Catch 22.

Finally, a subject we managed to all agree on. Except Miu and Rory, but, still, majority ruled. And it's no wonder Rory didn't vote for it, he couldn't even spell it correctly in the poll on Facebook.

What am I talking about, I hear you say/type? Why, celibacy, or "celibracy" as Rory puts it. Officially, our title for the week is "Celibracy [sic] - is there anything you would give up sex for?", one of the longer and more cumbersome titles we've had, but it'll do, and there's got to be loads to write about here!

...right?

My mind, 25 minutes after typing "...right?".

Ok, ok, so it's a little difficult for me to think of anything I'd give up sex for. I should point out at this point that, by "sex", I mean "any sexual activity", and by "any sexual activity", I mean "anything involved in and of the posts in Week 3, Week 6, Week 11, Week 12, Week 18 or Week 21 on this blog". As such, it's a little difficult, because that'd be a lot to give up.

Do I love anything that much? Does the charred, desiccated shell that passes for the emotional centre of my brain even contain that much love? I actually had to ask my parents what I loved/was addicted to the most, and they came up with the following suggestions:

1. Energy Drinks
2. Alcohol
3. Cruelty

"We do love you, we just think that you're a vindictive alcoholic whose body is so pumped full of chemicals that taking you into any one of 46 US states is a felony."

So, brushing off my parents' stark and harrowing portrayal of my everyday life, I set to work thinking: would I give up sex for any of these 3?

#2 was simple enough - no, because it wouldn't work. James + Alcohol = sex. It's the kind of thing others are usually ashamed of, but I'm of the opinion I'll only need to start being ashamed of it when my age begins with the digit "3" or I'm in a happy relationship and my partner's in another country to me. So, that rules out #2.

#3 is the same - it just wouldn't work. Hurting people is very exciting for me, so that'd defeat the point of the exercise, and the same goes for being hurt. Todostrieb's boyfriend pinched me hard enough to make me bleed when we were staying round one of our mutual friends' house, and the only thing that stopped me from jumping him was the idea that Todostrieb's torture would be a little more severe and likely involve a puppet called Billy. 

Todostrieb: "Would you like to play a game, James? Let's play a game called... "Never Have I Ever"..."
James: "NOOOOO!"

So, that's that out of the way. And then there was 1.

This is the only option I can really give consideration to. I mean, even though I'd be dead for weeks after giving up energy drinks, I'd get better, right? But couldn't the same be said about sex? I mean, I'd develop other hobbies, surely, crocheting, line-dancing, something. 

...and I've just seen the flaw in this plan. If I give up sex for energy drinks, I also have to give up alcohol and pain to make sure I don't break my contract, as it were.

I think I'll politely decline your offer, thanks.

Yours unrepentantly,

James.

Who am I kidding, I'm not sure I'd give up sex for breathing. Auto-erotic asphyxiation has its perks.

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.

Install Locks on Your Bedroom Door

Speaking from personal experience, it is not ideal to introduce your boyfriend/girlfriend while you are covered in love bites. Although, having said that, my parents have a rather relaxed view on my dating; it’s rare they would intervene. Mel spoke about us as a family of spiders, and what she wrote was true, but really mummy and daddy spider are quite reasonable.  I’ve been told they might step in if they thought a relationship was abusive, or they were a drug dealer/demon, but there’s an element of trust. If I did introduce them to a complete idiot whom I was dating, I like to think they would have the tact not to ridicule him to his face; mocking me later may ensue.

