Think About "Dont-nating" Your Blood

“Don’t drink the water

There’s blood in the water”

-       Dave Matthews Band

So, Health Canada has given the green light to Canadian Blood Services to lift their lifetime ban on gay men donating blood.  Finally! This policy, first introduced by the Red Cross in the mid 80’s during the early years of the AIDS crisis, was archaic and discriminatory and its undoing should be lauded…

Pardon me?

The lifetime ban is being replaced by a new policy? Gay men are now allowed to donate blood as long as they haven’t had sex with another man for 5 years prior to donation? Are you fucking kidding me?

Thanks but no thanks.

Does Size Matter?

The quick answer is “yes.”

I assume that your dirty little mind went “there” immediately… mine generally does.

I am what is affectionately called a “crotch watcher,” as it is the first place my eyes go when I see an attractive guy… who am I kidding – any guy. I am also drawn to noses, arms and cheekbones, but invariably the first thing I do is check out your package. It doesn’t make a lot of sense but it is true. I don’t really care how big your penis is, I just want to make sure it looks good in a pair of jeans.

Some men are “showers” and some men are “growers” so appearances can be deceiving.  A “shower” (rhymes with blower) is a guy whose penis appears at - or close to - actual size. A “grower” is a guy whose penis needs to come with a caution label - “objects may be larger than they appear.” Other factors, including the type of underwear you are wearing, the size of your testicles and temperature may also distort the findings.

An Update On The 8-Year-Old I Mentor Who Told Me, "I Hate Homos"

"If this is going to be a teachable moment for him, then we are going to have to revisit the conversation. As the adult in this relationship, it is my job to address what happened and make it right. I will broach the subject calmly, from a place of compassion and understanding. It is not about making him feel bad or "less than"; it is about offering him a different perspective."

You can read the entire Huffington Post article here...

When The 8-Year-Old I Mentor Told Me, "I Hate Homos"

"I have been married for 5 years, and live in a country where marriage between same-sex couples has been legal since 2005. I live in a progressive city where gay couples and gay culture are commonplace. My husband and I have nothing to hide; our tiny condo doesn't even have closets. Admittedly, I do not have to deal with these types of questions very often."

You can read the entire Huffington Post article here...

Hey Steve...

Hey Steve,

Long time, no chat… How have you been? Still having trouble sleeping?

You really shouldn’t let that video of Justin Trudeau stripping bother you so much. Sure, he’s 12 years younger than you and slightly more toned but I don’t think too many people noticed. Nobody picks a Prime Minister based solely on looks… Thank God, right?

I agree that the attack ads seemed a little desperate but what are you supposed to do? We can’t give Canadians the time to actually make an informed decision. They worked so well with Dion and Ignatieff – how were you supposed to know that people would see right through them this time? I mean, Dion was easy because of the language barrier and Ignatieff was easy because of that face, but Trudeau will be a little harder to demonize. I think the “not ready to lead” angle is a good way to go as long as nobody actually looks into it. It’s not like people can just Google your experience when you were elected party leader and compare it to his, is it? That would be bad…

Follow Your Bliss or: Happy Birthday To Me

“Follow your bliss and the universe will open doors for you where there were only walls.”

- Joseph Campbell

I hope I do not come across as one of those self-satisfied jerks who thinks he has it all figured out, because nothing could be further from the truth. I am just as scared and insecure as you are. I “self-medicate” when necessary and routinely find myself wide-awake at four AM wondering: “what the fuck am I doing with my life?” I question the decisions I have made and worry that I have messed everything up by quitting my job and chasing my dreams.

I didn’t really have a choice.

I saw myself at 72 (don’t ask me why) and didn’t like what I saw. This older version of myself was not very happy. He had a lot of regrets. He kept repeating the same question over and over: “why didn’t I try?”

Somewhere, deep inside, I always wanted to be a storyteller.

Did The Lord Of The Rings Make Me Gay?

fantasize

(fan-ta-size) verb

indulge in daydreaming about something desired; I used to fantasize about Hobbits.

I read The Lord Of The Rings long before I understood what it was all about. Our family had a condensed version, where all three volumes were combined into one giant book. It weighed as much as I did.

I was literally in the closet back then. Due to a large window beside my bed and an irrational fear of being eaten alive in the middle of the night by wild animals, I slept in a built-in closet at the foot of my bed. At night, huddled beneath my blankets with a flashlight, I would read until the lines began to blur together and I could not keep my eyes open any longer. I would underline and write down all of the words I did not understand and look them up the next day.

Hunting And Pecking My Way Out

hiding

(hid-ing) noun

the action of concealing something or someone; I’ve been hiding most of my life.

I’ve been spending a lot of my time lately with Lara Croft.  The new “reboot” of Tomb Raider is out and her and I have been running, jumping and shooting our way across a mysterious island in the South Pacific for the better part of a week.  Before Lara it was Isaac Clarke from Dead Space 3 and before that, the Vault Hunters from Borderlands 2.

The point being… I spend a lot of time with my PS3.  I am a “hider” and my favorite place to hide is in video games.

A “hider” is someone who, when faced with adverse situations, chooses to lie low instead of facing the adversity head on.  Kindred spirits include “runners,” “drinkers” and “sex addicts.”  Workaholics, reality TV junkies, avid readers, the kid on the bus with the massive headphones… we are everywhere.

