#God grindr makes me hate myself

[daumat]

I'd redownload grindr but a) no motivation to prep for a mediocre man b) I'd just get self-conscious and dysphoric about being neither a hairless twink nor a ""straight acting"" gym bro

[male-body-swap-lover]

Time Travel Christmas Part 3

*** This was supposed to be out before Christmas but then life happened***

Christmas in 2023. Once again, I am here for the 3rd time, 3rd body. Living the past 45 years in my son’s body, well my dad’s body, or really my body has been an interesting adventure. This time, life followed the timeline I created when I was in my grandfather’s body, Roger Braddock the 1st. So, I did better in college than my father ever did, and we had more money than my father had in the original timeline. I always had a nicer house than my father ever had when he was living his life. I did follow the original timeline and married my wonderful wife, who I guess is my mother. I never thought like that though. It was never weird. I still created my children. My daughter and my son, Roger Braddock the 3rd, aka me. It’s weird looking at yourself when you are a baby, but you aren’t yourself, you know. I know it doesn’t make sense. The same thing happened when I was in my father’s body. It’s been amazing to experience this timeline so many different ways. I probably should have spent some more time in the gym, but such is life. I was in my den preparing for the family coming over for Christmas and looked over at one of my favorite photos. It was me holding my son at our first Christmas together.

God how things have changed. Yes, I did better financially in this timeline. However, I had one screw up, and that was my son, aka my old life. I pushed my son so hard because I wanted him to do better in this timeline. I always did well when I was Roger Braddock the 3rd, but I wanted my son in this timeline to be a doctor. I always pushed him so hard and it all back fired on me. Whereas when I was Roger Braddock the 3rd, I got into business and always pushed myself. I was decently successful, but never amazing or rich. I wanted the world for my son and apparently, I made a mistake. Not only did he not become a doctor, he didn’t become a businessman. He became a slacker, didn’t graduate high school, and now lives in a trailer home jumping from one temp job to another. He mostly listens to country music, smokes, and drinks beer. I still love him, but my god, I am embarrassed to be his father. Hopefully I will stay in Roger Braddock the 2nd’s body and never jump back into my original body, or if I do, it’s in my original timeline.  I’m not going to think about that though. I have a quick minute so I am going to lie down for a nap before the family gets here.

Ah fuck, why does it smell like cigarette smoke in here. I’ve told my son he can’t smoke in my house. I open my eyes and I am not in my bedroom. I look around and realize that I am in my son’s trailer. OH SHIT! I feel my body and I realize I am no longer Roger Braddock the 2nd. I am now Roger Braddock the 3rd. Oh this is exactly what I didn’t want. I never wanted these raggedy ass clothes and this beard. Who would want to be a poor redneck that gets drunk all the time. Ugh, why does my head hurt so much. Fuck, I must have a hangover. Goddammit this fucking blows. Wait, why am I swearing so much. This isn’t fucking like me. This is just like my son.

Oh my God! I’m starting to gain all of his memories and lose my old memories; I mean my father’s memories. Why would I have my father’s memories. That’s weird. I hate my father. He’s the reason I turned out like this. Tried to push me to become a doctor. Fat chance of that shit happening! I’m too stupid for that. That’s why I live in this shithole, but it’s good enough for me. Beer, cigarettes, cable. What else does a man need. When I need a man, they are so ready to come here for me. Nothing like a bearded, dirty redneck to get these young men to do some really weird shit. Fuck I love my life. Guess it’s Christmas so have to go see the ole parents. Can’t wait to get into an argument with my dad about some shit. Better take a beer for the road. Maybe time to set up a Grindr date for after. Better light up before I go. This is the life!

[gravitywonagain]

“Nobody asked about my writing” meme

thank you for tagging me @amethyst-noir <3 you're wonderful

i'm not sure i did this right; i'm working on too many things at once...... so i picked a few :D

 1: what are you currently working on? 

umm... several things. if we're going to stick to the immediate and not look at my entire wip folder, currently i'm working on finishing wagbfm, an external porny wagbfm oneshot ch, and a fic with the working title "under streetlights" as my main fan projects.

but then also, because i hate myself or something, i have (oh god) two (2) original projects that i'm building. the first shares a universe (or at least a magic system) with a fanfic that i'm not allowed to touch until i finish wagbfm because it will be a similar undertaking in length and world building, and it has the working title "desert mirage". the second doesn't quite have a plot yet, but i've been spending a not insignificant amount of effort developing the magic system for it from scratch (must be masochism), and its working title is "rebel yell".

2: summarize your current project 

which one? okay, i'll do the fics here and the original ones next.

wagbfm (taken directly from ao3): Wei Wuxian died and Yiling Laozu rose in his place. He has avoided the Triad societies he grew up around, maintaining his anonymity and forging a new cultivation path. Now, thirteen years later, Hanguang-jun walks into Demon-Subdue Hall and requests Yiling Laozu's services for GusuLan Triad. Something is stirring in the world. Something that necessitates his return to a life and to people he’s long since mourned as lost to him.

"under streetlights" (significantly less polished): 13 years after the car accident that took Wei Ying's life, Lan Zhan has fled the memories and grief that haunt him in San Francisco, only to find himself making a strangely compelling connection on Grindr in Florida.

3: summarize your current project poorly 

"desert mirage": Girl magically decapitates herself only to find out that it's not even her own head.

"rebel yell": In the world of genetic magic users, the one-armed whistler with perfect pitch is king.

4: describe your favorite character or characters

i think almost every character from mdzs could fill this list. plus several from my many other fandoms (looking at you, asami sato). but this seems aimed at ocs or other characters i haven't already spent time dissecting on this blog so...

meet calliope burns: she has two love interests, one arm, and zero fucks left. her default mode is research spiral. her glasses are always dirty. and she once threw her cheap-as-they-come prosthetic arm across a room because her roommate would not stop punning at her.

(also, worry not, i don't do love triangles unless the triangle gets closed... with polyamory, in case that wasn't clear.)

5: post a line from your current project without any context 

“You’re dead,” says Lan Zhan, and Wei Ying feels glass splintering around his temple.

6: how do you get through writers block?

patience? or, more accurately, distraction. i have no cure for it. i mostly just wait it out by doing other things. sometimes that becomes very difficult and aggravating, but i have not yet found another solution. sometimes making playlists helps?

7: would you want to live in the world of your current work? 

hell no. i do not write fun places to live; i write interesting places to live. and as we have all discovered by now, interesting is exhausting.

8: briefly discuss your outlining process, if you outline 

um... sporadic? it tends to start as a vague idea in a note on my phone. then when i've added enough to that note, it gets a onenote. on the onenote i collect a lot of larger character and world building things, in addition to figuring out the plot. the plot gets a bullet list with an associated timeline. then when the prose starts, it gets a google doc. from there the prose and the bullet list inform each other back and forth until i get something coherent out of them both. which is to say, mostly it's pretty freeform.

9: what is the aesthetic of your current project?

wagbfm: a darker chinese version of Romeo + Juliet (1996, dir. Baz Luhrmann)

"under streetlights": cigarette smoke and that fever dream feeling that accompanies yellowed, peeling motel wallpaper, but in, like, pretty sunset colors

"desert mirage": american southwest cow skull art

"rebel yell": 1980's punk scene meets 1950's technology meets 1910’s human rights violations and eugenics… plus magic!

10: what song sums up your current work the best?

wagbfm: the title is based on a lyric from "Seven Nation Army" by The White Stripes, but i think the song that gets at the heart of it might actually be "Freak" by Sub Urban

"under streetlights": the fic is inspired by "3 Nights" by Dominic Fike, but the song that it most resembles is actually "Hurting on Purpose" by Whethan

"desert mirage": "Black Magic" by Magic Wands but also "Corazón Espinado (feat. Maná)" by Santana... it's complicated

"rebel yell": "It's a good day (to fight the system)" by Shungudzo though the working title is obviously taken from "Rebel Yell" by Billy Idol

Tagging: @dovebeast, @epistemologys, @jasontoddiefor, @eldritchjackalope, @iamwestiec if you feel like it, and really anyone who wants to play!

[swimmingclassicrockpizzawombat]

I saw him today and he asked me how my summer was and I got all awkward.

I crave to talk to him but can't bring myself to?

I know it's not healthy to think this way but even though he didn't look as "attractive" anymore I still find him so... beautiful?

His shiny green/blue eyes and his brownish golden locks with a dumb little scruff he didn't shave.

When he wears his glasses he looks like an adorable nerd I wanna hug. And when he wears contacts he looks like a greek god.

Hell he was wearing a fucking POLO SHIRT. I'm sorry but, guys in polo shirts are just... it's not flattering? Yet I've got it so bad for him even that's not enough to make me not want him?

I wish I could go on Grindr and hook up with random sexy gays, but idk why my adhd brain only wants him? Like, I know I could be making out with Henry Cavill and I'd still be wishing it was him the whole time?

Literally why do I like this guy so much? Yet he is just so... beautiful?

And I can't bring myself to hate him as much as I try to bc he somehow disarms me every time? Like, even when I try to paint him as an ass in my head he turns out to be an adorable absolute sweatheart?

And it's like "oh right, he might be a sassy smartass but he also has social anxiety like I do... OR DOES HE?!?!? HE TOLD ME HE DOES"

[revanchistsuperstar]

Think I got a delayed emotional reaction to OFMD season two because I just started crying HARD listening to This Woman’s Work on the way home from the gay bar tonight. Weepy sad faggot details beneath the cut:

I’ve already said mentioned sort of not explicitly in the tags of a lot of posts what I’ve been going through the last few months but this is a fucking boiling point so let’s get into it.

I kissed a random man at the club tonight. He was gorgeous. He ticked every box I could think to have ticked. Otter, but a bit (lot) fruity. We were at a bear bar, I saw my friends do an awesome drag show, I was having a wonderful, happy time. Got flirted with and desired by a random man, the only thing I as a gay trans man have ever wanted. Almost was like “please, just take me home and fuck me” but he was off to another club and I didn’t feel like comitting to the bit as they say. Because here is the sad truth.

