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Tag: LGBTQ

  • Choice or fundamental standards of decency?

    Choice or fundamental standards of decency?

    This particular news (Outrage after lesbian woman’s funeral was cancelled just 15 minutes before service – because pastor objected to memorial video of her kissing her wife) has gone viral over Facebook and the web generally. It raises interesting views over LGBTQ ‘choice’ and religion, a hotly contested topic. The debate is often centered around homosexuality being a choice and a lifestyle supported by big-name celebrities like Lady Gaga and Cory Monteith (RIP). The debate is further complicated by association with a dominant LGBTQ agenda, gay marriage. This particular newsbyte is a nexus of the above issues.

    It may be argued that many countries protect the rights of individuals to exercise free choice. It is said that just as many of our LGBTQ brethren live in a world where their ‘choice’ is supported, the choice of other people like Pastors Gary Rolando and Ray Chavez not to service LGBTQ families because of their religious beliefs should also be respected. To illustrate the context of this article, some followers of some religions, including Christianity, interpret religious teachings to say that homosexuality is unnatural or violates those teachings in some way. This has presumably caused Pastor Rolando to reach his view.

    It is not the intention of this post to enter into the LGBTQ ‘choice’ vs ‘nature’ debate. That debate has gone on for many years with proponents on both sides and is too lengthy to fairly deal with here. I, personally take the stand that LGBTQ is entirely natural. Of course, I am a Western educated, LGBTQ lawyer with my own preconceptions. My reflections below should be taken in that context.

    Free choice is a funny thing. It is a double-edged sword in which it can be empowering and yet dis-empowering at the same time. It can empower LGBTQ rights activists to fight for the choice to love and marry. It can simultaneously take away the rights of our LGBTQ brethren by saying, well no, your sexuality is a ‘choice’ therefore you have to bear the consequences of that ‘choice’, namely abuse and rejection by your family, friends and even third parties at your own funeral. What happens if your ‘choice’ to be LGBTQ clashes with a fundamental cornerstone of society, religion, who for many involves a ‘choice’ to subscribe, as is the case here?  With respect to this article, I would say if you truly respect a person’s free ‘choice’, you do not impose or impact on someone’s basic right to have a simple funeral. The Pastors were not asked to approve the LGBTQ couple’s choice to marry or have children. The Pastors were also not asked to make a theological stand whether LGBTQ ‘lifestyles’ should be recognised. The Pastors were asked to preside over a ceremony to celebrate a life unfortunately cut short. The family was grieving here over the loss of a wife and a mother. I would say that LGBTQ debates aside, there are fundamental rights of respect, decency and sanctity associated with the death of a human being that are cherished by most societies. This was denied to Ms Vanessa Collier.

    You could also suggest that Pastors are held to a particular higher standard in the community. They are respected as spiritual leaders whom the community looks to for guidance in yes, spiritual and theological matters relevant to their respective religions, but also in fundamental rights of respect, love, decency and sanctity. Even if a Pastor disagreed with a particular ‘choice’, he/she would be more respected if he/she was seen to uphold these fundamental rights, despite his/her own personal views.

    But, no, the Church here did not refuse the funeral completely, at least initially. They only requested that the video of the deceased and her wife kissing be removed. That’s reasonable, right?

    In my view, this is splitting hairs. How can a funeral be conducted without a memorial of a person’s life, however they ‘chose’ to live it? This seems to be a case of imposing one ‘choice’ over another ‘choice’, over a circumstance where both sides should bring their defences down temporarily in furtherance of higher purposes of love, respect, decency and sanctity.

    Thoughts?

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  • Challenges of a trans-lesbian

    Challenges of a trans-lesbian

    For lesbian, dyke, or queer-identified transgender women, most of us have had the most difficult time with acceptance. That is, accepting ourselves, having other women accept us, being accepted in women’s community, and desiring each other as women.

    When I came out as a trans woman, I was able to find that courage after years and years of shame. I thought I’d never become an “acceptable” woman – one who wanted to wear high heels, grow out her hair, “pass,” and be desirable to women. As I grew up and found myself as a feminist, I tried to reject these presumptions and stereotypes about trans women. At the same time, I found myself shameful about “wanting to be” a woman (even though I already was deep down inside). It was only when I saw different trans women in porn, trans women who fucked and loved other women, that I was able to say, “Holy crap, that’s totally me, and I can totally do this.”

    In a short time, I turned to sex work, as many trans women have done, partially for money reasons, but mostly because it worked for me and I wanted to do it. I continued to find myself as a kinky, queer woman through dominatrix work, and independently produced porn. While sex workers are painted as victims by society, I’ve found this mostly to be completely untrue. I’ve found it, like everything in life, to be much more complicated.

