
Because I already know you will be.

Reasons To Have Sex With Someone From Buffalo

Although I LOVE living in Southern California, I still can’t get over my hometown back east – and honestly, I had some of the best sex of my life in Buffalo.  And let’s just say I haven’t been knitting sweaters and reading the bible at night during my time spent in Los Angeles so far.  I am a major advocate of my rust belt city, so here are a few reasons why you should fuck a Buffalonian.

Reason ( 1 ) One –Kinkiness.  One thing is for sure; those from Western New York are a bunch of kinky bastards.  Each Sunday afternoon during football season, I used to hear “Cum on Bills!” from a variety of different houses, no matter if I was in the suburbs or the city.  While it may be fun and a little different, it’s not really worth it.  I came on my bills, but I still had to pay them?  Also, since I come from sports obsessed town, people always want to have sex after a game – whether victory sex or pity sex.  I’m not getting into the crazy shit that happens if a game goes into overtime.

Reason ( 2 ) Two – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  In 1901, President William Mckinley was killed and Buffalonians are still upset about it.  In order to cheer them up, you should have sex with them.  Or at least go to third base.  And while this is occurring, please keep the lights on out of respect for the late President – during the time of his assassination, my hometown was known as “The City of Light.”  Now I think the nickname is “The City of Labatt Light.”

Reason ( 3 ) Three – Drinking. People from Buffalo have a little problem with drinking, as in, our bars are only open to 4AM!  How fucked up is that?  By sleeping with someone from Buffalo, you are keeping things simple.  If you sneak out of their house early enough, you will probably never hear from them again; they were probably so black out drunk, they won’t even remember having sex with you.  While you may father a baby with fetal alcohol syndrome nine months later, she won’t even know where to look for you.  And if you are a girl, make sure to get tested if he was from North Buffalo.

Make sure to check out other Buffalo related posts, such as Five Signs I No Longer Live In Buffalo and The Best Bars Of Buffalo. And if you don't like Buffalo, fuck you.

Reasons Why Gay Penguins Pedro and Buddy Should Not Be Separated

While I am not really an animal advocate, I do try my best to be a gay rights activist.  When I found out those two guy penguins that were fucking each other were going to be separated, I knew I had to give my two cents on the biggest animal controversy since Michael Vick.  Here are a few reasons why these cute little bastards should not be forced away from one another.

Reason ( 1 ) One – Racism.  Now, most of you know where I stand on interracial dating and immigration – I’ve requested that others to Have Sex With Illegal Immigrants – so this aspect of this particular case really gets on my nerves.  Pedro is obviously Hispanic and Buddy is Caucasian.  It’s the year 2012 and time to get over this interracial, gay relationship.  The only reason their relationship was found out in the first place is because Pedro screamed out “Mi Buddy es muy caliente!” during their first romp at the Pittsburgh Zoo.

Reason ( 2 ) Two – Equality.  Allowing these gay midgets to stay together will allow for those in arctic areas to become more diverse and accepting.  What’s better for all those little EskiHomos struggling with their sexuality in Antarctica than seeing their animal poster child in a gay relationship?  And honestly – it will even pave the way for other penguins who are on the verve of coming out.  Huddling together to “stay warm?”  They are not fooling me.  Say it with me : circle jerk.

Reason ( 3 ) Three – Happy Feet Three.  Let’s make this Hollywood, baby!  With the second movie of the franchise released this month, why not bank in on the gay drama?  Gay Aiken did. I mean Clay Aiken. Sorry.  Who doesn’t love a cartoon or animated feature that follows a gay animal?  That’s the only reason I watched Scooby Doo growing up.

Things Not To Say On A Date

As a writer, I like to pretend that I am always a poised and articulate little son of a bitch.  However, those of you who read my blog on the regular know that I have a little obsession (addiction) to two things: wine and trying to be funny.  Oftentimes, this is a great pairing, but once in awhile, both get the best of me.  Below are quotes that I have may or may not have said on dates. 

Needless to say, I am currently single.

“Kids?  Oh my god, yeah, I can’t wait to have kids.  If I wanted them any more I would probably be a pedophile.” – When asked if I wanted to have a family.

“Thanks.  Someone told me the same thing two nights ago. How funny.” – When told that I am a very easy person to sleep next to at night.

“Everything But Butt.” – In response to defining my acronym E.B.B. for first date sexual etiquette.

“Just one.  Give or take 18.” – When asked how many people I’ve slept with.

Now, learn from my mistakes and check out Why To Have Sex On The First Date.

Why Gay Men Should Eat The Least

My senior year of college, I met one of my best friends in the entire world, Siobhan.  She is like my BFF, but I like to call her my BFUD: My Best Friend Until Death.  I don’t like long term commitments, in case you couldn’t tell.  Anyways, every gay guy needs a straight, gorgeous girl friend; I am lucky enough to have a few.

