Gay men like to feel pretty and witty and bright! The major difference about gay men and everyone else, is that everyone else only diets and works out right before summer.
Gay men like to feel charming, oh so charming that it’s alarming how charming they like to feel! The huge question is: how much of that charm is for real?
This week I heard that, according to a study, women prefer to have a relationship with a not so attractive man. They say that they feel more secure when the competition isn’t always harassing their loved one. What competition, I ask? Because, if women prefer the not so attractive, the competition harassing the attractive ones would be gay men, who live so obsessed with their images!!
If such a study was made in the gay community would the conclusions be the same? How safe do you feel having a pretty and oh so charming boyfriend by your side?
This can lead us many places and raise many questions. On the one hand, having a gorgeous boyfriend may help your self esteem; you can project your desired image for yourself on that piece of devil sent man. On the other hand, who has a good self esteem being the ugly one in the couple? Would you rather deal with the competition harassing your partner or the jealousy from your partner because the competition keeps giving you the eye?
I went to the cinema this weekend to see My Blueberry Nights and in the film, Norah Jones mentions our need to choose some people as mirrors of ourselves. For me it’s like taking a picture: no matter how often I look yourself in the mirror, I always find I’m quite different in a picture. Choosing others to pose as our reflection is even trickier.
What would the solution be: The pretty couple with the pretty and the ugly with the ugly? Is «beauty lies in the eye of the beholder» just romantic bull or can it really be the force of a pretty unbalanced looking couple? Or… is a pretty hot ass and a pretty juicy dick in a pretty shaped body more important than a pretty face?
P.S. This is not a post about brains!!!
The other day I got to thinking about doctors. Not men wearing white coats but the doctors I’ve been to in all of my life. Fortunately I don’t need to see doctors often but there’s one that I see every now and then. Sometimes I think to myself if I really need to go see him or I just want to. Once there, I think sometimes I feel more like the doctor then the patient. Might as well! I know all he’s going to ask, all his going to say! With time I’ve become more at ease and we trade jokes and smile more. I remember how closed he was in the beginning, how nervous I was too. Yesterday I noticed, for the first time, how relaxed I was before my appointment.
Doctor! Right here and now I confess I’ve got a crush on you! So what? Shocked? Surprised? Can’t I come see you anymore? We’ve know each other for years now, it’s the longest relationship I’ve ever had. If we play it well, we can make it long-term. What? Your last assistant? Oh, nonsense, he meant nothing to me! Of course I flirted with him, he was irresistible. But you, you are the doctor! He was a mere apprentice. Of course you can see other patients, I’m not stupid! After all, I wouldn’t want you to go out of practice! I see you have a new ring, it looks nice. What else is new on you? We shouldn’t? Why? Not here? Oh, I see… You’ve got my number! I feel much better now… Thank you, doctor! See you soon! No apples for me, then!
Last week, on the same day of my close encounter, I was reading an article on the newspaper on how scientists were able to erase parts of the memory of lab rats, making way for stories like in the movie Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind, to actually be possible. For those who didn’t see it, it tells the story of a couple that undergoes a procedure to erase the memories of their relationship so they wouldn’t suffer from their break up. That got me thinking about which memories I’d like to have erased.
Memories, besides lighting the corners of our minds, become a real part of us, like an organ, like a liver or a kidney. If someone takes you a kidney, you are able to live, but without a liver you’d die. Which memories, if erased, would still allow me to be my whole self and which would make my life unrecognisable? Which one’s would be keepers? Which memories would I «wash out of my hair»?
I believe that everything that happens to me in the course of my life has at least the purpose of teaching me a bit more about myself. I’ve learned to love and appreciate myself so there’s very little in my life that I’d have done differently, as I’ve come all this way to accept how I am with no regrets. Ok, I could have taken other decisions, could have chosen other ways but would those have led me to this good place I’m in today? On the other hand, as life repeats itself, when temptation is strong, do we really remember the regrets and act differently? Do we really live and learn or the taste for the risk conveniently erases our memories?
