#i can’t believe this app made me retype this

[yvesminatozaki]

“You shot me, you cock!” will never not be one of the funniest lines in this entire series - like, I could actually believe for a moment that arjun shot summer in the ass ‘cause her body language and vocal reaction were so on point. do yourself a favor, go back and watch that particular scene - it gave me a good fucking laugh(though the rest of the episode involving Marina and Cupcake is a whole other story that I never wanna think about again.) anyways, big props to summer bishil for delivering such sass, sarcasm and emotion to our beloved high king margo.

[loveofmychips]

perm boy part two

Disclaimer: Hey guys, welcome back. I didn't think I’d make a part 2 to this but here I am! I might consider making this a mini series as well but I’m unsure. If you haven't read the first part click here and to see the master list click here. 

Warnings: cursing, minuscule sexual urges, and the rest is mostly fluff between the reader and Joe

Summary: Joe left the next morning to get to set, but stupidly forgot to give you his number beforehand. You wake up and do some stalking before finding his instagram and messaging him. This results in getting his number and planning to hang out.

~~~~

The next morning you woke up laying alone in your chilly bed with a small headache.

After you asked Joe to stay the night you both spent a lot of the night talking and getting to know each other in the very same bed you laid in.

Nothing happened of course though.

You did indeed have to remind yourself a few times of the 4 year relationship you just got out of to avoid making a move on the man who came to your rescue the night before.

A few times is an understatement though, because even though you are a light weight and drank two beers you couldn't blame the strong feelings you had towards him on the alcohol.

You weren't sure if it was you actually starting to like him or if it was just your body wanting to get laid, but either way you still definitely wanted to continue talking to him.

A thought made you sit up in your bed.

‘I never got his number. Or anything really. I might never see him again.’

—–

Flashback To Last Night

It was almost 3 am in the morning

You and Joe were laying in your bed, the exhaustion taking over after hours of forcing your bodies to stay up laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

The both of your bodies were faced towards each other in your bed, bodies covered under your blankets, and your slowly closing eyes kept opening back up to see each other.

“It’s really late...” You whispered, watching his content smile fade a bit.

“Maybe I should be getting home-” He started to say, looking as though he just chased off a deer when trying to take pictures of it.

“I didn't mean it like that.” You giggled, shaking her head a bit, “I just mean...I might pass out on you soon...”

“Oh...” Joe relaxed into the bed again as you went back into silence a few minutes.

“Thank you for tonight...you made it really great when I thought it would be really terrible.”

“You don't have to thank me...I’m just glad you...didn't get hurt by a pervert and you got your place back. You deserved it more than Dylan.”

The name made you open your eyes as you held back a laugh with a smirk, “Who the hell is Dylan?”

“That was the ex-boyfriend’s name right?” He asked confused making you burst out into laughter, “His name is Derek!” You grinned.

Joe froze before chuckling, “My mistake-”

“That’s hilarious...Dylan...” Your words trailed off before grinning again, “Still sounds like a fuck boy name actually so it works.”

That comment sent you both laughing, and after you got control over yourselves you passed out, the exhaustion finally getting to you.

—–

Granted he possibly didn’t want to see you again.

He’s a growing actor who probably didn't want to have someone as regular as you talking to him.

But then again he didn’t seem like the kind to not talk to someone just because he was famous.

You groaned a bit to yourself as you turned to look to your bedside and grabbed your phone. Of course you forgot to plug it in before you passed out with Joe so you plugged it up real quick before typing in your password and looking at your notifications.

Your mom texted about needing help Sunday to move her stuff out of the house she previously owned with your dad.

Your parents were getting a divorce, at least you think they are. The confusing part of the equation here is that they haven’t signed any papers, they haven't taken off the wedding rings, or have been seeing anyone. They say they just want time apart on their own before making the final decision.

To you though, it just makes you believe they want to stay together without the other knowing it.

You texted her saying you would, knowing you wouldn’t say no in the first place. You loved your mom.

The next notification was from Instagram, saying someone you had notifications turned on for posted, and you wish you would've turned off the stupid notifications until you got an idea.

You got onto the app and hopefully typed in ‘Joe Mazzello’, and you found yourself become excited over seeing an account pop up.

You clicked onto it before seeing it was really him and gave him a follow. Following him on a social media app can’t be bad right? It’s what the media is for.

After following you looked through the few posts he had, finding yourself admire his face and hair before the perm. He was definitely cute and goofy like last night.

‘If I sent him a message would he see it? Is it worth a shot?’

Hesitantly you clicked the message button and typed in, ‘Hey! Don’t know if you’ll see this or not, but if you do I’d love to get your number or something? After last night I’d love to meet up again!’

You stared at the message before frowning and retyping.

‘Hey! Don’t know if you’ll see this or not, but if you do I’d love to get your number if it’s okay. I’d love to be friends!’

Does that still scream creepy or does it make me look like I’m friend zoning him now?

‘Hey! Figured I’d try messaging you on here but I’d love to get your number and hang out some more.’

‘Okay, I suppose that works.’ You thought to yourself before pressing send and sighing outloud.

You looked at the time to see it’s 10:38 am so you got out of bed to go shower and make breakfast. You’d have to go to work today so unfortunately you’d also have to plan for that.

Once you finally got out of the shower it was a little past 11, you headed to the kitchen before seeing you got a new notification. Joe actually responded.

You guess he wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t that famous if he had time to go through Instagram messages since most celebrities don’t.

‘Hey that’d be great! I meant to leave a message or something this morning but I realized I was late to filming! I ran out of your place and got an Uber haha. I’ll send my number, we’re on break now.’

You couldn't help but a grin at the thought of Joe running out of your apartment in a frenzy because he was late to film all because he spent the night with you. He sent his number separately right after that so you saved it to your contacts and sent him a message on there.

‘I’m just curious...how late did I make you? 😳😬’

‘Well let’s just say I was supposed to be there at 7 for hair and makeup and I woke up around 8. I didn’t actually get there until closer to 8:30 or so. They were behind though so I got off with a quick warning. No worries. It was worth it 😏’

‘Ha glad to hear that then.’

‘I got to go soon but I don’t have to come in tomorrow since we should get these scenes done today. Want to plan something for then?’

‘I gotta help move my mom move out tomorrow. Maybe another day would work better?’

‘Does she need any help?’

You grinned wider at that message.

Joe is a sweet guy, and if the situation was different you’d be trying to flirt and score a date...unless he thought last night was one? Does he think you’re interested like that? Are you interested like that?

You couldn't help but worry you were rushing everything. That you were gonna mess up the chance to have a good man like Joe in your life and he might turn into a rebound.

Is Joe worth another shot of crushing on someone?

‘If you’re alright with it I’ll gladly come help. I can buy us all lunch too?’ He texted again, almost as if he was scared he seemed to forward. It was like he wanted to try but didn’t want to scare you off either.

You didn't mind him trying though.

‘I’d love to do that, if you really think you’re ready to meet the parents haha’

‘I met the ex, might as well meet the rest of the gang. Can we figure out the details later? They’re calling us back. 😟’

‘Yeah of course, just text me when you’re good to talk again! see ya’

—–

Once you got off of work that night you were elated to see a text from Joe that he sent an hour ago.

‘I’m heading home now, want to call when you're off?’

‘Yeah! I’m heading home so I’ll let you know when I’m ready’ You texted back after getting into your car. You drove home in excitement due to thinking about the plans for tomorrow all day.

It was only around 8 so you had all night to talk and plan with him.

Once you pulled into your parking space and headed up the stairs to your apartment you sent him a single text saying, ‘Ready’

You figured he wouldn't call right away but to your surprise not less then a minute after the message was sent he started calling, so you answered and put him on speaker phone.

“Hey perm boy.” You teased, heading to your room to change into some more comfortable clothes.

“Perm boy? Now that’s just cruel. I thought you’d be more sweet then that.” Joe laughed into the phone sending small chills up your arms.

You loved hearing his laugh.

“Well I can be sweet and spicy.”

“Like chicken?”

“Oh no I’m definitely wings.” You replied through your giggles, only making him laugh some more.

“I will put that into my notes about you then.” He paused, seeming hesitant to say anymore to you, “Um...Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You answered hopefully despite not being sure why you were hopeful.

“Um...so if I’m coming to help move tomorrow then what time will it be around?” He finally asked, making the breath you didn't realize you were holding breath out of your system.

“Um...” You trailed off as you struggled to get on your pajama pants, “Well she wants me there around 12, but I don't know how long she’ll need help for.”

“Should I bring some food? Or would you rather wait to eat after once it’s all completed?”

“We can get some before together if you’d like. I’ll text my mom in a moment just to ensure she doesn't have the same idea and we have bucket loads of food.” You joked, knowing your mom would think to buy extra food for you though.

She probably already thinks she is causing you a disturbance by asking for help and would try repaying you in food. Which being the hungry girl you are, you sure didn't mind.

“Sounds good to me. Would you want to meet at a restaurant or should I pick you up? I can come get you and drive us wherever needed...unless you wouldn't want me in your home again?” He joked

“Oh definitely not, you’re a terrible guest.” You giggled, shaking your head playfully even though he couldn't see it, “If you don't mind driving we can go with your second option and ride there together?”

“I definitely don't mind...that sounds creepy I will stop while I'm ahead.” Joe laughed once more.

You found the both of you couldn't help but make jokes to each other, it just all came so natural and made you enjoy every moment with him even more. As you laid down in your bed it became clear neither of you hanged up. 

Instead you both were just sitting in silence due to neither of you wanting to hang up in the first place despite knowing you’d see each other tomorrow.

“Do you have my address? I can send it now so I don't forget...” You whispered, not waiting for his response as you proceeded to message him your address.

“I don't have it so that'll be helpful....I will see you tomorrow?” He asked once again.

“You will. Text me before you come over so I will be ready in time....goodnight Joe.”

“Goodnight Y/N...” He whispered before you slowly clicked the button the end the call, knowing you would need your rest for what was to come.

Your phone let out a notification one more time for the night. From Derek.

‘I’m sorry. I love you, can we meet tomorrow and talk this out?’

You watched it for a minute before sighing in frustration. You didn't want to talk to him, but you knew it would be best to let it all out there and end things properly instead of you yelling at him and someone else half naked.

‘We’ll talk in the morning at 9am at our spot. No exceptions. This is the last time I ever want to see you, if you don't show up then that’s it.’