Ketan is the only person I’ve been able to see myself with for months. I love him. I hate that I do, but I do. He kissed me like I literally have never been kissed by a man before, this cisgender gay man, kissed me like I was the most beautiful, desirable man he’s ever known. We’ve known each other for

Eight years.

I’m absolutely not monogamous. I’ve had feelings for other men during the time I’ve had feelings for Ketan. This crush came on when I was still with my ex fiancée, I’ve felt this way for YEARS.

But the mother fucker had to kiss me, make me feel worthy of something for the first time in my life, say “I know,” when I told him I’d felt this way about him for years and kiss me again harder after our lips pulled apart that first time, keep kissing me that whole night over and over and over, and then pull a 180 and suddenly become too scared to talk to me ever again and tell me he was heartbroken and he couldn’t deal with this, when he was the one who came on to ME, because I as a gay trans man am so convinced every cis gay finds me repulsive I’ve never even made a Grindr despite desperately wanting to be dicked down most every day and night.

He had to say “you should have told me how you felt. I still might have done this but I would have been prepared” but then completely ghost me for an entire month.

He had to refuse to discuss it to the point that seven months later I still am so fucking confused I don’t even know how to explain to our mutual friends what the fuck happened.

And now here I am. Kissing a random, beautiful man but thinking of him. Thinking about how insane I went when he wasn’t talking to me at all, how I nearly lost my job because I was so suicidally depressed I would wake up every day and have my first thought be “I don’t want to be alive.”

I should be hoping, but I can’t stop thinking.

The fucking OCD mood.

This weird part of me keeps thinking “you two are meant to be together in the end, just be patient, this is the love of a lifetime and nobody has ever made you feel like this before, you two literally can talk to each other with just looks, every single damn thing about your lives is a mirror of one another, this is fate, this is a higher power doing this” but the rational part of me is so, SO fucking upset and hurt STILL and I hate both of these parts of me and I just don’t know what to do besides cry and dare to hope this might work out like it does on TV.

I miss you so much, Ketan. You’re literally only a few hundred feet away, posting “dinner for one” on your IG story, and I’m so much of a coward I can’t even text you and tell you what I feel.

And there has to be a god damn fucking tv show starring my COUSIN who LOOKS LIKE ME making it easy to project with a song that I’ve loved for years and just cuts to my core because it could be about US and I’m driving home from the club when I should be so over the moon that I got to kiss some dude who was so beautiful I’m just crying instead and…

Ketan I miss you so much. Why the fuck is this so triggering and so hard.

[lord-radish]

I saw an ask recently abt Sonic Frontiers that was like "omg when is sonic coming out?!!?!?!" and the response was "when he's ready, be respectful"

and as many things have done over the past year and a half, it reminded me of my former best friend whose idea of trying to be supportive was to try and get me to discuss my sexuality, which I never did because I wasn't comfortable with outing myself.

like there was one time when he was like "yeah just like download Tinder or like grindr or whatever", there were other occasions where he just casually dropped that he didn't think I was straight, and he would get frustrated that I wasn't more open with him. And that ask really does sum it up - it wasn't respectful. He didn't respect my boundaries, and he wanted to force the issue because he felt entitled to know. He was upset that I wasn't sharing information with him despite him being my best friend.

I do genuinely think it was coming from a good place, like he wasn't trying to be malicious, but the fact that he kept pushing it when I didn't want to talk about it really bothered me. There was this attitude of like "friends tell each other everything, I don't like that you don't share things with me" - which is valid enough to a point. I did close myself off from him, starting years earlier and then more rapidly towards the end. He's entitled to feeling closed out.

But god, I have shit I want to keep to myself. There are deep, personal, private things that are mine to keep, and nobody is entitled to that. My sexuality is one of those things, and that's information that is absolutely, unabashedly okay for me to keep close to my chest. And to be prodded and questioned, to have people make comments about my sexuality to my face because they feel entitled to that conversation when I don't want it - that shit cuts. I HATE thinking about it.

Quick sidenote, if you're reading this David, you can go and fuck yourself a thousand times over. I'll never forgive you for eight years of shit like this that made me uncomfortable.

Anyway this post has been weighing heavily on my mind for a couple weeks now. And it all dropped from a comedy ask about Sonic the Hedgehog. Be respectful of other people's privacy, and if you speculate about that aspect of them, keep it to yourself and give them the space, privacy and time to deal with it and come to you IF they feel like it. Not WHEN, IF. If they don't tell you, it's none of your business. Be respectful.

[starstruckpuppypaper]

Been going through it lately, in fact a had a breakdown and fell into a dark spot few months back. The spiral down started from the pain of a recent break up. I chose to walk away when I knew that the other person wasn’t ready and couldn’t choose me nor a life with me in it. It hurt a lot. I wanted him to stop me to fight but he let me go. I felt so much pain and so much embarrassment. I packed up my things the next day and moved away. Gave no notice to anyone just packed up and headed out. Moved back to my home town. And I didn’t cope well. I was checking up on him. Spying on Grindr. Seeing just how quick he moved on. He moved on quick 24 hours back on dating apps, went on a date with his now boyfriend two weeks later, basically his life picked up and continued. And mine felt like it was dying. Things weren’t going good for me. I felt I lost everything and he didn’t seem to care or have any lost of me. So I lashed out at his appearance of joy. Wrote length message sharing every thought and feeling. Cursed his name and hated him. Wished my pain on him, I wanted him to hurt. Just like I was hurting. Then the day came he posted a thirst trap pic, the signal that lite all of my insecurities a flame. He was wanting others public to see him as the single man he was. He is gorgeous still think that. I couldn’t bare it the thought of someone getting him, having the best I would never have. Having the life I wanted with him. Never see his kids again and never hold him. I did this to myself I walked away, I spied on him, I still looked at his social media. I was looking for reasons and mentally I snapped. Hot myself blocked and rightfully so. How could I do these things, say what I did to him? How could I say I loved him and yet this was how I behaved towards him. Yes he has a new guy and yes they started two weeks after us. But we’re are separate people who own nothing to the other. How could I say I’m a good person and expect god or the universe to bring joy into my life. If this is who I am! I did terrible things and said things I’m ashamed of. I blasted him and his new man on here as cheaters. I was toxic I was evil I hurt someone I loved dearly. And maybe I had already but for sure after all I did I lost him forever. There’s no coming back. Not sure if I would ever go back given the chance but still. I finally got myself to therapy. Two months going strong on the healing journey. But yet now that it’s behind me I still have intense moments of shame, guilty, regret, and loss. I want to undo all I’ve done tell him I’m sorry and ask for that which I know I don’t deserve, forgiveness, but I won’t send that message. I’ve bothered him enough. We are to be strangers in this life now, best to leave it there. I’m split into two one moving on looking toward the future the other still sitting in that dark hole reminding me of how far I fell how dark those two months were. I want to let go I want to move on I don’t want to be that person. I never want to put someone else through that. I want to be kind loving strong secure. But I did do it. I guess I have to learn to accept what I did and forgive myself even though I don’t feel like it’s mine to have. I want so much to be a good person but I’m afraid I’m not. Im a villain of my own making. Can I be forgiven?

[parkkate]

The Proposition

Okay, so this wasn’t planned. At all. You can blame/thank @shanceshancerevolution for this lol. They’re the one who dragged me into this fandom anyway. And they’re also the one who sent me this post, which the following is based on :) It’s slightly nsfw. Like, if I were to post it on ao3, I’d tag it M :)

Shiro looks at his phone again, just to make sure he got the right drink. He’s never heard of it before. The stranger texted him his address, which, honestly, isn’t even that far from the 7/11. He wonders who’s more desperate; the thirsty stranger or him. He hopes his arm won’t be a deal breaker. It has been before. That’s one of the reasons he doesn’t do this very often. That and the abandonment issues he really doesn’t want to think about.

“Apartment B4,” he murmurs to himself. He takes a deep breath before knocking, feeling extremely ridiculous with the horchata in his hand, which is his ticket to a blowjob. He almost considers putting the drink on the stranger’s doorstep and leaving when the door swings open and reveals—

“Lance?” Shiro splutters.

“Shiro? What are you doing here?” Lance’s eyes flick down to the horchata. And then his mouth falls open. “You’re my horchata blowjob?”

“Oh my god,” Shiro groans. “This can’t be happening.”

“I didn’t even know you live here!”

“I don’t,” Shiro says hastily. “I’m, err, off duty for a few days and… and…” He honestly has no idea what else to say.

“What a coincidence,” Lance laughs. He doesn’t seem as horrified as Shiro would have expected. “Well, I guess that’s what you get when you don’t show your face on Grindr.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, scratching the back of his head. He assumes Lance decided not to show his face for the same reasons as Shiro; being the famous saviors of the universe can get a little tricky.

“Come in,” Lance says, stepping aside. “Err. Are you sure?”

“Of course! We haven’t seen each other in forever!”

Feeling extremely sheepish, Shiro steps inside and follows Lance to the couch. 

“Oh,” he says, remembering he’s still holding Lance’s drink. “Here.”

“Oh my god, yes,” Lance cheers. He takes it from Shiro as though it’s a trophy, but instead of drinking it, he puts it down on the coffee table and turns to Shiro.

“Sooooo. This is a little awkward,” Lance laughs.

“You can say that again,” Shiro agrees.

“Well. About that blowjob.”

Heat blooms on Shiro’s cheeks. “It’s fine,” he laughs awkwardly. 

“No, no. I promised to blow you,” Lance says.

Oh god, he can’t be serious?!

“That was before you knew it was me,” Shiro points out.

“A promise is a promise,” Lance says, and, to Shiro’s horror, glides down the couch to kneel in front of him.

“Lance, let’s just catch up, okay?”

“We can catch up later,” Lance grins.

“Seriously, you don’t have to—”

“What if I want to?”

Um.

“What?”

Lance smiles at him. It’s one of those dazzling smiles that leaves you a little breathless. And honestly, Lance has had that effect on Shiro long before today.

“Come on, it’s just a little blowjob between friends,” Lance purrs.

“Err, I’m not sure that’s a thing, Lance,” Shiro says, hating that his voice sounds so shaky.

“Well, just as a thank you, then,” Lance grins.

“I—”

“That’s why you came here, isn’t it?”

Shiro swallows. “I mean, yeah. But I didn’t know it was you.”