Today I had my hair cut! Today I had my new dining table delivered! Today I had a radio interview because I do funny cartoon voices for a living! Today I had a close encounter!
I left Praça and moved to Graça which has been quite funny so far! A new apartment, a new perspective in life. Changes are good especially when you really want them. Funny how the things you want to change the most are those that usually never do! For example: I had my hair cut because I needed a change, but after my haircut despite lighter in my head, I felt the same. I had my new dining table delivered but as I still don’t have chairs, very little changed. I was interviewed on the radio and it was funny, but my close encounter just after that, showed me nothing had changed!
Suddenly, as if time stopped and everyone around us was in suspended animation, the doors were open and there he was, in front of me. Many years had passed since we’d seen each-other. My heart accelerated, my hormones raging, my toffee melting inside my mouth. He smiled… I smiled… I started talking… (funny, I distinctly remember telling myself to shut up but I just couldn’t). Surely I had to tell a couple of my usual jokes, to remind him how funny it used to be.
Like a sand watch our moment wasn’t meant to last. Before saying goodbye he smiled and said: «Funny, you’re exactly the same. Call me and we’ll have lunch!» I just smiled and felt the pieces of my heart crash inside my chest as the doors were closing. Once again we were apart, like we were, a few moments ago.
How do we know it’s true? When people tell you «let’s have lunch», how do we know they mean it? Funny, how it ain’t so funny!
I have been away for a few days. Not away from my routine, but away from myself, mostly, hiding under a pressurizing mad recording schedule. Lately, much more than usual, I feel like I’m about to lose it and go mad. There’s a theme by Duke Ellington called Solitude that says «With gloom everywhere / I sit and I stare / I know that I’ll soon go mad». That’s me, lately! But after 5 years, I’m taking a week off in the end of the month, to start the new year fresh and awake.
2008 is a year of hope and positive thinking! A year for being up front, turning old pages and filling new ones, with new things.
A few weeks ago I heard a radio show about how couples have been changing. We used to have the institutional couples (arranged marriages, mostly), the romantic couple (the ones madly in love with each other) and nowadays couples are looking for new and strong sensations without putting the stability of the couple itself in the way.
That got me thinking about one of the pillars of relationships: fantasies! Fantasies are a part of our erotic imaginary. Some are classics (threesomes, the mailman, the cable guy), some are kinky (the mean muscle guy from the gym, the police Xmas party where you’re the dessert), some have extras (whipped cream, eatable underwear), some are risky (a blowjob in the cinema or in the middle of traffic), some are much under-rated (an escapade to a cottage in the mountains on a long weekend). Fantasies keep us going!
But fantasies just go as far as our imagination and like any other source of energy, it may someday run dry. And when our sex drive is on the low down, we find excuses or change the object of our fantasies. One of the classic excuses would be – it’s not you, it’s me! Some excuses are kinky – you break up, but you give a goodbye fuck (where you usually let go of yourself like you weren’t able to before!). Most excuses are given as an extra: You’re great, you’re a very good person, I have the best time with you and I love your cooking, but…. Many excuses lead to risky break ups: I am fed up with this relationship! But maybe, the most under-rated one, as it hides the truth you’re not willing to say, is: I don’t love you anymore!
2008 is the year of the truth so instead of «I don’t love you anymore», let’s face it: I don’t fantasize about you anymore!
People have been on and on forever about what signs you get when you fall in love. Some talk about bells, others about a rush, there’s also talk about lifting, flying, a click… Are any of these mandatory? What if I feel ticklish? Does it mean the person gave me a rash instead of me falling in love?
I wonder if there are categories like: if I heard bells and he heard bells then it’s meant to be, because if I heard bells and he felt a click then it’s not love but only a fling. Should bells only fall in love with bells and rush only fall in love with rush such as cat people should only marry cat people?