~~~~

Ahh! I’m so excited to add onto this story. I hope you enjoyed this and thank you for reading! Come back for part 3!

[solange-lol]

not so typical love song - ch. 1/13

Chapter Title: Rollarcoaster

Words: 3,050

Note: my piece for the @pjo-hoo-bigbang !!! special thanks to @shelbychild and @wisdom-walks-alone for editing and helping me develop this story! it wouldnt exist w/o y’all!

Art by @lizzybizzyo! <3

[ one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (coming soon)]

read on ao3

—

Nico is staring at his computer, wordless. This isn't writer's block or surprise; it’s just the unknown reality of what this situation could lead to.

Another gay kid in his school. Another gay kid that isn’t Mitchell—who’s been out since 8th grade, and the only one to be out since then. Another kid at their school who’s hiding a secret. 

Nico doesn’t even know if this kid is a boy or a girl or what, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There’s another kid like him. And he has no idea how to respond to the post.

The post is a submission from their school’s gossip blog on Tumblr, the notorious ‘hb-secrets.’ Piper had called him an hour ago, asking if he’d seen it yet.

“Seen what?” he had responded.

“The post on hb-secrets? About the closeted gay kid?” It hit Nico like a wall of bricks as he quickly went to pull up the website. Did somebody know? It was a relief when he saw the clipart Ferris wheel and a few short lines submitted by a blog called blue0919.

“I bet it’s that Brazilian sophomore. Paolo or whatever? Or maybe it’s Connor Stoll! I swear he’s been flirting with Mitchell, but Annabeth keeps telling me that he’s into Lacy or someone,” Piper continued as he read, but it was going in one ear and out the other as he processed the words on the screen

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a Ferris wheel. One minute I’m on top of the world, and the next minute I’m at rock bottom. Over and over all day long, because a lot of my life is great. But nobody knows I’m gay.

“Gotta go. I’ll talk later,” Nico said quickly, switching off his phone. He knew it would raise suspicion, but it felt like time was turning in on itself. Nobody knew about Nico. In fact, nobody ever even suspected. He’s never been called names besides “Death Boy.” And yet, there were the exact words that described his life, written out in front of him like they were a second thought.

And now, he was staring at his computer with an empty Gmail draft open. The original poster had left their email at the end of the post, so Nico after glancing quickly at his Panic! at the Disco poster still proudly hanging on his wall, typed out a new address. He was stuck, though, unsure of what to say from here. 

So, he started from the beginning.

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 6:48 PM

Subject: Hey

Somehow you’ve managed to type exactly what I feel. Sorta scary, as if you’re inside my head or something. Maybe it’s just a gay thing to be speaking in metaphors about the pressure of everyday society.

That’s what I am. Gay. I don’t know if I’ve ever really said it out loud to myself.

It’s weird because I never really had a perfectly normal life. My mom died when I was young, so I never really got to meet her. My sister and I have always been super close until she went away to college. Now, not as much. I guess that’s just what happens when you live a million miles away. 

And I’ve known my stepmom longer than I knew my real mom, but it was only a few years ago when I met my half-sister when she came to live with us because her mom died as well. Meaning, she isn’t the daughter of my stepmom. It’s a long story, and not really one I want to get into.

She’s super nice though. It’s funny, but despite being polar opposites with my older sister, they’re both mushy inside. Same with my stepmom. And my dad… he tries his best. We’re like exactly what you expect from a slightly broken family. Plus my dog who my cousin gave to me during a rough time. Honestly, she’s probably my favorite sibling out of them all. (Both my sisters would kill me if they knew I wrote that.)

And then there are my friends. I have some that are closer than others; Two of them I’ve known for a while now, and one who I only met recently but treats me better than some of the people I’ve known my whole life. While I admit, I’m not the most social person in the world, they’re pretty amazing as far as friends go. 

So there it is. My perfectly normal life. Except for that huge ass secret.

He typed and retyped each line what felt like a thousand times, deleting word after word. He didn't know what was too much. It all felt like too much, really. He didn’t even know if he could trust this person.

Signing it was the worst part; he didn’t have any good pseudonyms. Eventually, he decided to leave it blank.

Without a second thought, Nico hit ‘send’ before leaning back in his chair and putting his hands over his head. Only a second later, a light knock came from the door, causing him to quickly sit up as Hazel popped her head in.

“Dinner’s ready if you wanna eat,” she smiled. She left just as quickly as she came, curls bouncing as she walked away. They had gotten over the awkwardness of having a new sibling only months after Hazel moved in, but there was still some strangeness. To this day, Nico was still a lot closer to her than Bianca was. Either way, Nico knew he would do anything for her. (Not that he would admit that. He didn't even need to, Hazel already knew.)

Nico glanced back at his computer, but there was nothing in his inbox besides the Gmail “Welcome” email. It was stupid to think this person would respond that quickly, seeing as Nico didn't even know if they would respond at all. Heaving a sigh, he got up to join his family for dinner. Maybe he could even convince them to watch Steven Universe instead of The Bachelor.

---

Dinner went as expected. It’d been a while, actually, since they were all together for a meal. Hazel talked about her psycho geometry teacher and a boy she talked in the class named Frank, who seemed sweet but apparently had a shared hatred for math just like her. Nico didn’t say much, although chimed in at the latter, saying he better be the flower boy at their wedding. That even got a short scoff out of his father, which tended to be the closest Nico ever got him laughing. So, that was a win. 

However, he was a little more distant than usual. The pending email response was in the back of his mind during the entire meal.

