I Shaved My Ass for This?

Condo's Where the Heart Is?

2012-01-31T11:47:00.001-05:00

In celebration of my move into the Verve in Toronto come February I'm re-posting this entry.

I'm going to my friend Aaron's new condo (that he's renting) tonight for a house warming party.
This gets me thinking.
Living downtown we never say home.
I make my home in Toronto. No, we say: I live in Toronto.
I've found in conversations with other city dwellers that we speak of "home" as somewhere we have left, whether it be our parents or our home countries, home is never where we currently are. Home is replaced with apartment or condo.
We certainly get a little closer to the mark when we say, "I rent a room of a house" or "the first floor of a house," but both sound rather depressing, no?
So, if home is where the heart is, it's no wonder us city fags can be so cold.
As for tonight, it's not like Aaron bought a house or anything, he just moved into another overpriced concrete box elsewhere in the city. Yet we still say house warming party?
It's all semantics I guess.
But if I happen to get drunk tonight and hit on Aaron's boyfriend at the party, I'll be called a home wrecker.
"Condo wrecker to be exact," I'll correct them.

My 1st Date Night FAIL column of 2012!!!

2012-01-25T11:21:00.000-05:00

Check out the conclusion of the fake marriage fiasco that my friend Henry had to deal with while dating Jurek.
FOLLOW THE LINK:
http://www.mygaytoronto.com

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2012-01-20T12:32:00.000-05:00

Wow, is this guy behind in the times! If he wants to see David Hasselhoff, maybe someone should forward him the video of the Hoffster eating a burger off the floor. LOL.

That’s Why the Joker is Also the Wild Card

2012-01-10T20:55:00.000-05:00

We’ve been going at it for almost an hour and we’re about to climax. Brian is in top form (pun intended) and he finishes. Then I do, and we lay side by side catching our breath.

And then Brian says, “Yep, I still like it better with a woman.”

Two Weeks Earlier

On our first date, Brian tells me something very interesting. His last relationship was five years long and he was even engaged to the guy. Now he’s been single for about a year and hasn’t been dating much.

“That was until I saw you at the bar and couldn’t resist asking you out,” he said, which I find to be a sweet compliment. He then adds, “Well that and I was drunk. Thankfully you’re still decent with my beer goggles off.”

“Just decent?” I say, “What a low blow.”

“I’m just kidding,” Brian says. We both laugh and I assure myself that he’s just being sarcastic.

Half way through our second date, Brian tells me another interesting tidbit from his past. He discloses that his first real relationship was with a woman, which lasted for seven years.

“So you’re bisexual?” I ask.

“No, not really. I was with her back when I was in the closet. I am definitely more attracted to men.”

I’m relieved and take a sip of wine.

“But I do miss sex with a woman,” Brian says.

I swallow hard, both the wine and his comment. “I’m confused,” I say.

“It was just easier, I mean my dick would slip in and out with less hassle. Although, I like that a mans ass is much tighter.”

“You really haven't been dating much lately,” I quip.

I get the sense that he’s joking again and the conversation moves on. We have a great time together and great chemistry. All the weird girl sex aside, I liked the fact that Brian has a history of being the committed type. Dinner wraps up and we head back to his place …

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

“Yep, still like it better with a woman,” he says.

I’m in shock and Brian is laughing. I get the sense that he is only kidding but I was still upset; is he laughing at his joke or me?

“Are you kidding me?” I ask.

Brian takes a moment to think about it and then to answer the question he replies, “Look on the bright side, at least you know you’re still tight.”

Without making a big scene I get ready to leave.

“Call me tomorrow, OK,” Brian says.

“Sure,” I say.

“And don’t just say you will, actually call.”

“I will. I promise.”

When I get out of his condo I text him: “just kidding”

I can deal with playful banter but I couldn’t tell when he was being sarcastic or blatantly cruel. For me, the bottom line (pun intended) is I’m not man enough to be with a guy who’s constantly comparing me to vagina.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2012-01-05T23:19:00.000-05:00

OK, so many of us have been chatting online with many, many, many guys over many, many, many months and yet we haven't actually met any of them. Yeah, time for a reality check!! So, "gay dating response time" can best be represented in the pic below:

A New Year's Resolution

2012-01-02T23:08:00.000-05:00

My resolution this year is to get the hell off of online dating sites, and here's why: Read a message I received on PoF below.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Happy New Year Ditchpigs!!!

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-12-30T13:03:00.000-05:00

OK try to figure this one out ...

what the hell is this person looking for????? LOL.

Yuletide Money Matters

2011-12-23T19:39:00.001-05:00

Attending to the thundering knock on my apartment door, I’m surprised to see my friend Jeff push by me asking if I had any wine. I didn’t expect to see him because he was supposed to be on a date. I popped a nine-dollar bottle of merlot, and Jeff tells me he cancelled the date because he didn’t have any money.
“When’s that ever stopped you?” I ask.
“I know but I just had a feeling that this guy wasn’t going to pay for the meal. I couldn’t risk the cheque coming and having to confess I’m broke. That’s humiliating,” Jeff explains.
“When’s that ever stopped you?” I ask again jokingly. “Why are you dating if you have no money?”
“Because it’s Christmas, and I’m lonely,” Jeff says topping off his wine.
“If you’re lonely go spend time with your family” I say.
“That’s easy for you to say, you’ve got a man, a rich one who’s taking you shopping tomorrow. You’ve secured a sugar daddy to deck your balls with lots of holly,” Jeff snaps at me.
“He bought me one pair of Armani underwear, you’re exaggerating,” I say, “it’s not like that. He knows I’m a student and I can’t afford expensive gifts. We’re just going to the Eaton’s Centre to crowd surf to a few stores, and he’ll tell me something he wants and vice versa. It will be simple."
Jeff laughs at me. “Sure it will be simple. When he accepts your gift pretending it’s not one-tenth the price of what he bought you. Are you prepared to make up that difference with free gestures and cute surprises? You’ll be working off the guilt by doing dishes and getting up early to make him breakfast in bed. I’ll tell you this because I’m your friend: you don’t have enough money to date this guy without becoming his servant.”
“And you don’t even have enough money to even go Dutch at McDonalds,” I say ushering Jeff out the door. “Go see your family, I’ll call you on Christmas.”
The next day, Flash, the man I’m dating, and I weave our way through the hoards of shoppers in the mall. I buy him the new Swiss Army wallet he wants. After ten more minutes he says he can’t handle the crowds anymore and suggested we leave to get lunch away from the mall.
Outside it’s a blizzard so we take a cab to ritzy-ditzy Yorkville. The blizzard dissipates making it much more comfortable to shop, but for me there’s still an awkward chill in the air. We enter a shop, and while I am still browsing, Flash already has ten things ready for the change room.
He sneaks up behind me and sees the clothes I’m looking at. He orders the store clerk to get my sizes and starts me a fitting room. The young guy quickly comes over and takes the clothes slipping me a wink as if he knew what I was up to.
In the fitting room I check one of the garment’s price tag. It’s $345 for a dress shirt! I panic as pictures of endless nights of dishes and servitude blaze in front of my eyes. I stand up on the bench and look over into the next stall seeing Flash with no pants on.
“I can’t do this.” I whisper.
“What the hell are you doing,” he says startled, “just try the clothes on, I bet you’ll fall in love with them.”
“Are you kidding? That dress shirt is almost as much as my rent! I can’t let you buy this for me.”
“What is your problem?” Flash asks.
“You are, and all of this. You’re my boyfriend not my sugar daddy,” I blurt out.
I suddenly realize that I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be sucked into this lifestyle, well at least not until I could afford it on my own. “This is over,” I tell him as I make a swift getaway without being pursued because Flash was half naked.
It would be the last time he ever saw me. I know it’s harsh to dump a guy during the holidays, but I was actually doing him a favour. In the long run he was going to save a lot of money.
A few days later I'm headed to the train station to travel to my parents for Christmas. On the way I bump into Jamie and Shawn- a couple I know- coming out of a coffee shop. They lived around the corner sharing a small bachelor apart together and although they didn’t have much, they were always refreshingly cheerful. We greet, and I ask what they had bought for each other.
“Nothing,” Jamie replied “we don’t buy each other gifts at Christmas. Instead we save for our annual trip to Mexico.”
“We hate the stress of it all,” Shawn adds, “worrying about how much to spend or how much you are expected to spend, not to mention the anxiety of disappointing him.” Shawn stops himself, “You probably think we’re crazy.”
“No, not at all. I like that, I get that.”
When we part a light snowfall calmly drifts down from above. I watch them walking hand in hand towards their little hole in the wall, void of presents. Jamie and Shawn taught me something that morning about people that have been dating in our capitalist, consumer driven city. We forget that two people with nothing can give each other everything.

Eat Pray Fail

2011-12-19T20:55:00.001-05:00

I've been seeing this guy Norman around a lot. We know one another through friends, but never progressed further than acquaintances. He's a personal trainer and looks the part. He walks into Starbucks and catches my glance, so I smile and say hi. After he gets his drink he comes over for small talk. I introduce him to my friend and his boyfriend.

"What are you up to today?" Norman asks me.

"The three of us are going out later tonight, but first these two are going for dinner. So I have a few hours to kill. What about you?"

"I'm just about to hit up a patio for dinner, too. Why don't you come with me?"

"Like a date?" I say, oh so tactfully.

"Sure," Norman says with a smile.

Once dinner is winding down we get to that awkward what-do-we-do-now moment. Norman senses it and takes control.

"Do you want to come to church with me?”

Relieved that the awkward moment is over, I agree thinking I could so go for a drink in the Village right now. However, when we get to Church Street he keeps heading east.

"Aren't we going here?" I ask.

"No, my church is on Sherbourne Street."

"Oh, you meant church-church not Church Street."

"Are you OK with that?"

I so wanted to say “hell to the no” and take off, but I was curious so I agreed to go. A few minutes later we entered Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic parish.

We take a seat near the back. An old lady beside us looks over and smiles barely interrupting the hymn she’s softly chanting with the rest of the congregation. I’m amazed at how many people are here. Norman picks up a hymnbook and hands me my own. We follow along but do not sing.

Then Norman pulls down a thin wooden ledge out from under the pew in front of us. He gets off his seat kneeling for prayer, along with most of the others sitting around us. Norman motions for me to follow suit, I comply. After a minute or so we all return to our seats. Just as I get comfortable everyone shuffles into the kneeled position again. We get back up and then back down for a third time. By the fourth time my knees are sore.

Jeez, I haven't been on and off my knees so much on a first date since my early 20's.

Then a bishop-like man rises from his throne on the front stage and a bunch of alter boys start filling the isles. Each one is holding a long cast iron Medieval-esque candlestick. Behind us, two women are offering wine and bread.

“I’ve never seen this before,” I say.

“It’s Communion. Go up if you want,” Norman says.

I get in line. When it’s my turn the woman hands me the paper cuppie of wine, and I swig ‘er back.

It’s water.

I hand her back the cuppie and say jokingly, “Get out while you can, the party’s dry.”
She doesn’t laugh and hands me the bread. I say thank you and walk away. I put it in my mouth.

It’s not bread.

It’s a little round chip that tastes like cardboard and plastic. I don’t want to bite it so I keep it in my mouth and sit back next to Norman.

“How was it?” he asks with a big smile.

I can’t talk with this thing in my mouth, so I smile and give thumbs up. The guy at the front starts talking again, and while Norman’s attention is off me, I slip the chip thingy (now soggy) out of my mouth and think what to do with it. I reach under the pew and stick it under the bench like an unwanted wad of gum. That’s when I notice Norman watching me through the corner of his eye.

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“You can go now,” he whispers back without even turning his head from the front.

I quietly exit through the back doors.

