Category Archives: Being Gay

Brand New Bacon Flavored Lube: Be A Bacon Lover

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For those of you out there who’ve been looking for a way to spice up your love life, I may have just stumbled upon what you need–Bacon Lube. Yes, you heard that right, and no, this isn’t a joke. Bacon flavored lube is now available for purchase from the J & D’s website by clicking here.

As quoted from the Bacon Lube website, Bacon Lube is “the world’s first bacon-flavored personal lubricant and massage oil.” (No big surprise there!)

I have to admit: I’m a meat lover (hehehe), but even I find this a tad strange. I’ve never been in an intimate situation and have thought: you know what this needs, some bacon!  But, hey, to each their own. I don’t judge what others do in their bedrooms, especially since homosexuals are constantly judged for what we do in ours.

So for those of you who want to get piggy with it, head over to the Bacon Lube website and get yourself a bottle. And, remember, bacon always goes best with eggs. 🙂

(story via Joe.My.God)

Lessons Learned in New Orleans

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I posted on Thursday that I was being whisked away on a surprise trip by my dear husband. Well, we ended up in New Orleans, and the surprise didn’t stop there. He reunited me with two dear friends–Chris and Jill. Jill, as you may remember from my fruit fly post, was my most recent fly who unfortunately flew back home to Alabama and away from me–her fruit!

When we saw each other again this past Friday evening, the three and a half years of separation melted away as if they never existed. The four of us simply picked back up from the moment we said goodbye and never once missed a beat.

That moment was very special to me. At a time in my life when dear friends seem few and far between, it was nice to be reminded that I have true connections in this world–connections that link us together through time and space.

So in honor of our weekend in NOLA and of time spent with friends I miss dearly already, I wanted to share some lessons learned this weekend.

Lesson #1 True Friends Never Say Goodbye

  • To quote Stephen King, one of my favorite authors, from his novel Stand By Me: “Friends come in and out of your life like busboys in a restaurant.” Never than more recently in my life has this been true. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting and befriending some wonderful individuals, each of whom has profoundly changed me for the better. To list them all and how I’ve grown would fill hundreds of blog posts, so I won’t even attempt that. But what I’ve learned after this weekend is that true friends are never gone from our lives. The busboy (friend) may depart your table (life) to attend to other duties (their lives), but a good busboy always returns to check the cleanliness of your table, to help clear away any accumulated mess or simply to check in on the status of your table. A true friend is like a good busboy–always in the periphery of your life and willing to return when summoned or needed. Thanks to Chris and Jill, I was reminded that even when you leave the restaurant, good friends remain on the menus of our lives.

Lesson #2 Gay Men Steal (or attempt to steal) Fruit Flies

  • In case you didn’t know, gay men are very protective of their fruit flies. It’s a relationship that’s almost as sacrosanct as marriage. When a gay man and straight woman bond, it’s till death do us part! Luckily, the husbands of our flies understand and are not threatened by the relationship. After all, we can’t steal (and don’t want to steal) their wives from them. BUT flies are in danger of being stolen by other fruits. It’s a gay man’s worst nightmare and one that I relieved this weekend! Some shirtless queen sashayed over to my fly, talking about “how gorgeous and fierce she is.” Compliments to my fly don’t intimidate me because, well, they are typically true: she is gorgeous and fierce, but the look in his eye was more than just pure admiration of her awesomeness. He was looking at my fly as if he was a fly trap trying to derive a way of making her his own. When I realized what was happening, I was like “Homo, please!” and sent him on his way. Thanks to the Shirtless Wonder, I stayed close to my fly the rest of the night. There was no way I was letting another fruit get illusions of grandeur about stealing this fruit’s fly!

Lesson #3 Beware of Motorboating Waitresses!

