Wednesday 12/5/2007
Luck of the Drawl
Whenever my friend Bertam calls me to go to the bars with him, I always hesitate. The evenings always result in him entrancing a lot of the men without even trying, leaving me to sit in a dark corner as invisible as a middle child at my family's dinner table. I'm a middle child.
I'd like to think that Bert and I are on the same level. We're both pretty good looking, we dress well, and we're not dumb by any means. So why does he command the attention of every man he talks to while I struggle to keep conversations going? The answer is that he's from the U.K. and has a distinct British accent.
Four out of five gay men I asked admitted that they find a man with an accent absolutely irresistible, three of those four having drooled so much thinking about such a man that I had to follow them with a paper towel. The fifth person claimed to not be interested in the accent, but later admitted that he'd be curious as to where the person with the accent was from. This means that he really is interested but feels that there should be a bit of conversation before the eventual pants dropping because he doesn't want to seem easy.
A single gay man's brain works like a point-tallying computer whenever he's in a situation where there's a chance of hooking up. Whichever man gets the most points in one evening scores a free trip to the bedroom. Here are just a few of the standard point values:
Full set of teeth - 5 points
High School Diploma - 10 points
College Degree - 20 points
Tattoo - 25 points
Car - 30 points
Job - 50 points
A bed that doesn't fold - 75 points
British, Australian, French, German, or Swedish accent - 1,000,000 points
As you can see, you can be a degreed professional with a job, a car, and shiny white teeth and still lose out to Bert or any other man with an accent. What's worse is that American gays can't go to other countries and expect the same type of attention. My friends in Europe tell me that nobody thinks that Americans are sexy or smart and that the American accent is as charming as a genital rash.
There is hope, though. A man named David A. Stern has developed an extensive guide to learning various dialects. You can find some of them on The Costumer, or on Amazon.com. With these guides, you can easily pass yourself off as a Brit. Just tell people that you've spent some time in England and that you were so engrossed in the culture that you picked up the dialect. Throw in a few phrases like "I'm gagging for a shag" or "sod off, you bollocky bastard" and you'll be in the zone!
Be sure to pick one dialect and stick to it or else you'll look like Madonna when she appeared on Oprah that time and everyone fixated on her fake accent instead of her adopting that Malawian baby.
I'd like to think that Bert and I are on the same level. We're both pretty good looking, we dress well, and we're not dumb by any means. So why does he command the attention of every man he talks to while I struggle to keep conversations going? The answer is that he's from the U.K. and has a distinct British accent.
Four out of five gay men I asked admitted that they find a man with an accent absolutely irresistible, three of those four having drooled so much thinking about such a man that I had to follow them with a paper towel. The fifth person claimed to not be interested in the accent, but later admitted that he'd be curious as to where the person with the accent was from. This means that he really is interested but feels that there should be a bit of conversation before the eventual pants dropping because he doesn't want to seem easy.
A single gay man's brain works like a point-tallying computer whenever he's in a situation where there's a chance of hooking up. Whichever man gets the most points in one evening scores a free trip to the bedroom. Here are just a few of the standard point values:
Full set of teeth - 5 points
High School Diploma - 10 points
College Degree - 20 points
Tattoo - 25 points
Car - 30 points
Job - 50 points
A bed that doesn't fold - 75 points
British, Australian, French, German, or Swedish accent - 1,000,000 points
As you can see, you can be a degreed professional with a job, a car, and shiny white teeth and still lose out to Bert or any other man with an accent. What's worse is that American gays can't go to other countries and expect the same type of attention. My friends in Europe tell me that nobody thinks that Americans are sexy or smart and that the American accent is as charming as a genital rash.
There is hope, though. A man named David A. Stern has developed an extensive guide to learning various dialects. You can find some of them on The Costumer, or on Amazon.com. With these guides, you can easily pass yourself off as a Brit. Just tell people that you've spent some time in England and that you were so engrossed in the culture that you picked up the dialect. Throw in a few phrases like "I'm gagging for a shag" or "sod off, you bollocky bastard" and you'll be in the zone!
Be sure to pick one dialect and stick to it or else you'll look like Madonna when she appeared on Oprah that time and everyone fixated on her fake accent instead of her adopting that Malawian baby.