Here’s my list of what not to do when dealing with introductions:

• Do not get caught in bed with them, that is not something your parents need to see even if they are lenient
• At first, maybe a quick hello is better than the huge family reunion; get your boyfriend/girlfriend to pop in and say hi before making a speedy escape, think of it as a pilot introduction
•  Sunday roast is possibly not the best time, those cooking tend to get a little stressed out
• Bribe your siblings with vodka and jelly babies to tell your family nothing but good stories about them, hearing the story of your boyfriend/girlfriend's naked arrest is not the first impression a judgemental parent needs
• For the love of god do not have your parents as friends on Facebook
• Now is not the time to use nicknames unless utter humiliation is your goal here
• If it’s a guy get them to shave, it freaks my nan out if teenagers have beards, I assume other older generations may agree
• Do give parents prior warning, especially if the relationship is lgbt, unless you want your partner by your side when you come out

Apparently a logical combination

I would never judge a partner by how they get on with my family; I understand how annoying my mother can be and how strange my young teenage sister is. Although, perhaps I would look harshly on someone who found my adorable four year old sister annoying, or treated her badly. Luckily everyone seems to love her, poor dumb fools.

Todostrieb,

Please send all nudes to our email address (which I forget)

Not Coming Out Today

You can tell, I've been avoiding this week's theme. I've tried, for weeks to get this article done, it just never works. I just end up lost, half-way through a very long explanation about my family history.. and besides, I have an excuse: this past week, I've had exams EVERY SINGLE DAY. So in my desperation, I swapped with the guest post. (thank you darling Izzy).

 As my title suggests, I haven't come out, not in any proper sense, and I don't think I will. I blame this video here for it:

 

 It's from the youtube channel Onisionspeaks.

Basically, there's no point to coming out, because it doesn't matter. It doesn't make any difference to the other person what sexuality you are. Unless you want to bang them.


That makes sense to me. I don't want to bang my mother or father, so I haven't told them that I'm open-minded. It doesn't concern them.

I also don't want to share the relationshipy side to me with them, or anything sexuality-related, because I  don't want the favor returned. Although, that hasn't prevented my mother from sharing WAY too much. And I have borrowed her studded micro-skirt before..

At school, I think everybody knows I'm not in the straight-majority. Making out with my girlfriend in front of everyone has that effect...
I also have a strange fascination with questioning other people's sexuality, and questioning the difference between loving one gender and another. So that gave things away too.

I'm not "in the closet", I'm open to whomever asks, but I'm not going to sit people down, as though I have cancer, and utter the dreaded words.. "I'm GAY", because I don't know WHAT I am. There's no point saying "I'm not straight...". There's no fun in it.

eli x

Rule #1: Do not expect normality.

By the time you'll have read this, I'll likely be lying in a ditch somewhere near Ingatestone, Essex.

You see, the reason me and Rory had to swap days was that on the day I was meant to furnish you lovely people with an entertaining, well crafted post about how I came out, how to come out yourself, and how to help others, I was instead sitting a Russian exam, wondering what on earth "Благотворительные Oрганизации" meant. 

There is a certain bitter irony in the fact that the International Baccalaureate caused me so much pain and confusion with a phrase that translates to "Charitable Organisations".

But, dear Constant Readers, I've scheduled this post to go out exactly 30 minutes after my last exam finishes, and, believe me, that's enough time to make a bottle or seventeen of vodka vanish, like a magic trick from my liver's worst nightmares. As such, while reading this post, just know that somewhere out there, in the big wide world, the person who wrote this is happy and smiling, and with friends.

If that doesn't cheer you up, just imagine the hangover I'll have afterwards.

Now, onto the post proper:

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I first came out as bisexual while in bed with my straight crush, while we were just in our boxers, at about 4 in the morning. It wasn't even either of our beds, it was a 3rd party's bed. You see, I've never been particularly good at doing things the expected way, or the correct way. That little imp that most people have in their heads, that whispers such things as "No, don't eat the nettle, it will hurt." or "No, don't talk about sausages/bananas/courgettes with your crush, you'll only giggle and run away again." seems to have taken early retirement around my 1st birthday.

I suppose it made a bit of sense for me to come out to Cthulhu first, as he was mainly the reason I'd decided I was bisexual. Up until then, I'd had the occasional "James, you enjoy thinking about men a bit too much..." mental conversation with myself, but they always ended up with me no closer to accepting it and feeling a little like the guy in Fight Club.

Which isn't an entirely negative experience.