    My experience of being a trans dyke, and my relative privileges, has made me consider engaging in sex work that is most gratifying for me. When I, fortunately, came into some money, I wanted to invest that in producing great porn featuring non-straight trans women. So I came up with TransLesbians.com.

    While it’s generally unknown how many trans women identify as straight, bisexual, lesbian, or queer in the U.S., my experience working and meeting other trans women has proved that we have a very wide variety of sexual orientations. Anecdotally, I’ve known most trans women to be non-straight — and this applies to those of all different types of race and other backgrounds. Perhaps one of the most comprehensive and recent surveys by the National Gay & Lesbian Task Force agrees with this evidence.

    My sex work, and more specifically my porn, has attempted to show lesbian or non-straight trans women as authentic and complicated people with just as varied sexualities as cisgender women. When creating TransLesbians, my goals sound deceptively simple:

    1. Showcase really hot, nasty gonzo-style porn between trans and cisgender women without using the terms “tranny” or “shemale.”
    2. Capture real attraction and sizzling chemistry.
    3. Hire an all-trans women staff for support behind the camera.
    4. Provide a safe, comfortable, and responsible workplace.
    5. Pay performers as close to industry-standard rate as possible, and try to create a sustainable income for non-straight trans women sex workers.

    Undoubtedly, the challenges faced by lesbian and queer-identified trans women are as deep and complicated as how one experiences their identity. My unending hope is to create, first and foremost, a positive experience of trans women, and that this will inspire many more of us to find ourselves and embrace each other as women.

    Image courtesy of Emma Claire
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  • It’s all about the Bass

    It’s all about the Bass

    It’s all about the bass when it comes to a party. The right mix of booty shaking Go-Go boys and rad beat from the DJ. Music can make or break a party. You know a club is bad when no amount of alcohol can drown the beat away. A DJ should be able to hold his own—having his own style, passion and even cult following. In the upcoming SongKran9 circuit party, four major international DJs will grace the stage to bring the house down.

    Opening the night at SongKran9’s Wicked party is DJ Alain Jackinsky. He is known for his love of House music. He started DJing when he was a teenager for dance parties in high school mainly for his own personal pleasure. As a teenager, he would listen to mainstream dance music as he was lived far from a big city. However, when he turned sixteen, he discovered house music through New York City and very quickly fell in love with this style of music. Alain loves playing a club remix version of a song he personally enjoys listening to in his everyday life like those by Coldplay or London Grammar. He feels that the big challenge for a DJ is to find “the right mix” to play. This is also coupled with the stress of performance, long hours of traveling and instability of living out of a suitcase. DJing is not a constant vacation as some may seem. It is countless hours of work and the brain never really shuts off. Music becomes your life because even at the end, the music never leaves you. It will always stay with you. In a way, that is how Alain find some kind of stability in his life.

    For the main party, Neon, DJ Bent Collective will be DJing. The collective comprises DJ Steven Redant and DJ Danny Verde. Many years ago even before Danny became a DJ, Steven heard a track Danny made and loved it. It had something fresh, something poppy, and something like he has never heard before. Steven got in touch Danny and they started talking about music and their backgrounds and passion. Danny was very interested in DJing and Steven was extremely keen on producing. They have always stayed in touch but it was only when they found themselves in the same management company that they decided to create something together like the famous Avicii vs Nicky Romero remix entitled I Could be the One; a remix that will eventually launch Bent Collective into stellar heights. For Bent Collective, it is not just about DJing but also playing live music at the same time. One can expect to see live keyboards, samplers and drums and other instruments. Playing live gives Steven and Danny more liberty to goof around … and you can sure count on Brent Collective to be goofing around.

    Closing the three day event is DJ Alex Acosta at Pharaoh. Alex stumbled upon DJing around the beginning of 1995 in a club with over two thousand people. He was a cook at the club and the resident DJ did not show up that night. His friends had told the manager that Alex was a DJ, which was far from the truth. While Alex loved music and had his own rock band, he was not a DJ. The management asked him to bring his CDs and he ended up playing from 10pm to 3am. The night went so well that the management offered Alex a residency at the club. Alex attributes his influences to his dad who was a musician. At home, they would always listen to good music, from rock to Cuban music such as Bola de Nieve and Celia Cruz. Alex feels that while every place is unique and different , all of us basically listen to almost the same music in the likes of Beyoncé, Madonna, and Kylie—just to name a few—at the end of the day. However, what makes the difference in a DJ’s music is its production.

    Being able to create a great mix and reading the crowd is an essential skill that a DJ must have and all of these four DJs have mastered that skill. Going a bit harder, or darker, or lighter and adding vocals to give a mix the edge. It’s all about incorporating their own true style without forgetting the crowd. It’s all about the bass and perhaps that little bit of treble.