Even afterward, as they watched reruns of Glee (a compromise made between Hazel and Nico, much to their father’s dismay), Nico couldn’t focus. It felt like a weight was burning through his back pocket. After the second episode (and laughing his ass off at his father’s reaction to Kurt’s ‘Single Ladies’ dance) he finally excused himself. 

He tapped the Gmail app on his phone as soon as he had reached his room. It felt like his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the new notification, a response from the original poster. With slightly shaky hands, he tapped the response, and a message opened up.

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:12 PM

Subject: I’ve never done this before

Dear anonymous person on the internet,

I really don’t know where to begin. I’m also not sure if you're a real person. For all I know you could be some random pedophile like one of those cases they warned us about in health class for the past 5 years, even though it’s never happened within the last decade.

But in case you are real, hello! I’m the original poster from that hb-secrets thread about life being a Ferris wheel. I’m rereading what I wrote there and I can’t stop cringing, so I’ll start by apologizing for that. I’m not usually one for metaphors, even the bad ones.

Anyway, it sounds like you identify with what I wrote. I’m glad you emailed me; I didn’t think anyone would actually do anything with the email that I left. Except maybe be extremely homophobic. But it made me feel less like I was shouting into the void, so thanks for that. And I assume you’re okay with me writing back since you sent me the first email. Though, I can’t believe I’m actually writing to you. I really didn’t think I would.

I guess I’m thinking it could be nice to talk with someone who can relate to how I’m feeling. No pressure, of course, but feel free to write back if you want to. I don’t want to use my real name, but you can call me Blue. 

It was surreal. Someone who was like Nico. Someone who wanted to talk to Nico because they were like him. 

He started to type again, with more excitement than he’s ever felt. He’s never been able to express this part of him before. It was almost like first date jitters-type feeling. 

(Not that he really knew what that was like.)

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:23 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Hi, Blue

Wow, I’m actually kind of flipping out right now, because I seriously didn’t think I’d hear from you, especially so quickly. Wow. Okay. First of all, thanks for your email and also for your Tumblr post. I really liked it, Blue, and it wasn’t cringy at all, I promise.

So do you go here (here meaning HBHS)? I do, I’m a junior. And I’m a guy (are you a guy?) Anyway, I could relate a lot to your post, Like, pretty much all of it, but especially the part about being gay. You probably figured that out already though. And I’m not out yet either, which you probably figured that part out too. 

I guess a part of me wants to be out, but a part of me’s like… no. It’s hard to explain. I don’t know. Maybe you get it.

So yeah, it’s really nice to meet you! This is kind of cool, right? Even writing this email makes me feel eleven times less alone.

-Angel (not my real name either, two can play at this game. It’s not like a pet-name type thing. If you ever find out who I am, you’ll understand why.) 

He was worried about the whole name-signing thing. ‘Angel’ was just the easiest thing; it was a direct translation of his last name. He was really hoping Blue still didn’t take it in a weird way, even with that last note.

Relief flooded through him when he read the first sentence of Blue’s next email. 

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 8:41 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Angel, huh? Maybe like guardian angel perhaps. 

Also, eleven times less alone? That’s oddly specific. :) But I know exactly what you mean.

Anyway, wow. Hi. You wrote back, and quickly too. I’m really glad you liked my post. Now I’m actually happy I put it out there. I have to admit, it’s strange to be writing a somewhat personal email to you when we don’t know each other’s identities. Though, in a way, I guess that makes it easier. Sorta like a therapist, except we’re both blindfolded and have the same problem. So not really a therapist, I guess.

Do you think therapists have therapists? Like, if the problems get to be too much for them? Is there an Almighty Therapist who just absorbs everyone's issues and feels nothing?

Anyway, I am a guy, and I’m also a junior at HB. I think you’re actually the first other gay guy I’ve met here. It’s pretty surreal to be talking to you. (In a good way though.) I wonder if we know each other in real life. 

And I think I understand what you mean. I feel like I’m constantly going back and forth about wanting to come out. I have these moments where I’m almost bursting to tell people. Of course, that’s where I was when I posted the thing on Tumblr. But I always feel so weird about it a few hours later, and sometimes I’m intensely relieved no one knows yet. What about you?

-Blue

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:12 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I mean, let’s be real, eleven is the best number, which is perfect because we’re both in eleventh grade. And I can't believe we’re both juniors. The class is pretty small compared to the others, so I bet we do know each other, which is weird to think about. What if we’re actually enemies in real life? Do you have enemies? I don’t think I do, not really. Various people tend to annoy me a lot. It’s not even their fault; some people just have really punchable faces.

 (I’m usually a really nonviolent person. I’m more like a violent person who at the same doesn’t really want to hurt anyone, so I have to resort to fantasizing about punching people, which just ends in eating my feelings in large quantities of McDonald’s.)

It’s funny for me, it’s actually not so much that go back and forth about wanting to come out. It’s like I simultaneously do and don’t want to be out. Which is pretty freaking exhausting, honestly. Like I’m in this constant state of JUST SAY IT and NO NEVER. Do you think that ever ends? I don’t know, maybe I’m just a really indecisive person. I think part of me is also just holding out until college when I’m away from anyone I know and can just reinvent myself.

So what kind of stuff do you like to do after school and everything?

-Angel

From: blue0919@gmail.com

To: bettertoburn@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:34 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I don’t think I have any enemies, but now I’m definitely wondering if I’m the guy with the punchable face. How do you know if you have a punchable face? I’ve never been punched, so hopefully, that’s a good sign. 

I will say, I’m definitely with you on the issue of eating your feelings. I’m the person who has never smoked a cigarette or gotten drunk or anything like that, and I'm usually relatively healthy. However, I once ate five jars of Nutella in one sitting. I do not recommend, 

I’m indecisive, too, in some ways. Okay, full disclosure: I was really conflicted when you sent me that email. I kept going back and forth about whether I should email you. I was (and am) definitely intrigued, but I guess I was also a little bit paranoid. It’s just that you could have been anyone, and it’s hard to know sometimes if someone’s being a jerk or if they’re being sincere. Plus my cousin sort of actually outed me. Not to anyone else, he’s the only one who knows, but now I’m super paranoid about coming out. (Exactly what you said about holding out until college. I’m thinking I can move to LA or somewhere where nobody really cares. Although I wouldn’t want to reinvent myself. And I don’t want you to reinvent yourself either, you’re pretty cool as you are I think.) Anyway, I’m really glad I decided to email you, though.

So, you’re probably going to think I’m ridiculous, but I’d rather not answer your last question. It’s just… I think I like being anonymous for now. Is that okay?

-Blue

Okay, that last part was fair. Nico understood the wanting-to-be-anonymous thing. Sure, they go to the same school. But Blue had no reason to entirely trust him; Nico didn’t really trust Blue at all. This could entirely be some random asshole anywhere in the world trying to find him and beat him up, or worse. It sucked that homophobia was still a thing in their day and age. 

But Blue said he liked talking to Nico, and it was thrilling to talk to him. It was another secret of his, but not one he entirely minded keeping. So, he chose to believe that Blue was actually who he said he was. 

From: bettertoburn@gmail.com

To: blue0919@gmail.com

Date: Oct 2 at 9:57 PM

Subject: Punchability

Blue, you have so much to learn about the rules of punchability, starting with the fact that it is completely impossible for you to have a punchable face. Rule number one: guys who make metaphors about Ferris wheels are automatically unpunchable. Rule number two: There isn’t one. Just rule number one, so memorize it. Everyone else can catch these fists. (Catch these fists? These hands? This would probably be more intimidating if I knew the correct phrasing)

Also, five jars of Nutella in one sitting is the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life. Challenge accepted.

I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Blue. I totally understand why you don't want to tell me about your extracurricular activities (I’m guessing interpretive dance, though, you seem like the type.) But seriously, I get it. It’s this weird contradiction, right? It’s so much easier to be open with someone who doesn't know you at all. We’ll be each other's Ultimate Therapists. 