Monday 12/3/2007
Single Bells
I posted this entry last year. Like an ex-boyfriend's infidelity, I believe that it should be brought out to everyone's attention every year. Enjoy!
I read an article about "Holiday Fun For Singles" and it just seemed so ridiculous that I simply had to read it. The beginning of the article explained how difficult the holiday season can be if you are single. Then it listed five ways to make ensure your happiness during the lonely nights while everyone is having an excellent night with their lovers or rent boys that they try to pass off as their lovers.
At first I thought it was going to be a fun little alternative article, but every one of the five ideas ended up being a way to meet someone and end up in a relationship. Here are some snippets from that article:
In response to this poorly written attempt at making singles feel like shit, I have come up with a few tips of my own to ensure holiday happiness for the singles out there. Here are a few of them:
I read an article about "Holiday Fun For Singles" and it just seemed so ridiculous that I simply had to read it. The beginning of the article explained how difficult the holiday season can be if you are single. Then it listed five ways to make ensure your happiness during the lonely nights while everyone is having an excellent night with their lovers or rent boys that they try to pass off as their lovers.
At first I thought it was going to be a fun little alternative article, but every one of the five ideas ended up being a way to meet someone and end up in a relationship. Here are some snippets from that article:
1. Participate in Lots of Holiday Gatherings Who knows? You may meet Mr. or Ms. Right at that next party. Or you may meet someone who knows someone who is right for you.The article makes it seem as if single people are incomplete and so pathetic that they have to resort to trickery and duplicity to snag a man in order to fulfill that stupid idea that coupling equals holiday happiness. "Hi, I'm here to volunteer at this soup kitchen because I'm such a good Samaritan. Does that man over there have a boyfriend?"
2. Volunteer Many people volunteer during the holidays, especially very good-hearted, loving people -- the kind of people with whom you want to be in a relationship!
3. Worship Religion and spirituality can be uplifting and satisfying for your soul. Thus, the holidays are the perfect time to rejoin or revisit your place of worship. Plus, you'll find that lots of other people are making the same choice this season!
If you have trouble meeting your fellow worshipers, take on a volunteer role. Become a greeter, volunteer on a holiday committee, or take on some other role that fits your personality and interests. Being in a role with a job to do makes it easier to strike up conversation with people -- and possibly find romance!
4. Participate at Work Are there holiday events going on at your work? If so, participate!
If not, lead a group of people in organizing some activities. Create opportunities to socialize with as many of your co-workers as possible, then ask each of them to bring friends to the events.
5. Send Out a Holiday Letter Mail a letter about your life to your friends and family, and maybe even to work clients. Tell them about significant events and milestones in your year -- and tell them you are single and looking!
Describe your ideal mate and include your picture. Who knows what the postman will bring back?
In response to this poorly written attempt at making singles feel like shit, I have come up with a few tips of my own to ensure holiday happiness for the singles out there. Here are a few of them:
1. Go to a movie - Movie theatres are one of the few places that are open on major holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. When you go alone, it's easier to find a seat. Don't you hate having to find two seats together? What's the point in going to a movie with people if you're only going to be faced in one direction for two hours? There is the possibility of having sex in public, but all the psych majors will be the first to tell you that your exhibitionism is only a cry for help.What I want people to understand is that you don't need to follow tips from an article that reeks of right-winginess and old-fashioned values that I'd rather spit on than acknowledge. Have fun this holiday season, and don't let anyone tell you that you need a man or woman by your side to be complete. If you do have a boyfriend or girlfriend, then that's cool too. Just don't sit next to me at a party unless you want your boyfriend to be seduced by my sexy soap opera star eyebrow raise.
2. Buy something nice for yourself - No boyfriend in your life means more money to spend on yourself. Now is the time to really go wild! Splurge on those diamonique cuff links or that fifteenth pair of Pumas. I would recommend getting high quality personal lube and some porn.
3. Attend holiday parties and talk about anything you want, no matter how boring you might think it is - All of the couples will hang on your every word like you're singing a siren's song because they're so sick of hearing the same old Josh Groban holiday music and the stories about how so and so's kid did the cutest thing yesterday. YAWN! I once had a group of couples entranced by my story about how I choked on a cheez-it.
