For Display Purposes Only

This has been an ongoing debate between me and my significant other over the last couple of days.

It has recently come to my attention that a friend of mine has something of a crush on me. This was hypothesized quite a while go, but the evidence has become much clearer. Several says ago, BF says to me, as if it was shocking, "I think you enjoy the fact that he likes you."

Fuckin' duh.

Whether I'm available or not, I'm gonna feel flattered that someone wants to jump my bones. I'm human, right?

Then, last night, BF informs me that a boy on the subway was eyeing him for a healthy portion of the ride, and later asks for his number. He declined, of course, and told him he was involved. But it's still a compliment, which I apparently appreciated more than him.

He claims to be impartial, and that he needs no one else's approval to feel good about himself. I've never been quite so good at that. Over the last 5 years or so, I've gotten better at not letting other people's opinions get to me. Of course, I still get pissy when someone dislikes me. I'm all about getting your security from within, but I'm still gonna feel good when someone enjoys or desires me. I think that's a perfectly natural emotional reaction. Yes, I would like to get to the point where I don't give a fuck if I don't spark someone's interest, but I never want it to go so far that I can't enjoy a compliment when it comes my way. I'm a Leo, and my ego needs all the stroking it can get.

As Margaret Cho says, "I just want everyone to want me. I'm not 'bi'... I'm 'I'."

Damn right!

Your result for The Ethical Slut Test...

True Ethical Slut

Whoa! You scored 41 Sluttiness Points and 19 Ethics Points! Interesting...

Doesn’t sex just kick ass? You love it and your friends love it and your playmates love it. Sex is that overflowing bowl of ice cream you just have to share with the world. Because maybe, just maybe, if we can get more happy good sex out into the world, we can make it a happier place for everyone in it. You know how to communicate about what you want and how to listen to your partner’s desires. You even use your turn signals. You’re just an all around good person. You are one of the beautiful people.

Take The Ethical Slut Test at OkCupid

In Case You Missed It...

After five months, I finally got my shit together and got the footage of my one-man show "VGL 5'4" Top" from my friend Justin (www.justinplusone.com) and put together a little trailer of sorts. Check it out. Rate it. Comment. Etc.

Trading Spaces

This morning I got a text from a close friend of mine, whom for anonymity's sake, I will call 'Wayne':
"I can honestly say I've never been picked up at school...Until now."

Naturally, I was happy for my friend, and proceeded with the expected response: "Who is he? Is he yummy?" Etc.

Wayne fills me in on the details: The guy works in the Dean's office, he's a redhead, blah blah blah. He also expresses his concerns, such as "I fear he's a Chelsea gay, though. And he's young."

While I may be in a committed relationship, I still think like a slut (an Ethical one, of course) and I say "Dude, you don't need to marry him. Just tap it."

Wait...when did I start talking like an episode of Queer As Folk?

Wayne chuckled at the way I think like a slut (an Ethical one) and he sees nothing but white picket fences. I don't want to say the grass is always greener, because my boyfriend's grass is pretty damn green, but our views on love and sex definitely counter each other. I still miss many elements of my single life, and am often envious of his cruisy tales. Meanwhile, he's over the cruisy tales, and wants a boyfriend badly, and of course, that's what I've got.

Why does it always work this way? Why do the guys who don't really care to date always find someone special, and those who do want someone special are always shit outta luck? I wanted a boyfriend horribly for my first three years in New York, and as soon as I was happy in my singularity, TA-DAH! Boyfriend! I know better than anyone that desperation is incredibly unsexy, and have steered away many a man with this terrifying turn-off. But Wayne is not desperate, and deserves a lovely man to call is own. So why can't he find one? Is just seems disgustingly unfair.

Nothing to Hide

Since I started this blog, almost a year ago (WOW), I've been asked by a lot of people if I worry about such personal things such as my blog and my dirty profiles being broadcast on the internet and how they might affect my career(s) in the future.

For a while, the answer was yes. When I was working in the dorms in college, I was constantly petrified that my superiors would discover my blog. This is not to say I was ashamed of any of it's contents, but I knew that by some chance a few of my residents had come upon it, and although this is New York, I'm sure there are some administrative figures who believe that openly discussing group sex activities is not setting a good example.

But since my graduation, I worry about these things a lot less. First of all, if a prospective employer finds my Manhunt profile, that means they have their own account, and they are just as guilty as I am. As for my blog, well, it sucks if they have a problem with it, but I'm just doing what writers do and what I post on here has nothing to do with anything outside my love and sex lives.

Last week, I was doing some Google-surfing, trying to figure out when the next Scissor Sisters album comes out 'cause it's about damn time, and I came upon an interview with lead-singer Jake Shears regarding the last album, "Ta-Dah!". He shared a tid-bit that was so scandalous that I couldn't help but find it inspiring:


Well, I had a moment. I was at a sex party in Mannheim, I was on the dancefloor. It was six o'clock in the morning. I was wearing a little rubber wrestling singlet. I was having a great time. There was a cloud in the room, this cloud of man sweat, cigarettes, spilled booze, shit because people were getting fisted, and poppers. And piss! It was disgusting... The most vile place I've ever been. And I was dancing, and the DJs put on 'Walk The Night' by the Skatt Brothers. It's one of my favourites. It was one of those revelatory moments for me when I realised what I wanted the album to sound like and how I wanted it to make me feel.

If I somehow booked a kick-ass acting job that hurled me into the spotlight, naturally, some things would change. The profiles would all disappear. The blog? Not so much. Assuming I do achieve a successful acting career, there will be gossip. And I would rather tell the world my dirt myself than have it blasted all over the BroadwayWorld message boards. I want my admirers to see me for the sexual being that I am, and not the innocent teenager that I resemble. I don't want anyone to be able to control me with my secrets. If you don't hide anything, no one will give a shit.