I ate, I prayed, and unlike Liz Gilbert, I failed.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-12-09T10:03:00.000-05:00

If my blog was revamped by the nerds on "The Big Bang Theory" it would read something like this:

Oops ... Apparently He Did It Again

2011-12-08T09:15:00.001-05:00

Nathan must admit the guy was witty. It wasn't often that someone could make him laugh, as it was usually the other way around. Nathan is standing outside the Churchmouse and Firkin Pub, which is where he'd met Eric about 15 minutes ago. There was an instant attraction. As time went on Nathan's friends left and, when the bar was closing, Nathan made his move. He invited Eric back to his place for some wine. Eric accepted, so they flagged a cab and headed home.
After the night cap they naturally migrate into the bedroom, but since it was really late, they opted to just cuddle and fall asleep.
In the morning, however, they fooled around. They made out and Nathan got on top of Eric. He was feeling him up over his clothes but when he tried to get Eric's clothes off, he casually resisted by moving Nathan's hands in order to keep up the groping.
Nathan went for Eric's button on his shorts, but Eric maneuvered on top of Nathan and continued kissing to distract him. This PG-rated, over-the-clothes fooling around continued for a while until Nathan had to get ready for work.
Later that day, Nathan got a text from Eric. It read: "So this morning you pretty much raped me."
Nathan laughs thinking it was Eric being sarcastic, and Eric didn't mention it again.
T they end up dating over the next two months, but still with no sex.
And it wasn't from a lack of Nathan pushing for it, yet they're sex remained PG.
On the eve of their two month anniversary they had a romantic dinner, some wine, and finally, this time during foreplay, Nathan managed to get a finger in. Nathan was delighted to see their sex life moving forward, even if it was only an index-sized forward.
The next morning they go to brunch. After the waiter brings water and takes their orders, Eric succinctly states:
"So, yeah, like last night you pretty much raped me."
Nathan laughed and said, "It's not like u to use the same joke twice."
"I'm not kidding," Eric replied.
WTF? Again!! Nathan wanted to inquire into why and how Eric could believe such a thing, but he couldn't speak, he was dumbfounded. So many things were racing through his mind: was Eric abused as a kid? Maybe he was trying to hint at a rape fetish fantasy?
"What's wrong with you?" Nathan asked.
Eric didn't answer. Instead he just had a dumb look on his face, like he was anticipating a reaction but was waiting to see how crazy Nathan would get.
Nathan just got up and walked out. This was one of those moments were you absolutely just have to walk away from the situation. And Eric didn't care. He didn't even follow Nathan out of the restaurant. Although, he did send a text telling Nathan he was overreacting.
About 6 months later, Nathan found out from a friend that Eric did the same thing to some other guy he dated after. Nathan concluded that Eric didn't need a boyfriend, he needed a shrink.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-12-02T21:44:00.000-05:00

I haven't used the word "ditto" since my Ninja Turtle days, but I feel it deserves a comeback for this!!

Exclusive Friends

2011-11-29T12:37:00.000-05:00

Aiden waits nervously for Guy- the guy he's been chatting to online- to arrive at his apartment for their first real date. His nerves quickly pass when Guy shows up with wine. They relax and hang out talking as if they had known each other for years. Aiden was delighted to find that they had the same humour. They spent the better half of the wine bottle watching Youtube videos like Madea and Kathy Griffin.

Flash forward two months later and, although the spark was fast to happen, the sex was slow to take place. Actually, it didn't.
They were doing the whole dating thing but it wasn't intimate in that way. Sure they had fooled around on occasion but with no "dink in the stink" action. Aiden began to think that they were just friends. Even when Aiden tried to discuss what the relationship was, Guy became elusive.
There comes a time in every relationship where the two parties come to a mutual agreement on where they stand and what exactly they are; they define their relationship. Aiden intended to do just that.
It's the day before Aiden is flying to visit Toronto, and he is agitated because they hadn't defined anything. Guy drove Aiden to the airport and while waiting in the terminal it got to the point where Aiden just confronted Guy.
"OK, what's going on here? I need to know what my limits are in Toronto, if I even have limits?"
After a tug-of-war to get any sort of feeling out of Guy, he finally said: "Fine, if you need a title then we can be exclusive friends."
Did this guy think that shit would work on him? After a momentary pause and enough time to relax the screwed up look on his face, Aiden replies.
"Number one, I ain't no damn fool. Number two, I'm Googling on my iPhone right now ... what the fuck that means because I've never in my life heard of exclusive friends! Exclusive friends? That doesn't even make sense because you know I have other friends. I was worried that screwing some twink in Toronto would be unfaithful to you, but apparently all I have to do to cheat is make a new friend."

Guy wouldn't say anything and was clearly upset. Aiden boarded his plane. Ten minutes later he gets a text from Guy reading: "I like you and I don't want you to do anything with other guys. I can't wait until you get back."
Aiden admits that this should have been too little, too late, but it was a step in the right direction, so he remained committed to making it work with Guy.
When Aiden returns, Guy picks him up from the airport and Aiden hopes they'd have missed-you-so-much sex that night, but instead Guy went home after dropping Aiden off.
Guy clearly wanted to be EFF (Exclusive Friends Forever) so Aiden pulled his own EFF (Effectively Freakin' Fleeing) to get away from this ... I don't know? Guy's not a comittment-phobe because he doesn't want them to be open, and he doesn't only see Aiden as a friend because they've fooled around thus proving sexual attraction.
I can't peg Guy down. Like Aiden, I can't put a label on him, which is probably making Guy smile right now as he reads this.

NEW Nov 2011 Date Night FAIL column

2011-11-24T15:09:00.000-05:00

Check out my new November 2011 Date Night FAIL column called "Thief in the Night."
FOLLOW THE LINK:
http://mygaytoronto.com/datenightfail/nov_2011.php?ArchiveDst=datenightfail

A thought...

2011-11-21T16:53:00.002-05:00

Amanda Marshall nailed it when she sang: "Everybody’s got a story that’ll break your heart."
The part she left out is that nobody wants to hear it.

The Breast Feeder

2011-11-15T11:04:00.002-05:00

Peter is new to Toronto and has ventured online to try and meet new people. Naturally, he gets off on the wrong foot, which is bad news for him but great news for me (I’m shameless!).

At brunch Peter continues the story, he says: “So I message this guy and we’re messaging. He had a couple of good pics, you know how people pick really good pictures of themselves? But anyway, he was cute, blonde, and younger, which is totally my type.”

“What a unique palette you have,” I quip.

Peter doesn’t notice and continues: “Soon after, we actually meet up and start hanging out a lot.”

After a while things were OK but then Peter started noticing that the guy was really clingy, “like you know, texting and freaking out and this and that,” Peter says.

He could feel that the relationship wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“So I used him for his car for about another week,” Peter says jokingly.

I laugh.

“I had groceries to do, alright?” Peter jokes again (I think).

About three weeks into it, Peter was bored so he decided to creep the guy’s Facebook a little further.

“You know how you can view profile pictures but then you can get into a person’s albums, well the guy had a ton of albums,” Peter says.

One album was recently posted and was full of pictures of the guy with the two new kittens he just bought.

“The first picture was of him and a cat … suckling on his tit,” Peter says.

I’m speechless so Peter continues.

“I thought, OK that’s kind of weird- hahaha, anyone would think that’s funny, the cat thought it was a teat. But I clicked on to the next picture, same thing. Next picture, two cats! And the album just kept going and going. There’s like 60 pictures of this as if it were an event!”

This creeped Peter out so he logged off and ignored the guy’s texts and calls for the rest of the evening.

The next day, the guy called and Peter finally answered. He had to ask what was up with that breastfeeding album of pictures.

The guy laughed and said that one day while shirtless in bed with the kittens, they came to cuddle and started kneading. Then they just started suckling and he just thought it was the funniest thing ever.

Peter clearly did not.

“I must have no sense of humour,” Peter tells me, “because apparently the two lesbians the guy lives with thought it was hilarious, too.”

I burst out laughing. “Of course they did,” I say.

“The lezbos thought it was great that the man was being tittified,” Peter jokes.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I say, “I mean it’s odd, but it’s a far cry from bestiality.”

Over the next two weeks other things about this guy started to get on Peter’s last nerve, so he called him up and dumped him. The guy cried on the phone, which Peter thought was overboard given they’d only been dating for just over a month. So, to appease the sad fellow, Peter lied.

“I pulled the whole bullshit thing that I’m not over my last boyfriend and continuing with him isn’t right because my heart is in a different place. You know that kind of crap.”

Peter is still single and looking for love in Toronto although I highly doubt he’ll be getting a cat anytime soon.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-11-11T11:00:00.000-05:00

If you have so much hair there that you can choose from an array of tools to deal with it, you got a problem. Just pick one and getter done! lol

Advice for a grey day ...

2011-11-08T09:53:00.000-05:00

It's a grey day and on days like this people get depressed. On days like this I tend to think of relationships past, which the last one, thankfully, was a while back so I'm not all that sad. But for all ya all just comin' off a bad break-up, I offer this advice to keep you from spiraling down any further:

There's no such thing as a happy ending. There's no such thing as an unhappy one for that matter. If you stop modifying the end with a adjective based on your emotions, you'll be better off. Easier said than done, I know, but if you can do this, you won't waste away a more important noun: Life.

It's all just a series of new beginnings anyway. Tell yourself that beginnings are the new ending. It's all too common I see people break-up or get divorced and they think the world is over. But in time your life changes. The heartache wains and you find yourself in a new life looking back thinking: what was I sooo fucked up about?

Just like there will be sunshine again, you will find love again. Either that or you'll settle for some loser because he has money. Who can say?

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-11-04T09:36:00.000-04:00

OK fair enough. Someone Googled that. But then I saw the IP address and it just became weird!

Footing a First Date

2011-11-03T13:59:00.002-04:00

I am unsure whether or not I want to actually meet Ethan. Our online chatting was consistent and fun, but I was still hesitant. That was until he told me he was on a gay soccer team, which I thought was really hot. We agreed to meet at Starbucks on Church Street. My first impression of Ethan was good: he was fit and muscular, with a square, manly face and light green eyes. The only downside was that, at 5’9″, a little short for me.

We decide to go to the movies. After we settle into our seats, he leans in and whispers in my ear, “You’re really cute.”

“Aw, thanks,” I whispered back.

Later on, during a funny part in the movie, I laughed out loud. He leaned in again and whispered, “I like your laugh.”

I’m diggin’ his sweet nothings. This guy is great, maybe there is something real here.

Then Ethan leans in again, and I await his next compliment.

“Take off your shoe and give me your foot,” he whispers.

What the fuck?!

I am not into feet at all, so I am confused and turned off. Was he going to whip my sock off and suck my toes?

“Don’t worry, I just want to rub your foot.”

“I am really not big on people touching my feet.”

I’d been walking around all day, so I didn’t know what my feet would even smell like. Plus there is an elderly couple sitting just three seats away! Ethan is looking at me waiting, so I put my foot in his lap, which was hard to do because I’m pretty tall. I had to cross my leg over and hold it up

He was pretty good at the foot massage, I have to say, but I couldn’t pay attention to the movie anymore. I started imagining what the relationship would be like: “Honey, Glee is on, take your socks off.”

After about five minutes I sort of took my foot back. For the rest of the movie, I thought about it. Maybe I could deal with a foot fetish if it meant bagging a great guy? I decided to stick around a bit longer and find out.

Late that night, he messaged me to say he had a great time. I said that I had, too. Then he said he had to tell me something.

“Feet are just the tip of my freaky iceberg,” he typed. I typed back: “Sorry, this isn’t going to work,” and then I logged the hell off!

He was attractive, attentive and sweet, but I’ll never see him again. May he find a fellow footie.

**with files from Kate Carraway

NEW OCT 2011 Date Night FAIL column

2011-10-26T17:31:00.000-04:00

Steve's a serial dater but is his new guy a serial killer? FOLLOW THE LINK:
http://mygaytoronto.com/datenightfail/oct_2011.php?ArchiveDst=datenightfail

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-10-21T11:54:00.000-04:00

The fact that this guy wants to creep on tranny ass cleaners while they sleep (or the other way around?) didn't even raise an eyebrow. What got me wondering is: if you know the full exact Internet address, why Google it? None the less, he got to my blog and was probably disappointed. lol.

Star Trek Sex

2011-10-19T11:30:00.001-04:00

Nearing the end of a movie at AMC Dundas I slip out to go to the washroom. Right inside the entrance I nearly bump into a cute guy at the paper towel dispenser. I can feel him looking at me. He moves back to the sinks and washes his hands for a second time. I finish and go to the sinks, too. We exchange head nods and staunch hellos. He dries his hands again and when I turn the faucets off, he leaves.

After the movie I wait for my friends to go to the washroom and the cute guy finally starts a conversation with me. His name is David and he tells me to add him to Facebook.

The next day I do and we chat. We cyber flirt for a few days, and I think we’re really hitting it off so I ask to meet. David accepts but clarifies it’s only as friends because … drum roll please … he has a boyfriend.

Of course he does.

I ask about the boyfriend (maybe I still had a chance, maybe I’m a masochist?). David tells me that they have a long distance relationship as the boyfriend lives in Montreal.

Score!

We flirt more. I tell David he’s really cute, and he acts genuinely bashful, which ups his cuteness factor even more! I wonder why he’s putting up with long distance relationship.

I tell him my experience with long distance relationships and that they never work.

“Be prepared for the pain when you find out he’s cheating,” I type.

“He won’t cheat,” David types back.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

“…because my boyfriend is only into Star Trek sex.”

Umm…OK?

“Please tell me you don’t wear a purple muumuu and giant disc hat?” I ask.

“No, I’m not Whoopi’s character. lol,” he responds.

I get a sense of relief.

“I play Wesley Crusher,” he says. “You know the red-headed doctor’s son.”

“I don’t know Star Trek that well,” I admit. “How did this all come about?” I ask.