  • When a generously endowed waitress shoved my friend’s face between her breasticles, I thought it was hilarious. Even though he had a good time, I knew she had an agenda. The motorboat led to two shots, which led to her demanding money for her services. I was on to her game and promptly turned from her. I had no intention of finding myself suffocating between her “fleshy pillows” (Another quote from Stephen King; this time from Carrie.) This woman, however, was shrewd. Like a true motorboat, she circled the pond and went into stealth mode. Before I knew what was happening, my face was shoved between her mounds of flesh and she was attempting to force feed me two shot vials. Luckily for me, I’m immune to the charms of breasticles. My lips remained shut and nary a drop of liquor entered my mouth. She was denied her sale, and I sent her back into the pond for far easier fish. So, for anyone who goes to the French Quarter, watch out for big busted waitresses. Their milkshakes aren’t free!

Lesson #4 Flip Flops and the French Quarter Don’t Mix

  • If you’ve ever been to the French Quarter, you know how nasty and disgusting the streets are. If you haven’t been, well, just imagine strolling across pavement filled with an assortment of body fluids and you might get a snapshot of the whole disgusting picture. Though the streets are power washed daily, no amount of water can sanitize the nastiness, especially when you see how frothy and brown the water gets as attempts to clean it are made. Still, despite watching someone spew bodily fluids the night before, people actually walked through the streets during the day wearing flip flops. Really? Do they not realize that whatever liquid they walk through will be splashed across the backs of their bare legs. That’s just inviting a staph infection–or worse! When strolling through the French Quarter, always wear sneakers or footwear you don’t mind disposing of when you get home.

Lesson #5 Gay Bar + Football = A Good Time For All

  • I’m not a football fan; however, if football had been presented to me as it was this weekend, I just might have learned to like it. We watched the LSU/Alabama game at a gay bar, and I had a great time. I don’t know if it was the game or the go-go boys on the bar dancing, but it was the most fun I’ve ever had watching a televised sport (well, except maybe for figure skating or gymnastics!) I didn’t know what the score was most of the time or why people were booing or cheering, but I booed and cheered along with them–in between sips of my cocktails and ogling the barely clad boys. So, if you find yourself having to do something you normally don’t enjoy doing, throw in some alcohol and exposed flesh of whatever gender gets you going, and you’ll be having a blast in no time!

All in all, the New Orleans trip was a success! I learned to value true friendship, to forever guard my fly from fallen fruits, to be wary of waitresses sporting too much cleavage, to wear appropriate foot ware in NOLA, and to add alcohol and go-go boys to every event!

To Parts Unknown

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From Gay to Z will be quiet after this post until Monday. My husband is whisking me off somewhere, and he won’t tell me where!

All I know is we leave tomorrow afternoon and will not return home until Sunday.

While I find the surprise trip exciting, it presented many problems with packing. Do I need a swimsuit? Do I need club clothes? Do I need clothes for a cooler climate?

As it is, I pack to excess whenever we go anywhere. Wardrobe options are a must for me, but when I don’t know where we’re going, those options appear endless!

To ease my troubled soul, he kindly offered to pack for me. The gesture was sweet, but he knows better than that! I have to pack because I have to try on the outfits as I pack. How many years have we been together again?!?!?

So, he patiently stood by while I tried on an assortment of clothes, and while he gave me no definitive answers of climate, he did provide enough guidance to know I don’t need a swimsuit, snow gear, or a tuxedo!

The luggage is packed, and I’m ready to go. Where I finally stop, I’ll eventually let you know.

Until Monday!

Underwear Goes Green (Eco-Friendly, not moldy!)

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Underwear designer, Richard Dayhoff (click here to visit the official Facebook page), has created a new line of performance underwear for working out.

As reported by Racked, the super sexy undies are “Made from recycled Japanese poly fibers, the eco-friendly moisture management system rapidly transports perspiration to the outer surface; therefore the inner layer remains dry making his Performance line the ultimate sportswear underwear. This keeps the fabric feeling fresh and lightweight, not to mention its ability to retain its shape due to the incredible memory of the fabric.”

I rarely wear underwear to the gym simply because I don’t enjoy the feel of schweddy balls, but I might just give these a try, especially when you consider how they look on the models! They certainly make me feel very schweddy!

