We need to talk about PDA.. or maybe not

Throughout this week, I have been pestering random people about their opinions on PDA. The most frequent answer I got was "What, them gadgety thingies?". To most, PDA = personal digital assistants...
People don't really care about public displays of affection. Or maybe, that's just an unused term in England. Once I explain to the said people, the common answer was "Why should you care about what other people think? If I want to kiss my gf/bf, I will".

Opportunistic PDA >.< 'T'is like the only times me and Rafaello are the same height......  

I'm not too keen on PDA. My slight aversion to PDA stems from the modest asian mixed with my conservative grandmother's teachings, and my bitter periods of single-ness, in which the mere sight of couples, casually PDA-ing brought out the lime-jello monster in me. I'd see couples EVERYWHERE. I used to stare daggers. That habit has stuck.

Although, currently I am happy, I don't see couples much at all.  (jesus, I'm beginning to sound like a crazy person.. "I see PDA...... all the time") . The only couples that have come to my attention are those that go over-the-top, and are in the way.

Last week, on the tube, this something like this happened... and they blocked the door I was supposed to leave through :'(

So, YAY for PDA, but keep it PG, don't go over the top and make people awkward. As for lgbt PDA, I don't mind it. I like lgbt PDA, I find it cute, and it's spreading awareness. Why should you be ashamed, just because you're lgbt? (gee, perhaps I'm a hypocrite?). When me and Mel dated, I suppose we must have made some people awkward e.g. our deputy-head of sixth form college... urk. I never had any bad experiences with LGBT PDA, however, there are still communities out there, who react negatively to shows of homosexuality. If you do feel like PDA is putting you in any kind of danger, it's probably best to keep it private. Holding hands is not worth getting beat up over... or is it? 

In April 2011, there was a protest at a pub in Soho that kicked out a gay couple for "obscene kissing"...

read guardian article

Damn, I think I rambled again. 
Hopefully, I made some sense.. somewhere. 
Till next time,

Eli

So many gays!!

Like Mel, and rather unlike James, and Todostrieb, and Eli, and also Miu, I have finally started University. Despite not having met a single one of my flatmates properly (I think most of them are postgraduates - I'm getting the impression that postgrads turn their noses up and look down upon the undergrads in much the same way the sixth form turned their noses up and looked down upon the ickle year 7s with backpacks twice the size of their bodies), this place is officially brilliant. So many people on my course that I've met have also joined the LGBT society, which is also great - I couldn't help but notice that the LGBT society's stand was diagonally opposite the Catholic Society's stand at Fresher's Fayre, and at our LGBT picnic on Wednesday, we successfully kicked the Christian Union out of their marquee without actually telling them to leave.

I did actually have a very different sort of post planned for today which I wrote while in a depressed state of drunkeness, in which I sort of ramble about how I'm such an awkward turtle, and how I go somewhere, with the intention of uttering a word other than “Hello” to somebody I have never met before, and I just lurk at the back, too terrified to say even that. After not very long, I make myself busy (this usually consists of going to the toilet), and then I return to my lurking spot at the back of wherever, hoping that somebody nice will stumble upon me and start talking to me (and if at all possible, not the other way around).

When this does not happen, I begin to look around for someone who looks like an easy target to walk up to and introduce myself to; I see one guy about my age who looks like he might do, and so I set off, only to return straight away to my original position when I notice that he’s engaged himself in conversation with some chick who intercepted him on his way to the bar. I continue scanning the room for another lonely soul, and find nobody. Suddenly I get the impression that somebody’s watching me, and although I cannot for the life of me figure out who, I feel myself going bright red. It’s almost as if the person who may or may not be watching me thinks I’m a bit of a weirdo, all alone in the corner, Billy No-Mates, and I’m whisked back to Primary School break time, when I was Billy No-Mates, all alone in the corner. And so I leave.

Despite this being a regular scenario for me, I am determined not to let it get the better of me... the LGBT society are heading into Soho on Tuesday (which, by some happy coincidence, is my 19th Birthday), so before we leave, I must make sure to take advantage of the subsidised alcohol in the Student Bar to bury my inner introvert and let the extravert come out to play. 

That sounded creepy.... remind me never to say that again.

