A gay Chinese guy who came out to his family

A few weeks ago, I received an email from a Chinese guy who had seen my post last March about a gay Chinese student with a homophobic family. He wanted to share his story with me, because he thought that his experiences would be relevant to that gay Chinese student. After I'd read the email, I thought that a lot of gay Asian guys might be interested in his story, so I asked him whether I could post his email here on my blog. After some thought he agreed, so here is his story:

I'm ethnically Chinese, though I've lived in England for most of my life. On the whole, my parents are 'progressive' - at least by Singaporean-Chinese standards (shock horror - they're letting me study a literature degree at university and, rather surprisingly, are fully on board!) - but they nevertheless espouse socially conservative values; my dad more so than my mum.

For instance, my dad was rather taken aback by the fact that my sister dated and then later married an Englishman. He had always hoped, if not expected, that we would all find Chinese spouses; at the very least, spouses of Oriental heritage. So, for the first year or so that my sister was dating her future husband, my dad did his best to avoid talking to him, and, for the most part, acted like he wasn't there...even at intimate family dinners. My dad never gave voice to his disapproval; he let his actions do all the talking. His way of venting his displeasure, as you can gather, is very passive aggressive.

Late last year (/early this year), I was forced to come out, when my dad, quite of the blue, said: “You have lots of friends who are girls, but no girlfriend; have you just not found the right girl, or are you gay?'. This caught me off guard, and, at first, I was speechless. One of my brothers had texted earlier that day to say that my dad had asked him the same question about me, but I had never anticipated that he’d confront me about my sexuality face-to-face. As I said, his style of confrontation is passive aggressive and indirect; he’s never usually so blunt.

At this point, I decided that there was no use lying: I’d known I was gay from a relatively young age, but, at the time, I had done everything I could to suppress any gay thoughts; late in secondary school, I finally came to accept my sexuality and I went through the tough process of coming out to my close friends, siblings, and even one or two close relatives; and, most importantly, from the first day of uni, I'd been out to everyone – even people I didn't like and people I barely knew.

Rather coincidentally, I had planned to tell my parents at some point during the Christmas holidays, but I had never quite found the right moment. I guess, in a rather twisted way, my dad saved me the trouble. I had played out my ‘coming out’ sequence many times in my head, and I had imagined that my parents’ reaction would be far from supportive. On that account I was right: during our brief conversation, my dad never met my gaze, but instead continued to look at his phone; for the first few seconds, he didn't speak, but when he did he simply told me that being gay was a choice I had made – in the past, homosexuality was less prevalent, and in China, it was a rare phenomenon. He suggested, rather tactlessly, that I could always choose to marry a woman instead. His worry, he claimed, was that I would grow old without children to look after me – explicitly ignoring the fact that gay couples can adopt children, or even have biological children of their own. It was patently clear that he was predominantly occupied with his own concerns, not mine.

What I hadn't anticipated was how brief the conversation was and how disinterested my dad appeared to be in what I had to say: there was no shouting, no threats of disownment. In some ways, his actual response was more disconcerting. I had always imagined that my coming out would spark some almighty debate about the religious (my mother’s Christian), ethical and social implications that a gay lifestyle would entail, and I felt I was adequately prepared to meet his objections head on: if my dad said it was unnatural, I could point to data that suggested the contrary; what’s more, I could point to the logical flaws and inconsistencies in any argument he would employ. Yet, my dad’s reticence and unwillingness to engage in what I had to say left me dumbfounded; at least if he ranted at me, I could rant back. I felt there was nothing I could do.

Over the course of the next day or so, the subject was never revived. We didn't see much of each other because family obligations kept him out of the house. In the meantime, he told my mum; she never confronted me about the subject, perhaps because she had to catch a flight the next day, and didn't want to leave things on a sour note. But, I nevertheless raised the subject with her. The circumstances were far from ideal – we were hurrying to catch a taxi to a restaurant, after several pre-prandial cocktails – and, though it was short, what she said meant a lot to me: she said that she was disappointed, but that it was her that had to change her values, not me; most importantly, she said that she loved, gay or not. The next day she left for Singapore, and so we never thrashed things out properly.