“When I first met him, I checked his Facebook albums and noticed that every Halloween he was a different Star Trek character.”

“Ahh so he used Halloween as a cover to buy the Star Trek costumes,” I interject.

“Then one day I went in his closet and saw that he kept all five of them. I opened the can of worms by joking about wearing one," David admits.

That night they both put the costumes on and his bf pulled down David's Trekkie slacks and blew him. But over time the boyfriend only wanted to have sex if it involved the role-playing.

“So are you into it?” I ask.

“I guess so,” David types, “I don’t mind it.”

“But would you be doing it if you weren’t with him?”

There’s a pause and then he types, “I wouldn’t.”

I think our conversation made him think, but for now he’s sticking with his man in Montreal.

However, I’m going to keep this one on my follow up list. I have a feeling he’ll be single soon enough and then I’ll make my move, which will involve good old-fashioned Earth sex.

To be continued…

Bathhouse Alarm

2011-10-13T11:14:00.003-04:00

I meet two friends at Cafe California for lunch and for once we’re not bitching about men. It’s so refreshing.
John is going on and on about this perfect new guy he's been dating named Lucas. He tells us how Lucas has a firm stance on not cheating and, in fact, hates cheaters.
“It's always the ones that have to push their beliefs in your face that are lying. It's like they are trying to convince themselves by fooling you,” I warn him.
“I need optimistic Jesse not bitchy-queen Jesse right now,” John replies.
“OK, OK, I am supportive,” I reply to keep our lunch cordial.
“You’re so jaded. You have to learn to trust guys. There are good ones out there,” John says.
I remain positive from my head to the very edges of my toes, save for a few gimme-a-fucking-break glances at Steve.
The waiter takes our orders, and John wants to go for a cigarette so we join him. We step out to the side patio, which is closed for the winter but open for smokers.
All of a sudden we hear a fire alarm from down the street. We look over but can’t make out where exactly it’s coming from. After another minute the alarm is still ringing and our waiter comes out.
“Someone pulled the fire alarm in the bathhouse!” He exclaims lighting a smoke.
For those of you who don’t live in Toronto, the side patio at Cafe California is beside the entrance for Steamworks.
A few seconds later the door swings open and a bunch of men in white towels come pouring out into the street.
And that’s when we spot "Mr. I hate cheaters” Lucas come out in nothing but a towel and flip-flops.
I grab Steve’s arm in disbelief (more so because of the bad timing rather than the cheating). John is momentarily immobilized with shock until he picks his jaw up from the ground and heads down the street.
I expect a gurlfight, but instead John is calm. I see Lucas putting up his hands miming his dismay at the misunderstanding. Either that or he knew he was caught red-handed and accepted his defeat.
Lucas then turns back around to the other men in towels huddling for warmth. John starts to walk back, and I am proud of him for handling the situation with such poise and dignity until John stops, twirls around, and goes back to Lucas.
“Oh no, he snapped,” I tell Steve.
John rips the white towel from around Lucas’s waist and runs down the street. Lucas grabs his junk in an attempt to cover up and runs after him.
Talk about getting caught with your pants down! Ahh any given Sunday in the Village.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-10-07T13:14:00.000-04:00

This was so the runner-up title for my blog ... go figure.

A Trick for Rent

2011-10-04T10:29:00.001-04:00

This is how the story goes ...

9 p.m.
I meet up with friends for dinner and "a drink" to celebrate one of their birthdays.

1 a.m.
Eight drinks later, I’m leaving the bar with one of my friend’s friends after flirting all night.

9 a.m.
I scurry across the city to meet my roommate, Andrew, at the rental office of our building. We're a week late paying rent again. Andrew’s waiting and smoking a cigarette.
"You look like hell," he says when I reach him.
"Save it until I've had a coffee will you."
"Here," Andrew says handing me the cigarette. “Finish this and I'll go in and pay my portion first."
When he comes back out I confess that I forgot something at the trick’s place.
"I've left underwear at tricks places many a times. Trust me it's not worth going back," Andrew says.
"Well, it's more than just a pair of undies," I reply.
"What, a hat? A scarf? Buy a new one."
"It's not really expendable," I try to explain.
"What was it?"
"The rent."
“What!”
“I can explain. Yesterday evening I was doing errands and way behind schedule. I knew I wouldn’t have time to go to a bank this morning, so I took out 600 dollars last night. But since I was running late, I didn't get a chance to go home before meeting my friends. I put the money in my sock to make sure I wouldn't lose it. However, when I went home with that guy it must have fallen out of my sock when we got naked.”
"And you didn't notice?" Andrew asks.
"I was drunk."
"You total ditchpig."
"I know, I know," I whine, checking the rest of my pockets to no avail.
"Call the trick."
"I don't know his number."
Andrew rolls his eyes.
"Let's go back," I say, and we head back to this guy’s condo. I ring the buzzer.
"Hello?" he answers.
"Hi, it's Jesse from last night."
"Oh, what's up?"
"Um ... you didn't happen to find 600 dollars on your bedroom floor did you?"
"I did."
"Oh thank God! That's my rent," I exclaim. "Can I come up?"
"Sure," he says and buzzes me in.
"You are so lucky he's an honest guy. He could have lied and kept the money," Andrew says as we cross the lobby.
"How embarrassing," I say but feel more relieved than anything.
"Most people rent a trick, you leave your rent at a tricks," Andrew says.
We both get in the elevator and burst out laughing.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-09-30T10:28:00.000-04:00

I'm guessing this guy lives alone and just had to tell someone, so he told Google.

NEW Sept 2011 Date Night FAIL column

2011-09-26T14:59:00.000-04:00

I have never received such an off comment from a guy after sex ... until now. Read my latest column "That's Why the Joker is Also the Wild Card."
FOLLOW THE LINK:

http://mygaytoronto.com/datenightfail/sep_2011.php?ArchiveDst=datenightfail

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-09-23T11:33:00.000-04:00

Isn't it funny how life imitates art? Here are a bunch of Google searches that landed on my blog and of course I've written about them!!

A Day in the Life of Ike and Tina: The Finale Part 2

2011-09-20T10:15:00.005-04:00

Help for the Helpless

I lunge at the door and turn the lock just as Ike starts yelling and banging on it. Then I hear the door open to the stairwell right across the hall. I take another look through the peephole, and he's gone.
Tina is shaking as he sits in our arm chair. Joey comes back and pulls me and the knife into the kitchen.
"What the fuck are you doing?" He says.
"I couldn't just leave him in the hall."
Joey gets a towel and takes the knife from me by the handle. There's no blood on the knife, which is a good indication that Tina didn't actually cut Ike.
"I'm going to put it somewhere Tina can't get it."
Tina asks for a glass of water. I hand one to him and sit on the ottoman in front of him.
"Is there anyone you can call?" I ask. Tina uses my cell to call a friend, but the friend is not cooperative.
"What did he say," I ask when he hangs up.

Yes, that's a regular sized Febreze bottle!!

"He says he'll call me back."
A few minutes later he calls back and I answer. The friend doesn't seem surprised or concerned for the situation Tina is in.
"This happens all the time," he explains me.
"Really, you think so? Tell that to the Michael Myers-Halloween-sized knife sitting in my kitchen!"
I try to get the friend to let Tina stay at his place but he won't allow it explaining to me that he's dealt with this crap for years and he finally stopped helping when he realized that Tina is never leaving Ike, no matter how bad it gets.
"I refuse to continue to enable Tina to stay in an abusive relationship," the friend says. "He needs to leave Ike but he won't."
I thank the friend and totally understand where he's coming from.
"Is there anyone else you can call?" I ask Tina.
"No," he replies somberly as he hugs his knees rocking back and forth.
Then he gets up and says he's going home.
"What?! Are you crazy? You can't do that. Let me make one more call," I say convincing him to sit back down.

I call my friend Steve, who's a social worker for the city. I explain the situation and ask if there are any shelters Tina could go to.
"Unfortunately there are no shelters for abused men," Steve tells me. "Tina's only option is to go to a men's homeless shelter."
I look over at Tina assessing the feminine framed, 5 foot 5 inches, 100 pounds of him.
"I don't think it'd be safe at a homeless men's shelter for him … at all," I reply.
"Sorry, but there's nothing you can really do."
I hang up. This sucks.
"I'm just going to go home," Tina says.
"I really don't think you should."
"It's OK, I'll be fine. I'm sure Ike's cooled down by now."
He gets up and walks to the door. Before he opens it, I ask, "Why do you put up with it?"
He turns around and says in the eerie, hollow tone of a defeated soul, "haven't you ever been in love?"
Without waiting for an answer Tina leaves. I sit in shock and look down. My arm hairs are all standing on end.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-09-16T11:25:00.000-04:00

This guy from Down Under Googled this:

I wonder if he sought this answer before or after he did it? If before: clever boy, if after: Ditchpig!

A Day in the Life of Ike and Tina: The Finale Part 1

2011-09-11T21:26:00.005-04:00

Look What Happens When You Get Involved

It's been a couple of months since my roommates and I have heard Ike and Tina going at it. We're unsure if they've worked out their problems or if they broke up. None the less, we're enjoying the quiet. What we didn't know was that quiet was the wrong term as the past few months was merely the calm before the shit storm.
Just after midnight I can hear yelling from next door. I leave my room and head down the hallway towards the living room. My brother pops his head out of his room and follows me to the front door.
Ike and Tina's fighting is in full swing. Then it moves into the building's hallway. I look through the peephole and see Tina holding a knife up at Ike to keep him at bay. Ike lurches forward and Tina takes a swing at his arm. Ike jumps back and retreats to their apartment. Tina falls back against the wall and is paralyzed with shock.
"Oh my God I think Tina just stabbed Ike," I tell Joey.
"What?" he says pushing me away from the peephole to get a look. He locks the door and runs to his room to get his iPhone.
I can hear Ike coming back to the front door, but Tina just stands there. Why isn't he running away? Believing that Ike is coming back out to kill Tina, I make the decision to act. In a moment of sheer bravery (or stupidity) I open the door and wave Tina to come over. We hear shuffling from behind his door.
"Give me the knife and you can come in," I say.
He does and I pull him in. I shut the door quietly, look through the peephole, and see Ike in the hall again. He looks at our door. I back away from the door only to see that it's not locked...

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-09-02T19:30:00.000-04:00

Talk about perpetuating the stereotype ...

... oh wait. It's the young one peeping the older guy at the urinal. Never mind.

NEW August 2011 Date Night FAIL column

2011-08-31T14:40:00.000-04:00

Like many gay dates in Toronto we're going to Church Street ... well that's what I naturally assumed. As I sit in the Lady of Lourdes Catholic parish I take in just how incorrect I was. Drama ensues.

FOLLOW THE LINK: http://mygaytoronto.com/datenightfail/aug_2011.php?ArchiveDst=datenightfail

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-08-26T13:31:00.000-04:00

Nuthin' to write except ... ahhhh hahahaha!

RECAP: A Day in the Life of Ike and Tina

2011-08-25T11:58:00.002-04:00

OK, so the big finale of the Ike and Tina drama is coming to a finish and will be posted soon. To refresh your memories or in case you missed a post over the last few months I decided to post a recap.

Part 1: Breakin' Dishes

I hear shouting from the apartment next to me again. This is a fairly common occurrence as the gay couple who live there are always fighting. My roommates and I have nicknamed them Ike and Tina. The taller more aggressive guy is Ike and his boyfriend- short, frail-looking, twinky- is Tina.
When they argue, they're loud enough to penetrate the foot-thick concrete wall that separates our apartments. I can only understand parts of the arguments because half the yelling is in broken English and the other is in Spanish. Sometimes when it gets too much I'll bang on the wall and scream for them to shut up, but that only lasts for a few minutes before they're right back at it.
I've learned to drown them out, but today is different. As I'm getting ready for work I hear a loud crash against the wall, which stops me dead in my tracks, and I listen.
Another smash. And another. OMG they be breakin' dishes up in there!
I don't know what to do. Should I call the police? I don't have time to deal with it so I bang on the wall and threaten to call the police. The smashing stops, and I go for a shower. When I'm ready, I get into the hallway and lock my door. As I pass the neighbours I see the door propped open and I hear a vacuum whirling loudly. I walk by looking in but not stopping. I see Tina cleaning up the aftermath of their fight. Ike is gone, I think.
I walk to work hoping that this incident opened their eyes and that they will break up.
Later that night I'm in the basement laundry room folding clothes when Ike and Tina stroll in, baskets in tow. They see me and walk by acting as if this morning never happened. I watch them from across the room as they load washers, kissing and flirting with one another.
Seriously?
Fucking couples, eh.