But one of the things Cthulhu and I were particularly fond of was sharing secrets, lots and lots of secrets, and he was the first person who'd ever gotten me to do that. Before then, nobody had even guessed I had secrets - I seemed too boring. My secrets were so secret I'd started forgetting them. Until he dredged them up.

But I appear to be straying from the crux of the matter here: semi-naked and in bed together (albeit at opposite ends).

I honestly can't tell you what degenerate part of my brain thought that that was the most appropriate moment to tell him that I, his up-until-now-apparently-straight best friend, had a massive crush on him. Did I think that because he was bereft of clothing he couldn't escape? Was I hoping that he would say the same, and we'd make out in our friend's bed? I cannot say.  All I can say is that, despite being probably more than a little taken aback by the fact I actually said it, he was absolutely fine with it. No rage, no fear, no torches and pitchforks. He even made a joke about it later on, when he said "My boxers feel a bit tight... oh, yeah, that probably wasn't what you needed to be hearing right now."

"No, please, keep talking."

So there I was, officially out to at least one person (the 3rd party followed shortly, because I had come out in her bed after all, she deserved to know). I don't know about you, dear Readers, but once I've done something scary, I want to do it again and again. Thus I set myself a challenge: I had to be out to most of my friends and my parents by the end of college. I am (woo!), but neither of those went particularly to plan either...

Me and Cthulhu had decided that I was going to come out to everyone at the party we were going to before we'd even gotten there. About 2 or 3 months had passed since I first came out to him, and when I got there, it all seemed quite doable. Most people there I either knew or seemed friendly and/or drunk enough, and I was feeling confident.

Until I actually considered the mechanics of it all.

"You must come out to all of these people. You have one hour - go."

The fact that the party goers were legion, and quite a spread out legion at that, had put a significant dent in my plan. By this point I had partaken in quite a few intoxicants myself, and was therefore a little wary of putting myself through all that walking lest I end up in a bush or a puddle or a bear. And then I saw it.

The answer to all my problems.

The tree.

In the middle of the field/park/golf course where we were partying, there sat a large, fallen tree, about 1.5 times my height. Now, to anyone else this tree looked like just another fallen tree, a tad incongruous in the middle of a clearing but no matter, blame ghosts or aliens. But to me, in my drunken, slightly deluded way, it looked like a bloody good stage for a little show I wanted to put on.

The temptation to sing my way through the experience was barely containable. 

While I can't claim to have proclaimed my sexuality to the entire world from the top of that log, I did announce it to quite a few people (to an irritatingly small response - no girls swooned or anything). After that, I just left it to filter through my school's gossip machine on its own. It took a while, and everybody seemed much more interested in the false rumour that me and the 3rd party had made out (oh, the irony), but  it got round in the end, and that just left the stereotypical final boss battle: the parents.

"IT'S JUST A PHASE." - 999 HP DAMAGE.

Except, they were the easiest to tell. I told my Mum about 3 months after the party, flippantly while enjoying a glass of Strongbow. She was unmoved. She had very little reaction whatsoever, except to tell me that she'd thought I was gay once. She had no qualms whatsoever, but she did warn me not to tell my Dad, which was a little ominous. However, after 9 months of not telling him, I just had to - he was the last pertinent person left. I built up some courage, gulped down some Strongbow (it's a favourite drink of mine, don't judge), and said "Dad, I'm bisexual." halfway through an episode of Masterchef: Australia. "I know, your Mum told me ages ago."

This is a recurring theme: I told my Mum about Cretzal a full 3 weeks before I told my Dad, and when I did eventually tell him, he used the exact same phrase, as if he'd copy/pasted it. I just had to laugh.

And that, dear readers, is my advice to you: laugh. Make coming out funny. Do it in incongruous situations. Do it semi-nude. Do it while standing above everyone like Moses with the 10 Commandments. Do it while wearing a French Maid costume just do anything to make it enjoyable, because, y'know, Mary Poppins was right.

A spoon full of sugar and all that jazz.