“Oh.” Lance’s face falls. “So you’d accept a blowjob from some random dude but not me?”

“Uh.” Panicking, Shiro scrambles for something to say. If only Lance knew the truth. Shiro fantasized about being with him so many times, it’s embarrassing. So yeah, technically he would accept a blowjob from a random stranger. But Lance? He can’t. He really, really can’t.

“I see,” Lance says, straightening himself. “Well, I guess I only have myself to blame.”

“What do you mean?” Shiro asks.

“I always knew I wasn’t good enough for you, but I—”

“What?” Shiro blurts. And before he knows what he’s doing, he grabs Lance by the shoulders. “That’s not true, Lance!”

Lance stares at him, his eyes wide. 

“It’s not true,” Shiro repeats, willing Lance to understand. “That’s not—That’s not what this is about.”

“What is it about, then?”

Shiro sighs, letting go of Lance and shaking his head. “Let’s not talk about it, okay? But believe me, it has nothing to do with you.” 

It has everything to do with him. But it would be too complicated to explain. And too humiliating. 

“Okay,” Lance says slowly. Sceptically. “But look, you went to a 7/11, got me the drink I asked for and came all the way down here.” He pauses. “And I promised to blow you. What’s the big deal? Just let me do it!”

“Lance—”

“I’m really good at it!”

“Lance.”

“Come on,” Lance says with a little pout. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Lance is still pouting and he seems to deliberate something. “I really wanna do it,” he finally says. “I—I actually thought about it, back when we were—Um.”

“What?”

“You knew I had a thing for you,” Lance says with a dismissive gesture.

Ummmm. WHAT?

“Excuse me?” Shiro says, his voice much higher than usual.

“Oh. Maybe you didn’t. Oops?” Lance laughs.

Oh god. Is he kidding? Please don’t let him be kidding. But he said ‘had’. He ‘had’ a thing for Shiro. Fuck, what does that mean?

“Anyway,” Lance says, “blowing you has been kind of on my bucket list for a while. So will you let me?”

This, Shiro thinks, has to be a dream. It has to be. There’s no reality in which Lance practically begs him to let him blow him. 

“Shiro?”

“Y—Yeah,” Shiro croaks.

“Yes,” Lance hisses, and immediately gets to work on Shiro’s pants.

It takes a moment for Shiro’s brain to catch up, to realize he just agreed to this. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod.

He gulps when Lance pulls down the zipper and Shiro’s unmissable and very unfortunate bulge is visible.

“Mr. Shirogane,” Lance grins. 

“Oh my god,” Shiro groans, covering his face with his hands. This is so embarrassing.

“No, don’t hide,” Lance says, pulling his hands away from his face. “I think it’s… kinda flattering? Maybe? I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Reluctantly, Shiro looks at him, only to have the air knocked out of his lungs. 

Lance is smiling at him and slowly leans down. To nuzzle his bulge.

“Oh my god,” Shiro groans again, and lets his head fall back. He tries to sit still as Lance cups his balls and places little kisses along the line of Shiro’s waistband. 

This is it, Shiro thinks. This is how he’s going to die.

His notion seems to be proven right when Lance tugs at his boxers and finally pulls them down.

“Oh wow,” he hears Lance say. “This is—This is even better than I imagined!”

Before Shiro can ask what he’s talking about, Lance gets to work. Shiro’s back arches off the couch and he bites his lip to keep himself from groaning. Christ, Lance wasn’t kidding. He really is good at this. 

Feeling like his heart might jump out of his chest, Shiro opens his eyes and peeks down at Lance. His breath catches when he sees Lance looking right back at him, his eyes dark and hungry. Fuck. What a beautiful sight. Shiro already knows he’ll be thinking about this a lot; Lance, kneeling between his legs. His mouth is so hot and velvety and everything around Shiro feels so tight and the press of Lance’s tongue is just right and—

“Lance,” Shiro moans. 

As if in response, Lance takes his hand and intertwines their fingers. This… feels sort of weird. Intimate? Lance guides their joined hands to his head and Shiro is more than happy to bury his fingers in Lance’s hair. It’s so soft. 

When Lance picks up the pace, Shiro can’t hold back his moans anymore, squirming on the couch as he feels himself getting close.

“Lance,” he groans, warningly. He inhales sharply when he feels Lance’s hand on his thigh, wishing he could feel his touch everywhere. He’s wanted Lance for so long.

“Oh my god! Fuck! Fuck!”

Shiro holds his breath as wave after wave of pleasure courses through him. He feels Lance slowly pulling away, but his hands are still on Shiro. 

“Are you okay?” Lance asks, and Shiro can almost hear the grin in his voice.

Still panting, Shiro tries to revive his brain, which Lance just completely obliterated. “Dear god,” he breathes. He slowly moves his head to look at Lance, and the sheer beauty of this gorgeous man hits him like a truck. “God, I love you,” he blurts. 

There’s a moment of silence, a moment filled with dread and mortification. 

And then Lance laughs. “Thanks,” he snorts. “I take it the blowjob was okay?”

Shiro says nothing, still shocked by his own words.

“That was fun,” Lance says, plopping down on the couch next to him. “You have a very nice penis.”

Shiro, unwilling to say anything to that, quickly pulls up his boxers and zips up his pants, feeling a weird mixture of satisfaction and embarrassment wash over him. 

“Aaah,” Lance says, the horchata in his hands. “Good stuff.”

Shiro tries to smile at him, but all he can do is stare. How is he so okay with this? How is he not freaked out? How is he—Oh. 

Shiro swallows as his gaze falls down to Lance’s… well, situation. 

“Um. Do you want to do something about that?” he asks, kinda boldly and very, very stupidly.

“Do you want to do something about that?” Lance laughs.

“I could,” Shiro says, his mouth, apparently, on autopilot.

“Really?” Lance asks, finally a little surprised.

“If you want to.”

“Hell yeah,” Lance says. He sounds like he means it.

“Okay, um. What do you want me to do?” Shiro asks carefully.

“What do you want to do?” Lance shoots back.

Shiro blinks at him, for once deciding not to think too hard about anything. “I want you to fuck me.”

Honestly, if they weren’t negotiating Shiro’s wettest and wildest dream right now, he probably would have fallen off the couch laughing. Because there’s horchata shooting out of Lance’s nose and he looks so shocked, one might think Shiro just told him Kaltenecker is actually a cat.

They stare at each other for a long moment, in which Shiro contemplates jumping out of a window.

But then, Lance clears his throat. “I can do that,” he says, his face more serious.

“Yeah?” Shiro says, hope and warmth bubbling up inside his chest.

“Yeah,” Lance smiles. “Let’s see how much you love me after that.”

[longgae]

11 celebrities who've been called out for homophobic comments

This is gonna be interesting...

1. In 2020, Twitter users accused J.K. Rowling of transphobia after comments she made on Twitter. Rowling tweeted, "'People who menstruate.' I'm sure there used to be a word for those people. Someone help me out. Wumben? Wimpund? Woomud?" Fans on social media quickly told the writer she was not being inclusive to the transgender community. Rowling backed up her statement by tweeting, "I respect every trans person's right to live any way that feels authentic and comfortable to them. I'd march with you if you were discriminated against on the basis of being trans. At the same time, my life has been shaped by being female. I do not believe it's hateful to say so." She also said, "I want trans women to be safe. At the same time, I do not want to make natal girls and women less safe. When you throw open the doors of bathrooms and changing rooms to any man who believes or feels he's a woman – and, as I've said, gender confirmation certificates may now be granted without any need for surgery or hormones – then you open the door to any and all men who wish to come inside. That is the simple truth."

2. Kevin Hart stepped down from hosting the Academy Awards after his old homophobic comments surfaced, saying, "I am evolving and want to continue to do so."

Between 2009 and 2010, Kevin Hart made insensitive jokes on Twitter and in his standup specials. For example, in one tweet, the comedian said he would break a dollhouse over his son's head if it turned out he was gay. In his 2010 special, "Seriously Funny," he reiterated the point that he would act abusively if his son was gay. "I wouldn't tell that joke today, because when I said it, the times weren't as sensitive as they are now," Hart later told Rolling Stone. "I think we love to make big deals out of things that aren't necessarily big deals, because we can. These things become public spectacles. So why set yourself up for failure?" When it was announced that Hart was going to be the host of the Oscars in 2018, his past jokes resurfaced. After backlash from the public, Hart stepped down as host. "I have made the choice to step down from hosting this year's Oscar's....this is because I do not want to be a distraction on a night that should be celebrated by so many amazing talented artists," he wrote in a tweet. "I sincerely apologize to the LGBTQ community for my insensitive words from my past … I am evolving and want to continue to do so. My goal is to bring people together not tear us apart."

3. After Paris Hilton was caught criticizing the gay community in an audio recording, she apologized, saying, "Gay people are the strongest and most inspiring people I know." In 2012, an audio recording of Paris Hilton in a taxi cab was leaked. According to reports, she was in the car with a gay man who was showing her the gay dating app, Grindr. In the audio, you can hear Hilton say, "Gay guys are the horniest people in the world. They're disgusting. Dude, most of them probably have AIDS. ... I would be so scared if I were a gay guy. You'll like, die of AIDS." Her publicist confirmed that the recording was in fact Hilton but emphasized the socialite was not homophobic. (Are they sure about this? God...) In an apology statement, Hilton said, "I am so sorry and so upset that I caused pain to my gay friends, fans, and their families. Gay people are the strongest and most inspiring people I know."