Part 2: Hookers and Other House Guests

It's midday, and I'm leaving my apartment. I step into the hallway and turn around to lock my door. There is an older, out-of-shape man standing at my neighbours', Ike and Tina, door. He's engaged in a flirty- I'll see you later- type of goodbye. The man sees me and says a final goodbye to the person holding the door open. I walk down the hall and as I'm passing Ike and Tina's door, I see Tina standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel. He sees me and quickly shuts the door.
WTF. Is Tina doing tricks to make cash? What else could it be? I get in the elevator and ride down with Tina's john; Awkward to say the least.
Later, I arrive back at the building and I see Ike and Tina in the lobby. They greet and help a woman into the elevator. On the elevator ride up, I overhear Tina say: "Te amo. Estoy tan emocionado de tener a mi hermana aquí."
The woman is Tina's sister, who'll be a house guest for two weeks.
Heaven help both of them if Ike ever finds out about the "other" guests his boyfriend has been having.

Part 3: Cat fight Out of the Bag

I'm just settling down with a glass of white when I start hearing voices from next door. I turn the TV up, but they get louder. Then the shouting turns to smashing. I sit up and put the TV on mute. This commotion is nothing new but it sure beats the crappy Wednesday night line-up.
I can hear Tina crying. No wait. It's Ike crying and he's beside himself. I can barely make out their argument. Ike is sobbing that he can't believe Tina could do that to him.

OMG he knows Tina's been pulling tricks! I keep listening. More crying, yelling, smashing. I don't know what to do?
Then I hear Tina pleading to Ike that he was doing it to send money back home. It's hard to follow the arguments because they are speaking in both English and Spanish, not to mention the slamming, smashing, and what sounds like furniture moving.
It's escalated, and I feel it's time to call the cops. Ugh why hasn't another neighbour called already? Just before I dial I hear Ike egging Tina on to call the police. Then I hear something to do with green cards and citizenship and that they can't call the police or else they'd both be screwed.
After some more arguing I hear their front door opening and slamming. Gay UFC has moved to the hallway! I watch through my peephole's limited view.
Shortly after, Ike leaves towards the elevators, and Tina runs back inside slamming the door.
Everything is quiet.
I feel bad for Tina. I feel bad for Ike. I feel bad for both of them but what can I really do to help. I think if this makes Ike leave for good it'd be beneficial for both of them. And my eardrums. Maybe having the cat out of the bag is for the better?

Part 4: Call On Me

My roommates, Joey and Gabe, can hear fighting coming from next door. but then a soft knock at the door. This is nothing new until they hear a soft knock at the door. Gabe and Joey look at one another.
"Don't answer," Gabe says.
"Oh please," Joey says getting up and looking through the peep hole. "It's Tina."
There's another knock on the door.
Don't answer," Gabe repeats.
"Screw this, maybe we can talk to him?"
Joey opens the door and Tina bustles into the apartment without even being asked.
Tina is clearly upset and pacing back and forth.
"Are you OK?" Joey asks.
"I had a fight with my boyfriend."
"Oh we know," Joey says. "We hear it all the time."
"It's OK, I just need to borrow your phone to call a friend."
"Sure," Joey says giving him his cell. Tina goes down the hall and into our washroom, shutting the door.

A few minutes later he comes back, thanks Joey and leaves.
A few minutes after that Joey gets a text from an unknown number asking: why my bf always run to u when we're having problems?
"How does Ike have my number?" Joey asks aloud.
"Check your outgoing calls," Gabe says.
Tina had used Joey's cell to call Ike, he didn't call a friend. And right before the call to Ike he had called 911.
"This is crazy," Gabe says.
"Great, now my number is going to be associated with their drama."
Gabe and Joey chat about how dangerous this is now because Ike thinks something is going on with Tina and us. They both agree that we will no longer help Tina or get involved.
Then they hear more arguing from next door.
"This is ridiculous," Joey says. "I mean seriously they're not even drinkers, they have no excuse!"

No Cell Phone (Off by Heart)

2011-08-14T15:05:00.003-04:00

**Originally published in January 2011 on www.mygaytoronto.com

First dates can often feel like an obstacle course where you get your ass kicked. Such is life. However, I never thought I’d get clobbered before even getting to the date.
On route to a first date, I suddenly draw a total blank on the location we’re meeting. I go to call the guy but my cell slips out of my hands (damn mitts!) landing in a slush puddle. I reach down and scoop it up, but it’s too late. It’s off and won’t turn back on. FML. I’m already running late and I realize I have no way to get a hold of this guy.
I’m stranded.
Plan A: I search for a payphone and when I find one, I realize that I don’t even know his number. Actually, I don’t know any of my friends’ numbers off by heart. Not even my brothers. Wow, was I that reliant on my cell’s pb and speed dial?
Plan B: I met the guy online so I can get his number from Facebook. I head to a nearby Internet café, scribble his number on my hand and head back to the payphones. Two are broken, and a crack head is using the third.
I only have a Loonie and a quarter so give the Loonie to the cracky, enticing her off the phone.
I put the quarter in but it falls to the change spout. I put it in again but it comes back.
Try it again.
Nope.
Dammit.
I smash the phone on the receiver and scream, “I don’t have time for this. I need you now!”
Two guys walking past wearing sunglasses- looking like they haven’t slept since Fly Nightclub opened its doors- turn to look, whispering to each other.
“No, it’s not...I broke my cell...” I try to explain realizing I look like a junkie unable to score a fix.
“Uh huh gurl, we’ve been there,” one says, and they laugh.
I turn to the crack head who’s still lingering beside me.
“It’s because of you they’re making fun of me. Get away from me.” I say in frustration and try to shoo her away.
“It needs two!” she says pointing at the coin slot.
What? Really? Since when is the pay phone 50 cents?!
I soften my stance and smile at the cracky, “I’m going to need that Loonie back.”
She laughs and stares at me with a dumb smile on her face- well if you consider three teeth a smile. She tells me to, and I quote, “eat her alien vagina,” and she walks off.
Suddenly I remember the meeting place but when I get to the restaurant, my date’s gone. Later, I try to talk to him online, but he ignores me. Oh well, maybe this date wasn’t meant to happen. The universe sure did pull out all the stops to prevent it.
It seems as if my heart is still a little off and apparently I know nothing off by heart. However, it’s a new year, and a new me. This year I have resolved to find a husband. A feat that involves making it to the first freakin’ date! Oh well, there’s always tomorrow. My outlook may have changed, but lucky for you, my luck has not.

The Cast Moulding

2011-08-07T19:48:00.002-04:00

It’s a cold and stoic December night in Toronto, and I head over to my friend Greg’s condo for a holiday dinner. Greg’s fiance Richard is away on a one-year contract job opportunity in Europe. I’ve always had a crush on Greg and I’m hoping that the long distance has killed their relationship, giving me a shot.
“Aren’t you afraid this could pull you two apart?” I ask.
“I am. It’s really scary not knowing what he’s getting up to over there. And I’m sure he’s paranoid about me, too.”
“It must be hard being alone for the holidays,” I ask, trying to coax out more dirt.
“It is, but I’m coping,” Greg replies. “Before Richard left I made sure to get a keepsake from him.”
“Like an expensive engagement ring?” I ask.
“No, no, we haven’t bought the rings yet,” Greg says scooting into the bedroom and returning with a box.
This is a good sign that I maybe have a chance.
“I had a cast mold made of Richard’s penis,” he says.
And my chance is over.

“With this I can be close to him, even when he’s 800 miles away.”
“Wow,” I say, “most people buy a heart-shaped locket. You have a statue of your man’s dick.”
“Not a statue,” Greg says, opening the box, “it’s made out of that rubber used for orthopedics. So it’s a dildo.”
“You don’t just want to keep him close, you want to keep him inside you,” I say. “How did you make it?”
“I mixed up the molding gel in a bucket. Then Richard got overtop of it in a push-up position and dipped his erection in until it gelled. Then he pulled out, filled it with the liquid rubber and let it set for 24 hours.”
“Who are you, Betty Cocker?” I joke.  “Don’t joke, this was difficult to do. We had three mis-dildos before finally making one.”
“Surprise, it’s a boy.”
Just after sitting down to eat, Richard calls.
“Hi baby,” Greg answers. After some cooing, he covers the mouthpiece and says, “I’m going to take this in the bedroom.”
“Sure, but leave the monument du Richard here. I came so you wouldn’t have to eat alone, so don’t make me,” I say.  I pour myself another glass of wine and turn up Mariah’s new Christmas album to drown out the lovey-dovey talk echoing from the next room.
Who knew that the secret to a successful long distance relationship is a moulding made of your partner’s dick?
I see mistletoe hanging from the balcony door frame. I rip it down and chuck it behind the TV. We obviously won’t be using it tonight.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-08-05T20:06:00.000-04:00

Wow, OK talk about meticulous! If you have to shave your hands you're definitely gonna have to shave elsewhere ... hence how this guy got to my Blog. Or that old myth about palms getting hairy if you masterbate is true!?

What's My Age Again?

2011-07-28T21:33:00.002-04:00

I’m turning 30 years old this month and, contrary to popular belief, my life is not ending. I set up a date with Chad, a cute, blonde 20-year-old guy that I’ve been chatting with online. We plan to go for dinner and drinks.
After dinner we get to the bar and Chad gets carded at the door. The bouncer turns us away because Chad’s ID is fake. Before I can react, Chad is pulling me down the street, “Let’s go for ice cream instead,” he suggests.

On the walk Chad confesses that he’s only 18, but he’ll be 19 in a few weeks.
I try not to show it on my face that I’m having a debate in my head: should I date so young?
“Why would you lie that you’re older?” I ask.

“Believe it or not,” Chad succinctly replies, “When I tell guys I’m only 18, it deters them.”

He’s right. I think that a 40-year-old can date a 30-year-old and still be compatible, but 29 and 18 is different. Eighteen equals teenybopper and immaturity. Maybe I’m being too judgmental? I’m an adult, but I’m still young! I decide to go for it. Â I watch Chad scanning the ice cream choices: so help me God, if he orders bubblegum flavour I’m outta here.
On our next date Chad invites me to an event put on by a local University’s Queer group.
Since I can get a wristband I go to the bar to get us both drinks. Coming up from behind Chad, I see he’s talking to someone. Right before I get to them I overhear this twink ask Chad, “So who’s that hot old guy you’re with?”

I spit my drink out, which I thought only happened in the movies, stagger and quickly turn around to go back to the bar.
The event is for gay youth and some of them are as young as 16. In their eyes I am old, but not in an insulting way: I think they mean grown up. I can remember being 16 and seeing my teachers in high school as “old” but they were only the age I am now.
As I watch Chad dancing smack in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by other young gays with their love lives still an unwritten book, I remember being almost-19 again. Every year he’ll go through chameleon-like changes, just like I did. There is so much a 19-year-old has to go through, and trust me, none of it involves a monogamous boyfriend. I realize it’s not going to work.
I’m 29 and I love it. I’m happy to be here and glad to be over all the things that it took for me to get here. With that said I leave and never see Chad again.
Later, after telling my friend Steve about how I ditched Chad, he tells me I should have given it more of a chance. I disagree.
“Let me put it in a way you’ll understand,” I tell him. “Chad wants tickets to a Taylor Swift concert, I just went to see Amanda Marshall ... at a casino.”

New July Date Night FAIL column is posted!!

2011-07-25T11:22:00.000-04:00

Check out my friend's really, really weird story from his last relationship. FOLLOW THE LINK:
http://www.mygaytoronto.com/datenightfail/jul_2011.php

A Kegel State of Mind

2011-07-19T21:30:00.002-04:00

On his first date with Karl, my friend Holden is having a playful debate. Holden is an easy-going, pot smoking, social work student, bottom-boy. His date is a Durham Region police officer who’s all Tory and all top. Despite their differences the date is crackling with chemistry. They may not agree on the legalization of marijuana, but there’s definitely an implicit agreement that this date would end with Holden’s legs in the air.

The next morning Holden awoke to find a note on the dresser from Karl that reads: “Had a great time. I had to go and thought I’d let you sleep in. Later loosy-goosy.”

An emergency brunch is called and Holden tells us the story.
“So now I’m obsessively doing Kegel exercises for my Pubococcygeal muscles, which can be done anywhere, anytime,” Holden explains in despair.
The waiter comes and takes our orders. I ask for coffee, Holden and Wayne get orange juice.
“I read online that if you can’t do 20 reps you’re considered very out of shape,” Holden continues. “I could only do 33 my first time!”
“Oh don’t believe the internet,” I say.
“How many can you do?” Holden asks.
“I don’t know,” I laugh. “I’ve never even heard of it.”
“Try it.”
“What? Now? No.”
“Try for me. I have to know if I’m a loosey goosy.”
“How do you do it?” Wayne asks.
“To do it right, contract your anus muscles as if you’re stopping a pee in mid-stream. You can feel them tighten, right? OK now do it fast for as many as you can.”
We all sit in silence and keenly clench our kegels.
The waiter comes over and puts down our drinks. “Here’s your juice, it was freshly squeezed today.”
We all burst out laughing. I tell the waiter “You don’t want to know why, but you just doubled your tip.”
As we eat, we discuss how many we did and it turns out we all can use some Pubococcygeal conditioning. Holden continues ranting.
“It’s not enough that bottoms give up Mexican and Indian food, and that we are more susceptible to disease, but now we have to exercise down there every day. And they say the tops do all the work.”
I wave to the waiter for the bill but Holden grabs my arm to stop me.
“I still have two reps to do,” he says, “get a refill and stay with me.”
I tell him to skip it and he freaks out. “I can’t! I’m doing them three times a day, even keeping a kegel journal. It can take up to six months to get results. I’m not skipping! If I’m lazy about it I’m going to have to pay for the electrical stimulation.”
I can see the desperation in his face, so I decide to wait and let Holden hold ‘em.