Towards the middle of the first semester, we were hanging out at least once a day.  While having lunch before class one day, we noticed a gay couple walk into the café.  Being senior year, I, of course, probably slept with both of them, so I avoided eye contact.  So instead, Siobhan and I both locked eyes and decided to play our favorite new game, “top or bottom,” where we would each guess the preferred sexual position of each gay man. 

A week earlier, Siobhan casually used the term “power bottom” in conversation and I knew it was a match made in post- Will and Grace America.

“That little guy,” she said dramatically, “is the bottom.”

“How can you tell?” I asked.

“Well, look at his gut.  He’s lazy and probably likes to lay there and get fucked,” she said.

“I agree.  Are you going to have the rest of your pasta?”

Over the next few minutes, we started talking about one of our other favorite topics: food.  Our conversations usually revolve around food, Irish people, gay people, or guys.  Oftentimes, a combination of all.  If we get bored, we talk about politics or world affairs.

I looked over the recently dubbed bottom and was not impressed with how much food he was eating.  Then I had a brilliant idea.

“I think there should be certain etiquette on how much people should eat in public,” I said.

“What do you mean?” Siobhan asked.

“I think that it should depend on your sex and sexuality.  There should be a limit.” I whispered.

“What are you talking about?  Explain.”

So I told her: Straight Men Can Eat The Most, Then Lesbians, Then Bisexual Men, Then Straight Girls, Then Bisexual Women, Then Gay Tops, Then Gay Bottoms.

“It’s just a thought.  And it would work as perfect gaydar.  I could just go over the guy eating a piece of celery and ask him on a date.  It would be perfect.  How do I think of such awesome things like this?”

“I ask myself that all the time,” she responded.

“And it would be a wakeup call for gay men in the closet.  We both know those bitches don’t like to eat a lot.  It would be a major change, too, once they accepted their sexuality.” I said.

“What do you mean now?”

“They would need to come out of the closet and out of the cupboard at the same time!”

“Alright, this conversation is getting a little farfetched.  Are you ready?”

“Not yet,” I said, “I’m still hungry.”

New Things I Learned While Visiting New York City

One - Spending four years living in the city of Buffalo, it was common place to walk around drinking alcohol.  When my friends and I were done with dinner at a trendy sushi place in the West Village, I decided that it would be a good idea to take the rest of my wine with me.  According to the New York Police Department and the open container ticket I received, this is looked down upon.  In addition, when you are stopped by NYPD officers, it is not a good idea to toss your wine glass down the street to destroy the evidence – they were NOT impressed.  And like most people, they did not think I was very funny, especially when I told them that it was only water in the glass.

Two – In reference to the lesson above, it seems that no one should be drinking anything on New York City streets.  En route to Central Park, my friend Michelle and I were sipping on Starbucks and catching up; we had not seen each other in close to six months.  Out of nowhere, this guy walks up to me, slaps my Trenta to the ground, jumped on his skateboard and took off without a word.

Three – Big Bird is gay.  Of course, once my traumatic Starbucks incident was over, I found my childhood role model in Central Park.  My first role model was O.J. Simpson, but I had to switch over to Big Bird once the double homicide drama occurred.  I also looked up to the big yellow guy since I was born with jaundice.  Anyways, when I asked to sit on his lap for a picture, he was beyond excited.  He kept giggling and whispering and snorting, and his little hand grabbed my waist. When my friend Michelle joined us, he calmed down and stopped.  I’m going to get checked for Bird Flu and other STDs next week.

Four – Asians make the best drag queens or sex change candidates.  While on the Upper East Side, a few friends and I went to a hole in the wall (not glory hole) gay bar with only Asian drag queens – and they looked good.  They were a little trashed, and by trashed, I believe they did a few lines of coke and white rice, but it was entertaining, nonetheless.  There was also that strange part of the show where one chugged an entire bottle of water (vodka?) and crushed the bottle on stage.  No matter how far I travel, I can never escape Koreatown, Los Angeles!

9 Myths About Lesbians

Once again, Caitlin Krull from Austin, Texas has written a humorous response to my article 9 Myths About Gay Men. Thanks to Ellen, Jr. for another insightful post and make sure to browse the website for other funny articles and become a fan of the blog on Facebook!


1. Our gayness is contagious. False. No, I cannot sneeze on you and turn you into a lesbian, although that would be amazing if I could. However, there is an exception to this. To put it most simply; if a woman is looking for a thrill, she will find one. And what better a thrill than to actually get off during sex?! Orgasms are contagious, not gayness. 

2. All lesbians have “dyke spikes." Okay, so maybe more than a handful of people have ruined this one for us. But, please note that NOT ALL LESBIANS HAVE SHORT, SPIKED HAIR! They’re just the easiest to point out in a crowd. 

3. We all wear strap ons. Yes, some do, just the same way that straight couples experiment with sex toys, we like to spice things up sometimes, too. This does NOT, however, mean that we all might as well be straight since we are getting blasted either way. Some straight men like anal beads, does that make them gay? Which brings me to my next point...