 

Dan Savage to Cain: Some Proof Being Gay Isn’t a Choice

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As you no doubt already know, Herman Cain, Republican Presidential hopeful, believes homosexuality is a choice as well as a sin.

Well, Dan Savage, author, journalist, and editor, wants to provide Cain with scientific evidence that being gay isn’t a choice. I think his experiment is genius and will solve the argument once and for all.

Dan Savage posted the following on The Slog:

Dear Herman,

If being gay is a choice, show us the proof. Choose it. Choose to be gay yourself. Show America how that’s done, Herman, show us how a man can choose to be gay. Suck my dick, Herman. Name the time and the place and I’ll bring my dick and a camera crew and you can suck me off and win the argument.

Very sincerely yours,

Dan Savage

If Cain is able to oblige Savage’s request, then homosexuality can certainly be a choice. However, no straight man, who truly loves lady parts, is going to stop petting his favorite kitty in order to walk someone else’s dog.

Savage knows that, I know that, you know that. Hopefully, when Cain reads this, he will know it too!

 

The Right to Love: An American Family–Movie Trailer

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Below is a trailer for a documentary set to release in 2012. It chronicles the fight of one gay couple as they struggle to battle Prop 8 in California. Amidst the turmoil of the struggle for Gay Marriage Equality, this gay couple fights back through home movies, showing that they are no different than any other married couple.

In Search of a Fruit Fly

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For those of you who don’t know what a “fruit fly” is, allow me to explain.

Quite simply, a fruit fly is a less insulting term for a “fag hag” or a gay man’s female best friend. Most grown women don’t appreciate being termed a “hag,” and many find the term “fag” to be an insult; thus, the term fruit fly was born!

Now, you may be wondering: why am I searching for a fruit fly? Don’t most gay men have those in abundance?

While this may be generally true, for me, recently, it’s not. I have had many fruit flies throughout my life. In high school, I had more than my fair share. If any of my high school female friends are reading this, then you might have been one of my fruit flies, especially if I helped you get over every single heartbreak you suffered, or if we went shopping together at South Park Mall in San Antonio, or if we were each other’s dates to school dances. You know who you are!

I also had quite a few fruit flies in college as well. We hung out, went to clubs, and drank together–sometimes excessively, but you were always safe with me, and I always got you to your dorm safely. It’s what a good gay does for his fruit fly!

However, most of those women (and myself included) didn’t get to enjoy the full aspects of the relationship because, well, I wasn’t out of the closet yet, so all those women were unofficial fruit flies for me.

Since coming out, I’ve had two “official” fruit flies, who still mean the world to me–Teresa and Jill. Our times together will forever remain close to my heart.

I remember first meeting Teresa at a mutual friend’s house. We bonded over American Idol and playing board games. And when we were teamed up together on the same team, no matter what game we played, we destroyed our competition. We were like Will and Grace, but better! And, yes, we were just as competitive as the characters from the show. If we played, we played to win!

I met my next fruit fly through a co-worker, when he brought his wife to the first dinner for faculty in our department. When I laid eyes on Jill, it was love at first sight. She was sassy, confident, and stylish. She was a horror movie fanatic as I was, and we made a weekly ritual of watching bad horror movies and eating junk food, much to my husband’s chagrin. (He hates scary movies!) To this day, all we have to do is mention Erin Moran’s death scene in Galaxy of Terror, and we bust out laughing. Most people we know hated that movie. But to us, it was small screen gold!

Here’s the clip if you’re never seen it. If you aren’t a fan of gore, just skip it and keep reading.

Sadly, those women moved out of my town with their husbands and the children that arrived shortly thereafter. Our bonds are still sacred and still in tact. I love those women as much now as I did when we were at the height of our fruit fly/gay man relationship. The only things that separate us are the miles between us. Nothing more.

It has been quite a few years since I’ve had a fruit fly, and these days, I find myself missing the special relationship that only occurs between a gay man and a straight woman.