Later that night Holden decides to confront Karl about the note, and in a shear act of bravery, he Facebooks him. Two agonizing hours later he gets a response. Karl apologizes and clarifies that he was referring Holden’s pot smoking political views, and not his hole. Holden literally jumps around his apartment with glee. However, he continues to kegel. It can’t hurt, he figures.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-07-15T18:52:00.000-04:00

Dear Reader that is Googling this: STOP fucking researching and just start wiping your fucking ass better like the rest of us!!!! LOL
Too gross, too much or just plain funny. Comment and let me know.

The Shy Shoe Fucker

2011-07-13T00:48:00.001-04:00

I met Martin one Saturday night at a party at his place. His apartment is impeccable. He has amazing style, modern, expensive furniture, and an impressive kitchenware set, which he used often (he served homemade Creme Brule at the party). Martin has a stable, homely quality so I flirt with him, and decide to go for “the good guy” instead of my usual “bad boy” type.
About a month later we have the boyfriend thing in full swing. It felt great to have a nice, normal guy, in fact, it’s like I’m dating a male version of Martha Stewart.
One morning Martin went to work and allowed me to stay in bed. Later, I wake up at the crack of noon and went on Martin’s laptop. We have such a trusting, comfortable relationship that he gave me his password. I checked my email and Facebook. Then, after closing the browser, I noticed a video file on his desktop. I decide to look at it (it’s not snooping if it’s on the desktop, right?). The video starts and I see the view from someone holding a handheld camera facing down on his erection. The person picks up a grey Converse shoe and slides his dick in. Then he starts to pump the shoe hard, groaning, as the camera gets shaky. The whole ordeal is about 30 seconds. I can’t help but watch again. The second go I notice that it’s actually Martin in the video. OK, so Martha has a shoe fetish.
Later that evening we hang out and I don’t bring up the video at all. The next morning Martin gets in the shower. When he comes back I have the laptop and I ask: “Why do you have a video of you fucking a shoe on your computer?”
“What? No I don’t,” he replies.
“It’s right here,” I say pushing play. He looks embarrassed. “Do you have a shoe fetish?”
“No!” he says and I can see he’s searching for an explanation. “I don’t know how that got there.”
“Well nobody’s been here except for me, and I didn’t download it.”
“I don’t know? Maybe it’s like a pop-up or something.”
“It’s OK if you have a shoe fetish. There’s nothing wrong with it but you have to let me know if you want to explore it.”
“I don’t! I don’t know how that got there,” he repeats.
“Seriously, Martin? You’re lying. I can recognize your dick. It’s you.”
Martin grabs the laptop from me and shuts it. In a whirlwind fluster he finishes getting ready for work. After this incident our relationship squanders. I guess he’s more ashamed of his fetish than I realized. Oh well, I just wish I could tell him that you can’t run from your fetishes, especially when your Converse are on your cock and not your feet. I don’t even want to fathom what he’d do to a pair of LA Gear Lights.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-07-08T21:40:00.001-04:00

Why would this guy Google a guy? Is there a new Slice network show I don't know about with... Justin and Colin maybe?
Well, whoever Colin is, he must have had a good time!

The Four-leaf Clover

2011-07-05T19:31:00.001-04:00

I notice a guy at the bar because he’s towering over the other patrons. I’m 6’2” and usually the tallest, but this guy must be about 6’5” and I’m instantly attracted. After some quality eye-fucking he comes over and we strike up a conversation. He’s in his early 40’s, handsome, owns a cottage, and is a doctor. What’s not to like.
A few days later we embark on a first date, going for lunch, and then back to his condo’s sun deck to tan. We chat about family and music and it’s nice. He also tells me that he’s out of town a lot for work. Then the doctor flips over to do his back. He puts on headphones and cranks his iPod- for the next 45 minutes. I find this weird, but I relax and enjoy the sun. The date ends and I walk home. He’s a really nice guy but I feel like there’s something missing.
The next afternoon I stretch out on a blanket in Allen Gardens and tell my friend Christian about Dr. Indifferent. He thinks I’m not over my recent ex and that it’s a mistake to date a guy who’s virtually the same.
“So let me get this straight,” Christian says, “he’s in his forties, just like your ex.”
“Yes,” I reply.
“He’s got a cottage. Just like your ex.”
“Yep.”
“And by the sound of it, he seems to be unavailable. Just like your ex.”
“Kind of, yeah.”
“You've either got a very specific type or a learning disorder. I’m not quite sure yet.”
“Point taken.”
Our friend Robert joins us and since there’s no room on our blanket, he sits on the grass. As we’re chatting they smoke a joint. Rob’s swaying his hands through the grass, and suddenly he finds a four-leaf clover.
“Ugh, that would never happen to me,” I complain and get him to let me hold it. “Can I have it? I need it more than you.”
Rob doesn’t let me keep it.
Later, I take Christian’s words into consideration but decide to peruse a second date anyway- he's a doctor, hello!
On our second date we go to the beach for some more sun tanning. Clearly, he’s not a dermatologist. All seems OK until the doctor puts on his iPod and sunbathes totally ignoring me, again. OK? At least this time I am prepared; I brought a book in my bag.
We walk through a field to get back to the car and I tell him about the four-leaf clover incident. Just as I finish the story he bends over and picks up a four leaf clover and gives it to me. What are the odds of that!?
He drops me off at home and we share a short kiss and say we’ll be in touch. There is no third date. Even with a four-leaf clover I still strike out. I guess you can have all the luck in the world but it still doesn’t guarantee a spark.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-07-01T16:18:00.000-04:00

No, absolutely not! Only do it if you want to or if you know that the guy likes it smooth. It's a personal choice and if you like being hairy, then be hairy. The right guy will come along who'll like just as you are. ***Pauses to put razor down and look in the mirror***
I suddenly realize that I am writing this empowering post as I am getting ready for Toronto's Pride!!!! Yay!!! And by get ready I mean I am shaving everything except my legs and head. This hypocrite needs a drink. See you all after Pride.

NEW June 2011 Date Night FAIL column

2011-06-28T00:30:00.000-04:00

After a tug-of-war to get any sort of feeling out of Guy, he finally said: "Fine, if you need a title then we can be exclusive friends." WTF does that mean!?

FOLLOW THE LINK: http://mygaytoronto.com/

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-06-24T23:49:00.000-04:00

OK my blog doesn't let the reader in this far ... although it probably would up my page hits. hmmm...

Don't Shit Where You Eat

2011-06-22T20:17:00.002-04:00

I just started a new job and a really cute guy is training me. I'm not sure if he's gay or not but I quickly get confirmation when he invites me out to lunch. We head to a near-by food court (how romantic).

"Have you been to Crews since it re-opened?" He says with a mouth full of Teriyaki noodles.
"Yeah. Have you?"
"No, we should go."
I'm interested but don't think it's smart to get involved with a guy from work because if it goes south, I'll be stuck seeing him everyday. But I agree anyway to be cordial.
A couple of nights later I meet my friend Christian.
“What can go wrong if we go out just as friends?” I ask, after filling him in on my dilemma.
“You know something is gonna happen. Especially if you’re drinking.”
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea to be shitting where I eat.”
“Oh who cares? You’re over thinking it. Do you know how many guys I’ve screwed in my apartment building?”
“Is that rhetorical?” I ask.
“There’s the guy from 605, the guy from the penthouse, Nick from 402, whom you’ve met, and my hot new red-headed neighbour that's just moved into the apartment next to me.”
“Jeez, does the rental office put you down as an amenity?" I joke.
“My point is, I’ve never had a problem after the fact. Although, the last guy is getting kind of stalker-ish. I’ve been avoiding him and ignoring his calls. I’m sure it’ll pass.”
Later that night I go out drinkin’ and dancin’ with my coworker. As the dance floor gets more and more crowded we end up dancing right up against one another. Without warning, he grabs my ass and pulls me in, giving me a sloppy kiss.
We head to the smoking patio for some air (ironic, no?) and I come clean.
“Look I think it’s better if we just be friends,” I tell him and light a smoke. “We work together and….”
“Cool. I get it,” he says nonchalantly. “Thanks for not leading me on.”
The rest of the night we have a great time and there’s no upset at work the next day either- unless you count the hangover.
The next evening I get a text message from Christian. It reads: “I think u were right. just got home and some1 smeared dog shit on my door handle!!! Wonder who?!”
I reply: “lol. told u so. u better hope it’s dog shit.”

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-06-18T00:34:00.001-04:00

This Googler must be a straight guy. I submit Exhibit A: Het-boys do this when drunk. Eyebrows, heads, and in our fantasies, asses. But the real proof is that he spent all of zero seconds on my blog before finding the viral frat party antics Youtube video he was searching for.

Date and Dash

2011-06-16T20:41:00.001-04:00

Here's an oldy but a goody for all the newcomers to my blog. Enjoy.

My friend Matt met Chris at a bar one night. After some chatting they discovered that they had quite a bit in common. They both used to work for Chrysler, and both now make a living navigating the cubicle labyrinths of RBC’s banking offices in west Toronto. Matt got Chris’s number. A date was planned, but by the next week, neither boy had called the other. Instead: “we text messaged each other like 1,800 times” Matt said, “and finally set a date for Friday.”
If only Matt knew that this incessant texting behaviour was foreshadowing the outcome of their soon-to-be ill-fated date.
After eating at The Artful Dodger, a pub on Isabella Street, they moved their date to a near by apartment party. After midnight they left when Matt sensed that Chris was bored. Chris suggested another party, saying he’d score a big joint there and it would help him relax. They headed out. During their walk, they reached an intersection where the light had just turned red. Matt stopped; an approaching car was too close to risk a quick crossing. Chris, however, made a run for it and when he got to the other side, he kept running.
“I thought it was his way of telling me to hurry up,” Matt told me later, "but when Chris got to the next block, he turned the corner and kept going!”
Matt ran after Chris but all he could see was Chris in the distance, still running, getting smaller and smaller. Matt just stood there dumbfounded. Minutes later he got a text message from Chris that read: “I don’t think this is going to work out.”
Well duh?
We’ve all heard of people running a cab or a bill at a restaurant. Hell, even I’ve pulled a dine and dash before. But now, are we seriously date and dashing?
Our culture is obsessed with any communication that doesn’t involve direct contact. Whether it’s emails, MSN, or text messaging, we love not having to deal with the commitments that come with face-to-face interaction. On MSN, I can leave a boring conversation mid-way and blame it on my wireless connection. Or type ‘brb’ and flee virtually guilt free. But when you meet an acquaintance on the street who just won’t shut-up there’s no way to easily get out of it.
The same goes for a bad date. Someone should tell Chris that there are better ways to end a bad first date. Fleeing the scene like a wanted criminal in order to selfishly spare any guilt of hurting Matt’s feelings is not the way to go. Awkward situations work hand-in-hand with dating. Learning how to comfortably and honestly tell a guy that he’s not working for you is essential. If you don’t have the balls to do that, then at least have the decency to finish the date and then ignore his calls…or texts…or IM’s…or emails…or Facebook messages.
One month after this date-and-dash Matt got his revenge. He went out and met up with a group of friends and was introduced to Chris.
“We’ve met before,” Matt said. “This is the Chris who ran away in the middle of our date.” Chris was mortified. Shortly afterwards, he left.
What Chris will have to learn is that in a city like Toronto, with its six degrees of faggotry, you can run from a date, but you can’t hide.