    Image courtesy of gCircuit
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  • Under Pressure to Perform During Sex

    Under Pressure to Perform During Sex

    So my name is Jakeb Arturio Braden and I have been writing articles and vlogging for many years now on the issues that affect my gay and bisexual brothers.

    So I am bearded and masculine and would classify as a bear of sorts and I have been and seen a lot of changes in things over the past 23 years since I first came out as gay.

    I enjoy sex, good sex, horny sexy feeling that deep connection with another man. I can’t help but think though that as gay and bisexual men we may put too much value in it as a way of expressing ourselves and connecting to each other. Especially in the bear community, every Bear film, photoshoot etc seems to always depict that sex is easy to come by. Always horny and we’re always ready for action at the drop of a hat. I recently watched Bear City 2 and Where the Bears Are Season Three.  Both these showed a parade of hot bears having porn style sex etc. Yes, Iain Parks is horny and physically my ideal bloke even though there are many sexy blokes in Where the Bears Are.

    Now I am not saying that this is necessarily a bad thing! I can’t help but wonder if we put ourselves under undue pressure in regards to our sex lives; what and how sex should be. Perhaps having unfair expectations of ourselves and our sexual partners. I am amazed at how many times guy lose interest because I am not going to turn up at their homes and perform like a porn star. Instant gratification much? Personally, I find the build up as much fun as actually having sex.  What is this really about? Have we really as a community just become a porn film or stereotype forced on us by the Gay Media?

    What is wrong about wanting a bit more from sex? Wanting a sense of connection.

    I am sure that actually, the intense passion and abandonment is more likely with someone you have spent some time to get to know than with someone you feel pressurised to “perform” for!  I’m not saying that it has to be all hearts and flowers, yet don’t we owe it to ourselves and each other to treat each other with a bit more respect than purely seeing each other as sexual objects?

    Image courtesy of Shutterstock
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  • SEX. PARTY.

    SEX. PARTY.

    Who Needs Romance When You Can Just Have the Sex?

    Valentine’s Day is beyond cheesy. There. I’ve said it.

    Sure, I am all up for celebrating love and that fine romance (and cheese), but definitely not on this day, which has become too commercialised to the point that retailers are obviously milking it for all its worth by marking up the prices of their items and coming up with annoying “Valentine’s Day” promotions. Don’t waste all that hard-earned money, boys and girls! (Findings show that Singaporeans are some of the biggest spenders on V-Day. Tsk tsk.)

    So, instead of observing the 14th of February as how the mainstreamers have marketed and perceived it to be – lovey-dovey saccharine sweet to the point of diabetic – why not turn the day on its head and make it an Anti-Valentine’s Day instead? And what’s the polar opposite of romance? Why, the answer is sex, of course. And it’s not just sex (singular), but lots and lots of unabashed, no-strings-attached sex.

    Also, since Valentine’s Day is supposedly all about that one person in your life, and we are all about making a 180 degrees turn here, Anti-Valentine’s Day shall thus be about le sex with multiple partners. Maybe even all at the same time. You know what this means, right?

    SEX. PARTY.
    Now this is one sexperience that I have yet to try (no, going to saunas is not equivalent to sex parties; at least not for me). I have always been curious about the mechanics of it all: how and where do you gather the participants? Where will it be held? How long does a party last? Must the number of tops, bottoms and/ or flexes be proportionate to each other? Who will be the one to provide the safety equipment? Is it a bare-it-all from the get-go or do people walk around in their underwear first? Is it safe? Will the police ever find out and raid such shindigs? What about the hotel staff and people staying there? Will they not be curious? And these are just some immediate questions off the top of my head!

    The idea of a sex party (aka orgy/ gang bang/ what have you) is not unheard of, not an entirely new phenomenon, and is most certainly – at least nowadays – not that overtly hush hush, especially in today’s context. In fact, I have heard stories of such parties taking place here in the sunny island that sets in the sea. (Again, those recent news about brothels in neighbourhood estates do not count. We are talking about a party, not a mechanical barter sex trade.)

    One of my exes frequented these sex parties (don’t ask me if the ex still attends them now) and from what I have gathered, the whole set-up is not as sleazy as you may think. Most of the time, these parties are held in swanky, five-star hotels. Participants from all walks of life either get personally invited or register their interest to attend to the lead organiser. Time and date has already been set prior; all you need to do is show up and have fun. Naturally I followed that up with even more questions: how do you indicate to the other party your interest in them? What if the two of you turned out to be of the same role? And, the most important question that kept running through my head: do you do it in full view of the other participants, or do you do it somewhere secluded? Because I am thinking that the only place where you can have private access is clearly the (spacious) bathroom!