You're saying the chimney sweep who has a full blown dance number with loads of dirty, sweaty guys isn't totally closeted?

You could email us at homojournal@gmail.com, or you could come and find me in that ditch somewhere, because there's no way I'll remember where I am when I eventually wake up.

Yours drunkenly,

James

Looking back on it, me, Cthulhu and 3rd Party had a habit of doing impolite things in/on each others' beds.

So, when did you tell your parents you’re straight?

It’s not a phrase you hear very often is it? I’m of the opinion it shouldn’t really matter what anyone else’s sexuality is to you, unless you’re trying to hit on them, in which case ask as discretely as possible beforehand to avoid any “dude, I’m gay” moments. Unless you are confident enough in your abilities to attract whomever you wish, but I doubt any of you even come close to me in that respect bitches.

Perhaps it matters a lot more if you think loved ones might have a problem with it, if so, you’re in for a lot of heartbreak, but it’s right to let them know as soon as you feel comfortable. Telling them outright can avoid dramatic scenes form distraught parents, failed exorcisms and blind dates.

Maybe one day in the future, when the eleventh dimension has been discovered and the second season of firefly finally airs, coming out will be a thing of the past.  No one will have a problem with homosexuality, or any other kind of sexuality. Gayness will become an integral part of our culture to the extent where you don’t just assume a person is straight.

Until that day readers,

Todostrieb…sorry this was so short, IB :’(

Please send all death threats to homojournal@gmail.com

What Did One Lesbian Frog Say To another?

Ah, coming out. I’m very torn here. To some people I was never IN the closet. To others I’m not yet OUT of the closet. It all gets very confusing.

If Harry Potter taught us anything it's that nobody should live in a closet...

I had my first girlfriend aged 10, we exchanged kitkats and jellybeans on Valentine’s Day, and our matrimonial vows in the dinner queue. My mum was supportive but I think the dreaded words ‘it’s just a phase’ were uttered in hushed tones.

Now, I am not afraid of what people think of me. I am quite willing to shout from the rooftops to anyone who would listen about my sexuality, so why do my parents not know I’m bisexual? I simply never felt the need to announce it to them. I am not very close to my family; I keep both boyfriends and girlfriends quiet until I get ratted out by my sisters.

The closest I have come to coming out is awkwardly confessing to my mum that I had a girlfriend after my grandparents spent hours questioning me about my latest conquests. We concluded that my grandparents would spend a lot of time reassuring me that they loved me, and that it was wonderful I had a girlfriend, but would actually spend quite a bit of time worrying about it, so we kept it quiet. I can only assume, since she has heard rumours of my relationships with both males and the fairer sex, that she realises I am bisexual.

As for my father, I am never quite sure about him. I assumed my mum had told him I had a girlfriend, but he seemed completely oblivious when I claimed to be going out this past February 14^th with Eli, so who knows?

My twin sister knows I am bi, my younger sister does not. I have never seen the point in announcing formally my sexuality, particularly as I find sexuality horribly confusing, until recently that is. I sneakily read some of my younger sister’s texts, and they hinted at her not being as straight as I first assumed. I am worried that she is carrying this secret around with her. So in a show of good spirit, I am planning a way to come out slightly more formally, setting a hopefully good example for her. Even if she’s as straight as an arrow it’ll teach her to keep an open mind. She can ask me awkward questions when she gets a bit older, I’ll be her cool, sexually liberated big sis.

Now to the crux of the matter: I’ve said I don’t mind people knowing that I’m Bi, I’ve said that I’ve never suffered for my sexuality (see week 2 gay-bashing) and as far as I’m concerned the people who matter already know. But maybe, just maybe, there’s a tiny tiny part of me that’s still afraid.

I pride myself of identifying my emotions and the reasons behind them. I make it a point not to lie to myself ever, even when it’s painful, because it’s important to know who you are. So, I think, just this once, it’s safe for me to tell you that,  despite all the bravado, the PDA’s and the pride I have in being part of the queer community, I am scared to formally come out. Yes you heard me, the fearless Mel is scared.