2-4-1 or Nothin’ at All

2011-06-12T15:45:00.002-04:00

The floor at the club is layered with a black grimy adhesive kept moist from the body heat generated by the overcrowding that occurs on a Saturday night. Outside the sidewalk is crowded with the long line-up on the left and a group of smokers on the right. I’m outside having a cigarette accompanied by a guy, ‘Muscles’ that had been chatting me up inside. Beside me a young guy is explaining to his friend, visiting from Detroit why we were all outside to smoke.
“In Ontario, you can marry a fag but you can’t smoke one,” he says.
Standing on the curb Muscles and I trade cell phones to insert our digits. Muscles is my type, which excites me because he also seems sweet and I felt potential. After the exchange, ‘Muscles’ dashes back into the club and I finish my cig. I scroll my phone book and when I get to his name I press send to call the number to make sure it's real. But instead of hearing his answering machine a raspy-voiced woman says: “2-4-1 Pizza, will this be for pick-up or delivery."
My mouth drops and my eyes tighten into a glare, “Oh, hells no,” I say snapping shut my cell and head for the club door. I get stopped by the bouncer.
"Sorry, you can’t go back in there,” the bouncer tells me as he looks at his watch, “It just turned 2 a.m.”
“I just have to quickly talk to a guy in there.”
“Sorry but I can’t let you in.”
“Please, it’ll literally take five seconds,” I argue desperately.
“Nope,” the bouncer repeats persistently.
“Ok look, I just got a number from some guy and when I called, it was for 2-4-1 Pizza,” I finish.
The bouncer looked up at me in a swift bout of shock, maybe even empathy, “Alright, go in,” he says and opens the door.

Inside Muscles is standing with his back to the door just past the coat check. I walk up behind him and slap him on the shoulder.
“Who do you think you are?” I scream over the thumping beat of the music. “Just because you have great pecs doesn’t mean you can treat people like this,” I state, turning back around and out the door.
Scurrying with a bit of a drunken stumble, Muscles pursues me up Church Street, in what I think is surely going to end up in a cat fight, but instead he is apologizing profusely and trying to get me to slow down. Finally I do and we engage in a semi-slurred argument.
“It was just a joke,” explains Muscles, “I had your number and was going to call you.”
“Sure you were, I know how to take hint,” I reply, “If you aren’t interested then you should have just said so. Why did you bother talking to me? Why pretend to give your number?"
“But I am interested, I think you’re hot,” Muscles says trying to win me over. There is an awkward silence because neither of us knows what to do next.
Finally he asks, “Do you want to make-out?”
Is he kidding? Did he really think I was going to kiss him?
“Sure,” I say unexpectedly. Totally bad judgment on my part but I never could resist a chiseled chest and beautiful lips. We start kissing, ironically enough, under the bright neon-orange glow of Pizza Pizza. As we suck face I tell myself that in order for him to prove his interest I would wait for him to call me.
He never does.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-06-10T20:48:00.000-04:00

OK this Googler who strolled onto my blog must be brought to your attention! I've told you about ditchpigs but this one is the ditchSOW!!! Really? Who Googles this?!

The New Male Archetypes

2011-06-06T15:10:00.000-04:00

Then: Soldier

Now: Saggers

It’s been 16 years since the movie Clueless where Cher Horowitz proclaimed this faux pas as shecomments on the young males of her generation. Well, her generation was the 90’sso I’m re-branding Saggers for the millennium as damn hot. Not all of you willagree but you have to admit that when a hottie walks by with his boxer-coveredbuns popping out, you can’t help but stare.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-06-03T11:25:00.000-04:00

My advice to the guy who Googled this:

Try Googling "Waiting for Godot" because you're waiting for a man who's never going to come around. Trust me, I know from experience.

The New Male Archetypes

2011-05-31T17:28:00.000-04:00

Then: Leatherman/ Biker
Now: Indie Rocker
Keep the bad ass attitude but shake off the fetish aspect. Replace the dark ally vibe with a moderate amount of brooding, shaggy hair (not Bieber hair!) and lots of skinny jeans. The Indie Rocker isn't afraid to admit he's been heartbroken as he grabs his guitar and is healed by the time the song is written.

NEW May 2011 Date Night FAIL column

2011-05-26T12:22:00.004-04:00

Peter decides to further Facebook creep the guy he's dating only to find some disturbing pics. Read my latest column. FOLLOW THE LINK:
http://mygaytoronto.com/

The New Male Archetypes

2011-05-24T12:42:00.000-04:00

Then: Construction Worker
Now: Bartender

It's a fact that 90 per cent of bartenders are hot! Both sit in the same blue collar boat, but bartenders are usually so damn hot, they're intimidating. Physically fit and scantily clad, we tip them very well for doing virtually nothing because they win us over, not only with looks, but also their charm. To prove this I simply have to walk into Woody's.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-05-20T07:16:00.000-04:00

What? Was there a race? I'd hate to see where all the runner-ups finished.

The New Male Archetypes

2011-05-16T19:25:00.001-04:00

Then: The Cowboy
Now: The Frat Boy
The cowboy is by far the archetype the least in need of a makeover but with Western movies not exactly breaking Box Office records anymore, I've managed to lasso up a new contender. Don't deny that you haven't moseyed on over to BrokeCollegeBoys.com, CollegeBoyPhysicals.net or Fratpad.tv for some hot video action. Thanks to porn gurus like Sean Cody, the Frat Boy really puts the stud in student.

The New Male Archetypes

2011-05-08T11:08:00.002-04:00

Then: Native American

Now: DJ

What these two have in common is the element of mystery. DJ's are like celebrities without a face. Many DJ's are internationally famous for their ambition, talent, and innovative sounds and remixes, which makes them sexy even if you don't know what they look like. Try Googling some of the names you hear who remixed the last pop hit and you'll be surprised that most DJ's are hunks. DJ Cazwell, Peter Rauhofer, Miguel Migs, David Morales, and Tiesto are making our fantasies reality.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-05-06T20:42:00.000-04:00

It's like the dirty version of my blog...

The New Male Archetypes

2011-05-03T19:52:00.000-04:00

Walking within the city there’s no escaping the sound of sirens coming from emergency vehicles. A majority of the time these vehicles are ambulances and their loud, annoying shrilling causes nothing but headaches.

Then one day I hear a siren coming from behind me and when I turn to look expecting an ambulance, I see a fire truck. I instantly get excited expecting to see a truck full of big, manly, gorgeous firemen drive by en route to save the day. Although this fantasy never comes true, every time I see that red truck coming I instinctively have this fantasy and I’m not the only one.

According to Jungian Theory, archetypes are, “collective universal (although I’m examining Western culture) patterns of motifs, which come from the collective unconscious and are the basic content of religions, mythologies, legends, and fairytales.”

Male archetypes aren’t to be confused with sexual types like twink or bears because they go beyond a persons’ specific sexual preference. Sexual archetypes such as sailors, soldiers, and firemen have over the years become cultural icons of male sexuality; sort of like the definition of attractiveness.

In the 1970’s, The Village People exploded onto the music scene creating five classic male archetypes with mass sex appeal, which include: The Policeman, Construction Worker, Biker/Leather man, the Native, and the Cowboy. Most of these still resonate today but it’s been a long time since the Village People’s heyday.

When I asked my friend, 18-year-old Ryan what comes to mind when I say: “Cop, Leather man, Construction Worker.” He responds: “Old and hairy.”

These icons are outdated and have lost their sex appeal. The 20-something culture of today has grown up to different media exposure and unique lifestyles. I think it’s time we left the old archetypes in the realm of vintage porn and pick new ones to represent what we desire today. It’s time to give the Village People a makeover.

I’ll post a series of “Then and Nows” with new male archetypes along with hot photos to illustrate my point.

Then: Policeman

Now: Life Guard

Both share the “hero factor” and possess many of the same qualities, but the image of a cop is changing from the tight brown uniform and sheriff-star encrusted hat to the pot-bellied, donut-eating stereotype. In a post Baywatch world it’s impossible to think of a lifeguard as anything but a muscular Adonis lounging by a pool in little shorts.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-04-30T13:17:00.000-04:00

I know it's Saturday but here's the post for yesterday... it's worth it. lol.

Check out my Date Night FAIL column for April

2011-04-28T18:22:00.000-04:00

What is Star Trek sex? Find out in my latest column. FOLLOW THE LINK: http://mygaytoronto.com

Desperate Gay Housewife

2011-04-26T06:52:00.004-04:00

I’ve always admired my friend Robbie. He’s 24, smart, looks like a Calvin Klein model and has always been impressively independent. I remember going out for wild nights on the town with huge groups of mutual friends, mingling and mixing our way from the bars to the clubs. He was the life of the party, double-fisting the drinks and single-handedly cracking the jokes.
But that was then. Now that he’s in a serious relationship, we haven’t seen much of each other. So I call him up and arrange to get together for a drink.
The next day, I’m watching as Robbie stands barefoot in the kitchen doing dishes and making a pot of coffee. Apparently, this is what meeting up for a drink means to him nowadays.
"I hate this fucking dishwasher," he says as he tries to cram in the overloaded shelf.
Many gays are going from Sex And The City to Desperate Housewives. For a lot of us, nights on the town have become nights on the couch, and money once spent on cocktails now goes toward curtain rods.
This switch happens quickly and snowballs so that before you know it, you’re a totally different person. These transformed men are invisible, living behind locked doors and tightly shut vertical blinds. My friend Robbie is one of them.
Six months ago, Robbie met Anthony, 28, and they’ve been going strong ever since. They have a loving and committed relationship, which I’m happy to see because before this Robbie was notoriously single. After two months as a couple, Robbie moved into Anthony’s elegant downtown condo.
This is where we’re currently chatting and catching up. It’s one in the afternoon and Anthony is off at his 9-to-5, raking in the dough.
Robbie brings the coffee over to the mahogany-brown table that seats six and takes the suede padded chair beside mine.
"I’m going to level with you," Robbie says, leaning forward and lowering his voice even though it’s just the two of us. "I’m basically a kept woman." Then he jumps up to get laundry from the dryer. He brings a basket back to the table and begins folding clothes standing up. He has yet to touch his coffee.
Of course, I could have told him this months ago. Robbie’s life right now is virtually on hold. He’s just finished school and may apply to medical school or do his Masters.
"Why don’t you get a job?" I ask.
"Are you mad!" he responds, "I didn’t go through five years of university to work in some crappy retail job."
Anthony, he tells me, is a great guy and treats him amazingly, but the situation can often feel overbearing and intimidating. If they break up, he’ll be broke and out on his ass. Also, the spending money Anthony gives him usually isn’t enough.
"You get an allowance?" I ask.
"No. It’s for groceries and other things we need, but I buy my smokes and stuff with it, too. Although I do have my tricks so I don’t have to always ask him for money."
"Like what?
"Like when Anthony gives me money to pay my cellphone bill each month, I say it’s $100 when it’s only $50."
I don’t have to say anything. I just look at him.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he says. "You have no idea how hard it is to ask for money when we’re fighting."
I tell Robbie I’m going for a late lunch and invite him to come along. He agrees immediately because he really needs to get out of the house.
But then there’s a blinking MSN message from Anthony. He’s coming home from work two hours early. I know I’m going to be calling someone else to eat with.
"Shit, what am I going to make for dinner?" he says.
With all my friends getting boyfriends as if they were the iPad 2, I do feel added pressure to follow suit. But for now I won’t go running home to watch Desperate Housewives. I’m quite content watching Sex reruns on TBS.

Online Creepers

2011-04-23T17:32:00.006-04:00

I’ve been chatting with a hot guy online. I met him on POF and added him to Facebook to see more pics. Then we add each other to MSN in order to trade xxx pics. Literally, we trade pics one by one engaged in the intelligent conversation of “nice” and “hot” in between transfers.

I send him an ass shot and he sends me his cock shot. Then he asks: “when do I get to bang ur pasty ass?”

I’m not able to hook up that night so we arrange to keep in contact and chat later. A few days go by and he messages me again but I can’t meet. A few days later, same thing. I’m in a place in life right now where hook-ups aren’t exactly a priority. Or maybe I just wasn’t that hot for him?

Then I get a message from my brother saying: “Ew some freak named Miguel C messaged me asking what my ass looked like, so I deleted him. Then he messages again saying ‘probably like your brothers’ and he sent an ass pic that you must have sent him! Lol. Get rid of this guy for me."

WTF!!
What the hell was this guy thinking? I see him online and message him, confronting him on his despicable actions. He doesn’t see the big deal and basically tells me to relax! I fail at getting it through this idiots thick skull that sending a guys nude pics to his brother is just wrong. I want to threaten him, I want to punch him, I wish I could reach through the computer and take back my picture. But I can’t. All I can do is ask him to delete the pic and never disseminate it again. He agrees but I’ll never know for sure.

This is why I need to get offline!

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-04-22T09:55:00.000-04:00

We all know about Shit My Dad Says, but that's nothing compared to the new show starring this Googler called Shit My Mother Did!

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-04-15T16:24:00.001-04:00

I understand that in life sometimes you have no options. Or maybe the guy lost it in poker?