    Even after pressing my ex for the answers to my questions, I am still left unsatisfied. Thoughts start running through my head. Is it as classy as what Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman attended in Eyes Wide Shut? Or is it more of a fun affair, like the ones Billie Piper had been to while sharing with us her Secret Diary of a Call Girl? Or maybe it’s just sex-OTT like in the pornos, complete with chains, leather, whips, handcuffs and all? Hmmm.

    With my curiosity having been immensely piqued, I suppose it is finally time to get down to that item on my sexperience bucket list and participate in at least one sex party by this month; my Valentine’s sexlist, if you will. Maybe I will end up with like-minded individuals who believe in the same Anti-Valentine’s sentiments as I do. Then we can do it all through the night (or day, depending on what time the party is being held.)

    Like I said: who needs romance when you can just have the sex?

    Image courtesy of Shutterstock
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  • Unexpected Valentine

    Unexpected Valentine

    Oh that Rick! What a friend! What a guy!!

    I’m visiting Rick in San Francisco for three days. Jeff, our actor friend in El Lay, calls excitedly this morning to tell us he’s on TV tonight, featured in a spot on a major soap opera, so I stay in to watch the show, which is scheduled for 9 p.m. It’s an inconvenient time, because it’s impossible to go out for dinner before, and afterwards it’s too late. Then, too, the timing is wrong for a real movie either before or after, consequently one small segment of a soap opera interferes with the entire evening. Another friend who promised to call didn’t keep his promise, so I take that as an omen, in addition to feeling a certain sense of loyalty to Jeff, and decide to stay in with a book to read –even though it’s the night before Valentine’s Day, and I figure there will be Major Action in the streets, in the bars, in the clubs or everywhere, despite the fact that it’s a Sunday night.

    At 8:30 Rick arrives with a spectacularly good looking fellow. Rick introduces the friend, Brad, whom he’s just met at the Jackhammer, a leather bar in the Mission District. Brad is about twenty-two, six foot three, lean, with short blond hair, smooth fair skin, wearing tight jeans, no shirt, black boots, and a leather jacket. After a bit of idle chat, Rick and Brad go downstairs to Rick’s Rec Room (which has become equally famous – or infamous – as Rick’s Wreck Room) while I stay upstairs in the guest room with book and TV. Rick says maybe they’ll come up and watch the show, but I have my doubts, assuming they’ll be otherwise engaged.

    At 8:55 I turn on the TV to watch the soap opera. It’s completely idiotic, and Jeff’s appearance lasts about two seconds. His opening moments are fine, and I watch the rest of the show, expecting he will reappear, but he doesn’t. Meanwhile, Rick and Brad are downstairs having a much better time, I’m absolutely certain, than I am. I feel I’ve made a mistake, both by staying in and by watching the stupid TV show, and I feel ripped off by my loyalty to Jeff. It occurs to me to telephone him and ask how much he gets paid for acting stupid on a show that’s already idiotic, but I check the urge and keep my bad attitude to myself for a change.

    Just after 10, there’s a tap at my door. Rick is standing there, handsome, muscular, and naked except for his suntan from Costa Rica and a towel in his hand. He says: “I told Brad you’d give him a blowjob. Come on downstairs. He’s waiting for you.” Incredulous, I ask: “Are you kidding?” From the look on his face, I can tell he’s not kidding, so I abandon the book and take off my shirt, muttering half out loud: “I’m not quite sure what to wear.” “You’re fine! You’re just fine!” he assures me. “But…but…” I stammer. “But what?” says Rick. “But have you finished with him?” I have to ask. Rick smiles enigmatically and replies: “I’ve gone as far as I can go. Now it’s up to you.” Scarcely believing my good fortune or Rick’s generosity, as well as wondering what Brad’s attitude might be about this whole thing, I accept the invitation, of course, telling Rick “Thanks!” and he answers: “Thank Brad, don’t thank me.” Then I descend the stairway and go into Rick’s Rec Room. The room smells of sex and poppers. Brad is on the bed, lying on his back, naked except for a leather collar and a cock ring. His eyes are wide open, he has a delicate, slightly rococo armband tattooed on his upper arm, and his long, lean body, in complete repose, is clearly receptive. “What a pretty picture!” I say, almost in awe. Rick agrees, adding: “He’s a beautiful man!” Brad doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. I sit on the edge of the bed and begin to run my fingers over Brad’s tight, flat belly. Rick goes to the top of the bed near Brad’s head, leans over, and begins to kiss him. Brad moans gently, and his cock begins to swell. I put my mouth on the head of it and taste a savory combination of sweat and lube. His hips began to rock under me, and as Rick kisses him and plays with his nipples, I gently begin to suck on his cock and lift his balls. Rick gives us each a hit of poppers, and the three of us begin to make love in wondrous synchronicity. As I suck on blond Brad, I can see Rick’s dark cock getting bigger and bigger, and I wish I could suck on them both at the same time.