(Except I don’t think I could ever be a therapist.)

Anyway, I’m really glad you decided to email me back, too :)

-Angel

That smiley face was really unlike him. 

Nico sent the email, but after nearly an hour, he didn’t get on back, which meant Blue was probably asleep. Which was different from what Nico was used to; he tended to stay awake until the early hours of the morning most nights. But it wasn’t anything he minded. He had a conversation with Blue, and even if that was the last one they would ever have (which, he was hoping it wouldn’t be), it was good to know that there was somewhere out there like him.

[theattainer]

MOST PEOPLE ARE EVIL IDIOTS. NOW WHAT?

https://files.admin.agorafinancial.com/images/jamesonthestreet.png

https://theattainer.com/most-people-are-evil-idiots-now-what/

MOST PEOPLE ARE EVIL IDIOTS. NOW WHAT?

You decide to plagiarize one of the most successful books ever.

You take a book that won the National Book Award and you retype it from scratch and pretend it’s yours.

You submit it to 20 publishers. You put a fake name on it.

100% of the publishers send back rejection letters. They hated it!

Two things strike you:

A) ZERO of the publishers realized they rejected a National Book Award winner

B) ALL of them thought the book was horrible. A book that had won the highest award.

This happened.

—

A freelance writer named Chuck Ross was curious.

He took the book “Steps” by Jerzy Kosinski, which had won the National Book Award for fiction in 1969, and decided to have some fun.

He rewrote the entire book and then submitted it to every publisher using a fake name.

Not only did every publisher reject it but even Random House, the publisher that actually published it, rejected it with a form letter.

The book has been compared to “Kafka at his best.” It’s a short, brutal book. One of my favorites. I highly recommend it.

Does this mean most people are idiots? Maybe.

It means:

Most people who have an opinion are probably wrong.

If people don’t know who you are, they are more likely to reject you.

Nobody wakes up and says, “Today is the day I make some unknown person a superstar!”

Most people don’t care about their jobs. Which is fine. But don’t rely on them for your success.

Even successful people don’t want you to skip the line. I always hear, “You have to pay your dues.” This is BS. It means:

You have to take control of your own career and opportunities.

You have a first book? Self-publish it. You have an indie movie? Load it up on Amazon. You have an idea for a radio show? Do a podcast.

You have an app you want to build? Don’t raise money. Save money and build it and get customers.

You want to be a movie star? Write your own script or shoot your own movie (i.e., Sylvester Stallone in Rocky).

Most people can’t be entrepreneurs or creatives. Don’t believe anyone who says everyone can be an entrepreneur.

They are lying.

Most people can’t handle nonstop rejection and the anxiety and depression that comes with it.

I’ve been so depressed so many times. It really hasn’t been worth it, to be honest.

It’s a catch-22 because in order to be good, you have to be unique. In order to be unique, nobody will know you. And nobody does favors for the unknown.

Dr. Seuss’ first book was rejected 27 times. “Too different from other juveniles on the market to warrant its selling,” wrote one top editor.

Harry Potter was rejected by every publisher until the 7-year-old daughter of one publisher begged her father to publish it.

If Moses wrote the 10 Commandments today, he’d be rejected by every publisher and probably give up. I would if I were him.

Even 50 Shades of Grey started off self-published.

It sold 250,000 copies on Amazon and still was rejected by many publishers. Amazon’s in-house publisher rejected it.

Finally Simon & Schuster published it. It sold over 125 million copies.

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Don’t trust anyone. Don’t listen to anyone. Ignore them.

Either give up or go around the gatekeepers.

So I did an experiment:

I took 50 Shades of Grey and hired someone in India to take a thesaurus and change every word in the book.

For instance, “She hurried to her tests” became “Brenda rushed to get to the exams on time.”

I used a fake name, changed the title, made a book cover and uploaded it to Amazon. It’s now a published book.

It’s EXACTLY 50 Shades of Grey but with every single word changed, sentence by sentence. Maybe… just maybe… I was hoping it would also sell a lot of copies.

It sold about 80 copies. It’s a piece of s***.

But it cost me about $200 in total and two hours of my time. It was an experiment.

Why did 50 Shades of Grey sell so well? What did E.L. James do? Doing my failed experiment forced me to learn.

Why did “50 Shades” succeed?

She had a platform. She probably had about a million people following her Twilight fan fiction on various fan fiction websites.

50 Shades of Grey came out around the same time the Kindle was getting popular. So people could read her soft-core porn book in public without anyone seeing what they were reading. Avoiding the stigma.

It was unique.

She had a platform. And technology and timing were just right. But she would never know that unless she had experimented, built a platform, wrote her own book without “permission,” and self-published.

Good for her.

—

This is not about self-publishing. This is not about how people are stupid (well, it is a little).

This is about not waiting for permission.

This is about doing experiments with everything you care about.

And from every experiment you will learn. There’s no other way to learn.

A billion people are standing in the way of what you want to do.

Stupid people, mean people, people who hate you, people who don’t want you to get ahead. People who will even sabotage you.

People who are frustrated in their own lives, dealing with their own problems, sad, anxious, fearful.

Experiment with how to get around them. Every day. It’s not their fault. But that doesn’t matter. You have to go around them.

You have to experiment every single day.

I’m doing another experiment right now. I am loving this experiment. So far, over three million people have seen this experiment.

It’s not really working the way I expected. But we’ll see. It’ll probably fail. But I’ve stopped caring.

What do you think?

[jhope-seok]

You Are My Song (Pt. 8)

Summary: You meet Kihyun in psychology class and can’t stand him.  Outside of class is a different story.

Disclaimer: All of the things mentioned in this story are all works of fiction and have been made up by me, the author.  I did not intend to make anything based on real life, and any coincidences to real life are purely coincidences.

Members: Kihyun x Reader

Rating: PG-13/Fluff/brief mentions of smut

Length: 2,738 words

Notes: This chapter takes place in Kihyun’s POV

<-Previous | Next->

There was nothingness, except for you and him. When he tried to look over your head it was white, everywhere. He tried looking around and for as far as he could see it was all blinding white. Nothing else mattered except you here in front of him. When he kissed you he could feel colors begin to break through the white, the surroundings coming to life, filling with purpose, filling him with purpose.

“Y/N, I like you.” He smiled at you and you smiled back at him. He was brimming with warmth as the colors absorbed into him. Each color permeated into him and with each one came a new feeling. Red was the passion he had felt between the two of you the first time he had kissed you on that couch at that party. Yellow was the happiness he felt when he made you laugh, your laughter reverberating through him. Green was the envy he felt for the people who had been with you in the past, envious that he couldn’t have been with you for his entire life. Blue was the hope he had for the future that he would get to spend his future with you. Orange was the electricity that flowed between the two of you every time you touched. Purple was the overflowing love he felt for you.

“I like you too, Kihyun,” you smiled back at him, and he suddenly you both were lifted off the ground, taking off in flight. There was a sudden wind that was whipping your hair around and into his eyes, but he held you close, protecting you.

“I'll never let you get hurt,” he whispered into your hair. “I'll stay with you forever.” His arms gripped you tight, holding you against his chest, and as he felt your heartbeat sync with his, the colors began to swirl, around and around, creating ribbons of light. There were small explosions of color, and when he pulled away to look at you they were reflected in your eyes.

You opened your mouth and he could see you were speaking, but he couldn't hear you, your words drowned out by the wind and the fireworks of color. But as soon as your mouth stopped moving all of the colors disappeared in the blink of an eye and you both fell from the sky back to the ground.

Kihyun awoke with a start, shooting straight up in bed. His dream felt so real and yet he was so sure it had happened. He could feel his heart racing and he pressed his hand to his chest, making sure that he was actually awake. As he sat there the events of the night slowly replayed in his head. His dream, for the most part, had been real and a sense of relief washed over him.