Breakfast at Epiphany’s

2011-04-13T15:01:00.002-04:00

I met Zach and I'm instantly attracted to him. He's blonde, as tall as I am (6' 2") and we make good conversation. Our encounter is brief as we both had other plans. We swap numbers and plan to chat later.
It turned out we didn’t have to call to meet again because we ran in the same circles and started to see one another everywhere we went. Also, coincidentally enough, he lived within walking distance from me that spawned some one on one get-togethers. We walked through Forest Hill looking at mansions, went for coffee, and had lunch dates in the Annex. As the months passed I worried that we were just friends and I had missed my window, but I refrained from bringing up the subject. Taking things slowly brought me back to high school when two people could spend time together without the pressure of labels, sex, and the immediacy to validate what was happening.
So I went with the flow.

One night after an outing to the bars, a friend offered for us to sleep over at his place, which saved us the agony of riding the Vomit Comet. Zach and I took the guest bedroom and crawled into the double bed with our clothes on. Lying with my back to him, I was just about to fall asleep when I felt his hand slide across my stomach and start rubbing my crotch. I was a bit shocked.
"What are you doing," I asked.
"Am I not allowed?" He whispered.
This was the moment I'd been waiting for.
"Meh," I said and turned to face him.
After some over-the-clothes groping I slid down to his waist. I had yearned and fantasized about this moment for so long; the moment we both succumbed to the passion that had been building up. Just as my lips were about to touch his head, Zach said: "Aren’t you going to compliment me on my penis?"
I looked up at him in disbelief. Maybe he was trying to be sexy or kinky, instead he had a smirk on his face as if to tell me that, after all these months, he was finally going to throw this old dog his bone. My mind was racing.
Was this a pity suck?
I ain’t performing no pity suck!
I left the room saying I needed a glass of water. When I got back we went to sleep.
The next morning we started fooling around again but this time I made him do all the work. We're interrupted by my friend and his boyfriend who were rushing to get ready to leave for work. Zach suggested we go for breakfast, which apparently meant sitting across a table from one another not saying much.
He seemed as embarrassed and awkward as I felt.
Finally, the guy I fell for and had become close friends with was beginning to emerge again. I started to re-think the situation, maybe I overreacted last night.
“So, are we going to talk about this?" I asked.
“What’s there to talk about?" He quickly responded.
“The fact that we took our friendship to the next level,” I confessed honestly.
“Whatever we’re just two friends who jerked each other off, that’s all,” he said so matter-of-factually I could have punched him.
Instead, in the midst of under-cooked eggs and over-cooked sausage that only the Golden Griddle could master, I had an epiphany. This guy was a dick and my crush blinded me to the kind of person he really was. I got into this mess because I wasn’t bold enough to communicate myself effectively in fear of the ruining the friendship, but I no longer cared about that. This dick needed to be cut-off not complimented.
"Actually, I think this friendship’s over," I said getting up, "and for the record neither of us got off."

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-04-08T12:24:00.000-04:00

well then stop buying your razors from the Dollar Store!

A Day in the Life of Ike and Tina Part 4

2011-04-05T13:01:00.004-04:00

Call On Me
My roommates, Joey and Gabe, can hear fighting coming from next door. This is nothing new until they hear a soft knock at the door. Gabe and Joey look at one another.
"Don't answer," Gabe says.
"Oh please," Joey says getting up and looking through the peep hole. "It's Tina."
There's another knock on the door.
Don't answer," Gabe repeats.
"Screw this, maybe we can talk to him?"
Joey opens the door and Tina bustles into the apartment without even being asked.
Tina is clearly upset and is pacing back and forth.
"Are you OK?" Joey asks.
"I had a fight with my boyfriend."
"Oh we know," Joey says. "We hear it all the time."
"It's OK, I just need to borrow your phone to call a friend."
"Sure," Joey says giving him his iPhone. Tina goes down the hall and into our washroom, shutting the door.
A few minutes later he comes back, thanks Joey and leaves.

A few minutes after that Joey gets a text from an unknown number asking: "why my bf always run to u when we're having problems?"
"How does Ike have my number?" Joey asks aloud.
"Check your outgoing calls," Gabe says.
Tina had used Joey's cell to call Ike, he didn't call a friend. And right before the call to Ike he had called 911.
"This is crazy," Gabe says.
"Great, now my number is going to be associated with their drama."
Gabe and Joey chat about how dangerous this is now because Ike thinks something is going on with Tina and us. They both agree that we will no longer help Tina or get involved.
Then they hear more arguing from next door.
"This is ridiculous," Joey says. "I mean seriously they're not even drinkers, they have no excuse!"

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-04-01T14:58:00.000-04:00

Ya ya it's always someone else's fault...

Should I Shave or Should I Go Now

2011-03-31T14:31:00.001-04:00

After some thinking I've come to a realization.
In the past, men have taken from me:
my trust, my time, my love, my heart, my sanity, my happiness, my body, my fears, my anxieties, my inadequacies, my shame, my soul.
And while the previous men in my life have taken all these things- good and bad- from me, at different times and in different capacities, I at some point must draw the line. I am starting with this blog. Although looking back I'm pretty sure I should have drew a line to save my soul (play the hand you're dealt Jesse, play the hand you're dealt).
Moving forward, I'll be damned if I let the men of my future take this blog from me...and in turn from you, too. I shall keep my stories, my sense of humour, my love for writing, my love to share these stories, my hobby, my possible blog-to-book deal, my wit, my voice, my self.
As profound and self-invigorating as the above sounds, the real scale-tipper was that the "no" vote got killed by the "yes" vote on the previous entry. I am that simple.
Also, how could I end it now when I have so much to tell you, like my friend's Star Trek sex, or the creep off the net sending my ass pic to my brother, and my ditchpiggery in PV Mexico!!!
PS. anyone pick up on The Clash ref in the entry title??

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-03-25T23:22:00.000-04:00

OK maybe this is just my twisted mind, but this search makes me laugh because of the posibilities as to why the person would need it.

Could this guy be correct?

2011-03-24T12:20:00.006-04:00

Andrew posted this comment on my Facebook wall, and it's been eating at me.

I have to admit that I have thought about this, too. My struggle is two-fold: Some days I think it's not going to stop me from writing this blog or my column. I want a boyfriend but not at the expense of the part of me that loves to share these stories and to write. But then I get caught up in the "what if this guy is right?" thoughts. Even though I change names to protect identities and keep the really private things private, a guy could still consider it a deal breaker.
So I need your help. I'm taking a poll. If you think he's right and I should stop writing this blog click the "ew" reaction button under this post. If you disagree and think he's wrong click the "funny" button. Or leave a comment and share your thoughts.
We'll see what happens...

Check out my Date Night FAIL column for March

2011-03-21T13:10:00.000-04:00

A Bathhouse Alarm has to do with a bathhouse, a fire alarm, and a friend's bad bad boyfriend. FOLLOW THE LINK: http://mygaytoronto.com

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-03-18T10:21:00.000-04:00

If you look anywhere as good as Anderson Cooper I don't think you have anything to worry about. If you look like Louie Anderson don't show up!

Get Outta My Sites!

2011-03-15T19:18:00.001-04:00

I deleted my dudesnude profile for a reason.

I want to meet guys but not for hookups. This is why I created an ad on a site called Plenty of Fish (www.plentyoffish.com) because my friend told me it was a great site where the guys on it are interested in dating. On this site men will ask you questions like “how are you” not “sup, stats, can u host?”
I’ve been fishing for guys and the good catches get added to my msn. I’m chatting with one guy who seems nice and his pic is hot. He tells me he goes to Ryerson and is in the library right now working on an assignment for the summer acceleration class he’s taking. I tell him I also go to Ryerson and I work for RyePRIDE, the queer group on campus. I’m into advocacy and human rights. He thinks that’s cool. Our conversation is going great and I am pleased to have met a decent guy. Then he asks me:
“So, you got a thirsty bum?”

Are you fucking kidding me!? I tell this guy to go back to manhunt and to leave sites like plentyoffish alone. Don’t pretend to be looking for a relationship when all you really want is some bottom looking to quench his thirst where a glass of Kool-Aid won’t do.
Your kind has enough sites! You have guys4men, manhunt, gay.com, craigslist, dudesnude, m4m, and I’m sure the list goes on and on. You “not looking 4 L8tr’s” are monopolizing the Internet. So stop infesting the only sites left for gay men who want to date.
Plenty of fish in the sea, eh? Well for gays it’s more like plenty of fish in the pond and when you weed out all the “no strings” guys, I’m left fishing in a puddle.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-03-11T11:36:00.000-05:00

OK so this Google search that brought a reader to my blog isn't so much funny as it is weird...

The Fuck It Button

2011-03-07T13:15:00.001-05:00

In the city you either push or get pushed, survival of the fittest, and you learn that quickly if you want to make it here.
This push or be pushed mentality has also managed to weave its way into our relationships. A loving and lasting relationship seems to be impossible in our fast paced, over stimulating metropolis. There is too much to see and do, and for some, too many people to see and do.
Oh and I push. I push and push and push, dammit, but to no avail. There comes a point when I just throw my hands up and say: screw it I give up.
My friend Owen told me about an article he recently read in Attitude magazine that claimed gay men have a lower threshold for tolerating the bs of life. It said that when things got rough, us gays were quick to smack the fuck it button followed by escapism into our vice of choice.
Whether or not this is true, I don’t know. But it has given me a new way to handle life; a new mantra if you will.
Another bad date. Fuck it.
Your boyfriend dumps you for no good reason. Fuck it.
Your ex won’t pay you the $100 he owes you but posts about his new Burberry winter jacket on his Facebook wall. Fuck it.
Starbucks is out of Cranberry Bliss Bars. Fuck it.  
You get the gist.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-03-04T10:39:00.000-05:00

Baby you were born this way...

A Secure Opportunity?

2011-03-03T13:15:00.005-05:00

So there’s this guy I like. He’s a security bouncer at a local and popular gay bar.
When I'm at the bar I see him looking, he says hi when I walk by. He’s polite while enforcing the rules, which I find so sexy that he’s not a power-tripping loser compensating for a lack of self worth.
However, I've never talked to him because I have my reservations about dating guys who work in the bar scene because after the Bartender X disaster, can you blame me? That said, if he started with me, I wouldn’t deny him.
My friend George hangs out at this bar a lot, especially on Mondays and Tuesdays, which are his days off from work. One night I have George over for dinner and the conversation drifts to this security bouncer.
“Oh I know Adam,” George says. “We talk all the time."
“Really,” I say interest piqued.
“Yeah, on the slow nights we hang together and chat. He’s a really nice guy. Actually, funny you mention him because he asked about you.”
“He did? And you didn't mentioned this to me before?”
“I forgot.”
“What’d he say?”
“He asked if we were a couple. I told him no. Then he told me he liked you.”
“Liked me? He doesn’t even know me.”
“Well, he likes the way you look, but the important thing is he’s interested.”
“Is he single?” (Sadly I still have to ask at this point in the conversation).
“Yep,” George replies.
We chat a bit more and the more George tells me about Adam, and I discover we have a lot in common. I'm excited because this guy has the potential to be a great match. I come up with a course of action. Since George is going to the bar before me, I tell him to give Adam my number.
“I know this is so high school but it’s convenient. Give him my number and tell him I’m interested. Then when he calls, we’ll go from there," I say.
George agrees.
I get a call from George a week later.
“Well?” I say excited.
“Oh yeah…um. I told Adam, and gave him your number…”
“But…” I bud in because I can tell it doesn’t sound good.
“Adam says he’s not looking for anything right now.”
“Seriously. Seriously? So he’s interested when he’s talking to you about it, but when I step in to make a move he bails?”
This is so typical.
I am done. Done! No more dating, no more trying to date, no more guys. I'm so done. I’m just going to take some time for me…ooh gotta go I just got a new message on Plenty of Fish.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-02-25T11:46:00.000-05:00

JOIN. THE. CLUB. LOL

A Day in the Life of Ike and Tina Part 3

2011-02-23T21:23:00.004-05:00

Cat-fight Out of the Bag
I'm just settling down with a glass of white when I start hearing voices from next door. I turn the TV up, but they get louder. Then the shouting turns to smashing. I sit up and put the TV on mute. This commotion is nothing new but it sure beats the crappy Wednesday night line-up.
I can hear Tina crying. No wait. It's Ike crying and he's beside himself. I can barely make out their argument. Ike is sobbing that he can't believe Tina could do that to him.
OMG he knows Tina's been pulling tricks! I keep listening. More crying, yelling, smashing. I don't know what to do?
Then I hear Tina pleading to Ike that he was doing it to send money back home. It's hard to follow the arguments because they are speaking in both English and Spanish, not to mention the slamming, smashing, and what sounds like furniture moving.