After my mum left, my dad sat me down again, and told me that I had 'really upset' my mum. I was already upset from our last conversation – I had cried and vented to a couple of friends on the phone – and his attempt to turn things on me added insult to injury. I said that if anyone seemed to be hurting, it was him. He then decided to lay into me, saying that being gay was just a phase; if anything, he suggested I might be saying that I was gay as a means of spiting him and mum.

Like our last conversation, this one was short and to-the-point; but rather than being upset, I was just angry. Before he had been tactless, now he was just being spiteful. I avoided him for the next day, till he caught his flight home to Singapore. No goodbyes, not a word.

Now, all this might paint an intensely depressing picture – and I won’t deny that I was a bit of a wreck for the following week – but I decided to take matters into my own hands; if my dad wouldn't listen to what I had to say, I would try and force him to. Instead of calling, I sent a letter. I felt this would allow both him and my mother to digest what I had to say in their own time; the next time I would see them was in Easter, during my university holidays.

The letter was long, like this post, but in it I laid out all that I had to say: I tried to answer all the objections my dad raised in our two conversations; I tried to describe the obstacles I've had to face – self-acceptance, and my fears about the future as a gay man (finding a partner, starting a family etc); and I tried to point out why my dad’s response was unfair and insensitive, unlike my mother’s.

After re-reading that letter, I think I’ve isolated four important points I made:

• First, acceptance is a process. It doesn’t happen overnight or even in a couple of weeks; it takes time and, though it’s difficult, you should be prepared to wait for that process to happen organically. What is more, it’s a two-way process: they have to reach out to you – it’s their duty as parents – but equally you must do your best to reach out to them.
• Second, to a certain extent, people are products of their own backgrounds and cultures. My parents grew up in Singapore (my mum) and Malaysia (my dad), societies which still cling on to quite reactionary values. I will never condone my dad’s reaction to my coming out – I think he behaved immaturely and was very hurtful – but, the least I could do was try to understand why he holds (or held – he has changed!) those values. Many people in Asia are fed propaganda that tells them that homosexuality is wrong; some may even have been told that it’s very much a ‘thing of the West’ (that’s what’s being disseminated in Uganda!). To us that may seem like complete rubbish, but, if you’ve been raised on those sorts of values, you can see why Asian parents might hold those values.
• Third, and I’m sure this point is made in every coming out story, being gay shouldn't change how a parent perceives his/her child. It’s no use denying that being gay makes a difference on someone’s life (in practical terms, like the partner you have, how you start a family etc.), but what it shouldn't affect is the parent-child relationship. Unconditional love is certainly a difficult ideal to achieve, but it’s something we should all aim for. For my dad, family is the most important thing; he says family is integral to Chinese social values. He always says that no matter what happens, family is still family. So, in this letter, I discussed unconditional love, and said that, because I’m gay, he should re-examine his values and attitudes towards homosexuality in this light.
• Lastly, empathy is really important. If you can get your parents to empathise with you, that’s half the battle done. Rational arguments can only go so far. With my parents, I tried to draw parallels between their situation and mine. My mum was from a wealthy Singaporean family; my dad from a relatively poor Malaysian family, headed by a single mother. If my maternal grandfather had had his way, my mum would be a society woman, married to some rich and well-connected heir. But, my grandfather allowed them to get married; he realised that his expectations were not as important as his daughter’s happiness. So, I asked my dad how he would have felt if my grandfather had forbidden their marriage, or at the least not approved. He never chose to be born in the family he was born in; I never chose to be gay.

Now, the day after I sent this letter, I received a lovely reply from my mum, saying that she’d read the letter, stayed up all night and cried; she loved me no matter what. I later heard from my auntie (who I’m really close to, who knows I’m gay, and who I also sent the letter to) that she cried because she realised what I had to go through on my own, without being able to talk to either her or my dad.