As Free As My Hair

“I’ve had enough, this is my prayer

That I’ll die livin’ just as free as my hair”

                                     - Lady Gaga

The experiment is over. The waste-bin is filled with the remnants of my latest misguided attempt to grow out my hair and I feel… relieved. There was something disingenuous about the whole ordeal, something sordid and not quite right. 

I’ve been shaving my head for the better part of a decade, out of sheer convenience and utter laziness mainly, but also because I am too cheap to pay some gay guy good money for something I can do at home for free. It wasn’t something I thought about too much, unless somebody else brought it up. Not having hair was never a part of my consciousness, until I decided to grow it out.

A few weeks in and I realized that I was spending much more time in front of the mirror, poking and primping my new Chia Pet, trying to make it look… well, different than it looked.  A month in and I began to wear a lot of hats.  After 6 weeks I invested in some product, indignantly paying $15 for “sculpting gel” whose entire purpose was to make me look like I had just rolled out of bed. Yes, it did occur to me that I could have just “rolled out of bed” instead, but my version of that particular look and the actual look were very different.

I F*cking Hate Valentines Day

February 14

(feb-ru-ar-y 14) noun

the 45^th day of the Gregorian calendar; Valentines Day; on February 14^th I’ll show you how much you mean to me.

Valentines Day makes my skin crawl.  Of all the manufactured holidays we are forced to endure, this one really busts my balls. 

When I strip away the ludicrous trappings of holidays like Christmas or Easter, there is a glimmer of merit buried beneath the spectacle that makes sense to me. I get the value is celebrating special days dedicated to our Mothers and Fathers and even our secretaries… oh wait, our Administrative Professionals, but I just don’t get Valentines Day.

In fact, I loathe Valentines Day.

Every year, like some diabolical doomsday clock, February 14^th ticks closer and closer and closer until there is nowhere left to run and hide. It’s here and the cloyingly sweet smell of expectation and hope is in the air

It is a day that is designed to make us feel shitty about ourselves.

This House Is Not Yet A Home

house

(hous) noun

a building for human habitation; esp. one that is lived in by a family or a small group of people: this house is not yet a home.

You know you’re getting old when…

The correlation between this phrase and the grave is irrefutable.  The closer you get to the pine box or the urn, the more you hear yourself saying it.  It mysteriously enters your lexicon around 36 – when everything really starts to go to Hell – and asserts its presence more and more as the years tick ungratefully by.

The other day I threw my back out during “sexy times.”  That’s what my husband and I call our bi-monthly rutting… because it sounds better than “bi-monthly rutting.”  So, there we were, in the shower (because even our amorous moments are dual-purposed) when some dumb flunky upstairs flushes their toilet - that’s the sign for our water to turn to “volcano” temperature – and all Hell breaks loose.

Hunting Unicorns

mythical

(myth-i-cal) adjective

occurring in or characteristic of myths or folk tales; the unicorn is a mythical creature.

A good friend of mine recently came out to me. Not from the closet – she’s not gay (or isn’t anymore… it’s complicated) – but from the confines of a traditional marriage. It turns out that her and her husband have been exploring the boundaries of what is considered “normal” for quite some time and have decided to stop hiding it from those who love and care about them. 

I applauded her courage and demanded to know everything!

An innocent night of recreational psychedelics evolved into a foursome with mutual friends, which led to an abruptly pertinent conversation about their state of affairs. After “holy fuck, what was that?” and “holy fuck, that was awesome!” there were some other issues that needed to be discussed; namely, what does this say about our marriage?

The assumption is that something is wrong.  The end goal, the mythical “gold ring” that we are all chasing, is monogamy – we’ve been taught that since day one – so if monogamy is suddenly gone then something must be broken. This shit has been drilled into our heads by our parents, our teachers, our religious leaders and anyone else who seeks to inseminate their own version of “how things are supposed to be.” It is puritanical nonsense based on old news. Monogamy is great for those of us who choose it, but it shouldn’t be held up as an ideal that we all need to strive for. It is your marriage and your relationship – nobody should define it except for you and your partner.

After they talked about it, my friend and her husband, realized that there was nothing at all wrong with their marriage; in fact, it had never been better and they hadn’t been this hot for each other in a long time! The problem – if there was one - was with other people’s perceptions of how their relationship was supposed to be.

With assurances of mutual respect and some well-defined boundaries they embarked on a great adventure, together.  They have a boyfriend now, who they share equally and are on the hunt for a unicorn…

Apparently, finding an open-minded, attractive (they’re not called a Sasquatch for a reason) female who is ready to insert herself into a three or foursome, is akin to finding a unicorn – rare, elusive and mind-blowing.

I admire my friends for “coming out of the closet” with their non-traditional marriage. They are brave trailblazers who are not willing to be pigeonholed or told that they are “less than” by a society obsessed with labels and boxes. By telling the people who matter to them (not screaming it from a rooftop) they are, in their own important way, helping the rest of us to be a little braver and reminding us that silence and secrets never serve a greater good.

Our collective hang-up with talking to each other about things deemed taboo is what keeps us from really knowing each other and understanding that we are not alone. The truth is, there’s lots of people feeling shitty about them selves right now, because of who they are or what they’ve done or how they perceive society will think of them. It’s ridiculous and unnecessary and preventable; all we need to do is start to talk to one another – it really is that simple.

Time to stop ranting now. I’m off to do some hunting.

I really want to find them their unicorn.