    The unspoken message is to please Brad, so together Rick and I pay our separate and various attentions to Brad, who remains surprisingly recumbent and passive. Gradually, we get him, as well as ourselves, hotter and hotter. Suddenly Rick stands up and exits the room, leaving me unexpectedly alone with this tall, exquisite youth. For a moment I feel like a usurper. I’m confused, wondering: Why am I here? How did this happen? Do I deserve this extraordinary feeling of trust? Why is Rick sharing him? Why has Rick left? The moment of doubt passes, and I begin simply to enjoy the feelings. Brad loves to be touched, anywhere, everywhere. His skin is flawless, his chest perfection, and his responses to my touch on his skin are almost orgasmic. So much so I wonder what drug he might be on. I run my fingers and lips over his body, and he throbs in response. I suck on his balls and run my hands over his legs. In turn, he draws up his left leg, inviting access to his innermost parts, and slowly, gently I put my right hand into his ass, all the while playing with his upper body and flat belly with my left hand and continuing, the whole time, to suck on his cock, which gets harder or softer, in my mouth, in gradual sequences. At one point, Brad puts his left hand around his cock and begins to play with it, watching as I bite his nipples and play with the rest of his body. I put my hand in his butt once more, and he shoots his wad, wordlessly, all across his flat, muscled belly. I rip off my T-shirt and underwear, grease up my dick, and masturbate on top of Brad’s recumbent form, as he looks up at me. Rick returns, puts his arms around me first, from behind, then hugs us both and leaves the room once again. It is reassuring and odd at the same time.

    Brad still has his hand on his cock, and the sight of this beautiful man lying under me makes me crazy. I shoot off in what seems only an instant, and we lie there, close together, and with my fingertips I rub the cum into that tight, youthful body until it disappears into his skin. Brad says: “I’m cold,” and pulls the covers over him, then goes into a sleep-like trance. I get a drink of water and go upstairs to look for Rick, who is stretched out on my bed, naked, suntanned and spectacular, calmly looking at the book I had abandoned an hour or two earlier. We compare notes about Brad’s astonishing beauty. Rick tells me how he first perceived Brad in the bar, bare-chested, his jacket hanging off one shoulder, tall and so incredibly stunning that no one dared approach him. Always ready for a challenge, Rick set his sights on the unknown boy, shined his magic light, and within moments they’ve left the bar together to come back to the house for a drink, etcetera.

    Now it’s two hours later. Rick and I agree that Brad was On Something, but neither of us can determine exactly what it was. Maybe a little pot; maybe a bit of speed, too. Probably a mixture. In any case, he’s extremely high and astonishingly sensitive to touch; no doubt that’s why he more or less passed out. We go back downstairs to look at him, try to get him to talk, which he doesn’t or can’t, and Rick opines, not unhappily: “I think Brad’s going to stay the night.” Five minutes later, much to our surprise, Brad awakens and gets up.

    Each of us has a shower, we have a drink and talk for a few minutes in the kitchen. Brad doesn’t have a lot to say, and it doesn’t matter. I ask him why his skin is so sensitive. He smiles a slightly shy, dazzling smile, and replies ingenuously: “I guess that’s something I get from my mother.”

    Everyone says goodnight, Rick drives Brad home, and I change the sheets, which are a mess, but that’s why God invented washing machines, isn’t it? Then I make up Rick’s bed and leave a chocolate for him on the pillow, as at any good hotel. That’s the very least he deserves.

    Counting my blessings, I’ve determined that Rick has gone St. Valentine one better. His behavior is not exactly saintly, and he has no inclination whatever to become St. Rick. Nor does this have anything to do with sentimentality or sweethearts or Victoria’s Secrets or heart-shaped, red candy boxes. Nonetheless, Rick’s generosity, charity and cleanliness are beyond, if not above, godliness, and tonight’s gift was as unique, unforgettable, and spontaneous as it was – how shall I say? – deeply appreciated. Furthermore the night before Valentine’s Day is not yet over, and tomorrow night, if we choose, there’s still plenty of time to Go Out!

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    Image courtesy of Shutterstock
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  • Alone for Valentine’s?

    Alone for Valentine’s?

    Alone for Valentine’s? You CAN Still Get Off…

    … with yourself. Who says that you have to be partnered and who has the audacity to condition you into thinking that Valentine’s Day is only for lovers? As you will know if you have read my column here on SimplySxy before – I am a great fan of masturbation. I am also a believer in the art of self-love so let’s get to it…

    Picture it: Valentine’s Day 2015, you, yourself and a box of tricks 😉 Draw the blinds, turn the lights down low and get yourself ready by taking a romantic bath with flickering candles and soft music in the background.