My husband has a fruit fly, well, quite a few actually, but there is one fruit fly (as always), who reigns supreme. To keep my dear husband’s relationship with all his fruit flies from buzzing into discord, I shall not name names, but she knows who she is! I see the relationship they share, and though I’m loathe to admit it, I sometimes get jealous–not because he has that special relationship, but because I don’t.

And, it’s something I want to have again.

So, I write this post almost like a summoning spell (yes, I watched “Charmed” and loved it!), hoping by sending this out into the universe that it will work its magic and bring to me my newest fruit fly. A woman who has spunk and independence. A woman who meets the criteria set on the movie poster that is the featured image of the post. She should be irresistible, witty, and refreshing! A woman who loves to watch scary movies, eat junk food, share secrets, play board games, and be the heterosexual yin to my homosexual yang.

She has to be somewhere in this city, and I have to hope that she’s out there searching for the fruit that has been missing in her life!

My Coming Out Story: In Honor of National Coming Out Day

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Since today is National Coming Out Day, I wanted to share my coming out story. Some of you already know the fine details of this event, but there are others out there who might find the story enlightening and there’s even a chance that my story might find the ear of someone who could possibly benefit from it.

You see, I knew I was gay from a very early age. (Doesn’t that always seem to be the case?) Even before I actually knew what being gay was. I didn’t know what my attraction to those of my same gender meant. I only knew it made me different from my friends who lusted over Farrah Fawcett on “Charlie’s Angels” or Lynda Carter from “Wonder Woman.” I liked Farrah and Lynda too, but for different reasons. Farrah’s hair was awesome, and I secretly wanted to make her feathered locks my own. I also thought Lynda looked stunning in that star-spangled bathing suit. Secretly, I wanted to wear it, along with the red thigh-high hooker boots, tiara, bracelets, and that darned lasso that made everyone tell the truth.

But I just knew it was wrong. Why? Everyone around me told me so!

At school, there was nothing worse than being called a “sissy” or “fag,” and I did my best to dodge those labels like a dodge ball at gym class. But they followed me no matter where I went. After all, I hung out with girls and had tons of girl friends but no girlfriends. I tried to get girlfriends, so I could be like the other boys, and I even managed to snag a few. (Go me!) It just never felt right. Still, I hoped that if I found the perfect girl, she could make it all go away.

My family tried to butch me up. Whenever I acted too much like a girl (singing Olivia Newton-John songs, watching musicals, and hating sports), they told me to stop acting like a “sissy.” Hearing those words from your family is harsh. It made me feel defective as if there was something intrinsically wrong with me.

I know they didn’t mean to hurt me; they were trying to make me stronger, trying to make me fit a mold that society had already pre-set for boys. I needed to be strong, have thick skin, and relish in all things rough-and-tumble. And since I wasn’t living up to that ideal, they believed it was their job to try to cram me into it. This was the 1970’s after all (God, I’m old!). Life was a bit different in terms of accepting diversity than it is today.

I hold no grudge against my family. In fact, I love them with all my heart. Raising a child isn’t easy, and as we all know, no instruction manual on child rearing really exists. They did the best they could at the time and worked with the information they had.

They have evolved a lot since those days and so have I.

Back then, I waited for the girl who would make me straight, and I eventually thought I found her. Four years after meeting her, we were married.

She was, and still is, a wonderful human being. She has been far better to me than I have any reason to hope, but the love I felt for her couldn’t stop the secret from gnawing away at me from the inside. For years, it slowly consumed me from within until I turned into someone I didn’t even recognize.

When I looked in the mirror and saw who looked back at me, I didn’t recognize him because he wasn’t the real me. The real me existed somewhere deep within, and I had never even met him. The realization caused me to spiral downward and it also coincided with the arrival of my daughter into my life.

I questioned my ability to be a good father, to teach her to love and respect herself when I loathed and hated the very breath I exhaled.

So to be true to me and to be a better father to my daughter, I revealed the truth to my wife, to my family, and to my friends. Imagine Hiroshima after the Anola Gay fly over and you will understand a bit about what ensued.