I have suddenly realised that I decided I didn't want to post that post, yet there it is, all two paragraphs of it... what I actually wanted to say (which was basically about how awesome University is, how many Doctor Who fans there actually are, how awesome the LGBT society is, how many members of said LGBT society are actually on my course) sort of drifted away into depressed drunkeness anyway...  This is because I am in a rush and writing this before going to meet a friend to watch some sort of film on some really uncomfortable lecture theatre seat before going to the local pub and getting absolutely rat-arsed. 

Hey ho.

Illegal outside-sex fun

I have to say, like James, I'm overjoyed that for once I get to write about a theme that I came up with, and voted for. However, I'm stuck for what to say again, it's another one of them awkward topics that you'd do fine taking to your best friend or diary about, but to write something for the interwebs where it's out for anyone to read... GAh 

So, Cottaging, Dogging and Cruising. Do I need to state definitions? From off the top of my head:

• Dogging - Having sex inside a parked car, usually in a park car-park, with people watching through the windows
• Cottaging - having sex with someone in a pubic toilet
• Cruising -Having sex with a stranger (that you've met in the woods?)

Because googling "gay toilet sex" wasn't as productive as I hoped

I've heard that during the times when being gay was illegal, it was very common for gay people in hiding to engage in cottaging and cruising with strangers in "hotspots", because it wasn't safe for people to have same-sex relationships. They just settled their urges and go about their day, no names exchanged, it was too dangerous. They even had plain-clothed police hanging around some bathrooms to catch the wrong-doers in the act. 

In modern times, all three acts are still common, many-a-times I come across used condoms whilst walking through the woods. It seems that the woods near mine and James' house is somewhat of a hotspot, we call it "the dogging woods", we've been walkies there before together. When a friend moves in nearby, you have to introduce to them all the parks and woods nearby, it's one of the rules. It has a lovely car-park set quite away from roads unlike most parks, which makes it more private and perfect. You have to drive down a little drive-way to get to the car-park, which means that if a police van turns up, a lookout can quickly warn everyone in the act, so you could all get your clothes on in time. "....we're just here to watch the stars Officer...". Gee, I'm sounding like I'm advertising the woods to you all, but really, the worst thing is getting caught.. 

Make sure you have a cover-story :D

Yes, (as if you didn't want to know) you can get arrested if the police find you sexing it up in the woods or the loo, or in the kiddie-park; whether you're doing it same-sexed or different-sexed or multi-sexed. I think they call it "public indecency", as though anyone walking through the woods at that time of night don't expect to see live-porn. The special volunteer police in Essex actually go through the woods with torches trying to catch people in the act. As my mother always says "why can't they just leave the poor buggers alone, they've gone somewhere hidden, they're not hurting anyone..", I agree, the police are no fun :'D 

It has to be on everyone's bucket list :O

For the most part, I don't have anything against dogging, cottaging, cruising and outside sex. I probably wouldn't do cottaging, I'm not too keen on public loos, the others I won't knock. Outside sex is fun if you dig that sort of thing, don't knock it till you try it, as they say... but probs best to be tried on private property. The last thing you want is to have the beach-security people coming up to you to say that people in the hotels next to the beach could see everything you did, and could've easily video-taped you. Worse is if you can't understand French, and they're communicating to you with very loud French and hand-gestures. hehe.......

Time for me to go to bed, 

so NaNight, 

eli x

Also, I must add, I typed this with a half-peeled banana in my mouth, because it's hard to type and eat at the same time. I thought it'll be a good snack when I started, but I was wrong ¬¬

ps, feel free to correct some of my info, I've only got them off the top of my head, from documentaries that I've watched too long ago to be able to recall the names, let alone what happened in them.. We welcome comments, tweets, and emails  >.<

pps, Sorry for my frequent absence, am still in Japan, it's hard to take time to open my laptop. 

Fuck off out of my sex life, you nosy sods!

I probably don't need to point out that I have no sex-life for you to fuck out of, for reasons which should be obvious to anybody who has read through find Rory a Boyfriend week - namely, I don't have a boyfriend. Doesn't stop you from being nosy sods though...

I could spend this post pondering the definition of virginity, and at what point one actually loses it. Is it, as James suggests, dependant on what sort of sex you've had (or haven't had), or is it much more general in the sense that one immediately ceases to be a virgin once you've had any sort of sexual contact whatsoever? I'm sure someone will answer that question, but I'm not going to, because a) I'm no expert, b) I don't know, c) I have more important things to be doing with my time than wondering at which point you lose your virginity and d) even if I could answer it, it would be as boring as hell.

