The Best Christmas Present

When I came home from work today, right as I walked in the door, my mom gave me a hug. I could tell she had been crying. She then proceeded to tell me that she had read the first half of In Quiet Desperation by the Matis's and Ty Mansfield.

First off, can I just say that the guy on the cover looks like he could be really hot? For some reason the picture reminds me of Cyclops from X-men, which makes me think of James Marsden. Mmm...

Now I haven't read this book yet, but my friend had said that it had helped his parents accept his homosexuality, so I was quite happy to hear that my mother had bought it.

This entire Christmas break, my stay at my parents' has been essentially one argument after another with my parents. Every day my sexuality had to come up, and our disagreements led to an overwhelmingly un-merry Christmas.

I received a few little presents out there, but the best Christmas present I've received this year is the hope radiating from the hug my mother gave me today.

Gossiping

I went up to Club Gossip (AKA Club Sound) two weeks ago for the FIRST TIME. Got my clubbing-cherry popped! It was everything I ever imagined it to be, plus a tranny host and god-awfully disgusting bathrooms. Really though, I can't expect a guy to aim properly when drunk.

Event though I'm more of a reserved person, I was still disappointed that I left without meeting any new people or getting any numbers. See, this is how I imagined clubbing:

I'm sitting around a table with a few friends sipping on some fruity non-alcoholic beverage and watching everyone else dancing, admiring the people. Some really cute guy comes up to start flirting with one of us and asks us to go dance with him so we do. Afterwards, numbers are exchanged, perhaps a little groping commences off the dance floor, and then we leave.

That's not how it happened. There was a lot more grinding, less flirting, and no advances from attractive guys, which is mostly my fault. I could have been a lot more sociable that night. Instead, I just hung out with the people I went there with and avoided the cameraman-- after all, I do still go to BYU, and evidence of me being at a gay club would most definitely raise some unwanted questions.

Perhaps I need to loosen up before going again, but in any case, it was fun. A little trashier than I imagined, but still fun.

Oops...

I'm a total bitch. If you can't see this, my friend (whose info is blocked out in red) and I (mine is in black) were chatting about how guys who can't speak English are turn-offs when they try to chat with you. I then proceeded to quote Drop Dead Gorgeous "Speak English you stupid retard!" accidentally to the wrong person, who wasn't speaking English well in the first place. I'm now blocked from his profile.

Oops.

Dinner with Mother

This last Friday I went to dinner with my dear mother. In retrospect, in comparison to all the tension and crying since Thanksgiving Break, my mother's actions have recently been quite laudable. During our dinner conversation, she stated that she would let me make my own choices and deal with the consequences myself, but if I ever want to change, she knows a counselor who has a high success rate in de-gay-ifying homos. By no means is she waving around an HRC flag or marching in Pride, but at least she's recognizing that my sexuality might be here to stay, which is actually a lot more than I expected from her considering how it's only been two weeks since I came out to my family.

Sometimes her naivete surprises me though. She thinks that if I continue down this path of homosexuality, I'm bound to get AIDS, which is pretty damn ridiculous. Despite social stereotypes, being gay doesn't equate living a promiscuous lifestyle.

There was also one thing she said about her reaction that bugged me. Of course, I expected her to intensely freak out over Thanksgiving, but her reasoning was that she was going through a grieving process and that "it would be easier to grieve for a dead child because then at least she knew where they were going." It might be just me, but I think that's awful. But hey, if all gays go to hell, then it's going to be one heck of an orgy down there.

All in all, besides that last comment, I've been fairly impressed by the efforts of my mother, seeing as she's where I get my stubbornness from in the first place.

In more recent news, I might be giving up guys for a little bit. I'm not going straight, but I've been getting tired of trying to date them. Single gay guys seem to fit into at least one of the following three categories: horny, shallow, or unattractive. Otherwise, they're already taken.

Toilet Paper-less

This is somewhat of a continuation of last night's post, but I just think it's sad and post-worthy. There has been no trace of any toilet paper in my apartment for the last week. I have bought about 75 percent of the toilet paper for the three guys in my apartment this semester, and we go through about a roll a week. And I am sick of it. Which is why I have been on a toilet paper strike for the past little bit. I mean, I'm moving out in a week, so I might as well make my roommates pay for their share of the toilet paper, right? Give 'em hell.

In any case, I spend most of my time on campus, so I am able to use their facilities there. I know it's disgusting, but if worse comes to worse, I have half a napkin stashed under my pillow for emergency purposes.

Roomies Suck in a Bad Way

I've been living with my roommates for only one semester now... and I'm already moving out. The fourth grade was the last time I've had to share a room with somebody, and it was with my 4-year-old sister. Of course, she didn't act like an anti-social cynic or track muddy water into the kitchen while I was walking around in my white socks.