Hopefully, your sex drive will have been quenched momentarily by all the masturbating you've been doing because of all the lube and porn you bought for yourself so you don't need to worry about trying to hook up with anyone... unless you've got a sex drive like mine, where you get an erection just being within fifty feet of anyone with a penis and five minutes of free time.
Friday 11/30/2007
A Morphin' Good Time
A lot people who watch television have a show that they really enjoy but are too afraid to admit to watching for fear of being ridiculed by their peers. It's called a guilty pleasure, and everyone has one. Some people like The Jerry Springer Show, some people are into Desperate Housewives, and there are even some thirty-something gay boys I know who absolutely love watching WWE Monday Night Raw. For those of you who don't know, it's a professional wrestling program and not a gay bareback porn film.
I picked up a new guilty pleasure this past weekend after spending so much time entertaining my four year old nephew. He turned my attention to a little program called The Power Rangers.
The Power Rangers have been on the air since the early 1990s and have been reinvented more times than Madonna and Cher. Kids absolutely love it, possibly because of all of the bright colors and cool sound effects. I was watching an episode of Power Rangers: SPD and got an eyeful of the blue ranger. I know that he's got a red uniform in the picture, so don't e-mail me about it. He
becomes the red ranger later in the series.
It wasn't long before I was the one hushing everyone whenever they talked during the program because I'd become so taken with the red ranger and the other cuties on the show. He's got wonderful eyes, a cute smile, and a killer ass that the directors definitely know about because they're always finding situations where he has to bend over or reach something high up on a shelf.
I admit that the show itself is rather formulaic and poorly dubbed, but it managed to make its way into my Tivo's season pass manager. When you think about it, it's a great way to see amazingly hot and limber young men struggle to string sentences together without the hassle of making a trip out to a gay bar.
I picked up a new guilty pleasure this past weekend after spending so much time entertaining my four year old nephew. He turned my attention to a little program called The Power Rangers.
The Power Rangers have been on the air since the early 1990s and have been reinvented more times than Madonna and Cher. Kids absolutely love it, possibly because of all of the bright colors and cool sound effects. I was watching an episode of Power Rangers: SPD and got an eyeful of the blue ranger. I know that he's got a red uniform in the picture, so don't e-mail me about it. He
becomes the red ranger later in the series.
It wasn't long before I was the one hushing everyone whenever they talked during the program because I'd become so taken with the red ranger and the other cuties on the show. He's got wonderful eyes, a cute smile, and a killer ass that the directors definitely know about because they're always finding situations where he has to bend over or reach something high up on a shelf.
I admit that the show itself is rather formulaic and poorly dubbed, but it managed to make its way into my Tivo's season pass manager. When you think about it, it's a great way to see amazingly hot and limber young men struggle to string sentences together without the hassle of making a trip out to a gay bar.
Wednesday 11/28/2007
Toys vs. Clothes: The Gay Uncle's Dilemma
I don't think I've ever met anyone who has never shaken a gift as a child, hoping that a nice toy or electronic device was inside instead of clothes. Remember the disappointment when you lifted one of your gifts and you didn't hear a rattling of parts? Do you recall the malaise and slight anger you felt when you finally opened a gift and saw that it wasn't the Nintendo 64 you wanted, but instead turned out to be a box full of pants that didn't quite fit? Didn't you just want to strangle your parents with the tacky clothes that you knew would incite laughter and wedgies from the other children you went to school with? I held onto this clothes-gift animosity for years, well into my adult life. But recent events have changed my views on this matter and now I only give clothes to children for the holidays or birthdays.
I don't have children of my own (one of the many perks of not being able to get pregnant because I'm gay and not a woman), so I'd have a few extra bucks to spend on my sisters' kids during the holidays. One year, one of my nieces told me that she wanted a Barbie doll and another niece told me that she wanted a Fur Real Pet, so I braved the holiday madness at Toys R Us to get them those particular toys. Two hours and sixty five dollars later, I returned home from the toy store thinking that I was the super uncle and that toys equaled affection.
They opened their gifts the next day and the niece who got the expensive as hell Fur Real Pet simply shrugged it off and tossed it aside to see what else she got. The niece who asked for the Barbie was utterly appalled to find that I'd purchased a caramel-skinned Barbie instead of the Caucasian Barbie. Two months after that, neither of them knows where their Christmas gifts have disappeared to.