I could also spend this post giving you explicit details of my non-existent sex life, which of course I'm not going to, because that would mean a) I'd be lying to you, b) we value our readers and c) we'd have to turn on the 'this blog contains adult content' warning, and that requires effort which none of us have.

Having said all this, it occurs to me that some of it is all lies. I'm not going to deny having had sex; whether or not it counts as virginity-stealing sex is another matter, because I suppose sex is the wrong word to use in the first place. 'Fooling around' seems more accurate, because lets face it, when you're young and naive and innocent and are in the same room alone with one person who you happen to 'like-like' and you think there's a small chance that he 'like-likes' you back, one thing will inevitably lead to the other, and before you know it, you're fooling around with each other - literally.

Which brings me back to my first thought about when you actually pop your cherry, and I'm going to do what I originally said I wasn't going to do, and that's answer the question. For me, it depends on your outlook on life, and what you personally think and if you prefer to take James' interpretation of many virginities, or if you prefer the interpretation where you're either a virgin or you're not. Regardless of which interpretation I choose, I still consider myself a virgin because I haven't yet had a boyfriend with whom I have had sex, which I suppose was a mistake admitting on the internet on a blog which most of my friends are probably reading. No matter. Personally, I choose the latter, because that way I don't have to reveal details of my sex life to nosy buggers like you (yes, you over there, in the corner. Yes you. I'm talking to you too, you know).

You also don't have to ask the lady at the foreign currency exchange at Heathrow airport to define 'virgin' - you can simply declare you're not a virgin and that your child next to you is proof of that, but you are in fact flying with Virgin, an awkward and embarrassing true story involving my mother and I on our way out to New York.

Rory.

PS: I have no idea if this is actually what my esteemed colleagues had in mind when the topic 'Virginity' was suggested, but as eli rightly pointed out, for something so simple, it's damn fucking hard to talk about.

PPS: I should apologise for any expletives I may have used in this post, Mel's post inspired me to go and re-watch Bridget Jones and I find the use of language in both films rather fucking contagious.

How NOT to introduce your boyfriend or girlfriend to the family.

I'd just like to take the time to point out that this week's post comes to you from NEW YORK CITY, which is where I am currently being very overly-excited because I'm about to go and see Wicked on Broadway :D I am also about to go and spend every single penny in my possession (or cent or dollar or whatever they call money in the States), because I can, and how often is it that you're taken to New York for a belated 18th Birthday present?

Oddly enough, the mention of theatre seems like the perfect way for me to start my advice on how not to introduce your boyfriend to your parents. I don't know about you, lovely reader person, but outings to the theatre are rare in my family, and when they do happen, then my mum usually comes with me, because she's the one who's paying. This is therefore an ideal opportunity to blurt out to your parents while on the way to said theatre that you're meeting your boyfriend there, and you took the liberty to pay for his ticket on their credit card.

Of course, that situation isn't true for everybody, but this one probably is: for some, the temptation to invite your boyfriend/girlfriend over for violent sex on the kitchen table during one of those once-in-a-blue-moon periods of being home alone is just too great to resist. Depending on your outlook on life, this can be a good thing, or a bad thing. It's obviously a good thing because you get to have hot steamy love-making time with your other half, in a safe environment where you don't run the risk of being arrested for indecent exposure under a tree in Hyde Park.

It's also good because if your family return early and unnanounced, and they don't yet know you're gay, they certainly will when they walk in on the climax. While this may be awkward, you kill two birds with one stone: you've now come out of the closet, AND they've met your significant other. Of course, if you're home alone, you probably wouldn't confine your antics to the kitchen. Just make sure you've cleaned up after yourselves so that it's not overly obvious when your family return...

If awkward moments like that aren't your thing, or you think that one of your family members might come after you with a machete, you might go for the more subtle "Mum, Dad, this is my fuckbuddy, Greg" route. Clearly this is the safer option - at least you won't get an STD or Salmonella from your poorly maintained kitchen table. Then again, this still doesn't eliminate the possibility of being chased half naked down the street by your machete wielding father, so all in all, any way of introducing your boyfriend or girlfriend to the family is looking slim.

Perhaps the only sensible option worth considering is to not introduce them at all. Clearly if you live in one of those dysfunctional familes where machetes and AK-47s look like they could be genuine possibilities, apart from seeking professional help, it might be safer for all those involved that you just don't introduce him or her to your charming relations. Anyway, once you've left home and moved in with your fuckbuddy, you're free to have your violent kitchen sex without the risk of anybody walking in, and then everybody's happy.