    And if you’re struggling to picture that, if you can’t quite see how to make that much effort ‘just’ for yourself, allow me to tell you a story…

    Once upon a time I was in the supermarket where I go very regularly and the girl at the checkout knows me well. I was putting my produce of a huge turkey, candles, bottle of Champagne, sumptuous dessert and various entrées and nibbles onto the conveyor belt and as she was scanning the items she said:

    ‘Expecting company?’

    ‘No’ I replied

    ‘I thought you lived on your own?’ said the cheeky cashier.

    ‘I do. This is all for me. I’m taking myself to dinner’ she looked a little shocked, then confused. It seems that we as human beings are looked upon as ‘odd’ when we show ourselves some lovin’. I find this incredibly sad. I also find it depressing that so many of us actually dread ‘VDay’ – sounds a little like ‘D-Day’ don’t you think?

    So how can you take a tip or two from my supermarket experience? Can you take yourself to dinner on Valentine’s and make love to yourself all night long? I’ve written loads about masturbation and how to get you off but I have also written loads about how loneliness can kill us from the inside out. Let’s put a stop to that right now and realise that we are worth it.

    Let me just give you a few more practical hints to get you going…

    You know that ‘box of tricks’ I mentioned? Well you can turn this into a treasure chest by placing your favourite sex toys, underwear (man) lingerie (woman), cock rings, clit teasers, candles, scented oils and maybe even your favourite DVD and/or magazine which may or may not be porn related. Whatever floats your boat. Then… keep the box for special occasions just as you would save your special underwear for that special guest.

    Tonight you are that special guest. You are in for a treat…

    Do as I described previously: dim the lights and get yourself in the mood to really take the time to enjoy your body and your evening alone with the best person you know: you.

    Please do also take a look at my previous articles here on SimplySxy on Masturbation, which will take you to the place few have been – a place so special it would be a shame to miss out by distracting yourself with a night on the town. You can go out on the town anytime – make this night for YOU.

    Choose this moment on this day to really remind yourself what love is all about. Don’t get drawn into all that commercialised crap and simply be the sexy loving human being that you are. I trust you … Yes: I do 🙂

    Image courtesy of Shutterstock
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  • Aunt Leona’s Birthday Party

    Aunt Leona’s Birthday Party

    Yesterday, June 2nd, was Aunt Leona’s 82nd birthday. Last week I asked her if she’d like me to have a party for her, and she said no. I suggested a small dinner instead might be preferable as a celebration, and again she said no.  Then I went to the desert for the long Memorial Day weekend, returning late Monday night, at which point she telephoned saying she’d changed her mind and that she did indeed want a party. She decided to invite four people, then waffled about when the party should take place: whether it should be on Wednesday, the actual day of her birthday, or whether it should be the next weekend, or perhaps the following week, because she hadn’t made up her mind soon enough to give advance notice, etc. etc. Knowing that this event could loom large on the horizon if something weren’t decided quickly, I told her I believed the party should be on her veritable birthday, that we should get on the phone instantly and invite the people we wanted. If they could come, Fine, and if they couldn’t, Too Bad! She agreed, the guests were invited, and I spent the next day shopping, cooking, and preparing.

    Karen arrived an hour before the party was to begin in order to help me set up. Instead of setting up, we sat on the porch and drank martinis. Jon and Jeff had offered to bring Aunt Leona, and when they were half an hour late, we concluded that they’d either decided or been asked to redo her outfit, and sure enough, an hour after that, they arrived, the three of them. Leona was in black from head to toe, glowing, with her newly cut white hair crowning the somber ensemble, in complete contrast to her personality, which is as mischievous as ever. She loved describing her change of attire after fashion consultants Jon and Jeff got to her door.  Jon was elegant wearing a dark silk shirt with fine linen trousers, and Jeff very handsome in a blue, mock workshirt with pearl buttons, chino trousers, and a high-fashion tan leather belt with a silver buckle. They entered giggling, because she had greeted them wearing different shoes on each foot, asking which one they preferred.

    Two of the people Aunt Leona invited, Tom and Tim, arrived even later. Tom, whom she calls “The Tomster,” is a refined, delicate young man of about twenty-five, whom I’d met once before at Leona’s house. He’s clever, bright, and good-humored, as well as just a little fey.  His other half, Tim, surprised me in that he looks as if he could be Tom’s brother. They are both the same age, slender, delicate and handsome; both have abundant dark hair, fair skin and wear elegant, casual clothes with great style. As they walked in, Jeff whispered: “Awfully Junior League, aren’t they?” and two minutes later, Karen, appraising their entrance on her own, cupped her hand and muttered quietly in my ear: “Girls!”