The three Christmas martinis that I'd consumed prior to the gift opening were the only things able to calm my disappointment that night. There's nothing worse than thinking that your hard work and time spent are going to score big with the little ones and later finding that it didn't really matter all that much to them. It's not really their fault because they don't know any better. They don't really care that you almost got into a fist fight with a person who cut in line in front of you at the toy store the day before. They don't realize that you could have spent that $65 on a month's worth of groceries or a week's worth of personal lubricant for yourself.
After that incident, I decided that I'd feel more comfortable purchasing things that I know my sisters' kids will use on a regular basis. It's actually a lot more personal to buy a cool outfit rather than a crummy old toy that any old schmo can pick up at a toy store because you need a keen eye and a sense of what works on the child in question. Those are things that come naturally to a gay man and I don't know why it took me so long to realize that. A gay uncle who gives toys instead of fashionable clothes is like a butcher who sells cheese instead of steaks. It just doesn't make sense.
I don't have children of my own (one of the many perks of not being able to get pregnant because I'm gay and not a woman), so I'd have a few extra bucks to spend on my sisters' kids during the holidays. One year, one of my nieces told me that she wanted a Barbie doll and another niece told me that she wanted a Fur Real Pet, so I braved the holiday madness at Toys R Us to get them those particular toys. Two hours and sixty five dollars later, I returned home from the toy store thinking that I was the super uncle and that toys equaled affection.
They opened their gifts the next day and the niece who got the expensive as hell Fur Real Pet simply shrugged it off and tossed it aside to see what else she got. The niece who asked for the Barbie was utterly appalled to find that I'd purchased a caramel-skinned Barbie instead of the Caucasian Barbie. Two months after that, neither of them knows where their Christmas gifts have disappeared to.
The three Christmas martinis that I'd consumed prior to the gift opening were the only things able to calm my disappointment that night. There's nothing worse than thinking that your hard work and time spent are going to score big with the little ones and later finding that it didn't really matter all that much to them. It's not really their fault because they don't know any better. They don't really care that you almost got into a fist fight with a person who cut in line in front of you at the toy store the day before. They don't realize that you could have spent that $65 on a month's worth of groceries or a week's worth of personal lubricant for yourself.
After that incident, I decided that I'd feel more comfortable purchasing things that I know my sisters' kids will use on a regular basis. It's actually a lot more personal to buy a cool outfit rather than a crummy old toy that any old schmo can pick up at a toy store because you need a keen eye and a sense of what works on the child in question. Those are things that come naturally to a gay man and I don't know why it took me so long to realize that. A gay uncle who gives toys instead of fashionable clothes is like a butcher who sells cheese instead of steaks. It just doesn't make sense.
Your advice is very helpful. I also am a proud gay uncle (of 6 nephews and nieces!). I also have had the dilemma of toys vs. something-else. Being, though, that many of my nephews/nieces are teenagers, and I don't want to presume what type of clothes they would like. Truthfully they're all much happier with a gift card for the mall hangout "Topix" (which I think is a bit sad...). I can tell you this - the NUMBER ONE gift I've ever given is a trip to Chicago to spend with their Uncle Scotty. The tradition is that when my nephews/nieces turn 16, I provide them with a free trip to Chicago, including a number of plays (BlueMan Group, Too Much Light, Wicked, etc.). They all can't wait for this chance for quality time. And at the end I make sure to print out all of our pictures we took, and put it in a special photo album, so that they have it to take with them on the flight home. It's really the best present I could ever give, and a great present to give my self as well.
Friday 11/16/2007
The Yoko Syndrome
I've got a great network of friends, and I enjoy spending time with one particular circle. We get together every week while sipping wine and talking about the fun and exciting events of our lives. Sometimes we'll nurture our trashy sides and watch the a VH1 reality show (Rock of Love, I Love New York 2). Then we'll go out drinking or dancing at a bar where the drinks are moderately priced and the men are plentiful. Everything was wonderful and peachy, and I was one happy camper.
One day, fate decided to shake things up by introducing a new face into the group. I'm always suspicious of new people, so I didn't get too attached. Since I don't have his permission to use his real name, let's call him "Ezekiel." Ezekiel is a saucy young fellow, and a bit cheeky when he's got a few drinks in him. His roguish good looks and mysterious ways had no effect on me like they did with everyone else... at first.