Why? Because part of me still believes that being bisexual isn’t quite normal. Like anybody else I want to fit in and the majority are straight. I don’t want to be left out, on the edges of society getting funny looks all the time. But my girlfriend is beautiful; I want to show her to the world. I’ll stand behind her smiling all the while. Let me make it clear that I am not ashamed in anyway.

Then part of me feels selfish. My friends, family and even church would support me if I came out officially. Despite the awkwardness of a formal coming out, as far as I can see there’s always a lot of build up and then the response is actually quite underwhelming, I think it is my duty to do so. I don’t think coming out will pose any challenges that I will not face gladly if the reward is being myself; but, there are the LGBTQ’s that face abuse, harm and alienation when they come out. If I were out of the closet there might be more I could do to help them, even if it was just giving them an example or someone to look up to. My little sister and millions more out there need people like the homojournalists to be out and proud. To yell at the world and make things right, so we can all be in my position.

I am eighteen. I am bisexual. I am Mel. I am afraid of coming out. But I am also proud of who I am. Coming out is the right thing to do, so I’ll do it.

As always feel free to share your stories, thoughts, comments or even guest posts.

I love you all,

Mel

I was gay before I was gay...

OK, so sadly, not all coming outs are like this... maybe, one day, they will be exactly like that, but for now, we have to live with what we've got, and coming out as LGBTQ isn't going to be easy for anybody for a long time yet. I don't necessarily agree with having to come out - it's not as if you come out as being left-handed, or atheist, or ginger, or short or from Mars, so why the hell should we need to come out as LGBTQAP (delete as appropriate)? Seems stupid, but for the time being, we're stuck with it, and we're all going to have to go through it at some point (unless you’re Miu).

Like I say - coming out's just a bit stupid.

I started coming out back in year 7, and have been doing so until about a year ago, when I felt that I'd done enough coming out to last me a lifetime. For me, it was one of the most stressful and confusing times of my life, partly because (and this thought has only just struck me) I started coming out before I was completely sure I was gay myself.

A lot of gay people tend to come out to one or two of their closest friends, then other friends, and eventually, their family. I kind of came out in completely the opposite order – in fact, the first people I told were my Mum and Dad, back in Year 7 after I’d been bullied on the bus home. I got a very mixed reaction from them. On the one hand, my mum, who was, and still is completely supportive of me and frankly doesn’t care if one day I say to her “Mum, I need the house to myself tonight, because my boyfriend is coming round for hot passionate sex.” She’d probably be more concerned if I turned around to her and declared “Mum, I broke your bottle of wine, please don’t kill me.” Anyway, I digress.

I should point out that as much as she loves her wine, my mum isn't an alcoholic...

My dad, on the other hand, took it less well. On the surface, he seemed supportive, if a little shocked, but in the weeks that followed, it was clear that offering me his support was the last thing on his mind – he tried to scare me out of being gay by saying things like “if you’re gay, you’re going to die young because you’ll get HIV which will turn into AIDS, and KILL YOU”, and so on. Long story short, this sort of stuff carried on for at least a year, until I finally decided that I would ‘run away’. I got as far as the bus stop when I a) realised I had no money and b) saw my mum running down the road after me, telling me to come back and that she’d have a word with my dad.

"Why would you come out to your parents first, Rory?" I hear you ask. Well, it wasn’t planned, I promise. Like I said, I only realised I was gay when the words actually left my mouth the night I told them after having been bullied on the bus. "RORY IS GAY" and "RORY LIKES MEN" and "RORY LIKES COCK UP HIS ARSE" were the simplified versions of what they decided they'd write in the condensation on the bus window. Angry, I reacted and started wiping it off, not thinking that in doing so, I was fuelling their fun, and also confirming it.

We've all felt like this at some point, and when you're coming out, this is an all too familiar feeling.