    We enjoyed drinks, hors d’oeuvres and small-talk outside on the deck. Several of the guests arrived even later than Tom and Tim; as a result, cocktails were served at some length.  I’d placed pâté, crackers, almonds and cheese on a stool for easy access. When Wayne arrived, Leona asked him to sit with her, moved the cheese off the stool, and announced that cheese doesn’t require a seat.

    By then the evening air had taken on a chill; consequently I changed my original plan to have dinner outside around the picnic table. The interior dining table is too small for a large group, so it was decided at the last minute to serve a buffet. We arranged pillows on the floor by the coffee table with candles and wine goblets nearby; chairs were pulled up to make a comfortable circle for those who wanted them, and the meal was presented with complete informality, creating an intimate atmosphere conducive to good conversation among a group of people who were not all previously acquainted.

    Talk was spirited, sometimes silly, and always amusing. Jeff told me he overheard Aunt Leona ask Karen, with some puzzlement, in the kitchen: “Tom and Tim, are they awfully Junior League?” Karen answered, “I don’t know. What’s Junior League?” After the meal and before birthday cake and presents, we continued to sip our wine and converse. Someone asked Tom how he and Tim had met, they exchanged glances, and Tim exclaimed: “Oh, we’re not going to tell THAT story, are we?” Everyone said: “I hope so!” and we all urged them on. In response, together they recounted how they had met in college, then became room-mates and good friends, but not more than that. After graduation, they made a date for a night on the town, and rather late in the evening, after several stops and diverse entertainments, decided to go to a bar called The Louie, located near a downtown freeway in a somewhat questionable neighborhood. The patrons of The Louie usually leave their cars at an adjacent parking lot which is well lit and supervised by an attendant furnished by the club. For some reason, the attendant was out of sight as they parked, and before they realized what was happening, the car was surrounded by four muscular black men armed with knives who told them to get out and start walking. They were hustled across a footbridge over the freeway, where the thieves took their car keys, money, wallets, and finally, all their clothing. They were left naked, in a state of shock and terrified, in a dangerous part of the city. We all wondered: what happened? The answer: they burst out laughing and fell in love. There was nothing else to do. It was too late to knock on a stranger’s door, they were doubtful about walking around naked, and they weren’t certain what course of action to take.  Fortunately, soon after, a woman drove by, took pity on them and provided them with a sheet to wear. (She happened to have a sheet in the car because she was in the process of moving.) Too frightened to ask two naked men into her car in the middle of the night, she told them to wait right there, that she’d call the police from a pay phone and not to worry. Later on, the police arrived; were characteristically neither sympathetic nor friendly, but eventually returned the boys home. The car was not found until weeks later, completely trashed, and ever since, Tom and Tim have been sweethearts.

    It was a sensational story, and no one could top it, so cake was served and Leona was presented with her birthday gifts. The last one to be opened, a surprise from Jon and Jeff, proved to be a life-size, inflatable man-doll, with an open mouth, a similar size opening at the crotch in front, and another similar size opening at the backside. With the doll, although packaged separately, was an oversize phallus, dismembered and wrapped in cellophane, cleverly designed to fit into any of the doll’s orifices: mouth, crotch, or backside, in any direction. We blew up the doll-man and inserted the cellophane-covered phallus into the normal front position, so it appeared as if he were wearing a condom. Jeff introduced him as Doc Johnson. Aunt Leona grabbed him by the cock, shook it admiringly, and said “Pleased to meet you.”

    Then we sat him on a chair while we continued talking and laughing hilariously. When it came time to leave, Aunt Leona grabbed him again by the cock, waved him in the air, and said:  “Come on, Honey.  Let’s go home!” Then she delicately took Jon and Jeff, each by one arm; still holding on to Doc Johnson. Off they went, the four of them out to the jeep, three of them giggling into the night.

     

    Image courtesy of Shutterstock
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  • SongKran9: A gay love story

    SongKran9: A gay love story

    Come April, Thailand will be the host to Asia’s largest gay circuit party. Songkran9 is a three day circuit party event organized by gCircuit. This year, Songkran9 will span from 10 to12 April. This massive event will include three night parties and two pool parties with established DJs from around the world. One can expect to hear great music, see hot go-go dancers and meet wonderful people while parting the night away. gCircuit has created a solid brand that is known to all those who love to party.