4. After a member of the audience called out Tracy Morgan for his homophobic remarks during a standup set, the comedian apologized. In 2011, a man chronicled Tracy Morgan's standup set in Nashville on Facebook. In the post, the man said Morgan said being gay is a choice because "God makes no mistakes." The comedian also allegedly said he would stab his son if he came out as gay. (Kevin Hart, you here?) After backlash and a half-hearted apology on "Late Show with David Letterman," Morgan issued an official apology. "I want to apologize to my fans and the gay & lesbian community for my choice of words at my recent stand-up act in Nashville," he said. "I'm not a hateful person and don't condone any kind of violence against others. While I am an equal opportunity jokester, and my friends know what is in my heart, even in a comedy club this clearly went too far and was not funny in any context." (Good sir. There is more to LGBTQ+ then just gays and lesbians)

5. Sarah Silverman used a gay slur in a 2010 tweet. When asked about it in 2018, she said, "I'm certainly creative enough to think of other words besides that that don't hurt people." In 2010, Sarah Silverman tweeted, "I don't mean this in a hateful way but the new bachelorette's a f-----." Although the tweet went relatively unnoticed at the time, it picked up momentum again in 2018 when people pointed out that it was unfair for Kevin Hart to step down from hosting the Oscars for doing something similar. "Yea, I'm done with that," Silverman told TMZ when she was asked about it in 2018. "I think I can find other ways to be funny. I used to say 'gay' all the time like, 'That's so gay!' Because we're from Boston. We'd go, 'That's what you say in Boston. I have gay friends. I just say gay.' Then I heard myself, and I realized I was like the guy who'd say, 'What? I say colored. I have colored friends.' I realized it's stupid, and I'm certainly creative enough to think of other words besides that that don't hurt people. But I fuck up all the time."

6. Eminem has been criticized for using gay slurs in his songs, but he insists he isn't homophobic. In 2018, Eminem released his album, "Kamikaze." In one song titled "The Fall," he focuses on fellow rapper Tyler, The Creator. In the song, Eminem raps," "Tyler create nothin', I see why you called yourself a f----t, bitch." This wasn't the first time rapper had been criticized for using a gay slut. Throughout his career, he has used similar words in his songs and received a lot of criticism for it. Eminem, however, insists he is not homophobic. "The honest-to-God truth is that none of that matters to me: I have no issue with someone's sexuality, religion, race, none of that," the rapper told Vulture. "Anyone who's followed my music knows I'm against bullies — that's why I hate that f---ing bully Trump — and I hate the idea that a kid who's gay might get s--- for it."

7. Mel Gibson mocked how gay men act in the early '90s. While doing an interview in 2001 for Spanish newspaper El Pais, Gibson said, "With this look, who's going to think I'm gay? I don't lend myself to that type of confusion. Do I look like a homosexual? Do I talk like them? Do I move like them?" Throughout the '90s, GLAAD protested Gibson's films, but the actor refused to apologize. "I'll apologize when hell freeze over," he said. "They can f--- off."

8. Alec Baldwin went on a homophobic Twitter rant against a reporter he did not agree with. He later said his remarks were "in no way was the result of homophobia." In 2013, Daily Mail reporter George Stark wrote a story accusing Alec Baldwin's wife, Hilaria, of tweeting at James Gandolfini's funeral. Baldwin took to Twitter to express his anger at Stark, calling the reporter a "toxic little queen," among other comments. In an interview with the Gothamist after the incident, Baldwin stood by his decision to call the reporter a "queen." "The idea of me calling this guy a 'queen' and that being something that people thought is homophobic … a queen to me has a different meaning. It's somebody who's just above," he told the publication. "It doesn't have any necessarily sexual connotations," Baldwin said. "To me a queen ... I know women that act queeny, I know men that are straight that act queeny, and I know gay men that act queeny. It doesn't have to be a definite sexual connotation or a homophobic connotation." He later issued an official apology, according to The Hollywood Reporter. "My anger was directed at Mr. Stark for blatantly lying and disseminating libelous information about my wife and her conduct at our friend's funeral service. As someone who fights against homophobia, I apologize," Baldwin said. "I would not advocate violence against someone for being gay, and I hope that my friends at GLAAD and the gay community understand that my attack on Mr. Stark in no way was the result of homophobia."

9. Chris Brown also used homophobic language (no shockers there) when talking about another rapper, but he later said, "I love all my gay fans." In 2010, rapper Raz provoked Chris Brown when he tweeted about Brown's past assault on Rihanna. Brown responded by attacking Raz on Twitter, referencing the fact that Raz was molested by another man as a child and calling him a "#homothug." "I'm not homophobic! He's just disrespectful," Brown tweeted later. "BTW…I love all my gay fans and this immature act is not targeted at you!!!! Love."

10. Azealia Banks has a long history of problematic comments, but she has since said she will no longer use gay slurs. In 2015, singer Azealia Banks was caught on camera yelling at a flight attendant after getting into a fight with a fellow passenger. In the video, you can hear Banks call the flight attendant a gay slur, according to HuffPost.She later tweeted about the incident, writing, "I don't care. I've said it before and I'll say it again."Banks' history with the word doesn't stop there. In 2016, she used the word to attack fellow singer Zayn Malik on Twitter, leading to the deactivation of her account. She has also called the LGBTQ community "the gay white KKK. Get some pink hoods and unicorns and rally down rodeo drive."In 2016, however, she announced she is never using the gay slur again. "The amount of people that get hurt when I use the word vs. the amount of people I've said it to are just not worth it," she wrote on Facebook. "Honestly... This isn't a cop-out, it's just me realizing that words hurt. and while I may be immune to every word and be thicker skinned than most, it doesn't mean that I get to go around treating people with the same toughness that made my skin so thick."

11. Drake Bell received backlash after posting a transphobic tweet. He later called the remarks "thoughtless." When Caitlin Jenner came out as transgender in 2015, Nickelodeon actor and singer Drake Bell tweeted, "Sorry...still calling you Bruce." After receiving backlash, he deleted the tweet and then posted another, misgendering Jenner. "I'm not dissing him! I just don't want to forget his legacy! He is the greatest athlete of all time," Bell tweeted. "Chill out!" After that, he tweeted out an apology. "I sincerely apologize for my thoughtless insensitive remarks," Bell wrote. "I in no way meant to hurt or demean those going through a similar journey. Although my comments were made in innocence, I deeply regret the negative effect they've had on so many."

Here are some tweets that were mentioned earlier (I couldn't find all of them)

So... yeah

[mithranqueersmusings]

Before This Dance Is Through XI

Chapter: 11/16

Rating: E (Smut Warning)

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo spent a lot of time late at night scrolling through George's Onlyfans profile over the next few days; he was eager to go back to the club but he didn't want George to know that he was eager, so he made do with the plethora of erotica George had supplied. Each time Ringo loaded up the page his eyes would always focus on the 'Message' button, he'd stare at it for a while and debate whether or not he should do it. How likely it was that George would reply was completely unknown to him, but it was definite that if he didn't even send a message then he'd never get a reply. Ringo's account was entirely plain, with no reference to his actual self in any way, so it wasn't as though George would know it was him. But Ringo was still hesitant, he didn't like that this was the only method of contact available to him nor that he'd be hiding behind an anonymous profile. Yet every time he'd load up the page his thumb would hover over it for a few seconds, his curiosity was beginning to overpower the desire to even speak to George. What would he even say?

John was still busy working on his poetry, how busy he actually was Ringo would never truly know, so there was no chance of dragging him along to The Helter Skelter. Going alone would look too strange, Ringo had decided, he was so afraid that George would catch on to exactly how much Ringo liked him. Messaging him was the only viable option left, because even wanking himself off every night to George's photos was beginning to lose its novelty.

It was late at night and Ringo lay in bed in his boxers, it was far too hot to sleep in anything more at the moment. The light had been switched off and so began the nightly routine, loading up George's photos and asking himself the same question: did he dare message him? Ringo wasn't sure what convinced him that night, whether he was just sleepy enough that his inhibitions had begun to waver or he was really getting that desperate, but something fuelled him on.

        hey

Ringo stared at his own words long enough that his vision began to blur. Was that enough? He had no idea what his aims were with this, he just wanted something. Even if George went on a rant about how he hated weird creeps messaging him late at night, at least it'd be something. A few minutes passed and Ringo just lay there clasping his phone in both hands. Was George even going to reply? He could've been working, or busy doing something or someone else, for all Ringo knew. But he felt like if he stared at the screen it'd somehow make it more likely that George would reply. His eyes began to droop when his phone suddenly vibrated, he worried that it was another of John's late night texts, but it wasn't.

       hi there

Now what? Ringo wasn't exactly sure what the etiquette of this situation was. He'd had his fair share of dirty conversations over text, but is that what this was? Surely it wasn't just somewhere to talk about the weather.

        how are you?

Ringo almost cringed when he sent the message, if George didn't respond after this he wouldn't have blamed him. It was like paying for a prostitute only to sit them down and ask them if they'd seen any good films lately. At least Ringo knew George wasn't working, he wouldn't have guessed that he'd waste his breaks messaging potential weirdos, but then he again he didn't have a clue.

        just peachy         and yourself?

        better now

A little cliche, not to mention desperate, but overthinking about his responses would've been a sure way to kill the conversation completely.

        arent you sweet?         what you up to?

        just lying in bed

        alone?

        as always         what about you?

        sitting in the bath         want to see?

        yes

Ringo had written 'please' at first, but realised how pathetic that might look. The speed of the replies had been rapidly increasing up until this point, and in this lull Ringo couldn't help getting a little excited knowing that George was taking a photo of himself at this very moment; even if he wasn't in the bath at all and this pause was a result of him scrolling through his photos to try and find one that matched the fictitious scenario, Ringo didn't care, he was going to allow himself to be optimistic. It wasn't too long before a photo appeared in the chat, blurry at first before Ringo selected to enlarge it, which he did without hesitation.

This wasn't the first time Ringo had seen a photo like this, he remembered very well the photos George had posted a while back of him in the bath, but this didn't look like merely a rejected photo from that session, which allowed him to believe it was contemporary, just for him. George's face was barely in the picture, which was a little disappointing to Ringo but he could hardly complain when his own profile picture was the default one. The bath water was a soft pink colour, no doubt from one of those luxurious bath bombs that Ringo loved the smell of but never bought for himself. One of George's slim legs was lifted up out of the water, gleaming and wet, while his bare chest was fully exposed. Only the bottom of his sharp jawline could be seen, but there was no doubt that this was George, Ringo knew his face well enough by now. It was nothing too explicit, his genitalia completely hidden under the water, but that wasn't really what Ringo was interested in; just to see his beautiful body was more than enough.