Six months or so later, I came out to my best friend, who just happens to be one of those straight crushes I was talking about last week. How exactly, I can’t remember, although I have a niggling feeling that I came out to him by telling him I fancied him. If anything, he’d have been more surprised at the fact that someone fancies him, than at the fact that his friend’s just told him he's gay. A few weeks after, I came out to another one of my straight crushes. Both were amazingly supportive and I’m sure that between the two of them, they’d kick the living daylights out of anybody else who decides to give me grief for who I am.

When I got to year 9, I started seeing a counsellor, not just because the situation with my dad was worsening, but also because I was starting to get confused about my sexuality again. I wasn’t sure if I really was gay, or bi, or whether or not it was ‘just a phase’. I’d experienced some minor bullying again, which had dented my confidence, and I decided to ask the friends I’d already come out to, to keep it quiet. The next person I came out to was in year 10, after an awkward meeting in the boys changing rooms during a PE lesson (long story, but he was bi and in the closet, neither of us told anybody, horrendous scenario avoided). In years 8 through 11, I succeeded in telling a total of just 8 people, only 2 of whom I'm still in contact with. Ironically, 5 of the other 6 people I told and then lost contact with, were either gay or bi; the two I'm currently left with are both (sadly) straight. Moving on.

It was when I hit the Sixth Form that someone showed me this quote from Dr. Seuss: those who mind don't matter; those who matter don't mind. When they told me that, I decided that it was about bloody time to up sticks and get a move on with this coming out lark, since I'd been comfortable with being gay since about the end of year 9, about the time I stopped seeing my counsellor. And so I set my 'interested in' on facebook to men, and decided that I'd answer 'yes' rather than 'no' to anybody who asked me if I was gay. And here we are. I haven't been attacked or raped or beaten up or whatever, which is what I was dreading would happen. Things just carried on as normal, as if I had always been out, and no kerfuffle was made.

Do I need to say any more?

If there’s anybody left reading this (it is rather long, I apologise) and you’re in the closet and contemplating leaving it, then my advice to you is simple: rather than jumping straight in and announcing to the world you're gay (like this girl, who, it has to be said, is either bloody brave for doing it the way she did, or a complete fool), I think it's probably better to tell a few, close, trusted friends first, so that you have a sort of support network you can go to if things get messy later on (like when it comes to telling your parents, etc.). Once you've done that, and you know that the people who mean most to you are behind you, that's when I'd suggest telling everyone else, although standing up in assembly and blurting it out probably isn't the best way to do it. Things will probably get worse, before they get better, but trust me, they WILL get better!

If you're currently coming out, and would like to share your story with us, please feel free to leave a comment or send us an e-mail with your story to homojournal@gmail.com. If you're already out or are straight, then please do comment or e-mail us anyway!

Quantum homo mechanics? - Our Guest Slave Jake

I’m Jake. This is the first time I’ve ever really talked about the existence or non-existence of my homo or “bi-ness” to anyone other than my hamster Sid.

Sid agrees with me that if I had lead a different life (or been present in a different reality) I may never had fallen in love with the big arms and the hairy chests. Still, it took me many girlfriends to realise the female scorn for masculine emotional literacy wasn’t really what I needed.

I, among with some of the other bi-sexuals, have come to understand the bizarre fascination and hatred that those ‘of heterosexual origin’ have for us ‘strange breed’. It stands to reason that the way the majority feels must be the correct way of feeling, and that anything other is subnormal.

There is not much I can say to that argument above. However if I enjoy playing with men and having men play with me, then I don’t mind being a subcategory! I can just feel happy that while every homophobic man shudders at the thought, I can turn it into pleasure.

Easter. My parents love it. My dad especially loves commenting on the sub-human nature of homosexuals. I’m still saving this homo bombshell from his only son for another argument... for a time when I leave home.

I can’t say it doesn’t get to me - that I haven’t told my family - I only really tell my friends if they ask. Many do not think that I am even remotely homo, and if I am then I must hide it really well. I hide because I have to, not because I want to.

Still counting the seconds to the revolution brothers and sisters!

Keep on loving.
Jake xXx