It's escalated, and I feel it's time to call the cops. Ugh why hasn't another neighbour called already? Just before I dial I hear Ike egging Tina on to call the police. Then I hear something to do with green cards and citizenship and that they can't call the police or else they'd both be screwed.
After some more arguing I hear their front door opening and slamming. Gay UFC has moved to the hallway! I watch through my peephole's limited view.
Shortly after, Ike leaves towards the elevators, and Tina runs back inside slamming the door.
Everything is quiet.
I feel bad for Tina. I feel bad for Ike. I feel bad for both of them but what can I really do to help. I think if this makes Ike leave for good it'd be beneficial for both of them. And my eardrums. Maybe having the cat out of the bag is for the better?

Dear Cupid

2011-02-20T15:50:00.005-05:00

The Tribunal of Love and Happiness

Mount Olympus

Athens, Greece

C.c. Aphrodite

Dear Cupid,

What is your fucking problem!?

As I’m wading through my annual post-Valentine’s depression it occurs to me that it’s not solely my bad luck with men keeping me single, I might just have an enemy lurking in the midst.

You clearly harbor a grudge against me.

I get it. You probably think that I am unbearable to work with, and right fully so, I mean look at all the times I’ve wasted your offerings.

I’ve never had a problem getting a date but as soon as I’m on one and sitting in front of the guy, I can’t seem to feel a spark. You know that spark that ignites when you first meet a guy and U2’s I Still Haven’t Found what I’m Looking For suddenly stops playing in your head.

I don’t feel that a lot. So, is it just me or is the spark a delicate and rare thing for most of your clients? That’s my argument to you before you put away the arrows, and give up on me completely.

There are guys out there that seem to get that spark with every guy they meet. You know the type I’m talking about; we all have those friends that we secretly hate because while you’ve been single for a year after your last breakup, this bastard is in a new relationship before the first teardrop hits the floor.

And that’s just not me.

Do you have any little blue pills for a low spark-bido in that bag of tricks? If so, lace your next arrow please.

From what I’ve noticed I seem to have love in four year intervals. Since coming out at 20 years old I have only been in love twice. The first was when I was 22, then I was single for years (with a hundred million dates and short relationships in between), and then finally the second spark arrived just after I turned 26. And after four years of on-again off-again turbulence, Love #2 is now over, leaving me single and 30.

Let’s do the math: two sparks in 10 years. Two loves out of a gazillion offerings.

I’m the one who can write a blog and a column based on all the crap you’ve thrown my way! So screw you Cupid for being mad at me! You’re the one slacking. Maybe you should spend less time begrudging me, and more time sharpening your arrows.

OK so now that I’ve vented, I propose a remedy. Can we call a truce? Let’s both commit to working harder to ensure my odds go up in my thirties. And please, please, please don't leave me dry until 34 for my next love.

Sincerely,

Jesse

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-02-18T11:02:00.000-05:00

OK really, it's a rim job, he's not meeting your parents. Simmer down.

NEW FEB 2011 Date Night FAIL column

2011-02-14T14:02:00.002-05:00

Read about a one night stand that almost cost me a lot. FOLLOW THE LINK
http://mygaytoronto.com/

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-02-11T09:42:00.001-05:00

Simply put: YES!!! LOL.

Old adage, modern twist

2011-02-10T15:31:00.000-05:00

If you count the seconds from when you see lightning until you hear thunder, that's how many miles away it was.
Flash. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand. Boom. Three miles away.
You can gauge the extent of a guy's lie by doing the same after you ask him a question.
Question. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand. Liar!
Try it.
P.S. The longer it takes him to respond means the more convoluted his lie is.

Friends vs Boyfriends

2011-02-07T15:37:00.002-05:00

If you’ve been trying to get rid of an annoying friend that you no longer want hanging out with your clique, the answer is simple: get him a boyfriend.
There is an unspoken between singles and couples. This became clear to me one day while I was out and about and I ran into my friend Andy, and his boyfriend, both of whom I hadn’t seen in eight months. I was surprised to see how genuinely overjoyed Andy was to see me as I had assumed he disappeared because he didn’t like me anymore. We greeted and briefly caught up. We said our goodbyes and made plans that both of us knew would never happen.
This is not an isolated incident.
Thinking back to all the friends I’ve lost contact with I now realize that our friendships dissipated as soon as they’re relationships got serious. This doesn’t happen overnight but after a while you can see your coupled friends straining to assemble plans involving both their boyfriend and you like it’s a chore.
At first couples stop coming out to the bars and clubs, which is understandable but soon they begin to miss get-togethers, holidays, and even birthdays. Phone calls become few-and-far between and eventually stop all together. My cell’s phone book is a graveyard of people’s numbers I never use anymore.
Let’s face it the two lifestyles are very different but why does it escalate into no contact at all? My guess is that single friends become as useless and excessive as someone buying a home with his partner but still keeping his bachelor apartment.
I grab my cell and decide to do a little test. It’s midday on Thursday, which ensured I'd get all answering machines. I leave messages for six people, three single friends and three coupled ones. By Friday night all three of my single friends returned my call but a week later still no response from any of my coupled friends.
The phrase “men come and go but friends last forever” needs to be amended with the suffix “or until they get a man” to be truly valid.
Friends are together through the best of times and more importantly they stick around during the worst. We spend time with each other to keep from being alone. We share the pain of having no one yet fall apart so easily in the wake of having someone.
A few weeks pass and I get no phone call from Andy nor do I call him. Whether I like it or not the reality is he’s moved on to another stage in his life and I should be happy for him but I can’t help but hold a grudge.
So, to all you coupled guys out there, pick up your phones and call that single friend you’ve been neglecting. We don’t hate you, we hate not having you in our lives.
Sure I’m pissed off now but if Andy ever has to move back into his bachelor apartment after a break-up, I’ll be the first one to help him move back in. That’s what friends are for.
Ain’t no boyfriend can offer that.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-02-05T10:53:00.000-05:00

This search brought them to my blog. What, what!

A Day in the Life of Ike and Tina Part 2

2011-02-03T12:45:00.002-05:00

Hookers and Other House Guests
It's midday, and I'm leaving my apartment. I step into the hallway and turn around to lock my door. There is an older, out-of-shape man standing at my neighbours' door. He's engaged in a flirty- I'll see you later- type of goodbye. The man sees me and says a final goodbye to the person holding the door open. I walk down the hall and as I'm passing Ike and Tina's door, I see Tina standing in the doorway wearing nothing but a towel. He sees me and quickly shuts the door.
WTF. Is Tina doing tricks to make cash? What else could it be? I get in the elevator and ride down with Tina's john; Awkward to say the least.
Later, I arrive back at the building and I see Ike and Tina in the lobby. They greet and help a woman into the elevator. On the elevator ride up, I overhear Tina say: "Te amo. Estoy tan emocionado de tener a mi hermana aquí."
The woman is Tina's sister, who'll be a house guest for two weeks.
Heaven help both of them if Ike ever finds out about the "other" guests his boyfriend has been having.

I'm so moving!

2011-01-28T11:35:00.001-05:00

I can't get a man in Toronto so I'm moving. I am certain that I'll have better luck on Male Island. Yes, it's a real place. It's in Asia somewhere and is part of the country Maldives. If the lesbians get Lesbos Island, the gays are claiming Male!

Forget winter and forget the jaded, "not looking for a relationship," Grinder obsessed guys in TO. I'm jumping ship, who's with me!? Oh yeah, and it's 30+ year round in Male.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-01-28T09:50:00.000-05:00

When I was little, I got a dollar a week allowance and spent it on Jawbreakers. This guy has a different story...

One Crabby Day

2011-01-24T22:46:00.001-05:00

I'm having a crabby day. I shouldn't complain considering the crabby weekend my friend Jeff just went through.
Itch, itch. Itch, itch.
A few more scratches “down there” and a closer look Jeff sees that he has some unwelcome guests.
He runs to the closest Shopper’s to get that shampoo. At the counter is a balding middle-aged pharmacist. Jeff asks for the stuff to get rid of lice. The pharmacist gives Jeff a look.
“My son got lice,” Jeff lied to him suddenly feeling the pressure of judgment.
“Right,” the pharmacist responds dryly and walks away to get it. He returns and gives Jeff the product.
“Just out of curiosity,” Jeff asks, “I heard that this is the same stuff people use to get rid of crabs. Is that true?”
“Yep,” the pharmacist replies pulling the same disapproving face.
“That’s crazy, eh,” Jeff says. “Actually I’ll take another one just in case I… er... my son spreads it to his brother.”
The pharmacist goes to get another one just as Jeff's friend Chad walks up and starts chatting about some after party he’s going to later that night. When the pharmacist comes back, Chad gives Jeff a double air kiss and says, “Bye gurl, maybe I’ll see you tonight?”
“That’ll be 19 dollars and four cents for the lice shampoo,” the pharmacist says making air quotes.
“OK, seriously, try me one more time and I’ll sick Cloverfield on your ass,” Jeff says referring to his crotch area.
He grabs his change and walks out.

How'd Ya Find Me Friday...

2011-01-21T12:39:00.000-05:00

OK this is kinda creepy but also kinda hot, non?

Twin Rivalry

2011-01-18T22:16:00.010-05:00

Anyone who has a brother or sister can tell you about sibling rivalry, but my story is a little different.   I have an identical twin brother named Joey.   In many ways we’re exactly the same. We both have brown hair, green eyes, and a dry sense of humour. But in many other ways he always is just that little bit better than me. He’s an inch taller and about 10 pounds heavier.
Ever since we were kids there has been an unspoken competition between us.   Actually, it goes back to the day we entered this world. Joey came out first by three minutes, which was the beginning of his superiority complex. He was six pounds, and I was two. I was rushed off to an incubator while Joey got to be in my mother’s arms. About a week later the doctors told my parents that they had two options for me. I was either going to be developmentally delayed or dead. However, I’m a fighter and overcame my supposed fates.   Plus, I wasn’t going anywhere while it was 1-0 for Joey. The fact that I survived made it 1-1.  
We were cute babies and many pictures were taken of us in matching outfits. OK, well, Joey was cute. He looked like a healthy, chubby baby. I looked like a crack baby with my slender frame and bug eyes. My mother always tells us that we were both adorable babies, but I know better. Whenever people came over to hold and play with us, Joey got more attention. I was the runner-up baby.   Damn, 2-1 Joey.
However, this did make me fiercely independent and by the second grade I was fighting my mother every morning to be able to pick my own clothes to wear. No more tacky matching outfits! I broke that vicious cycle making it 2-2.

My favourite Muppet was Miss Piggy but I had to settle for Kermit because Joey had declared Miss Piggy his favourite first. That was the twin rule. If one twin called something the other twin naturally had to pick something else and pretend it was their first choice. Joey usually beat me out for first dibs. 3-2 Joey.
When we used to sneak into each other’s rooms after “lights out” to read stories, Joey always convinced me to come to his room. When we heard one of my parents coming up the stairs I would have to scramble back to my room and usually get caught while Joey got off the hook. Why didn’t I ever pick up on this? 4-2 Joey.
At the tender age of nine, Joey would tell the other kids on the street stories about us in the womb together.   
“I ripped out your umbilical cord and put it in my mouth,” he informed, “that’s why you were so tiny.”  
He would also tell people that he was born, but I got here because God took a shit and the pipes broke, and I fell to earth. I didn’t retort. How mean of him, but it back-fired as people quickly deemed me the nice twin. 4-3 for me.
Throughout grade school it was about who had more friends. In high school it was about who got better grades. We both did well in English and Art, but Joey had a much stronger left side of the brain and excelled at Science while I struggled. I couldn’t bring myself to dissect the formaldehyde-pickled pig. Every time I looked at it I saw Miss Piggy and couldn’t slice.
I was appointed as editor of the yearbook just as Joey made student council. Joey made the honour roll, I was short one per cent from the cut off. Seriously! 5-3 Joey.  
It’s been 10 years since then, and we have a great relationship now. Joey moved away to do his undergrad at the University of Western in London, so we rarely saw each other or spoke over those four years. The years apart did the trick and when he moved back to Toronto we shared an apartment while I finished school at Ryerson. The time apart made us realize that life is better when we’re together and the petty competition only served to pull us apart. So we slowly overcame our rivalry.

We’re adults and laugh about how we used to compete about everything. We don’t anymore. We haven’t kept score either. Instead we applaud each other’s achievements and support one another through our failures.   There was no count when Joey got his Masters degree at U of T. No tally when I got published for the first time. I had the courage to come out of the closet first to family and friends, but it took Joey another year. Joey’s longest relationship has been two-plus years; my longest was only six months. Currently we’re both single.  
We realize it’s not about competing but doing our own things in life that make us individuals. We were so busy trying to be better than one another, competing to be so individual, we didn’t realize that the competition had become our identity.
I’ve learned that we can be different and still equal. Even writing this is very liberating.   How mature of me.
Note to self: 4,297-4,298 for me.

NEW JAN 2011 Date Night FAIL column

2011-01-17T19:07:00.001-05:00

Read how I got put through the ringer before I even got to a first date! FOLLOW THE LINK: http://mygaytoronto.com/