I have encountered anything more irritating than my roommate's alarm clock. Without fail, it goes off every morning, "--illy six degrees today. Better bust out those shovels, huh Janice? In other news, Miley Cyrus was reported..." and he somehow manages to sleep for at least ten minutes through it, only to struggle over to the end of his bed and slam the snooze button so the process can start again in another five minutes. One time, with no exaggeration, he slept/snooze/slept/snoozed for over a freaking hour. Needless to say, I get up on the wrong side of the bed some mornings, not to mention his cacophonous snoring every night.

In addition to the horrors I face when I sleep, there is a long list of complaints that I could file to the Roomie Etiquette Police, but I'm saving my breath for a longer life expectancy. In any case, I'm moving next door to live with my hot neighbors (who walk around in their underwear all the time) next week. I'm sure I can handle anything they throw at me then.

Younger Looking for Slightly Older

Tonight I went hot-tubbing with an older guy, and it was fun. He was a gentleman and didn't try anything on me. However, I agreed to go because I thought that there might be other people there. But there wasn't.

That, and the fact that he tries to chat with me every time I'm online, leads me to believe that he might be interested in me. This guy is 34. Now keep in mind that I'm still in my teens, so "older" to me is up in the 30's. That isn't to say that older guys aren't attractive. Hell, I wouldn't think twice before hooking up with Brad Pitt and Patrick Dempsey, who are both above 40.

But see, that's the thing, we would only be hooking up. Well, I can see me living off of them for a little bit... Allrighty maybe a long time, but that's beside the point. I wouldn't be able to connect with them on an emotional level because they're even older than my dad is!

Because of that, the age limit for my guys is 35. Any older and they'd be freaking twice my age! All over Craigslist, you see posts that say stuff like "Younger Looking for Older" or "Older Bear Seeking Young Twink" That, my darling, is a fetish. It is completely sexual.

So hookups and gold-digging (and really hot celebrities) aside, I prefer to stick with guys in their twenties.

From Homo Beginnings

I received my very first comment on my blog today-- how exciting! Abelard Enigma asked "When did you first realize you are gay? Are you out to your family?"

I realized that I was a homo when I was a sophomore in high school. There was this way attractive kid in my PE class. I started trying to befriend him, and I found that the more I got to knew him, the more attracted I was to him.

For the next little while, it took me a while to accept that I liked guys. I knew that I liked to look at guys' bodies, but it took time for me to put two and two together. In my personal journal, I referred to him as "Watermelon" because I couldn't bring myself to even write a guy's name in it. There are pages in it where I wrote "I love Watermelon. I love Watermelon. I love Watermelon..." over and over again. It was pretty pathetic, especially since Watermelon was straight. (That point is debatable, though, as he's had a history with his male neighbor). In any case, nothing became of it, and I moved on-- or at least I attempted to-- but that's another long story for another day.

As for the second question, I actually came out to my parents about a week ago. It was... not a pleasant experience. They wanted me to seek counseling, to move back home, and to stop seeing my homosexual friends. They wanted to take me off their insurance because obviously being gay means you have AIDS (I'm a virgin, by the way, so it's highly unlikely that I do) .I love my parents, but sometimes they drive me up the wall. It has been a pretty ridiculous week so far, but recently they've realized that trying to shove their opinions down my throat is going to end up pushing me away, so they've mellowed down a lot. Seeing how the next few months play out with my parents should be interesting.

Anyways, this has given me a great recurring post idea for this blog called the "No Sh**!!! Zone", a reference to the HBLL library on BYU campus. Leave a question in the comment box of this post and periodically (weekly? bi-weekly? every month?) I will choose one of the more interesting ones to answer completely truthfully. Make 'em good questions!

A Lesson on Fashion

Today I went up to Salt Lake with some of my gay friends to go shopping at the Gateway. Before I started hanging out with these guys, I would never consider buying clothes at American Eagle,

Abercrombie, or Express. For me, high class fashion was Aeropostle, and my wardrobe consisted of free t-shirts and medium-sized clothes. Apparently my size is XS. I found out that my jeans made my ass look like Godzilla.

Damn, I'm bad at being gay.
In any case, I learned my lesson. Shirts that fit are supposed to have uncomfortably tight sleeves, and high class fashion is Burberry and Louis Vuitton.
I ended up buying three shirts from American Eagle for under $25, which is a great price for beginning to revamp my wardrobe.

I have many shirts that sort of look like this.

And this is the kind of shirt I bought today!

Meet Twinky Chink

No, I am not a porn star, though "Twinky Chink" would make a good pornonym. I'm a Freshman at Brigham Young University, raised in Orem in the Mormon church. I like Glee, the color green, and eating watermelon. Oh, and boys. Kinda a big deal in this society. But shh! It's a secret.

~Twinky Chink