My dad never replied to my email directly, and since I've seen him he hasn't mentioned the subject again, but I know for a fact that he’s a lot more accepting. Sure, it took him a few months, but when I next saw him over the Easter, it was like everything was back to normal. Now, several more months down the line, things are great, if not even better. My mum said that my dad would never be the one to admit that he was wrong – he’s too proud, and it’s not in his nature to have deep conversations about feelings – but, to use a cliché, his actions speak louder than words: for instance, he ensured that I had a great 21st, allowing me to host an extravagant party. It may sound materialistic or superficial, but it’s much more than that because I know he must have changed on some level to be some accommodating, especially when I can be quite demanding!

To tackle the other reader's situation more directly, I’m not suggesting that he come out to his parents soon; only he can be the judge of when and how. If his parents are as stubborn and set-in-their-ways as he suggests, perhaps he should wait till after he finishes university; it would be a disaster to have to forfeit university because your parents pulled the funding.

Whilst his parents are wrong for holding the views they do, and whilst they are being unfair in the way they try to deal with the topic of homosexuality, they should not be held up to impossible standards. His parents are products of their own cultures and upbringings, and, whilst they can change, it takes time. What’s more, acceptance is a two-way process. Get to know your parents, whether that’s simply by helping out round the house, or just trying to talk about something they’re interested in. Once you make an effort to get to know them in a more personal way, they will more willing to get to know you; and hopefully, as and when you come out, they’ll try harder to be accepting.

It’s difficult when you know your parents don’t accept a part of who you are (even if you haven’t come out!). For much of my teenage years, I resented my parents because I knew their attitudes towards homosexuality; but as I matured I realised that, for all their flaws, my parents do love me and do so much for me, whether it’s simple chores like ironing, or being there to help me when I’m in trouble. When you appreciate that, it may make you more willing to give your parents time to change. Also, trying not to resent them will lift a burden off your shoulders. Resenting someone is such a draining process!

Also, if possible, try and sit your sister down: be blunt – ask her if being gay is a problem. If she says yes, ask her why. Try to reason with her, but also make an emotional appeal. Say that you’re still the same person, that you still love her, and you hope that she still loves you. Tell her that you are trying to be more understanding with your parents, but that it’s hard. If you can get her on board, and you become closer to her, it’ll make coming out to your parents when you’re ready a lot easier. The way your sister has behaved towards you is wrong, but try and be the more mature one, and reach out to her.

The hurtful cycle: emails from a guy guy in Turkey

A couple of months ago, a reader who lives in Turkey sent me the following email:

I'm a 33 year old single guy living in a small city in Turkey. It's been roughly 10 years since I accepted myself as gay, and stopped completely hating myself. Since then, I've fooled around with more guys than I care to admit, but the fact that I never had any kind of serious relationship is sadder and more discomforting to me. I can explain this away by having worked in small and conservative cities, still having to stay with my family. Most of the gay guys my age are closeted and married etc, but it still doesn't feel right. Frankly, my work and family life is not all fun and games and there's little I can do to improve them, so I really crave that special intimacy that I somehow still believe I can find on the net.

So the thing I do is, I spend my whole time away from my job on IRC chat rooms (it is still the most popular platform here due to anonymity and being instantaneous) trying to communicate with all kinds of unpleasant people ranging from time killers/wasters to liars to paedophiles who all challenge my patience and sanity most of the time. Just like life itself, the net isn't always full of good, caring people and we all know that, but I don't seem to come across the good ones. The best-case scenario is that I exchange phone numbers or hang out briefly with someone from whom I never hear from again. I strongly feel that some dull, casual sex doesn't make up for the time and energy I invest in chat rooms, but I also can't stay away from logging in either, because I have no other way to socialize that I'm aware of.

And so, this weird, addiction-driven cycle goes on and on, making me even more depressed, desperate and frustrated by the day. I began to suspect that I might not be as mentally sound as I'd like myself to be anymore, and I would really like to see myself spending my time doing things that would make me happier without thinking about the imaginary guys I might have been missing on the net. I can't seem to figure out how to break this excruciating, mentally draining cycle and would love to hear some different perspective.

P.S. Consider this email a thank you for your amazing blog. I'm pretty sure that it helps people in certain situations who need different perspectives.