“I like you too, Kihyun,” those words kept ringing in his ears. He laid back down on his pillows, smiling to himself. That had definitely been real. He replayed those words over and over again in his head, reliving the emotions he had felt when you first spoke them. He was elated to know that you felt the same way for him that he felt for you. He had honestly wanted to tell you that he liked you on the night after you two had hooked up, but he had been afraid to, not wanting to come off too strongly. 

He was slightly saddened that you had said you didn't want to be his girlfriend, but he would do anything for you to prove he was a good guy and that he was boyfriend material. He would wait until you felt it was the right time, and he promised himself he wouldn’t pester you about it.

He laid there for a few minutes and eventually he rolled over to grab his phone off the nightstand, unable to get you out of his head. He opened up messages and clicked on your name, opening up the conversation with you.

He typed out, “Good morning beautiful,” then erased it, thinking better of his original message, and instead typed out “Morning! :) I had a really great time last night,” before hitting send. He locked his phone and rolled back over, closing his eyes again, snapshots of his dream flashing on his lids. He only opened his eyes again when he felt his phone buzz in his hands. He quickly opened the app to read your reply.

“Me too Kihyun :) also, good morning haha.”

He laid there smiling at his phone for several minutes, staring at your message. The thought suddenly came to his mind that he wanted to see you today. It had been less than twenty four hours since he had seen you, but he couldn't think about being away from you for more than a day. His heart ached to see you smile and to hold you against him again. 

“What are you up to today?” He asked, trying to seem nonchalant, hoping you would somehow present him with an opportunity to see you today.

He watched his phone, waiting for the little bubble to pop up that you were typing. Every second he spent staring at his phone felt like an hour, so he decided that while he waited for your answer it would be a good time to get up and go brush his teeth. He had to distract himself or else he thought he would explode. By the time he came back and checked his phone he had two texts waiting from you, 

“Nothing really. Not scheduled for work, thank goodness.”

“You?”

He stared at his phone. “She's free today,” he thought, sinking back onto his bed. He stared blankly at his phone, trying to think of a good way to ask you to hang out without seeming desperate or too forward. He couldn't come up with anything good, nor could he come up with a good response as to what he should make up he was doing if he wasn't going to ask you to hang out. He racked his brain for several minutes, typing and retyping an answer and when he couldn’t come up with a non-cheesy way to ask you to hang out he finally just decided to lie about what he was doing.

“I'm working on my music today. Nothing else though, haha. Pretty boring.”

He shrugged. It wasn't too much of a lie because he could work on his music, he had plenty of inspiration after last night, but he wanted more than anything to see you again. But he didn’t know how to go about it without just asking you out on a date.

He sighed. He'd never been good at this whole dating thing. He'd never really slept around in the past, and he'd only ever really had one serious girlfriend before, but that had been before college and it had been way easier to date in high school. Now he didn't know how to express his feelings properly, nor how to approach this without seeming needy or desperate. 

He wanted to give you space, since you had admitted you didn't want to be his girlfriend, but all he could think about was being able to just be with you. He wanted to hold your hand and feel it's warmth in his, he wanted see the way your eyes lit up when you laughed, how you tilted your head back ever so slightly when something was extra funny. He closed his eyes and pictured the way you tucked your hair behind your ears when you got shy, how your cheeks flushed slightly. When he opened his eyes again they drifted over to his keyboard. “Okay maybe I will work on my music today,” he laughed to himself.

He checked his phone one last time and saw he had a text from you. It read: “Ooh Mr. Music Man. Write some good songs! Haha :D”

He smiled to himself. If only you knew what he was working on. His heart raced thinking about his upcoming concert, which in a week would be a month away. He'd given the first part of the music to the director of the a capella group, and he'd approved it as a song for the concert, especially after hearing Kihyun’s plans for the concert. They had started practicing that week and it had sounded really good, but he still had to finish the last verse and it had been slow going. But after his dream last night he thought he had finally figured it out.

He sat down at his keyboard in his room, placing his laptop on the stand he had created for himself, clicking open the sheet music. He started to type in the lyrics on the screen, needing to get them onto the paper before he forgot them. When he had perfectly crafted the lyrics he began to work on the melody for the last verse, his fingers dancing over the keys.

After he had finished tweaking everything, he played through the whole piece and sang out loud to himself. As he sang, he remembered the process it had taken for him to get to the finished song that he had been working on since the second Psychology class of the year. 

//FLASHBACK//

He had not been looking forward to this semester at all. He was a music education major and yet the stupid university had forced him to take a required elective. All of the options had seemed extremely boring to him, so closed his eyes, letting the fates decide, and had picked a random class off of the list. And so he was stuck taking Psychology research methods. He wasn’t even extremely interested in Psychology, especially not if it had to do with research methods. But, he wasn’t going to back down, as he believed in fate and that’s why he’d left it up to fate to decide the class.

The first day of class had been rough. The class had been packed and the teacher droned on endlessly for the entire three hours about nonsense, so when he found himself bored, eyes wandering around the room. That’s when he’d seen you. You were in the middle of the room and he was so surprised he had missed you.

You were beautiful. The way your hair had framed your face and the way you scrunched your face as you listened to the professor was so cute that he instantly fell for you. The thought crossed his mind that he wanted, more than anything to get to know you and know what it was like to kiss your lips and to make you smile. He was ripped out of his thoughts by the sound of the professor ending class and as he packed up his stuff he was hit with the idea to write a song.

The next several classes he had shown up only so he could get the points for coming to class, but he spent all of his time working on the song he had come up with. He had gotten his inspiration to write this song from watching you during class and it was all he could think about. The song consumed him.

Then he came to class one day and as he had sat waiting for class to start it had begun to fill up, quickly. The professor walked into class, surprised at the amount of students who had shown up, but he began anyways, which was when everyone heard the door to the lecture hall open. He couldn’t see from his angle who had walked through the door, but suddenly you were in the open seat next to him, within the same breathing space as him. He had been too nervous to approach you before, but now that you were here next to him, he wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to talk to you. When the professor presented him with the perfect one, he didn’t waste it.

You didn’t seem to excited to speak to him, but he didn’t let that phase him and he just did as the professor had instructed and tried to make the best of it. When you had left your phone on the counter he had tapped you to give it back to you. You grabbed it out of his hand and your fingers had lightly grazed his. He felt electricity shoot through his body and he knew he wouldn’t be shy anymore.

The next class he sat next to you, trying to strike up a conversation before the test, which again you didn’t seem too interested in, but he didn’t want to back down from any opportunity to speak with you. He had done better than he had expected on the test which made him happier than usual. So when the next class came around he didn’t waste another chance to talk to you.

You opened up to him about your insecurities about the future, and he fell more for you in that moment. All he wanted was to let you know that you would be okay and that you could do whatever you wanted with your life, and to trust that things will be okay. He wanted to hold you in his arms and make you feel happy, but the least he could do was to reassure you that you’d figure it out. 

Then the unexpected happened. You were at a party for his fraternity. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he walked upstairs he saw you on the dance floor. He had to do a triple to take to make sure the alcohol he'd drank wasn't playing tricks on his mind. His friends had pointed you out, commenting on how hot you were, but when he said that he knew you and that he liked you, they forced him to go to talk to you.

You and him had talked and you had opened yourself to him even more. The longer he talked to you the more he wanted to feel your body against his. So, he didn’t care if the alcohol had been the driving force, allowing you to open up to him, but when you leaned close and your lips finally met his, he knew in that moment he had to make you his. The things he felt even in a simple kiss had made his heart race and his head spin, and so when you said yes and came home with him, he got to have sex with you he thought his heart would burst by the time it was over.

To him, you were it. You were the only one he ever wanted to be with. You had become his whole world. 

As he held you in his arms that night he felt an immense sense of calm wash over him, knowing that the connection between you and him had been so strong. And while he slept he dreamt of you and the future he could have with you. 