Ringo wasn't quite sure what to say in response, if this had been one of his boyfriends it would've been a different story, but unfortunately that wasn't the case. He didn't want to jump into anything too extreme too quickly, scaring George off now would've wounded Ringo deeply.

        wow         beautiful

Simple yet effective, Ringo told himself. He wanted to avoid saying too much, which was almost always his problem.

         your turn

Shit. Ringo threw the covers off himself immediately then lay there frozen. If only he'd had some old photos saved, but he had gotten sick of John rifling through his phone with zero warning then giving critiques on his nudes, which was uncomfortable for a variety of reasons. Ringo had never thought he'd been that good at taking them, especially when compared to the standard of George's photos, they were practically art compared to his own. The last thing he wanted was to look like those sleazy, crude photos that John would always receive on Grindr with no context. There was only a short window to do this, if he took too long George would no doubt lose interest, so he quickly rolled over and stretched over to turn the lamp on his bedside table on to provide at least a little bit of lighting. He couldn't show his face, that was a given, which means he'd have to take things to the next level. He was already half-hard, he had George's pictures to thank for that, and it didn't take more than a few pumps to get him the rest of the way there, especially with the thought that he was doing this for George.

It wasn't the most flattering picture he'd ever taken, one hand pulling down the waistband of his boxers and the other awkwardly angling the phone to take the photo, but it wasn't the worst either. As he sent it, he could feel his heart thumping in his chest and he wasn't sure whether it was from all the erratic movement or something a little deeper.

         youre hot          wanna suck your dick

Well that was certainly one way to escalate things. Ringo let out a quiet gasp when he read the message, here he was being so nervous about overstepping any boundaries when George entirely throws them out the window.

         oh yeah?

         yeah          you wanna fuck me?

Ringo had no trouble maintaining an erection from this point onward. As much as he knew this wasn't anything more than meaningless dirty talk, that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it. Whether George was doing this for money or just to get off, Ringo didn't really care; he slid his hand under the fabric of his boxers and began stroking himself.

        god yes

        how would you fuck me?         i like it rough

        i bet you do         would love to spank that arse while i fuck you

        mmm yes please         bet your big cock would feel so good in my ass         are you touching yourself?

        yes

        good

It wasn't the easiest thing to do: wanking and trying to type with one hand, but Ringo was somehow managing it.

         youre so gorgeous

         speak for yourself          have you ever seen me dance?

         yes

Ringo wasn't sure why he told the truth, his mind was considerably muddy by this point.

         and what did you think?

         so so hot          its so hard not to touch you when you look that good

         touch me then          i want you to

         wish i could          wish i could have you all to myself

         what would you do to me?

That was the real question. What would Ringo do? What he wanted to do was easy, but if George had walked into his bedroom at that very second the only thing he'd really be capable of doing was probably fainting.

         anything and everything          i want you so badly          id do anything to have you right now

         why me?

         do you really have to ask?          youre absolutely stunning          you can turn me on just by looking at me

         lucky me          id like to do a little more than just look at you

         like what

         suck your cock          its so big i dont know if i could take it all          but id try

         god          id love to see that

         then id ride you          nice and slow          let you watch your cock slide in and out of me

Ringo could already feel his orgasm building, he felt a little embarrassed that it had been so easy. He tried to slow his movements but it only made things worse, he couldn't help imaging the tightness of his hand being replaced by George. He wondered if George was touching himself too, if he was enjoying this at all; it was best not to think about it.

         then id flip you over and really fuck you          grabbing your arse while i pound you          is that what you want?

         fuck yes          want you choke me          make me pass out on your cock

This was bordering on unknown territory now; Ringo wasn't exactly vanilla in bed but he definitely wouldn't describe himself as adventurous, kinky even. But the thought of his hand wrapping around George's slender throat, his rings pressing against the skin, made his hand stutter.

         youre dirty arent you?

         only if you want me to be          ill let you do anything you want

         i bet you would

         you can tie me up          gag me if you want          as long as i get your cock

Ringo had no idea what he should expect when he'd sent the first message, but it was certainly wasn't this. It should've been no surprise that George could make him come undone with just his words, and a very enticing photo. He wished they could've kept speaking for hours, but with every message that became more and more unlikely.

         shit          im getting close

         so soon?          i want to cum with you

         i want to cum inside you

         i prefer it on my face          id look so pretty with your cum all over me

         i bet you would

         or i could swallow it          wrap my mouth around your fat cock          taste your hot cum          i wouldnt waste a drop

He cursed himself for getting so close so quickly, especially when things were getting so heated now. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't stop the images conjuring in his mind: George's sharp face covered with his orgasm, that charismatic grin spreading over his face as he licked as much as he could manage. Some of it falling into his dark hair, over his long eyelashes. It would be an entire new level of beauty, and Ringo needed to see it. He'd begun moaning aloud while he jerked himself, his wrist had begun to ache from holding up the heavy phone for so long.

         im so close

         me too

Whether George was actually touching himself or not, Ringo didn't care. He'd let himself believe that George was lying in the bath, or on his bed in nothing but a loose towel, with his hand wrapped around himself while he thought of Ringo. Even if he didn't know it was him, if all he'd seen was below the neckline, he didn't care; it was all he needed.

         fuck i wish you were here          want to fuck you until i explode          wanna watch my cum dripping out of you

         god yes          please fill me up with your cum          i want it          i need your cum

         im almost there          fuck

         mmm good          give me that cum          please please          cum for me

That was enough for Ringo; he could hear the words in his mind as if George was really saying them to him. It was the most intense orgasm he'd had for a while, and he'd been having a lot of them. He dropped the phone in his exhaustion, falling down onto the bed while he breathed raggedly. Sweat was forming on his forehead, making his hair stick in places. Several seconds passed before he finally picked the phone up again, the clarity was beginning to form which made him question what he'd just done but it was too late to go back now.

         that was amazing

         it sure was          goodnight

Ringo tried not to be hurt by the bluntness of the end, but he supposed George too was having that moment of mental purity which made you want to discard whatever you'd been so obsessed with right up until the moment you finish. He stared at the words for a few moments, exhaustion beginning to take over paired with the realisation that he needed to get up and sort himself out. He would've let the phone drop back onto the bed and got himself suitable for sleep, he would've if that next message hadn't sent. It was only one word, and Ringo had been certain he'd read it wrong or that his eyes were playing some sort of strange trick on him. After realising what he was seeing was in fact real, he couldn't put the phone down but that was about the limit of what he could do; should he send another message? Surely not. Should he delete his account then flee the country? Maybe that a was a little dramatic. In the end he did nothing, just glared at the word as if it would somehow vanish or send him back in time so that he could've never message George in the first place.

A single word, that's all it took to send Ringo into this internal frenzy, his eyes bulging wide and his heart racing. Not just a mere word, a name; his name.

         ringo

Shit. How did he know? Had Ringo been that obvious? The whole reason he'd been comfortable sending any of those messages was because he thought he was safe behind his blank and anonymous profile.

But maybe this wasn't such a bad thing after all. If George knew it was him, whether from the start or not, he'd still stayed messaging him throughout the entire thing. He'd called him hot, he'd told him to touch him. Had all that been genuine? This wasn't meant to over-complicate things, it was meant to be a one-off moment of weakness on Ringo's behalf that went no further than desperate dirty talk and a well needed orgasm. Shit.

Maybe it was all a joke. Maybe George knew that Ringo was trying to be sneaky, so decided to mess him about. It wouldn't have been a complete surprise considering how much he seemed to enjoy teasing him at the club. The real issue was that Ringo simply didn't understand George, every time he thought he'd got him pinned down his intentions would seem to flip entirely. Or maybe that was just Ringo's anxiety getting the better of him; after all he had been single for a very long time, perhaps he was beginning to see exactly why that was.

Ringo felt like he couldn't show his face at the club again, not after exposing himself - rather literally - to George like that; since George had been so agonisingly torturous before, he could only imagine how he'd act now he knew that Ringo truly wanted to sleep with him. Most likely Ringo wouldn't be able to survive it, not for a second.

All he could for now though, was sleep. He tried to focus his brain on anything but George, but the more he tried to avoid it the stronger the urges became. Fighting the idea that his brain was trying to form: that George truly liked him back, all this teasing and mystery was his way of showing it. It just couldn't be true, it was actually too good to be true. Ringo couldn't get a guy like George, it didn't take a genius to see that. It was a ridiculous notion, he was only telling himself what he wanted to believe. This whole thing was ridiculous, falling for a stripper, and this embarrassing episode was a clear sign that he had to stop making himself suffer like this. It was never going to happen.

He couldn't go back now, not after this, not ever. He was done.

[speakingtoheal]

The whole of  it.

This is important, revere; and it is not another mental health episode. It is, however, directly related to them. I will not turn 30 or leave the country without it being said.     After the last one, I sat and asked myself why in the hell even after 5(?) 6(?) years since you stood me up, I was still having these moments. I’d been convinced that maybe it’s because you’re the one or something. I’ve since come to learn about trauma bonding.

We’re going to delve into a story here. I’ve considered the idea that this will just get you hard, and it probably will. It reads like a narrative of the porn I found on your computer back then. But, I don’t care. I need to know that I’ve said what I know. I may still be missing pieces, but I’ll be damned if you get to live just not thinking about it when it haunts me while I study Spanish or even just take interest in potential partners.    It started when  a couple memories suddenly became very real. I was racking my brain going back in the history of our interactions trying to figure out why I kept doing this. All along, I’ve remembered that something repulsive happened during what I’ve remembered both then and ’til this moment thought of as  a “hate fuck” or just one last rough fuck.

   Suddenly the reality of this memory became clear to me, but the details took an entire summer to show up. since then, Ive disassociated too many times to count, had panic attacks, lost friends, and even considered checking myself in.

You’ve found Grindr on my phone and broken up with me. You called it right there and got up out of bed, pulled out your dick, and pointed to the edge of the bed in front of you. For some reason I thought I was getting a chance, so I scurried over and bent over. I don’t remember how, but from there you got me over to the space in front of your cabinet thing.

You took my face in your hands and pulled my mouth open, and stuck your fingers in my mouth to hold it open while you stroked yourself a little. Then, you stuck the other thumb in my mouth and used it to pull my mouth open and keep it there. Soon, you’re face fucking me. For a minute it’s fun like normal, but it becomes so brutal and relentless that I’m hurting and gasping for air between thrusts. I don’t remember how, but you get me back over to the same spot at the bed. I’m already in a little bit of shock, but I don’t know it , so I obey immediately.