4. We are only gay because we haven’t found a man that can “do it right” for us. Three words guys, GET OVER YOURSELVES! Your dick is not one of the wonders of the world. And no, you are not different than the last guy who tried to convince me otherwise. 

5. There is always one “guy” and one “girl” in the relationship. If this was true, then I would like to know what straight couples call it when the female in the relationship calls all of the shots while the man sits back all pussy whipped. I have seen it too many times, and in my mind that makes the female the guy and the man the chic. Just sayin. 

6. We all hate men. No - we just hate ignorant people. Especially the men that get off from seeing two lesbians, who are clearly in love, hold hands or kiss. Dude, we see you nudging your buddies and pointing our way. Are you that insecure with your own sex life that you have to get off from ours? Fuck off. 

7. All lesbians wish they were men. Just because we may have more masculine qualities does NOT mean that we all wish we had a dick to go along with it. For the ones who do, awesome, more power to you. Me, on the other hand, well I’m content with using what I’ve got. It works just fine! And in most cases, it works better than your dick. Just ask your girlfriend.

8. We scissor. If you honestly believe this then you need to do one of two things: 1. Update your porn collection. Or 2. Get rid of your porn collection all together. Sure, girls might scissor... WHEN THEY’RE 12! 

9. We are gay because we are diseased. Yes, you are exactly right, we are all diseased. Just dirty, sick people with no morals. SERIOUSLY?! Come on now.

-----Also check out Perks of Being Gay and Perks Of Being A Lesbian to get a better understanding of why it is more than okay to be part of the LGBT community!

Los Angeles To New York

I’m sitting in a terminal at the Los Angeles International Airport waiting for my flight to New York City.  I’ve been listening to the Counting Crows song A Long December on repeat, and of course, just watching the people go to and fro.  I catch the eye of a guy across the way; he seems to be a people watcher, too, and we smirk and exchange a smile like we are in some secret society.  Two kids to my right have been transfixed at the window for the past twenty minutes watching the planes and the early morning activity of the airport.  I wonder if they are old enough to dream about the future yet, and if so, I wonder what are going on in their small minds. 

I don’t say small in a demeaning way, but in a cherished and respectful way – oftentimes, it seems, it is the youth who dream above and beyond their adult counterparts.  I think back to when I was that age and the thoughts that would go through my head, such as, “I wonder where everyone is going” and “what city is this person from?”  I’m happy because, even at 22-years-old, I still have the same mentality of when I used to travel as a child.  Being raised in a family that encouraged free thinking and weirdness, even I would sometimes push the boundaries and patience of my parents and grandparents, especially on cross country road trips or travels to new and diverse cities.

 “Jeffrey, can you relax and just enjoy the scenery?  You think too much.”  My grandpa would say after my 50^th question in the past ten miles.  But, still to this day, that is how I relax and enjoy my surroundings.

Each summer, my grandparents, siblings, and I would pack up an old mini-van or RV and travel from Buffalo, New York to Anaheim, California to visit family.  We would spend a few weeks with my uncle and his kids, in addition to traveling up and down the coast to big cities and small towns.

When I told my mother I was packing up my car and moving to Los Angeles a few days after graduation for an unpaid magazine internship, she was somewhat in shock.  “What do you mean?  You are just going to move there with no friends and no job and no apartment?  Have you even saved up that much money?” she asked.

“No, not really.  I suppose enough to get me out there and for the first month or so.”  I replied.

Its cliché, but I think that by taking that risk, it revived the feeling of joy and excitement and the aspect of not knowing what would happen next, which I need.  It’s what I strive for, and as a recent college graduate, it’s something that I never want to lose, even when I am 85-years-old hammering away at my laptop.  I wonder if my grandkids will make fun of me for “still using a laptop to write,” just as kids from earlier generations joked about the use of typewriters and so on.  I wonder if I’ll have grandkids.

There are limitations and boundaries and money constraints and relationships and blah blah blah … that’s life.  It’s not easy, but then again, it’s not that hard, either.  Ever since losing my faith in religion and being skeptical of an afterlife or existence, I’ve come more into my own.  I’m more compassionate and understanding and … I’m just different.  However, unlike what is often portrayed in popular culture, an agnostic / atheist lifestyle is one that propels me to cherish this life like it is my last; because, quite simply, it may be.

My thoughts have been keeping me busy, and it’s already time to board the plane.  The kids are gone from the window.  The lady that I let borrow my blackberry charger is already in line.  Another kid plays across the way; he has sun bleached hair, so I’m guessing he’s from Los Angeles, or California, at least.  I wonder where he and his mother are going today and if New York City is their final destination.

I’ll listen to that Counting Crows song one more time before I board, because it’s a beautiful and sad, but at the same time, is a somewhat optimistic song.  It’s a song about hoping for a better future.  I suppose, when it comes down to it, a song about humanity.
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In flight, I had the great opportunity to meet and sit next to Lauren, the founder of the super popular fashion website, HonestlyWTF.  Make sure to check it out! She was a really nice girl and gave me a bunch of awesome advice!