All hail Your Royal Gaynesses

Perhaps this week is not the best week to admit that I'm not the greatest fan of the British Royal Family, nor am I the biggest patriot you will encounter. I've just never seen the point in them, apart from the mildly attractive, yet Ginger, Prince Harry, who can arrive on my doorstep any time he pleases. I'm also rather glad I was away in New York (which, by the way, was amazing, thanks for asking -more on that in a moment) during the Jubilee weekend; I got to miss it all. So perhaps it's rather ironic that I was the homojournalist who suggested this week's theme.

I stand by my opinions on the royal family - after 18 years of life, I still have no idea exactly what it is they do, aside from giving us extra bank holidays for weddings and Jubilees. And then I came to America, and I realised how much their royal highnesses are lived abroad. Suddenly, I began picturing myself as a member of the Royal family, and what I would have done if this were my diamond jubilee that the world is celebrating...

I couldn't help it, sorry :p

Now, before I continue any further, I need to introduce Troy to you all. Troy was (still is, I hope) a particularly attractive, rather cute and just generally adorable in every way, waiter at the restaurant next to the hotel I was staying at. My esteemed colleagues will vouch for me that, for pretty much the entire duration of my stay in the Big Apple, I have done nothing else but witter on about how awesome Troy is, and how I want to marry him. That and checking in on Facebook to Central Park and the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State building, and various other New York attractions. I digress.  You'd be forgiven for thinking that I have lost the plot completely, what has an attractive waiter in central Manhattan got to do with my reign? Well, therein lies the answer, for Troy is no longer a waiter in New York City; he and I are happily married and shall be King and King of the universe and all shall answer to us.  (By the way, if by some happy coincidence Troy is reading this, I really hope you a) are gay, b) know who I am and c) accept that we're now happily married and supreme rulers if the universe.)

My lovely husband and I are now celebrating 60 years as supreme emperors/kings of the universe, and all of creation, including the Dalek/Time Lord time war, have a couple of days off to celebrate our glorious reign, much to the displeasure of the economy of life and George Osbourne. Here's what we've done over the past 60 years:

• Ended the 40 year war on homophobia
• Issued all homophobes with an immediate death sentence
• Legalised homosexuality across the cosmos
• Not let David Cameron or George W. Bush Jr. into office
• Forced David Tennant to return to the TARDIS
• Changed the currency of the universe to Jelly Babies and Vodka
• Brought Dumbledore and Snape back to life
• Banned Twilight and Justin Bieber
• Forced Steven Moffat to hurry up with season 3 of Sherlock
• Exterminated Cancer and HIV/AIDS
• Introduced cheap London Heathrow to New York JFK flights so that Troy can go and visit his parents and I can go and empty 5th Avenue as many times as I wish
• Declared Fish Fingers and custard as the national dish of the Earth
• Made all cities as easy to navigate as midtown Manhattan 
• Made all tube maps as easy to understand as the London Underground map
• Declared the Empire State Building as our palace and Central Park as our front garden (the Hogwarts grounds are already our back garden)
• Erected (hehehe) the Statue of Liberty in said front garden
• Declared the 31st of May as a universal bank holiday (the day I first met Troy ♥) 
• Ordered all theatres to offer free tickets to shows on Broadway/equivalent on Friday evenings
• Defied gravity

And here's how Troy and I want our jubilee celebrated:

• Plenty of dancing naked men
• Free alcohol for all
• Lots of food
• Clones of ourselves to take on our official duties while we lie on an empty beach somewhere in the Caribbean making love to each other... And also to Moriarty, if he feels up to it. 

That doesn't look like he's going to say no.

Yours Royally,
Kings Rory and Troy
Emperors of the Universe, Joint First Lords of Everything, creators of the supreme Time Lord race, the only people alive who still know the exact location of Platform 9 3/4

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.