The song ended and he reviewed the finished song one last time. He couldn’t help but relive all of the emotions he’d felt in the past couple months of knowing you. He closed his eyes and was filled with the expectations of the emotions he would feel once he sang this song for you. He was lost in his thoughts when his phone buzzed from its place on top of his keyboard and his eyes snapped open. He grabbed it, and his eyes bulged a bit when he saw how late it had gotten. The text message was from his roommate who was asking if he wanted to order pizza with him. He stretched and replied, “Yes,” shaking off the sleep that had come upon him. 

By the time he had finished dinner he was extremely exhausted. He hadn't expected to spend his entire day writing, but now that his song was finished he was extremely happy. As he was lying in bed, his exhaustion taking over his body, he sent you one last text, that read:

“Music man here :) I hope you had a good day today. See you in class on Tuesday.”

He laid his phone down on his bed next to him and when it vibrated he picked it up again, and smiled to himself before falling into another blissful dream about you.

“Can't wait, music man :)”

[billydisagrees]

#16 The Man who Turned the Tables

I think my self confidence hit an all time high at the beginning of last summer. I was surrounded by attractive gay men who were happily coupled off but still frequently showered me with compliments on my looks and personality. I have always had supportive friends but there is something about ridiculously handsome men calling you pretty that makes you believe you are a knockout.

I took to the wave of praise like a duck to water. I started to see myself as a catch. I have always believed I’m a worthwhile guy and I’m grateful I have a sense of humor people respond to but now I was looking at my face and body in a new light. I remember one of the guys on my softball team who I’d always thought dreamy telling me I had beautiful DSL. That is a crude and gratuitous acronym that you can google if you’d like. Sure, it was a vulgar thing to say but the rush I felt knowing he’d momentarily sexualized me isn’t something I’ll forget.

I took all of this in and started to see my physical traits differently. I don’t think I solely relied on the opinion of others to reinforce my attractiveness, but let’s be honest, when people you find attractive and whose opinion you respect start telling you you’re beautiful, it feels awesome and you start to believe them.

This ego boosting sent me approaching men I wouldn’t have previously bothered with. My boldness was met with mixed results. There were plenty of guys who were just as disinterested as I had previously imagined they’d be. Some were polite and friendly but definitely not on board for a date. Then there were a handful of gentlemen who surprised me with a yes. This is a story about one of those men.

I tend to let the other guy initiate contact on Grindr. My response rate is low at best so I assume that my limp “Hey” will be similarly ignored. It’s a selfish system but I like to feel pursued without dealing with the anxiety of following through. Early one morning I was lazily browsing through thumbnails when I came across a picture I couldn’t take my eyes off of. It was of a tall, lean man with a closely cropped beard and ice blue eyes. He had the sexiest smirk and everything about him exuded a cool confidence. I read his one sentence bio maybe a dozen times trying to figure out any kind of helpful clue as to how to approach him. I didn’t have any luck there so I was going to have to rely on myself.

I nervously typed, deleted, retyped, and redeleted several times before finally settling on a quick, “Hey Handsome!”. I stared at the blue message box I had sent, eager to see a response of any kind. After a few minutes I decided it wasn’t going to happen and put my phone down to get ready for work. Throughout the day I checked the app what felt like hundreds of times. An exercise that proved fruitless. This guy was clearly not having it and I decided that was that.

The thought occurred to me that since I no longer expected anything from this nameless jpeg, I was free to say whatever I wanted without fear of rejection, because for all intents and purposes I’d already been rejected. I asked him if he thought I was TOO good looking and that’s why he didn’t respond.

Nothing.

I asked him If he was in a Taken type situation where he was being held captive and wasn’t able to get back to me.

Nothing.

Then I asked him if he was more or less attracted to me than he was to Dame Judi Dench. For whatever reason that did the trick. He sent a message apologizing for not having responded and complimenting on my funny quips. We started chatting about all your basic expository topics and in minuted he had asked me out for a date the following night. I said yes with zero hesitation and he seemed genuinely excited.

The second we decided on a place and time I started to sweat. I was already so enamored with him and I felt immediately certain I was going to screw it up. I went into full preparation mode to try to get a head start clearing any potential road blocks. I made an appointment to get my back waxed. It’s just a fact of my hobbit like frame that I have a hairy back. It’s not like a full coat or anything but left unchecked I start to look like a labrador retriever from behind. I spent what felt like one hundred hours shaving my balls and their neighbors. I know that it’s not the prettiest image but guys who don’t pay attention to the grooming of their swimsuit region are pretty inconsiderate in my opinion. No one likes to stick their face in a cave filled with tumbleweeds.

After taking care of all my basic manscaping needs I struggled with a final chore. I am, typically speaking, a top. I think a common perspective for people who aren’t gay men is that every man is either strictly a top or bottom. In my experience most guys are flexible or commonly referred to as versatile. There are a number of factors that go into who does what when things get to that point and it’s mostly about who your partner is and what the dynamic of your relationship is like.

Unfortunately I can’t really call myself versatile. I tend to be attracted to guys who enjoy bottoming and that’s pretty much always worked out for me. I don’t have an aversion to switching it up, in fact I’m very envious of guys who can bottom with ease, because for me, it’s a Titanic sized production. At this particular time in my life it had been six years since the last time I had even tried to host a penis and it hadn’t gone great. I was reticent to say the least but just from our brief conversation I had a feeling that #16 wasn’t the bottom bunk type.

I wasn’t banking on he and I being intimate on our first date but I didn’t want to rule it out either. It’s not my favorite headspace to be in but my thinking was, if all he wants is a one night stand, I’m pretty sure I’m cool with that. So I made the decision to be fully prepared just in case it came up. Here is what that entailed for me…

Shaving your butt. This requires getting into some of the most undignified positions I can imagine. I suggest getting mirrors involved only when absolutely necessary.

An enema. The greatest fear when it comes to anal sex is poop. It is one of the most uncomfortable topics when it comes to sex and there is absolutely no way to circumvent preparation. You want to feel confident and in control and in my experience an enema is the best way to do so.

Something to help you relax the muscles. This usually means a butt plug. Which is the worst combination of words in the english language. It is impossible not to laugh just at the mention of it but its necessity can not be undersold. There is a very specific kind of pain associated with anal sex and I had already made every possible mistake in prior attempts. I wanted to get it right this time. So I inserted what I pretended was the world’s largest rectal thermometer and sat on it while I watched Gilmore Girls and thought about all the food I was going to eat after this date was over.

The last step for me was imagining myself getting into positions I’d never really had to bother with before. I tried kind of a dry run of all the possibilities to see which ones were compatible with hiding my less flattering features.

The experience as a whole taught me a lot about abandoning my ego. It was all so unglamorous. Even doing it alone I felt vulnerable and I was incredibly anxious for what it would be like with a buddy. I had always been envious of the strength and willingness of men who bottomed. Now I was developing a new respect for the effort they put in behind the scenes. Make no mistake, it’s work. I was certainly nervous but after all that, there was no way I was going to back out now.

That night I met #16 at The Cheerful Tortoise right next to Portland State. When he walked up to the bench I was on he wore a huge smile and wrapped me in a tight hug. He had the kindest face I could remember seeing and all of my anxiety began to melt. I immediately took notice of his hands. They were strong and big and clean and I wanted them to touch my face.

The conversation was breezy and fluid. He was enrolled in a grad school program at the University for psychology and participating in a full time internship working with at risk adults coping with mental illness. He was a happy, ambitious and big hearted guy who somehow managed to make me feel like what I had going on was just as important as his own situation.

After a few drinks outside we moved in and he ordered some food. I said I had eaten before even though I hadn’t touched food in about eighteen hours. I watched with envy as he carelessly nibbled on some chilli cheese fries. I briefly believed my stomach was going to grow arms and rip the food from his hands. I am not my best self when I’m hungry, which is why I eat about fourteen times a day.

I knew the date was going well. He was laughing at a lot of what I was saying and he had a remarkable gift for letting me know he was attracted to me by letting his eyes linger on mine for just a second too long. I knew without hesitation that I wasn’t dealing with an amateur. He had such an ease about him. I was awe struck by his laissez-faire approach to a first date.