Naturally, the news devastated my wife and ended our marriage. That part of the coming out was the most difficult because I broke the heart of someone very dear to me. To have the person you devoted your life to suddenly admit he’s not the person you thought he was isn’t easy. In righting my world and taking the necessary steps to be the person I needed to be, I also destroyed hers. I will forever live with that guilt, for I truly had no intention of hurting her. However, if I didn’t accept the truth, if I didn’t acknowledge the secret, I doubt I would be typing this blog right now.

Today, though, my ex-wife and I are better parents and friends for both of us accepting the truth and moving on.

Telling my mother was its own momentous event. When I finally worked up the nerve to tell her, through tears, that I was gay. She said, “Is that it? I thought you were going to tell me you had cancer or were dying? I don’t care if you’re gay. I love you.”

Those words meant the world to me. As a single parent, my mother was my entire world for much of my life. To have her turn her back on me would have been devastating. When she didn’t, when she proved to be the woman I knew in my heart she was, I was free to finally be the man I was meant to be.

After my wife and mother knew, the rest was a piece of cake.

My family, while stunned at the revelation, didn’t care. In the immortal words of my grandfather “blood is blood.” What more was there to say on the subject? It was closed.

For my friends, a lot of them were shocked. Some knew it all along.

At the end of the day, I realized it was no big deal. This big, awful monster that I had made my sexuality out to be turned out to be nothing more than a bump in the road. As my therapist at the time told me, “sometimes the things we fear the most turn out to be nothing to fear.” When she first uttered those words, I thought she was crazy. Now, I see the wisdom.

Fear kept me from being me all those years! Nothing else. Once the fear was removed, everything else fell into place.

I have a daughter who loves me (and whom I adore more than life itself). She doesn’t care that I’m gay. All she cares about is that I’m her Dad, that I help her with homework, drive her to school and dance class, and spoil her rotten!

I found a husband who is a wonderful man and who loves me despite my warts (and there are many!) I also have two great step children, who could care less about having two gay dads. It’s a non-issue for them.

My family loves me, my friends accept me, and my colleagues (who were stunned at first) don’t even bat an eye about it now.

So for anyone out there still struggling with coming out, know that life does get better. I know coming out stories are not always like mine, but they can be. Even if yours isn’t, being true to yourself is the best thing you can do for you.

After all, when you look in the mirror, you have to be happy with who you see staring back at you. For the past almost ten years years, I’ve never been happier. That’s worth any price.

Top 5 Lessons Learned from Sigourney Weaver’s Ripley

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I realized the other day that I missed the birthday of another of my favorite actors–Sigourney Weaver! (Please forgive me, Sigourney!)

I know there must be other people out there who love Sigourney Weaver as much as I do, but I challenge anyone out there who thinks they love her character Ellen Ripley from the Alien movies more than I do. Those would definitely be fighting words!

Alien was the first scary movie I saw, and I absolutely loved it! In fact, because of her and that movie, I became a rabid fan of the genre.

I was only seven years old when the movie premiered, and I begged my mother to take me to see it. Now before you bash my mother for daring to take such a young boy to such a scary movie, keep in mind that I pestered her almost nightly to see it. I wasn’t forced, and I wasn’t dragged. I wanted to see that movie! I was willing to do whatever I needed to do to see it once I saw the trailer.

In case you’ve forgotten it, here it is!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0oYNvmNZP2o

When I first saw that trailer, I remember thinking what the hell is in that egg?!?! (Yes, I most likely said hell at that age. I was always very advanced!)

The movie trailer intrigued me, and I just had to see it. Boy, was I glad I did!

Even though my mother attempted to shield my eyes during the infamous chest burster scene, I pried her hand open, so I could watch what would become a momentous cinematic event. I was neither emotionally scared nor terrified by what happened. I thought it was awesome!

Since then, Sigourney’s Ripley became my first action hero! (Well, besides Lynda Carter’s Wonder Woman, but I’ll save that for a later post! Today is Sigourney’s day!)

So, to commemorate her 62nd birthday, I wanted to share some lessons I learned from watching Sigourney Weaver battle her alien nemesis throughout the years.