I often forget how hard it can be to be gay outside the increasingly homo-friendly Western countries. Although the reader was asking for different perspectives, since I live in the UK I had no idea what kind of advice I could offer to someone living in Turkey. So I decided that the best thing to do would be to publish the email in this "Reader's stories" category, and then perhaps other readers would be able to offer some alternative perspectives.

When the email first arrived I had been on holiday, so it was a couple of weeks before I sent the reader a reply telling him that I wanted to publish his email. In my reply, I apologised that it had taken me a long time to get back to him, and eventually after about another week he sent me the following:

Dear GB,

I can't say my reply was instant either, because I've just returned from a brief holiday. There, I hung out with a guy that I see literally once a year, but apparently and interestingly it's enough for both of us, and it was nice. Your reply has been both surprising and welcome to me, because it has been some time since I had sent my mail and I had re-read what I had written a couple of times and thought "What a loser". Indeed, even though heartfelt, what I wrote just sounded like dull words from a spineless, whining guy. Maybe true, maybe not, but I seldom like what I write anyway. So thank you, I really appreciate you caring for other people's problems and actually replying them.

Big cities like Istanbul are actually so much better, but being gay in a smaller city and dealing with closeted people is very difficult indeed. They generally shy away from any kind of relationship and intimacy because of the obvious reasons. Did you know that we use the word "active" for tops and "passive" for bottoms? To me, this in itself implies that bottoms are inferior. Most of the time "active" people tend to be married, closeted homophobes who just happen to love anal sex, or at least this is what they tell themselves. This is because being a fag and "taking it in the ass" is the most dreaded position a man can lower himself to. When you chat, they even have the nerve to call you a fag or a cocksucker if they get upset, even when they are on the giving end. A very recent chat of mine (actually yesterday):

...
X: Are you married?
Me: Yes. (I lied deliberately just to see where the conversation will lead me to)
X: How old is your wife?
Me: Sorry, I haven't gone low enough to serve my wife to some guy just to get laid.
X: Did you go low enough to be a fag and take it in the ass?
...

People ask you if you're married all the time either because they actually want to fuck your supposed wife or because they think that single man are not to be trusted. By the way, being a single male in Turkey more or less means you're a second-class citizen. You can't go to a bar and have fun with your male friends. You can't socialize with married couples. You go to a beach or a park or a restaurant and you may have a separate place reserved for singles (or families). People may think you are a vagrant, a liability, a hazard for the well-being of the happily married couples. Or even worse, they think you're gay. That's why most of the male population is married, the society demands them to do so. To reiterate, even gay people demand you to be married, otherwise they don't trust you. Then I retaliate: Who will trust you when you are constantly cheating on your wife? But I bet they don't even classify it as cheating.

Well, this is what it's like living in a closeted environment, but I have good friends that I chose to come out to, which is a blessing for me. We rarely talk about it, but it's good to know I that I have nothing to hide from the people I love.

Best Wishes

I found his suggestion that "… even gay people demand you to be married …" particularly disturbing.

I'll let the reader have the final word here, so I've posted the last email that I received from him below. If any other readers have any thoughts on his situation, then I'm sure the he'd be interested.

Let me add a thing or two. Not that I had a "chance" to jeopardize a potential love affair because of my polygamous behaviour, but I too like being with different guys every now and then. But when I do and really like the guy, I often feel a need to be closer to him which proves impossible most of the time. Really liking someone and saying goodbye right after having sex still breaks my heart, but time after time I guess I kind of got used to it. I wish I could be a 100% slutty guy, then I would have sex freely with whomever I please and would never look back. Maybe that would alleviate most of my problems concerning relationships. Now that I think of it, I realize that oftentimes I feel bad rather than good after having sex. If I acted on my impulses and I did it with a person who was in fact not really for me, I feel guilty and dirty afterwards. If it was a person who was just my type, then my heart gets heavy knowing that we'll probably never meet again. Sex is supposed to be fun and liberating, right? If you're not actually free, I guess not.

Emails from a married guy with some gay characteristics.