    Here, you bend me over. I don’t remember if you even spit on my hole, but I do remember that there was no lube. I remember putting my hands behind my back, and you pulled them tight enough that it hurt and held them there so tightly that I couldn’t move. Then you shoved into me without lube so hard that I gasped in pain.Very shortly after, you’re shoving my face so hard into the bed that I have to squirm to turn my head a little because I’m pretty sure that my nose is about to break. Your pounding me hard and mercilessly.

Im in pain, and you’re angling to where it hurts internally now, just as much as it does externally. Faced shoved down, I’m panicking and trying to make sense of what is happening. The words cross my mind.. “oh my god, am I being raped?”

    At this point I disassociate so hard that I’m watching it all happening from the side. This disassociation from this specific event is what will last  until  2019. I feel my stomach churn and remember how I’ve always joked to myself that the way I get the shits when I’m in duress would be my payback if anyone ever tried to rape me. Things start to get easier, and this has been happening so violently all along that  I ask myself if blood is lubing me up.

There’s legitimate fear of prolapse and reconstructive surgery dancing around my head. “Should I go to the ER after the? No, they’d do a rape kit. I can’t put you in danger like that, I love you too much. So I still quite literally can’t believe what’s happening. I determine that I won’t let you get what you want out of this, so I start moaning like I like it. In my head, I won’t let you think you hurt me. “Shut up, someone will hear you.”, you bark. Finally I feel my churning stomach release and I push hard. I will happily shit all over you for doing this to me if it will make you stop. Finally the pain stops as much as it can.

You pull out and toss me back over to the other spot. I watch you grab a rag and wipe your dick off, but I wasn’t paying attention. You walk over to me and open my mouth and hold it open again. Then you’re face fucking me, but it’s harder this time and the angle is different.  You’re hurting me and you’re not concerned about it. I look up at you to figure out what’s happening and my heart stops as I see more hate and disgust  in your eyes than I’ve seen in damn near anyone’s in person before.

     That’s when I start to taste and/ or smell it. Could…no…what…? I manage to tilt my eyes/head enough to see your dick through the tears in my eyes, covered in my own shit, fucking it into my mouth. I try to tell you with my eyes to stop, but you go harder, so I try to bite down an against you. For a minute I think about chomping your dick clean off. But, again; I love you, I can’t hurt you like that.Still, a little test chomp is the only thing that makes you stop. This is where the most visceral memory becomes clear; one of the only anchors I had to even believing myself in this, I crawled over, shaking,, grabbed my underwear and, still on my knees, started scraping out my mouth and throat while you look down at me. I look up at you as if to say “what the fuck” and you look down and shrug a little as if to say “so?” I finish wiping my mouth out while you bark at me to hurry up and get dressed and leave because you have to go to work and “you better not fucking be here when I get back.” I am silent in shock.

I almost run down the stairs, still shaking, and I’m shocked to find in the bathroom that not only is there no blood, but nothing’s coming out at all. I push a little, but it hurts to. I’m afraid of what’ll happen if I push more. You’re still barking at me to hurry up, and I obediently scurry out despite the state I’m in. After numbly scream-crying the entire way, for some reason I cannot allow myself to accept yet; I got home and told Lauren everything, and she tried to get me to call it what it was, but I had already disassociated. all it was was one last fuck, right? I can’t sleep in my own bed for over a month and I start putting away both a fifth and a handle of vodka and/or gin a week.

This is why Lauren wouldn’t let you into the neuro ICU. I’m saying it this way because I don’t want to hear any of your inevitable gaslighting. The statute of limitations doesn’t go out for a long time, and I thought about it. But, I have brain damage, the only person I talked to that day hates me now, and I’ve had all those episodes of begging for you. Plus I’m male-presenting. No-one would believe me. Not your clique or your little hypocritical scene because me and trauma bonding gave you every shred of defense you need years ago. I know how this shit goes.

   I can’t be the first or the last. Someday you’ll slip up and you’ll get what you deserve. If there’s any justice in the universe, I’ll only see you again when im shitting on your grave or pulling the plug on your life support.

[dylannicknight]

And I am back.. I have not posted in a while and kung meron man nagbabasa nitong blog long toh, sorry kung wala na kayong narinig pa sakin. Before anything else I just wanna tell you guys a little story of a segment in my life na nawala ako dito.

What Really Happened?

I remember a few years ago when I started writing about my experiences as a PLHIV. My intention was to write the memory as detailed as possible so I would have something to read in my later years if I'm still alive.

Blog posts started to become journals. It's like a diary that takes everything about the day whether I'm happy or sad or just felt like writing. Until people started noticing it. People started asking questions and advises about my condition. I kind of hate that I can only answer them based on what I have experienced and for the most part I am not really sure about it as well. But I was happy that people like me are trying to seek out someone who walks in the same shoes.

One day I just woke up wanting to make a difference. It was the first time in my life that I ever wanted to do something like this. So One day I joined a group to learn more and help out in spreading awareness and educating people. That's where I met him.

So... What really happened? I fell in love. I guess that sums it all.

I loved someone with all of my heart and with everything I am and I have. Actually, even with what I don't have. I thought that it was a fairytale coming true but never have I imagined that it was only the beginning my worst nightmare.

I thought that since we are both PLHIV, we could understand each other better. I was so naive. Everything happened so fast so it didn't take long enough before I see his true colors when I picked him up in a condo overdosed with drugs, having sex with a lot of people for days and acting crazy with his paranoia.

Oh that was actually just the start of it. I decided to move to a different place with him thinking that I could possibly still fix it and patch things up. I was struggling emotionally, mentally and financially but it didn't made me give up that easily. I thought that maybe I could save him, change him, make him a better person or something and I was willing to put up a God damned fight. But most of the time I've learned now that some people just can't be changed and don't wanna change. Again I was so naive.

With my struggles financially trying to sustain the both of us, he managed to add two more people in our place. Yeah. Bummer. with just me working and providing for all of us. But I looked at it in a positive way that maybe he needed his friends to be with him. So... Fine...

Sometimes when I go to work I would give him money so he can buy food while I'm at work. I'd ask him to send me a message if he needs anything. I kind of thought he might be depressed too so I went on spending for his mental treatment which he didn't appreciate anyway.

And it has always been like this. I remember at times when he would help me with my business by getting some clients in my cake business. I would have to do all the work but once the client paid, I didn't get some of it. (lugi negosyo! haha)

But still, I stayed. helped him fix himself. become a licensed financial adviser, get a job and of course feed all three of them. One day, while I was in my parents' place, I got a message from his friend asking me to go home. That's when they finally took a bow as it's the end of the show.

Apparently, everytime I go to work or go to my parents' house., they would invite other people to to go to our place and have their orgy there. But wait, there's more. The money I left for their food? oh it didn't go to any waste. they buy drugs and get high together of course. Til it got to a point that he was overdosed again. What happened to his friends, well... they immediately ran off like scared dogs.

But since I just don't know how stupid I could get. I still stayed. Even in a day where I would get home seeing him drunk with just his underwear with another guy embracing him and the only thing he could say to me is, "sa taas ka nlng ng deck matulog".

Or even in times when I would see his grindr messages on his phone after everything that happened. You see, he just didn't care and would even tell to just do the same thing and stop bothering him.

Or even in a day when he asked me to just have an open relationship with him cause he doesn't believe in love anyway so it's never gonna work out. I just think that if you would want to make someone not believe in love anymore. You're just the worst.

Or even in that instance when I found out that you had sex with my officemates and they were all talking about me and laughing behind my back cause you're cheating on me.

Or even in that time when I found out that you were actually just seen on grindr just wherever you go, even in puerto galera and laguna and my friends were sending me screenshots of seeing you in that freakin app.

I guess, there's only so much I could take and no matter how many chances I gave you, you're never gonna change. That's when I decided to leave you..

In my despair I actually found myself in the arms of the people who truly love me. Being away from you, I realized how light life was before you, how heavy it is with you and how relieving it is after you. I appreciated my family better and of course my ever supporting friends.

As you may have noticed, most of my posts are gone now. While there's more story in it, the most important thing is I'm in a happy place now and i could only wish that you are too.

These memories? Everytime I think of them or remember them. I would just smile and laugh at the thought of how stupid I was. There's just a lot of memories but I feel no love in it anymore nor hate or anger. I guess that's when I realized that with how fast everything happened, that's also how fast I finally...

...moved on.

And now, I am opening a new chapter of my life.

[ton-e]

Omg omg scene idea for the Fisk family!! Richard knows his parents are divorced, and while not jumping with joy about it, he came to respect it. But the reason WHY they're divorced is entirely different than what Fisk knew to be sksk

Richard stares at his father with a mixture of remorse, sadness, a drop of apprehension seasoned with a sprinkle of disappointment which causes Wilson to immediately skyrocket to conclusions Because Oh No, Vanessa told him, he knows now, knows about me, about what I do, -

"Oh, Dad, " he's getting ready for the blow, feet shifting under his weight on a floor that seems to leave them. The soft-spoken tone of his son, once comforting to listen to, now rang like a gun cocked to his ears. His breath is trapped within his chest, panic bound and shaky. "I don't know why you thought I'd be a problem to tell me.

I mean, it's your business, and your choice whether or not you wanted to tell me something so personal, of course but... I don't want to make this about me, but It wouldn't have changed anything between us. I don't care. You're still you to me."

'What,' Wilson pauses 'What? Why is he okay with it? That's worse. He sounds like me, that's way worse-'

"Dad... It's okay to be gay."

Wilson freezes on the spot, along with all his nervous systems. Vanessa stiffens a laugh into Marco's chubby neck, igniting a raspberry accompanied giggle from the 1 year old.

"Uh.''

"I apologize for unconsciously recreating the unsafe space that prevented you from coming out during your life. The hostility and social oppression in your youth must have been so crushing, and I should have paid more attention to the hints, " Richard heaved a hard sigh, head hung low. "I'm just glad mom gave you a friendly corner where you felt secure enough to come out to her when I couldn't.I just wish I would've been more clear with my feelings."