Long story short, Ezekiel and I started spending more time together. Then my friends started acting weirdly, not showing up for drinks at the appointed places and not returning my phone calls. A couple of them have voiced their refusal to be in the same room as Ezekiel because he allegedly said something bad about one of them after he'd consumed enough alcohol to put Peter O'Toole to shame, and me because I'm a slave to Ezekiel's massive penis and can't make my own decisions.
This came as a complete shock to me because I've always put my friends first. I always call them, include them in my plans, offer to buy drinks, and put money down for a deposit for our annual weekend trips. I'd never give my friends the shaft just because a man influenced me to do so. It's like the Spice Girls always say:
I'm still scratching my head as to why things with my friends resulted in such discord, but then I remembered an interesting phenomenon that occurs in groups of friends from time to time. It happens when harmony in a group is interrupted by a new person who sometimes pairs with an existing member of the group. It's affectionately referred to as "The Yoko Syndrome," referring to Yoko Ono's alleged contribution to the destruction of the Beatles. Poor Ezekiel is afraid that he's Yoko-ed us to the point of no return.
If there's any truth to this Yoko thing, that would make me the John... which is much better than being the Ringo, believe me! But my group of friends is hardly the Beatles and it's not really fair to blame the new guy for problems that arise as a result of his influence.
It's very easy to make your true feelings known by using the new guy as a scapegoat. By using someone else's recent inclusion as a smokescreen, you're free to cast aspersions as you see fit. I can't help but wonder if these feelings had always been there inside them. What really bothers me is that people quickly turn things into a battle with sides to be chosen. I suddenly have to choose between my friends and a guy, which doesn't sit well with me.
I'd never choose a man over a friend, but I will always choose a non-dramatic situation over the situation where I feel like I'm in high school and Susie Jenkins turned everyone against me by spreading a nasty rumor about my sexual proclivities because I stole the captain of the football team away from her.
One day, fate decided to shake things up by introducing a new face into the group. I'm always suspicious of new people, so I didn't get too attached. Since I don't have his permission to use his real name, let's call him "Ezekiel." Ezekiel is a saucy young fellow, and a bit cheeky when he's got a few drinks in him. His roguish good looks and mysterious ways had no effect on me like they did with everyone else... at first.
Long story short, Ezekiel and I started spending more time together. Then my friends started acting weirdly, not showing up for drinks at the appointed places and not returning my phone calls. A couple of them have voiced their refusal to be in the same room as Ezekiel because he allegedly said something bad about one of them after he'd consumed enough alcohol to put Peter O'Toole to shame, and me because I'm a slave to Ezekiel's massive penis and can't make my own decisions.
This came as a complete shock to me because I've always put my friends first. I always call them, include them in my plans, offer to buy drinks, and put money down for a deposit for our annual weekend trips. I'd never give my friends the shaft just because a man influenced me to do so. It's like the Spice Girls always say:
If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends,
Make it last forever. Friendship never ends.
I'm still scratching my head as to why things with my friends resulted in such discord, but then I remembered an interesting phenomenon that occurs in groups of friends from time to time. It happens when harmony in a group is interrupted by a new person who sometimes pairs with an existing member of the group. It's affectionately referred to as "The Yoko Syndrome," referring to Yoko Ono's alleged contribution to the destruction of the Beatles. Poor Ezekiel is afraid that he's Yoko-ed us to the point of no return.
If there's any truth to this Yoko thing, that would make me the John... which is much better than being the Ringo, believe me! But my group of friends is hardly the Beatles and it's not really fair to blame the new guy for problems that arise as a result of his influence.
It's very easy to make your true feelings known by using the new guy as a scapegoat. By using someone else's recent inclusion as a smokescreen, you're free to cast aspersions as you see fit. I can't help but wonder if these feelings had always been there inside them. What really bothers me is that people quickly turn things into a battle with sides to be chosen. I suddenly have to choose between my friends and a guy, which doesn't sit well with me.
I'd never choose a man over a friend, but I will always choose a non-dramatic situation over the situation where I feel like I'm in high school and Susie Jenkins turned everyone against me by spreading a nasty rumor about my sexual proclivities because I stole the captain of the football team away from her.
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