About three month ago, I got a fascinating email from a new reader. The reader is successfully married with children, but he has some gay characteristics. He sent me the email because he was interested to ask for my opinion on his sexual orientation. However, apart from saying that human sexuality is a very complicated and fascinating subject, I wasn't sure what else to say! So I agreed with him that I'd post the entire email conversation, so that everyone can read it and give their own views :-). The first email that I got from him was as follows:

Hi GB,

Just discovered your blog by coincidence, started reading some of the posts and I found it interesting reading. I'm not writing you to seek advice but to know your opinion on some aspects of the 'sexual orientation' issue:

First, some information about me: I'm 45, married with children, partner in a law firm. I look straight, I act straight, I feel straight, I am straight. But I have a side order: Sometimes I feel sexually attracted to men. I have gay j/o fantasies, I have gay fetishes (suits, lycra, sports gear etc.), I get aroused when I see a bodybuilding competition or if I happen to shower next to a built man after swimming. Technically you'd probably call me bi, although I don't feel 'bi'. I feel straight plus some percentage gay. (I don't like labels any way). In younger years I was worried about my sexual identity. Was I gay? I didn't want to. Why was I different from what the other guys appeared to me? etc. Much the same as that young French whose e-mail you answered on your blog lately. I was not so much concerned about the others could/would think about me than about my inner balance. Then, at about 24, I met a handsome, intelligent guy, he turned out to be gay and I thought that was my opportunity to find out about me. I went for him and we were together for some 6 months. But I found out that, actually, I wasn't gay at all. And that after I had told my family I had a male lover - what a bloody fiasco! As much as I liked the sex (and still do) I realised I could never think or feel about that guy or any other man more as of a friend. So I terminated the experiment - trying to hurt as little as possible - and returned to make the female world happy again. I got married and fathered children. And luckily my family forgot about my coming out ... The most obvious effects of that experience were, however, that I gained that sexual confidence I was lacking before and that I lost my previously homophobic attitude. My side-order remained unchanged, but I accepted it as given and didn't question it any more. And I care a damn if I fit in a category or not.

To the point: Over the years I realised that there are many straight men with similar 'extras' as me, and that the pattern repeats itself on the other end: There are many gay men with 'extras' to the straight side. Despite that reality of the male nature - I suspect it's a majority of all men - the shades between the poles, the greys between black and white, are largely ignored till openly rejected - on both ends. E.g. I've experienced so called 'open minded' gay men telling me after hearing my story I should seek psychiatric advice. Why is it, do you think, everyone is so desperate to stick labels to everyone else's sexual orientation: Gay, straight, bi, curious (of which the latter two are considered inferior because understood as 'gay but too coward to come out')? This also striked me on your blog. Why is it, the participants in the 'social game' themselves care so much to divide the world in a straight, i.e. we're the normal, side and a gay, i.e. we're even more normal than the straights, side. Why does sexual orientation matter so much anyway? Aren't many of the apparent problems of sexual orientation something completely different? E.g. isn't it much more likely that young French Londoner didn't feel his drinking mates were dull because they were straight but because they were less intelligent or less creative or less ambitious as him? Why on earth should dullness be a question of sexual orientation?

It's Friday afternoon and I'm tired of working and let my thoughts flow. Would be interesting to know your opinion some time, given you seem an intelligent guy and an expert in these matters.

Best

When I first read the email, I wasn't sure what he meant by "… I found out that, actually, I wasn't gay at all". I wondered what happened to make him "find out", and whether it was just that he wasn't prepared to live his life as an openly gay man. So I replied with the following email:

That's a fascinating story :-) . I agree with you that labels like gay or straight can be pretty useless in some situations. Even though you're "straight", the fact that you have an interest in sex between men is obviously a "gay" characteristic. And in fact my boyfriend had 'extras' on the "straight" side, because he sometimes gets turned on by big breasts!

I also agree with you that if one is prepared to label oneself gay, like I do, then it's about much more than the sex. I'd love to know what made you decide that you're straight, after you'd had a male lover for 6 months, and even though you like sex between men? I could tell you what all the extra things beyond the sex are that make me think I'm gay, but I don't want to prejudice your answer.