"I -"

"But! I'm so ready to play a supportive role in the new, fresher chapter of your journey! I love you, cherish you, fully recognize and grant your individual rights as I comprehend your sexual orientation is not a definition of the person you are, nor does it stand as the personality trait you want to be recognized for.

You're still my dad. Just a freer, more open version of yourself, and I'm proud of you! You are not sick, you are not wrong, and God does not hate you. Harvey Milk, 11:23."

Before he even got a chance to object, his son's phone buzzed with a message that left him with a slight crisp on the cheeks and a smile that Vanessa caught with a knowing look. "Okay, I'll take Mark here for a few hours at the mall. I've got, uh, a school friend! A friend from school to meet."

The baby boy squealed in his big brother's arms, throwing his dog toy at Wilson's head with a laugh on his way out, breaking him from his numb stupor. "We can set you up on Grindr before you go! Harry told me about it. Said it's the Cupid's Match for Zeus, whatever that means. Anyway, love you both guys! Don't wait up!"

As soon as the door of the Fisk mansion clicked shut, a river of snickers left Vanessa's body, contrasting Wilson's bewildered state. "THAT'S what you told him!? How the hell does he think he's here in the first place!? How does he explain Marko!?"

The woman shielded her face with her hand as more laughter poured out. "He thinks I've got a sperm donor from Iowa that walkes Duchess and occasionally sends me sperm. To, you know, whenever we need a kid to buzz away suspicions. But don't worry, he knows they're babies donated out of love."

"Out of all the excuses, THAT'S the one you found!? What kind of Shark Jumping bullshit, --"

"Oh, I should've what? Told him the truth? Wilson, are you really saying being gay is worse than being the Kingpin of an underground organized crime syndicate. Oh wow."

"Oh, come on, don't turn this around. Personally, I think of myself as VERY progressive. "

"How?"

"I watch Ellen every week! "

Vanessa just laughs at him more and a few beats pass before he joins too.

[awritercalledconsilio-blog]

who sunk the ship of theseus?

when i say i’m gay

my heart waves a rainbow banner about me,

and my aorta mutters a joke about not being able to drive straight.

every rod and cone in my eyes glitter,

the pit of my stomach becomes the stonewall inn

and my chest has the date june 26th, 2015 written on it.

when i say i’m a latter-day saint

i clutch a triple combination in my hands.

my arms pull a handcart with ellen walmsley clegg,

and my vertebrae turns to the gravestones of children buried on the plains.

my feet are wet with galilee’s waves,

my tongue turned to carrot jello and my shoes tied to skis.

when i say i’m a gay mormon,

i choke.

those two words fistfight up my throat,

and drown each other in saliva

in a struggle for supremacy.

all I have to cough up is a wet ball

of rainbow fabric and bible verses.

it seems those letters detest to be seen together.

all this a conundrum,

an unsolved equation,

a war.

i stand on a tightrope of barbed wire,

my toes ripped up by obligations until no longer recognizable.

faces stare from either end,

mouths shrieking and fingers pointing.

some say i should be an atheist by now,

pink haired and smoking cigarettes.

insisting i am not yet who i could be,

that there is a single, logical endpoint of

aesthetics and esoterica i should, at some point, achieve.

others insist i am already god’s enemy,

claiming i should be in bolivia,

with an itchy white collar

and tie noosed about me,

but there is more than one way to talk of god.

no matter what i say, they won’t cease their shrieking.

when are you leaving on your mission why are you still a virgin does it say something in your patriarchal blessing about this why do you still go to a homophobic church i hate the sin not the sinner they have to accept you for who you are this is a choice try grindr it’ll be fun have you prayed about it if you’re not into drag you’re probably a homophobe no unclean thing can enter the kingdom of god this is the hill mormonism will die on homosexual and lesbian behavior is a serious sin this is your identity be proud of it if you find yourself struggling with same-gender attraction or you are being persuaded to participate in inappropriate behavior seek counsel from your parents and bishop they will help you conversion therapy only contributes to suicide in LGBTQ+ youth look at what the world is coming to the church donated to proposition 8 that’s so disgusting marriage between a man and a woman is ordained of god utah valley is such an intolerant place choose ye this day whom ye will serve being gay isnt a choice but homophobia is who is on the lords side i stand with orlando choose love choose god choose choose choose

i cannot bring myself to go to a pride parade

for fear of unwanted hands and wandering gazes,

for fear that there is only one prescribed religion,

and it is that of lust.

knowing i think it only because I’ve been taught to,

but still fearing if it’s true.

wondering if my devotion merely erases me,

makes me an outsider,

makes me someone who does not belong

a traitor,

a wishy-washy fool,

a homophobe.

and every time I enter a church,

guilt infects every cell and sweat baptizes my collar,

for fear that the picture of god I paint is wrong,

and that he sees my love as a sin,

and if not a sin, a mistake,

and if not a mistake, a lesser form of love.

i dread the day when I can no longer enter a temple,

because I slipped a ring on the finger of the one I wish I could marry there.

choose, every moment seems to say.

but I cannot.

one cannot cut out half their heart and survive.

and so I remain on the tightrope,

blood dripping from my feet,

the faces still harmonizing in monstrous chorus,

CHOOSE CHOOSE CHOOSE.

i never can.

so I fall.

[desertdaddypsp]

This is exactly how I feel right now...I AM A ROCK!

“I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died, if I never loved then I never would have cried! I am a rock!  I am an island!  And a rock feels no pain...and an island never cries!”  Simon and Garfunkel

I hate people.  

Let me tell you what the last month has been like.

I have never really been suicidal.  You know...making plans to truly off myself for good?  I’m too afraid to do that final “thing” that would stop the pain.  But, I tell ya!  If there was a way I could choose to go to sleep and never wake up again?  I’d take that route.  I just can’t take it anymore.

There is a phone number 211.  You know?  Like 411 for directory assistance or 611 for help with your cellular.  211 is for community resources and they tout themselves as a number you can call if you need mental help.  

I woke up one morning with the words, “I wanna kill myself” swirling around in my head.  I couldn’t stop it.  No “voices”.  I wasn’t psychotic.  But, the words kept pulsing through my brain...”I WANNA KILL MYSELF...I WANNA KILL MYSELF...I WANNA KILL MYSELF!!!”  It wouldn’t stop. So I called 211.

“So you aren’t planning on killing yourself, but you are just wanting the pain to stop?  Is that right, Rick?” the operator asked.  “Yes,” I confirmed.  “Well, there is an urgent care clinic up off of Racquet Club Road that will take you in for free and will give you someone to talk to.  There is also another one on Perez Road in Cathedral City.”  I got up the balls to drive to I R International on Racquet Club Road.

I got there and they did my intake interview.  I told them that I wasn’t suicidal but they took my shoelaces and my belt anyway.  Like I was gonna hang myself right there in the middle of a big meeting room.  They sat me down and left me there for two and a half hours!  No one said a word to me.  I raised some concern and was told that there were only two counselors on staff and that I’d just have to be patient.  I waited another 30 minutes and finally had had enough.  “Give me my things!” I demanded.  With my belt and shoelaces dangling from my hands, I lumbered to the car, sobbing.  I had gone there pleading for help and all I got was 3 hours of nothing.  I had summoned the nerve to ask for help and was treated like it didn’t matter.  Their fucking schedule was more important than the fact that I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again!  

I went to work.  I’m finding that work is my salvation.  I’m good at it and I know it.  It also forces me to be social which is easy because I like the people I deal with during my work day.  But, I decided that after work, I was going to go to the other mental health facility on Perez Road.

I drive up and it looks awfully empty.  As I get out of the car, a security guard meets me at the door and asks what I’m looking for.  “Riverside Community Mental Health,” I told him.  

“Oh.  They’re close.”  

“Closed?”  

“They moved their office.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know!” he kind of snarled.

Shit!

Once more, I get the balls to ask for help and my intentions are thwarted.  So, I decide to call 211 again while driving.

“211 operator.  How can I help you?”

I explained what had happened during the day with being ignored for three hours and how the Perez Road office was closed. 

“Oh, that office has moved to Indio...but they are closed now for the day.  Let me get someone on the line that can help you.  Hold on, please.”

The woman was gone for 5 minutes, forcing me to listen to “The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow” on Muzak.  Was the music mocking me?  

“Gee, Rick.  I’m sorry.  All of the counselors have gone home.  Can you call back tomorrow?”  I hung up on her.

Shit!  I’m gonna go get drunk!

I hadn’t had a drink since I started getting sober from crystal, but I wanted one.  So I proceeded to drive to my favorite bar, Streetbar.  I promised myself only one drink - a Hendrick’s tonic with double lime.  I took my potion out to the patio, sat there sipping, and watched the world go by.  I found solace in an alcoholic drink when I should have been able to find it through people who were supposed to help me. 

The solace I found didn’t come so much from the booze but from the fact that I was alone and that is just what I wanted.  I just wanted to be alone but not in my living room.  It was then that I realize it:

I HATE PEOPLE!

So much hurt and pain at the hands of human beings.  So much nastiness from men on the apps who either ignored me or told me I wasn’t worth their time.  How’s this one: “Your so ugly it would take me a month to wash the ugly off!” or then there was this guy: “I wouldn’t touch you with a 10 foot pole!”  I’m not ugly.  I know that.  But why do people have to be so mean.  Of course, my codependent mind believed what they told me.  To MY mind, there was something wrong with ME when clearly, there was something wrong with THEN.

I send a desperate note to my therapist telling her that I couldn’t keep the thought of I WANT TO KILL MYSELF from running through my brain.  I never hear back from her.  Oh, I got some message saying, “Oh, you didn’t get the message that I sent this morning?”  No, I didn’t.  If you sent one, why didn’t I get it.  She apologized and gave me a phone number to call and promised to call me the next day to check up on me.

She didn’t.

Fuck her...fuck the whole world.  

Nobody gives a shit.  Even people who are paid to give a shit, don’t give a shit.

I tried for three days to get someone...ANYONE...to listen to me.  If I didn’t have insurance, I couldn’t afford to talk to someone and if they were free, it was going to take a month until they could get me scheduled for my intake interview.   I’m screaming out to someone to help me not kill myself and money and time are more important.  People just don’t give a shit!