When the evening began to wind down he asked me if I’d watch Bridesmaids with him. Earlier I had mentioned that it was my favorite movie and I was flabbergasted when he admitted to not having seen it. He invited me to his apartment which happened to me a five minute walk from the bar. He led me into the living room of a very small but meticulously clean one bedroom. I took a seat on the far side of the couch while he queued up the movie.

We had had no physical moments up to this point, our hug upon meeting notwithstanding, so I was beginning to think we might not be getting intimate. I had mixed feelings about that. I was really into him and I was hoping for a second date for sure but at the same time I wanted to see him naked so so so much. It was a tense few minutes.

He pressed play and sat directly next to me on the couch. Without looking away from the screen he reached around my shoulder and pulled me into him. It was seamless. If a panel of first move judges had been in the room there would nothing but 10’s hanging in the air. He burrowed his head in my neck and slowly raised his eyes to meet mine. When he leaned in to kiss me he let his fingertips linger at the edge of my cheeks.I opened my eyes to see him smiling nervously at me.

Except he wasn’t nervous. He was so totally in control of the moment. So skilled at creating the experience of romance without actually involving emotions. It was this air of dominance he possessed that confirmed my status as the bottom of the evening. At no point did it come up in conversation, it was easily communicated without anyone having to voice it.

When we went into his bedroom things began to speed up...and come off. I was happily existing in the moment and was granted a temporary reprieve from the anxiety of intercourse. I was able to maintain that feeling until he removed his underwear. I had been hoping against hope that I would be dealing with a small to average sized...guest. Like a small dinner party, the reality was basically a super sweet sixteen bash. That’s probably an exaggeration. Under normal circumstances I would have seen it as simply large, but coupled with the knowledge of the space it would be occupying I felt like I was staring at a telephone pole.

I was shaken but not deterred and I was desperately trying to hide any hesitation from creeping onto my face. I wanted to seem unphased and experienced while still appearing naive enough to not seem wildly promiscuous. So I tried to look simply impressed. I don’t know if it worked or not, I probably looked crazy just staring at his penis furiously trying to contort my face into an appropriate expression.

In any case he wasn’t bothered. We cycled through all of the preliminary business and faster than I had hoped it was time for the big show. I was lying on my stomach and he was aligning his body to prepare for the main event. He wordlessly reached to a drawer in the middle of his dresser and pulled it open. I was stunned when I saw the contents. Within the drawer there were three built in dividers that separated condoms, toys, and two prescription bottles. He must have seen the shock on my face because he quickly grabbed the bottle and explained.

“Have you heard of PrEP? I’ve been taking it for two months. I think it’s genius, don’t worry though I still use condoms.”

I told him I had heard of it and I agreed that condoms were a non negotiable. He put one on and grabbed some lubricant to prepare. He reached deep in the drawer and grabbed a small bottle of liquid and offered it to me.

“What’s that?” I asked, confused.

“Poppers. You’re going to want it.”

My knowledge of poppers consisted of thirty second reference to them in an episode of Broad City in which a gay character cavalierly explains that they “loosen your butthole”. I understood that they would likely be helpful but I couldn’t get past their shaky legality. Also in order to take them you have to snort the liquid up your nose. I was entirely unprepared for something like that so I politely declined. He asked if I was sure. I think that was his one mistake, the one pock mark on his smooth operator vibe. Until that point he had done and said everything right, he had actually made me believe that by some kind of magic this was going to go off without a hitch. Then he let it slip that without the aid of a chemical commonly used as VHS head cleaner this was probably going to hurt.

He began getting himself in position and my mind could not stop thinking about how prepared he was for this, but not specifically for me, just the occasion of sex in his bedroom. Bracing myself for impact, I began to replay all of the sly mannerisms I had admired about him throughout the night, after seeing his sex drawer they kind of lost their sparkle. He maybe wasn’t a naturally confident and self possessed first dater. I was learning that this was more than likely a practice makes perfect scenario.

“Are you ready?” he gently inquired.

“Um, yeah.” I stammered, shaken from my inner dialogue.

“I’ll go slow, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks, I’ll probably warm up quick.”

I actually believed that when I said it. I was preparing myself for what I thought would be like a shot. Quick pinch, then we’re good.

He lined himself up and began to push. My face flushed hot and the pain hit me so intensely that I yelped like a dog you’d carry in a purse. He asked me if I was okay and I said, “Yeah, sorry...it was just...cold.”

I can’t imagine how dumb I sounded, I just didn’t want him to think we needed to stop. I wanted him, sure. More to the point though, I wanted to make it work for me. I wanted to understand why so many guys I knew loved this. I wanted to know the trick. I wanted to stop limiting my relationship prospects based on one aspect of my sex life.

When he tried again the pain followed but I attempted to muscle through. He was slow and thoughtful but it was just too much. I couldn’t relax. I told him I needed to pee and went to the bathroom. I examined myself and checked for any blood. I was thankfully clear and I tried to soldier my resolve.

I went back in and we tried a few different positions and after a couple more trips to the restroom and I would say about a seven minutes of consecutive penetration I had to throw in the towel. By the time I called it I think #16 was more relieved than anything else. It felt like he appreciated the effort and we both laughed a lot after.

We sat in bed and I asked him about his tattoos and the stories behind them. He wanted to know about my stand up ambitions and why I loved Tina Fey so much. We talked for about an hour before I decided it was time for me take off, though he did invite me to stay the night. I decided I should take off because I was still not entirely certain I was ever going to be able to sit down again.

While I got dressed, I told him I’d text him later in the week. He warned me that he had a really busy couple weeks coming up and I tried to accept that as the truth. I knew what he meant though. We were both lying to each other. Him telling me there’d be a next time. Me sympathizing with his made up excuses about why a second date would have to wait. I was a little bummed as I left. He was a cool guy and I still wonder what actually dating him might of been like.

#16 was unique for me. He was kind, interested and patient. I liked him and I really believed he liked me. On my way home it occurred to me that he could probably make anyone feel that way. Everything felt so perfectly timed and executed. I wanted to feel dejected and misled but I realized that he had never actually said anything about another date. He never lied to me, he just never wanted more than the night.

I was still disappointed not to hear from him from but I tried to take away the positives from the evening. I had a good time with a hot guy and I took a dick for seven minutes.

All in all I feel like I broke even.

#36dates #gay #gayfunny #gayhumor #bottoming

[carolinesgrandadventure]

Everything is going great! | culture shocked

That is a big, fat lie.

This post is long overdue. In which I talk about what’s been happening these past two weeks in Vietnam and try not to lose my mind retyping x3 a post that I accidentally deleted x3 because I’m working on my phone and the Tumblr app is very glitchy. 

A guide because this post is so long: Basics covers my homestay famiy and daily schedule. The City covers my thoughts on Hanoi. Challenges describes my misfortunes of travel and lessons learned.

Disclaimer: This post might seem a little over-dramatic. Let’s begin.

Basics

I share a homestay with one roommate, Frankie. My host family is friendly, comprising of a professor father, accountant mother, a 13-year-old host sister (our main translator), and a 10-year-old host brother. We live in a 5-story tube house in an back alleyway of a network of alleyways. It is so tucked away that even my local Uber drivers get lost trying to find it!

Frankie and I share a room with two hard mattresses on the floor, two mosquito nets, two fans, one shower toilet bathroom, and no AC. Despite Hanoi’s heat and humidity, it hasn’t been too much of a problem to sleep without AC. However, those mattresses are incredibly uncomfortable despite supposedly being good for the back.

Taking a shower has become my favorite time of day. What I mean by a “shower toilet bathroom” is a bathroom the size of a small walk-in closet containing a sink, shower head, toilet, and drain with no dividers. One must take care not to get the sink or toilet wet while showering. This type of bathroom is incredibly space efficient, but one must be okay with a wet bathroom floor for the next several hours after showering. There’s also no hot water, but it’s refreshing to take a cold shower after a long, humid, and sticky day.