Hope to hear from you soon, GB xxx

Within a couple of days, he sent me the following reply

Btw: I'm not a native speaker, so my English is sometimes faulty.

As said, I liked the gay sex physically. But emotionally I couldn't really cope with it. The longer the less. I felt more and more like my inside would get turned outside. And started to feel really depressed.

I truly liked and appreciated the guy - still do - but it became very clear to me I would never be capable to feel more for him than friendship, to regard him as my partner. On the contrary, the prospective that I would have to lead a gay life for the rest of my days scared the hell out of me.

Sexually, the episode had been very rewarding. However, on other levels my personality was kind of violated, it was not me. I also realised it was impossible for me to live both sides, the straight as well as the gay, it would have torn me apart. So I felt very much relieved as soon as I had come to terms and decided to stick 'to the old ways'.

I must be boring you by now, so I stop here. Curious to know why you chose to label yourself gay. Wasn't it always clear for you which way you'd have to take?

Best

And then, before I could reply, he'd sent me another email:

Hi GB

Just reread my two previous replies and would like to add the following:

It is true that I have grown up traditionally, i.e. with conservative family values etc. and being gay would not necessarily have been part of the concept. However, it would not have been a disaster either. As I told you, I had come out to my family, back then I felt I had to, and the reaction was sort of "Ok, so be it, if you say it needs to be". Later on in life I stopped telling my parents about my sexual adventures, but as the time went by they forgot about my coming out. At some point I mentioned it again but they didn't remember. Also, while I was together with this guy I didn't mind going out with him publicly or meeting friends or so, though I didn't "officially" come out at work or to a wider circle of friends. That's probably because as a character I don't so much mind what others say and think as long as I am comfortable with what I feel and do.

I tell this because it was not convention that made me choose the label "straight". Although, of course, in many ways it was the easier choice. But had the label "gay" fitted better, I don't think I would have hesitated to walk down that road.

So, it turns out that apparently I have all the same been born straight and despite that 'misweave' I couldn't choose differently. Remains the question - which I have not yet fully answered to this day (and which maybe needs not to be answered), what exactly is that 'misweave'? I don't know, maybe you can tell me?

Best

To answer the reader's question about why I'm happy to label myself gay, it's not only because I enjoy gay sex. While I was growing up, before I even knew what sex was, I always wanted closer friendships with my male friends. And then when I was older and started to understand what being gay meant, although I didn't want to be gay the reality was that I was always craving emotional intimacy (as well as sexual intimacy) with other guys. So perhaps the differences between me and this (mostly) straight reader are that (1) he didn't have the need for emotional intimacy with another man, and (2) he enjoys straight sex as well as gay sex?

Anyway, do any other readers have any thoughts on this reader's story?

Tokyo travel blog from Mystery Blog Boy X

A couple of weeks ago, a young Asian reader called X who lives in Melbourne started sending me almost daily emails to let me know what he was getting up to while on holiday in gay Tokyo. I found some of his emails quite amusing, and informative too for any gay reader who's thinking of visiting Tokyo themselves. So I've joined them all together into the single posting below.

Update 13-Mar-2011: this reader's visit to Tokyo occurred prior to the recent devastating Earthquake and Tsunami that's hit Japan. Doing a posting of this sort now would no longer be appropriate. However, a blog is a collection thoughts at specific points in time, so given that this posting was appropriate at the time it was originally published I intend to leave it here.

First day - Kaikan sauna

Just spent my first night in Tokyo. Initially I'm staying at this nice apartment hotel in Aoyama coz it's got the cute little alley ways like Covent Garden in London.

Went around the block, did the usual touristy things such as walking into 10,000 Japanese people all wearing black. Walking around lost and in awe. Trying to speak the language and giving up way too easily. You know, the usual.

So last night I decided to have some fun. Going by your post on the Shinjiku 2-chome area, it sounded simply too good for a gay tourist to pass up!

My first stop was at the famous 24 hr Kaikan sauna. The one with 7 storeys, although I didn't realise some were just private rooms. I'm an avid fan of Saunas and I've been to Chariots in Vauxhall, and the tiny one under the bridge in London which I've forgotten the name of. I always like to compare against the ones in Melbourne.