    The gCircuit brand is also synonymous with their founders, Tom and Oui. Tom and Oui are a loving gay couple that has been together for over 15 years. They met during Tom’s first trip to Bangkok. On his last night before flying home to Singapore, they crossed paths on the dance floor of a gay club and both knew it was love at first sight. However, the deck was stacked against them. On top of coming from a conservative family, Tom was only back in the region because it was his NYU summer vacation, hence adding more miles between them. In an effort to be together, Oui decided to fly to New York to study English. Upon Tom’s graduation two years later, Tom decided to settle down in Oui’s native country, Thailand. The couple has built their life in Bangkok ever since.

    During the mid-2000s when Nation Party, a gay circuit party that was held in Singapore, was discontinued indefinitely, Oui suggested that they start their own circuit party. Base on their love for the dance floor and coupled with their entrepreneurial background, they decided to take on the journey and were determined to succeed. Tom felt that if they want to do a circuit party, then they had to do it right. The party should have the best DJs with the best go-go boys and be held at the best locations. There were many gay parties at that time that were held in rundown straight clubs and these were struggling to stay alive. Being mediocre was not an option for the couple. Tom and Oui wanted to have a party that was unique to Thailand, just like how the Nation parties was unique to Singapore. Hence, they choose the Songkran festival—a well known wet and wild water festival in Thailand that welcomes the Thai New Year.Gcircuit4076

    This year, gCircuit celebrates its ninth circuit party and its success can be attributed to Tom and Oui’s passion and persistence. The couple has a lot of love for the LGBTQ community. They believe in listening to people and giving back. When they started, they only had a two night party. It subsequently expanded into three, when the demand grew. When the Bear community wanted a space where they would not feel judged, they decided to have an exclusive Bear pool party. The outreach and contribution of gCircuit goes beyond just a three day party. In 2013, gCircuit helped Standard Chartered bank roll out a suite of products called We+. This range of products allows unmarried couples, regardless of sexual orientation and gender identity, in committed relationship get loans and mortgages. This year, they are focus is on addressing the increase in number of HIV cases reported by UNAIDS. They want to help to create an innovative way to bring the awareness for the need for safe sex to the new generation. gCircuit is definitely headed towards bigger and bolder things.

    The LGBTQ calendar is shaping up to be an exciting one with SongKran9 opening the year. So come April if you are looking for a place to power up your soul, remember there is a massive circuit party with a rich history down in the City of Angels.

    Image courtesy of gCircuit
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  • The Pink Soldier

    The Pink Soldier

    A soldier defends his country with pride. He fights for the people he loves and for the land that he grew up in. Assuming that soldier wanted to be a soldier in the first place. But for Singaporeans like me, being a soldier is not a choice because of the mandatory conscription

    Don’t get me wrong, I love my country. It’s a small country with low crime rates, no natural disasters, and delicious food. Aside from the fact that I can’t get married here and I can get arrested for having gay sex, it’s a lovely place.

    I have been in the army for almost four months. Running, marching, and doing push ups in the sun while getting yelled at is something I am pretty much used to by now.

    Like most Singaporean boys, I dreaded my enlistment, two years of my life taken away while my female counterparts get a head start in their higher education and careers. However, as a GAY Singaporean boy, I had more things on my mind. Do I declare my sexual orientation to the army and let all branches of the government know I’m gay? Effectively destroying any chance of getting a job in the government sector? If I don’t declare my sexual orientation to the army, which is what most gay Singaporeans do, then I would have to go back into the closet.

    I don’t have a problem returning back to the magical world of Narnia. All I had to do was say “Bro” all the time and know the names of female porn stars.

    “Bro, check out Maria Ozawa’s tits in her new video, she gets jizz all over it.” or something like that.

    My platoon mates are nice guys (mostly). But like most straight guys, their anuses tighten up whenever another vaguely gay comes up in conversation.

    “I don’t have a problem with gay guys, as long as they don’t be gay around me.”
    “Gays are fucking disgusting.”
    “Eww, faggots.”
    “Don’t be a faggot.”
    “Did you see the way that faggot was staring at us?”

    And all that jazz, all of which I have grown used to hearing. I would love to bitch them out one day about their homophobic remarks, but there’s just too much at stake. I risk outing myself, which would make me an outcast to be picked on. I risk losing any “friendships” that I had forged. We are brothers in arms, comrades for life, unless you liked cock.

    The Singapore Armed Forces obviously isn’t the best place for homosexuals. We’re not allowed to serve openly and homosexuality is still listed as a mental disorder on health declaration forms. Any lack of masculinity made you a target for others to mock and jeer at.

    I tell myself that I am proud to serve my country even though it treats me like a second class citizen for being gay, I tell myself that the words of others don’t matter, I tell myself that these “brothers” of mine will accept me for who I am. But are they just lies I feed myself to give me the strength to push through? The next twenty months will tell.

     

    Image courtesy of Shutterstock
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