Lesson #1: Always Follow Standard Quarantine Rules

  • Ripley knew they should never have let Cain back aboard the Nostromo with the face hugger wrapped around his head. In fact, the science protocols for Weyland-Yutani (yup, I know the company the original crew worked for) explicitly stated indigenous lifeforms are to be kept off ship at all times! This was for the safety of the crew, but did they listen to her? NOOOO! They let Cain on the ship and then died for their stupidity. It served them right, really! Since that movie, I don’t allow anyone aboard my ship without first making sure they pass quarantine procedures. If you don’t dock safely, you could be in serious trouble. Just ask Cain or Dallas or Brett or Lambert or Parker. Ashe doesn’t count; he was a robot after all!

Lesson #2: Always Wear Good Panties (or undies)

  • At the end of Alien, Ripley had to fight the monster in close quarters, wearing only her drawers. Thankfully, she wore a nice looking pair prior to jumping into the spacesuit and knocking the Alien out the shuttle bay door. She was fierce and attractive while kicking Alien @$$. Because of that scene, I make sure that I always wear a good pair of undies in mint or near-mint condition. You never know what situation may suddenly come up, requiring you to be barely clothed! No matter the reason, wearing a good pair of underwear will boost your confidence and allow you to beat whatever monster needs beating at the time!

Lesson #3: Damsels in Distress Don’t Survive

  • While I enjoyed Veronica Cartwright’s portrayal of Lambert in Alien, her can’t-save-myself attitude only got her killed. She refused to take action and sat by while others made plans or sacrificed their lives (poor Parker) before ultimately dying herself. Ripley never traveled down that road. She took action, made plans, and saw them through. She had no trouble setting the self-destruct sequence, even if it meant killing herself in the process. She was always going to be in control of her fate. Thanks to Ripley, I’ve learned to never rely on someone else to save me. If I’m going to make it out of a hairy situation, I have to set events in motion to make sure I come out on top.

Lesson #4: Stand Up for Yourself and Your Loved Ones, No Matter What (or as Ripley put it: “Get away from her, you bitch!”)

  • In the 1985 sequel Aliens, Ripley returned to LV 426, the name of the now-colonized planet that she landed on in the original movie. She went back with a squadron of  Colonial Marines, who were dubbed the baddest @$$es in the known universe. Obviously, they were all fated to die because, well, they weren’t Ripley! The marines died one by one, but Ripley survived to challenge the Alien Queen in the end. The queen’s alien drones had kidnapped Ripley’s surrogate daughter Newt, and well, Ripley was pissed off. She charged into the alien hive, rescued Newt, battled the queen, and made it safely back to the Sulako. Of course, in a surprise twist, the Alien Queen stowed away and threatened Ripley’s daughter once again. Not to be outdone, Ripley battled the queen courtesy a futuristic hydraulic lift and uttered her famous words: “Get away from her, you bitch!” Naturally, Ripley saved Newt and the day, and I learned that no matter what the odds, no matter how ugly or vicious the monster you must face, you have to stand up for those you love. Because in the end, their love is all that really matters.

Lesson #5: You Can’t Keep a Good Woman (or Person) Down

  • In the less popular third part of the series Alien 3, Ripley died, sacrificing herself for the good of humanity. You see, Weyland-Yutani, her original employer from the first movie always knew about the alien and wanted it for its weapon division. Ripley, impregnated by one of the aliens, wasn’t about to let that happen. After surviving yet another alien attack and being one of two survivors, she jumped in a pit of fire. Did that stop Ripley? Nope. She was reborn in Alien Resurrection, where she continued to survive and ultimately made it back to Earth. From her trials, I learned that a truly good person may have crap happen to them in life, but in the end the crap doesn’t win. By some force, be it sheer determination or divine intervention, the good person wins out in the end. So I do my best to be as good, strong, brave, and loyal as Ripley was throughout her run in the Alien franchise.

Looking back at everything I’ve learned, I have Sigourney Weaver to thank for helping me in my relationships and my character. If I had never seen Alien at seven years old, Lord only knows how messed up I might be today!