Everyday I wake up anywhere between 6:30-7:00 a.m. usually because of loud jack hammering from the active construction site next door. Whether I’m rudely awakened by construction, cats meowing, babies crying, or motorbikes, I always am delighted to enjoy a breakfast prepared by my host mother. At around 7:50, Frankie and I leave the house and walk to the bus stop where we take a short 10 minute ride to our classroom at Hanoi Medical University. We then attend class more or less 8:30 a.m.-4:00 p.m., our exact schedule varying day to day. Our local instructor and country coordinator are both members of Vietnam’s Institute of Population, Health, and Development. They have been very informative, teaching us about Vietnam’s health challenges and system. Some interesting topics we have covered include the prominence of traditional medicine, the health differences between rural and urban Vietnamese populations, and the inaccuracy of government reporting. One of the main takeaways for me from these past two weeks is the issue of development on health outcomes in Vietnam. Many rural populations have poorer health outcomes than urban populations because they lack equal access to healthcare due to the limited number of clinics and resources (among other things). After classes end, I’ve done everything from shopping to getting a massage to going back home to study (read: nap). I return home by 7:00 p.m. to have dinner with my host family, which is always fun to see what we get to eat. After dinner, my host family, Frankie, and I chat for a while. Sometimes the neighbors come over to chat, too. The neighborhood kids enjoy running in and out of the house to say hello and stare at Frankie and I. The parents like coming to practice their English and bring their kids to force them to practice their English with us, too. In school, grammar and written skills are prioritized, and, as a result, many Vietnamese’s English speaking skills are not as developed. I admire their desire to practice speaking English with native speakers because I’m scared to do so with Chinese speakers… It’s quite a lot of work to communicate with people who do not speak the same language because even though you don’t understand, you make an effort to understand by processing the many context clues available. When Frankie and I get upstairs to our room, it’s often 9:00 p.m. or later and I am exhausted. I’ll take a shower and then try and do some work before falling asleep. I haven’t really been successful in doing homework after dinner… (hehe yikes) Last weekend our host family took Frankie and I out to the night market in downtown Hanoi to eat ice cream and walk around. Personally, I expected more of the night market, but it was still nice to walk the streets around the lake without motorbikes and cars whizzing by. We also paid a visit to the Vietnam People’s Air Force Museum.

Ice cream at Kem Trang Tien in Old Quarter. I got a yummy “rice flake” flavor.

Frankie and I also made spaghetti for our host family, the one American dish they occasionally cook at home. My host sister sprung this upon us saying, “Ok, you can make us spaghetti tomorrow night, right?” And Frankie and I were just like, “Oh, okay.” I don’t think we had a choice; it turns out our host mom had already bought the spaghetti noodles before our host sister asked us to cook! We went to the grocery store, found some canned pasta sauce, and made damn good spaghetti, if I do say so myself. Thankfully, our host family loved our cooking. I thought it was pretty hilarious to be eating spaghetti in Vietnam in rice bowls with chopsticks for dinner. My host sister keeps mentioning how she wants to try eggs Benedict… 

Let two American girls cook you the best spaghetti of your life! :)

Lastly, a shoutout to Shom, my Duke friend also on an SIT IHP program, who I was able to get lunch with in Hanoi. I’m so glad we could follow up on our 5 month plans to meet up. It was really nice to see a familiar face. :’) 

This weekend we are in the midst of typhoon Daksuri so our planned weekend activities are more low key. Possibly a movie, possibly a trip to Hanoi’s silk village, and with any luck, a day trip to see some scenery outside the city.

The City

Hanoi is the capital of motorbikes. It is humid, hot, noisy, dirty, and in my opinion, not particularly charming. There is the constant grumble of motorbikes. The air always smells of gasoline. Hanoi's got a lot of rough edges such as its ceaseless traffic, lack of public trash management, and pollution. The small river in my neighborhood is navy and its odor of rotten eggs and feces can be smelled 10 feet away.

I think Hanoi is best described as organized chaos. For the most part I cannot discern the order that the Hanoiians maintain except when I cross the street. Crossing the street is quite the adrenaline rush. 

Start by stepping out from the curb. You can't choose a good moment to start crossing, you just have to do it. Turn to look in the face of oncoming traffic. Stare down the motorbikes that barrel towards you and shake an outstretched hand at them. Walk slowly. The honks are only to communicate that they see you. Get to the middle of the road. Look the other way and do the same thing: stare and shake. And when you finally get to the other side, don't forget to breathe. In those moments of crossing the street, anyone simultaneously becomes part of the order and chaos that is Hanoi. 

Downtown Hanoi, also known as Old Quarter, is cleaner and is home to many of the best restaurants. Old Quarter surrounds Hoan Kiem Lake. Some parts of Old Quarter remind me of Shanghai's French Concession, with tree covered streets. But this is unsurprising given that both cities have strong French influences. Again, I can't romanticize about Hanoi too much though... One afternoon while enjoying a view of the lake, I noticed an old man peeing on a tree right next to me, out in the open.

Hanoi is also a city of alleyways. There are so many alleys to get lost in but there are no dead alleys; something is always happening whether that be a waiting trinkets seller or another pho stand. I have also never been to a city with such a dense concentration of food stands. Every family in Hanoi must own a food stand, there are so many of them!* 

Challenges 

In the past two and a half years that I've been in college, I have never experienced a serious case of homesickness... until now. This was unfortunately spurred by a stressful situation of multiple technology failures. This past weekend my perfectly working laptop spontaneously broke. Like broke broke. Like serious, needs-a-motherboard-replacement broke. At first I thought I couldn't turn my laptop on because of an ant infestation. It just so happens that when my laptop broke, I also had a mild ant infestation. Sugar ants were crawling out of my keyboard and I was panicking, recalling a similar story of a broken laptop and a bunch of ants. Then I went to a computer store that night with my host family and it started working again. And then I put it away for the night. And then it really wouldn't turn on anymore. 

I took my laptop into Hanoi's top rated computer repair store on Monday. Against my better judgement, I left my laptop at this small, unprofessional looking shop for them to look at further. It was a great test of believing in the good will of people for me. 48 hours later I was devastated to learn that my computer was seriously broken and would need a $330 fix.

This ordeal was rather stressful for me because every graded aspect of my study abroad program relies upon a computer and I was without one. I actually finished an assignment on my phone using Google Docs. It also didn't help that the day after my laptop broke, my phone started acting up, possibly because of the humidity. I had to stick it in rice; thankfully my phone still works except I now have a dead area on my touch screen. I'm guessing part of my phone's digitizer broke. Don't ask me why my important tech decided to all break without warning in the span of 3 days because it is beyond me. 

I decided not to get my laptop repaired here in Hanoi. I'm in this awkward transition time right now relying upon other people's laptops. I probably can't get a replacement laptop/tablet until I get to South Africa because complicated customs processes. I guess we'll just have to see how things work out, but for now I'm making do and trying not to think about my broken laptop.

Going through this episode of intense stress really highlighted to myself my discomfort in Hanoi: it's dirty, loud, I don't fit in, and I can hardly communicate. I really, really wished to be at home this past week for the convenience and familiarity of going to an Apple Store, receiving comfort from my family (and dog), and sleeping in a soft bed.

I'm mostly over that now. I’ve realized that it is what it is and I am handling the situation to the best of my ability. In the end, I can't really change much; I can only be resourceful and rely upon the generosity of my host family and classmates. C'est la vie. I'm grateful I still have the support system that I have available. I knew to expect some challenges and discomfort but I did not realize it’d be like this!

St. Joseph’s Cathedral, a late 19th-century Gothic cathedral in Old Quarter.

This next week my group travels to Lac village in rural north Vietnam. Next weekend we're taking an excursion to Ha Long Bay, a UNESCO world heritage site. I'm excited to get out of the city and explore other parts of Vietnam! 

Bus count: 11 

*By the way, of course I will write about the food in Vietnam within the next two weeks.