So, that is when the resolution came and God damn it, it’s working.

ISOLATION!

For the last three weeks I basically see no one with very few exceptions. I go to work and I see Art (my best friend who checks in on me because HE cares about me!) and Gordon, because he cares, too.

I get up, sad and depressed.  I go through the motions of my morning.  I take Biscuit for her walk and we go for a car ride to Townie to get a bagel and then drive through Starbucks.  Then, I go home. Alone. Until it’s time for work.  Then, I go to Streetbar and have one drink on the patio.  Everyone leaves me alone which is just what I want.  Then, I go home.  Alone.  

For a couple of weeks, I went back on the gay apps (Grindr, Growlr, Adam4Adam) and tried to get laid, but I could even get anyone interested.  Another blow to my ego.  My decision?  

Don’t let anyone in!

I resolved to keep everyone except for Art and Gordon and my mom out of my life.  I wasn’t going to let anyone in because when I do, they hurt me.  They say they are my friends, and yet the don’t act like it.  They break dates.  They break promises.  They lie.  They have talked smack behind my back.  And, the worst I think is that this.

I stopped going to my meetings.  It has been over a month and not one person (well, my sponsor, excepted) has even noticed that I’m gone.  People who said that they liked me and chatted with me on Facebook and invited me to their pool parties didn’t even miss me or if they did, they didn’t give enough of a fuck to find out if I was ok or even sober to drop me a text message.  

Fuck ‘em!

They won’t hurt me again because I am not going to let anyone close enough to hurt me.  At least for now.  Maybe when the new meds kick in I’ll feel differently.  I did get a new Primary Care Physician to prescribe refills of some psych meds that I used to take, but it’s going to take 4-6 weeks for them to kick in.

So, for now, I am a rock...I am an island...cuz a rock feels no pain and an island never cries.

[neverending-city-lights]

A little reflection...

...before I move. Here are the people who meant something to me in Boston (attempted chronological order).

To you: I moved here with you. All those years ago. You don’t cross my mind much at all anymore. I can still remember your face. Your voice. It’s hard to forget after the 7 years you were in my life. I would say I hope you’re doing well ... but to be honest, I really just don’t care. I don't care about you at all. Good, or bad. I used to think that wishing you well meant I was over you. But it didn’t. I was over you when I stopped thinking about you. I’m glad you’re out of my life. You were everything I’ve learned to stay away from. To you ... I thank you for opening my eyes, and I’m glad you’re gone.

To my first friend: We don’t talk anymore. But you were my first friend here. You showed me the gay community. After my breakup, you were there to take me out and show me the world. And for that, I thank you. You introduced me to theatre, and food and so much. I will always appreciate all that you did. But you also showed me a side of myself I was afraid of. You showed me a path I could so easily fall down. A path I would never WANT to follow. I refuse to be a robot. I refuse to let money cloud who I am. And I refuse to so callously talk about people behind their back the way you did. I’m not you. But I could so easily be you and that scared me. So. To you ... I thank you for introducing me to a world I had never known, and I hope you find some compassion.

To my best friend: You and I weren’t friends at first. We were just coworkers. I don't think either of us thought super highly of the other, we just tolerated each other. Until my breakup. At first, I was closer to the first friend. But as time passed, YOU became my go-to. My best friend. I joke and credit you with making me an alcoholic, but you really just showed me how to have fun. How to let loose. How to be less rigid. You showed me emotions and how to feel them and be okay feeling them. You gave me so much more than I can express. I liked you for a moment in time. That stupid, drunk kiss in the Uber. The way we always got too close after we were drunk. But our friendship is what I held onto and what I cherish. I’m glad we never fucked it up. You moved. And we talk less ... but I still consider you SO important to me. I know we’re still great friends, and for that I’m so thankful. To you ... I thank you for standing by me all these years, and I will always, honestly wish you the best.

To the accuser: I can say that I am still fucking furious with you. You were my first friend. I remember the days we spent playing video games on my couch. The flirting. I remember all the gay things you introduced me too and how our friendship flourished over 3 of my 4 years here. But most of all, I remember the beach in P-town. I remember walking with you along the sand and sitting down and talking. Sharing our deepest secrets and fears with each other. I remember that because some part of me fell for you in that moment. And I remember how our friendship changed that day. And I remember it all falling apart one cold day in Boston because of what you said to me. Because of what you accused me of. It was a big deal. And it was awful. I have 0 regrets about never speaking to you again. To you ... I thank you for the sweet moments and letting me see a reflection of myself, and you can go fuck yourself.

To my traveler: You and I met off Grindr. And yet we’ve always been friends, and for that I’m so happy. You met me FRESH off my breakup and I yours, and yet we clicked. You were a nerd, and you were so yourself around me and it was a breath of fresh air! I’m so glad we met. SO glad we met. Because from you, I found a travel buddy! Someone who took me outside the country for the first time. Someone who loved the world and travel and didn't like the confines of the same places. We don't ALWAYS totally agree on politics, and other things, but I love those differences between us, because it makes us who we are, and unique and I appreciate your perspective, always. You taught me it was okay to just have sex. To be a slut. To just live. We teased each other about it, and had competitions and that made me okay with it. And that was invaluable to me. To you ... I thank you for being my friend, because it has meant everything. And I wish you happiness and love because you deserve that.

To my neighbor: I’ve written a lot about you on here. A lot, a lot. I still think about you more often than I’d like to admit, but a lot less than I used to. I haven’t seen you in a long time. And I both miss and hate you. I remember our first drinks together at Tiger Mama. And I remember not talking to you again until you became my neighbor MONTHS later. I remember playing video games with you, and going to the gym with you. God, the gym was OUR thing. We’d work out together on our schedule. Got protein shakes together. It’s funny looking back, because we were basically together, without the sex. Haha, I loved you. It’s stupid to say now. But I did. But we don’t talk anymore. Because of a fight we never had. Because of words nobody ever said. Because I went to P-town for Pride at the same time you did, with the accuser, and somehow we never spoke again. Meh. To you ... I thank you for being who you were to me, because you meant so much to me, and I’ll never fucking forgive you ... so fuck you for all of it.

To my ex: I’m sorry. I can’t even talk about you and you meant the most to me of anyone on this list. I still miss you. But I don’t ... love you anymore. No, it’s been a year. I think I’m finally mostly moved on. But ... you are the biggest part of my time in Boston. You showed me what true love was. You showed me that ... and ... I don’t know if I ever even came close to repaying you for that. I’ve never known happiness ... or joy ... the way I did with you. And that heartbreak ... that feeling has never left me. I really wish things were different. Kids. Hah. To you ... just ... I loved you so much, and I hope you know that. And I do, truly wish you the world. All of it and so much more, because I wouldn’t be who I am without you. 

To the witch: I’m actually glad we don’t talk anymore. But I’m so thankful for when we did. You might not be able to take no for an answer ... but the time I spent with you was always super fun. You helped me flourish in my writing. You indulged my fantasies and the magic I hold in my heart. You introduced me to so many new parts of Boston when I was so down on the world. You gave me light again and that is something I DO thank you for. But you’re too tenacious. No means no. I think you’re special ... but I never thought of you in that way, and I made it abundantly clear and you never listened and for that it soured almost every memory I have with you. Because our friendship was always marred by the fact you liked me. The fact you liked me and KEPT trying to act on it. To you ... I thank you for showing me Boston, and I hope you find the person that’s world is LIT up by you in the way you deserve. But that person was never going to be me. 

To the summer lover: I’m SO sorry. I did not treat you the way you deserved. I took you for granted. I would have never loved you the way YOU deserved, and so I’m glad I broke up with you, but I was still awful. But you made me happy. I’ll remember the balcony and the ciders and the cooking and just laying on your bed and talking. I’ll always have fond memories of kickball because of you. I’m glad I met you, and I’m just ... I’m just sorry for everything. To you ... I’m sorry for hurting you and I do hope you continue to smile and laugh and bring joy to all those around you.

To my poly lover: You are now my ex-boyfriend. I finally broke up with you a  few days ago, but ... you taught me a whole new side of myself. Polyamory. An open relationship. You gave me butterflies. You made me laugh. And smile. You gave me this heady feeling of life that I hadn’t had before. But we weren’t meant to be. Those things gave way to just friendship after a while, and we barely saw each other. I have fond memories of you, and you played a big chapter on time alone and what you showed me. But sadly, you ended up being more a backdrop of my last six months than a main character. And considering you were my boyfriend, it’s kind of sad. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you I loved you, back. But I just never felt it. To you ... I thank you for coming into my life and shaking up my perceptions, and I hope your relationship with your girlfriend (and the couple) remains strong and that you find someone else who can introduce you to the gay world even more than I could.

And finally ... to the husband: Hah. Never would have thought you would get the last mention. Nor that I’d find myself tongue-tied trying to talk about you. We say good morning and good night, every single day. Our snap streak sits at 56 days. The last snap streak I had was with the ex. Which ... is terrifying. Because I really like you. I really, really like you. And we can’t ever be anything because you are cheating on your husband, with me. I’m the side piece. I’m the fucking side piece and like a cliche, I’ve fallen for you. But that’s not the point. You’ve been in my life all of 4 months, and you brought so much to it. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be pining after my ex. If it weren’t for you, these last 4 months would have been miserable. But you made it better. You gave me joy. Happiness. A friendship. And then ... lately ... butterflies. Feelings. The way our hands brushed at your house. Glancing at you during the Super Bowl. Going out to drinks with you. Dancing. Dinner. The way we cuddled in the corner of a bar after everyone had left. The sweet, secret, shared moments between us. I know it can’t be real. None of it can be. And yet my heart fucking soars when we talk about visiting each other after I move. I’m going to miss you so much when I move and that’s so wrong ...and I know it. But I’m going too. I ... fell for you so hard. You’ve meant so much to me the last few months. To you ... I thank you for coming into my life, because I can’t imagine the last few months without you and I hope you stop cheating on your husband. I know you won’t, but I hope you do, because it’s wrong and I know I haven’t helped at all, but I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to lose everything...so please. And selfishly, I hope we keep talking after I leave, because I’m afraid of losing you.