I realise some of the scenarios in this post were a bit extreme, I confess I was slightly drunk when writing this, the creative part of my brain got the better of me. I'll be back in England next week, I'm sure I'll report on my fabulous state side excursion in more detail over the coming weeks :P In the meantime, feel free to send a detailed report of your other half's awkward introduction to the family* to homojournal@gmail.com. And if your experiences have been even more alarming than those I've suggested here, do write us a guest article and send that to the same e-mail address!

* machete not required.

I don't have to worry about getting some girl pregnant...

James has been swallowed by the Peak District, so I get to post a few days early again :D

As I sit here writing this, weeks before it gets published, listening to the London Symphony Orchestra's cover of Bohemian Rhapsody and Eye of the Tiger (seriously, they're amazing, go and listen to it), I find myself struggling to come up with perks about being gay, aside from not having to worry about getting some girl pregnant. Because, lets face it, girls are ikky.

This rather obvious fact comes with a very useful by-product: I won't have to suffer those sleepless nights when the devil in baby form arrives after nine months and begins crying because it's.... done whatever babies do - if whoever I end up with wants a baby, we get to skip that stage and adopt one who's approaching the bearable years. How awesome.

Ooooh, Life on Mars. Sorry.

And because of that, there's no 9 month pregnancy break in the sex life either; my partner and I will get to continue in our antics for however long we please, or until our adopted baby needs a new nappy/feeding. And just as Jelly Babies and Vodka are well known to be the recipe for whatever you want, it's also a well known fact that gay sex is just invariably better than its straight counterpart.

On a vaguely related note, neither partner in a gay relationship feels obliged to surrender his coat during a date, nor is it necessary to embrace the 'ladies first' philosophy. Admittedly, this can lead to some awkward moments of you both reaching for the door handle simultaneously to open it for the other, resulting either in an awkward silence in which you both go bright red, or passionate sex in time with The Final Countdown:

As a gay man, aside from the above-mentioned benefits, you also get to help your straight female best friend (because, let's face it, we've all got about a hundred of those) choose her boyfriend, giving you a legitimate excuse to stare at all those guys that you've fancied since Year 8 without either of you feeling awkward. 

I'd like to be able to promise that James will be back with us next Monday, but if the peak district (or even Cretzal) has swallowed him, then who knows when he'll be back with us... for now, I'd just like to leave you all with a shameless bit of self-promoting, and bid you all farewell and until next time.

All the guys I like are straight... :(

Getting your straight best friend to like you in that sort of way is never going to be easy for any gay man. Or woman, for that matter. Unfortunately for me (and, dare I say, probably most of the gay population), it seems to be the only thing I ever end up doing, and all just to be repeatedly disappointed, let down and depressed when they kick you in the face after a trip to the toilet gone too far (this has not happened to me, I hasten to add).

Here's my situation. Since realising I was gay many moons ago, I've found myself crushing on at least 3 of my best friends, and many more random people I walk past on a daily basis in the corridor but have neither spoken to nor discovered their names. I *think* I've only ever told one of those friends how I feel towards him, and it doesn't seem to have dented our friendship in the slightest; it only makes those awkward moments at sleepovers all the more awkward by the occasional presense of an erection. Of the other two friends: one is in a sweet and loving relationship with a girl which unfortunately for me doesn't look like it's going to end any time soon; the other, a catholic who despite not minding the fact that I'm gay, refuses to stay alone in the same room with me without an open door through which he can escape should I decide to rape him, which despite my feelings for him, is unlikely. And now I won't say any more because anybody who knows me well enough can probably figure out who these three are.

True dat.

Even though I know that these three people are straight, in my youthful past that didn't stop me from trying my luck out anyway, despite knowing that I'd just get rejected and depressed. This has led to the following situations developing:

1. At least one of my straight crushes claims he's now been asked out by more boys than girls.
2. A certain awkwardness now dominates the atmosphere when I'm around at least one of my straight crushes, particularly when the conversation turns to something gay or relationship-related (which is always).

Perhaps I'm the wrong person to give advice on these sorts of things, mainly because of my shocking lack of success and/or experience in the relationships department. I stand by Jelly Babies and Vodka as being the best way for you to get what you want and when you want it.

And if what you want really is your straight best friend inside you, be sure to get them pissed out of their minds first.