What about the combinations? You can feel a click combined with a lifting sensation. Maybe the bigger the combination, the bigger the chances you get in the game of love!
These questions started coming to my mind… again… after another failed date that had every sign of becoming more than just a date. I kept waiting for the lid on my jar of jam to pop into a click sound, but nothing happened. For a moment I felt a growing hard on, but that’s hardly a sign of love at such a stage.
What are we supposed to feel? And in the absence of other feelings, does a hard on count when you’re looking for love?
- "Ep. 13 - One Of Those Bells…" posted on November 21st, 2007 at 13:08, by Ser.Calvin
- Posted in Thoughts by Ser.Calvin
When we’re small children we believe in so many things but soon we discover that not all that glitters is gold. Like instead of sucking on our mother’s nipple, we often suck on a fake one attached to a bottle full of formula - fake breast milk. When I was little, I remember my mother having this smooth fur coat. Nowadays you have fake fur that does the same job and keeps animal rights defenders quiet… and with their clothes on! Some of us, as children, may have come upon our mother’s facial massagers – how traumatic is that?! – and later learned they’re nothing less of fake dicks… and come to use dildos ourselves!
Life is full of fakes: fake sugar, fake chocolate, fake flowers, fake cookies, fake diamonds, fake pets, fake nails, fake eyelashes, fake breasts, fake hair/eye/skin color, fake legs/feet/arms/hands, some people have received a pig’s heart, there’s fake meat, there’s even my favourite with the best name: I can’t believe it’s not butter, butter!
I ask: in a world full of fakes, how can we tell true love?
Maybe all these fakes reflected our phony nature, maybe love isn’t supposed to be true! It comes in so many ways, with so many packages and wrappings, it’s so sudden and subtle at the same time, so undetectable and pushy, so remarkable and disappointing, so yin and yang… how can you tell? Do you have a definition for it? One accepted by all and said to be complete by the whole world?
If in the case of chocolate, breasts, dicks, flowers, diamonds, fur, etc, we can still tell true from false, have we been faking love for so long desperately wanting it to be true that we’ve forgotten how it really is?
- "Ep 12. - What Is This Thing Called Love?" posted on November 14th, 2007 at 3:37, by Ser.Calvin
- Posted in Thoughts by Ser.Calvin
There is a scene from «Alice in Wonderland» (the cartoon, you perverts!!!!) where Alice meets the caterpillar who tells her that one side of the mushroom will make her grow taller and the other side will make her grow shorter. Not knowing which side will do what, she decides to try both. By taking a bite of one side she grows to be too tall, by taking a bite of the other she grows to be too short. And by just licking the growing side, she grows back to her normal height!
How sexual is that?! Eating from either sides of a caterpillar’s mushroom to make yourself grow shorter or taller?!
The other day I came upon a foreign guy who wanted sex (don’t we all?), he wanted good sex (idem), he wanted good and lasting sex (yeah I got it!!!). For that, he asked me if I could get him some Viagra. I asked him what for. So that we could fuck for hours and hours - he replied. Do you think I have all the time in the world to fuck for hours and hours? – I asked! Well, if I take a viagra, that’s how long the effect lasts. Can’t we get to some kind of compromise, like we fuck for a couple of hours and you take care of yourself for the remaining time? No – he said – when I take a Viagra I have to have sex for hours. Did you see what Alice did with the mushroom’s growing side? – I asked him – She just licked it! If you lick a pill of Viagra maybe I’ll suck you, but guarantee you hours of sex is not my idea of wonderland.
Just how the caterpillar disappeared, so did he, and I «grew» back to my normal life. Maybe I’ll never know who painted the roses red but I know the balance between a quickie and good sex… for hours and hours it takes a very special someone… or it’s just too much.
- "Ep. 11 - SerCalvin Knows Good Sex" posted on November 7th, 2007 at 12:44, by Ser.Calvin
- Posted in Thoughts by Ser.Calvin