I have this silly grudge about Japanese boys and I think they are always stealing my men (heaps of white guys love Japanese boys), so I decided to see if I could pick up in a mostly Japanese boy environment. As I got to the counter, a Japanese boy who was leaving hit on me so it was a good sign. But inside, there were a lot of guys but no one was having sex. It kinda made sense, because the Japanese are so shy and reserved. But it's a sauna, so if they can't slut here then there is nowhere left LOL!

Out of nowhere walks this super hot European guy. Muscular, tall, handsome and our eyes met. I decided to keep walking. Turns out he was the only doable person there by a long shot (I'm into white guys). Long story short, he cruised me till we started making heaps of noise in a room and making all the Japanese boys jealous.

I left the sauna happy, knowing the hottest muscle stud expat chose me out of all the Japanese guys there. This gave me confidence that I too am hot, and need not feel threatened by Jap boys anymore!

Second day - HX Shinjuki

So today I went to HX Shinjuku. For those who don't know, HX is a cruise club for gay guys. They have this notorious entry code and heaps are rejected because the crowd is strictly hot boys and gmen, a type of muscle bear Jap guy. I went coz I was curious as to see if I could get in, and in I got with ease. What a great confidence boost!

Now I have never been here before, and boy was I surprised when it was naked only, no towels. I thank god though, I have a rockin body coz otherwise I'd be so uncomfortable. The crowd was indeed good looking. The hottest Jap guys go here, but I wasn't really interested coz I'm a potato queen. And the way they had sex was freaky. It was very quiet, no noise. And this is based on observations at both 24 hr Kaikan from last night and here. I'm still wondering why anyone is attracted to Jap boys?

Anyways, the only reason I was at HX is coz I was waiting for GB to get busy. It's now 9.40pm and there are like 4 white guys here. Clearly it could be better, so I'm spending some alone time doing this travel blog! What an antisocial way to pass the time LOL.

Japan makes me feel poor

When you come from a small town called Melbourne, life is simple and you get by on little. But here in Japan, there are so many nice things to tempt you. There are so many women with branded bags, and the department stores here are doing roaring sales. Way busier than back home. And I'm wondering why Japan is in an economic slump. Clearly someone is raking it in!

Went to Abercrombie and Fitch in Ginza. It's much less noisy than in 5th Avenue or Savile Row. But I still think the guys in NYC are hotter. The boys at Savile Row looked like they were plucked out of gyms. Whereas the ones in NYC where actual models. The ones in Ginza, well I reckon I can pull more boys than they could in a pulling match, you know what I mean Haha.

Didn't really buy anything because I spent half my money on my first day at Helmut Lang Aoyama and UGG Australia. If I don't buy anything for the next 5 days, I reckon I could survive this expensive town. Otherwise I might have to turn trix at a host bar with a cheesy working name like Ryo or Sakura. Whatever my pimp mistress names me!

OK, I better work the room here at GB or I might go back to my hotel empty handed with a Hentai comic in hand!

I tried it with an Asian!

Being the self confessed potato queen, I thought in the land of the rising sun, why don't I at least try the foreign delicacies. I mean, I have never been attracted to Asians, but what if I like?

So off I went, back to 24hr Kaikan in Shinjuku, to test drive a Japanese man. I have noticed that middle aged Japanese muscle daddies are all the rage in the porn titles sold here in the sex shops. And I was curious to see if they really lived up to their reputation in bed.

Being the hot boy toy everyone loves, it was easy for me to attract the typical Japanese muscular salary man. Short stocky, but only later I realized, hung like a grape. We kissed, we hugged. The foreplay went on for ages. I guess that the Japanese like to tease, but his cock never made its way to where it should go, and in between the kissing and the nipple licking I was wondering if this is what he reckons sex is.

Hesitant to give up, I decided to be the power bottom and call the shots. He came back with a condom and tried to stick it in me. I waited and I waited, but his cock was extra small so it never made its way in. At all.

I thought to myself, you silly boy. You tried to do the right thing so you could be fair to all races, but you end up frustrated and sexless. Anyway, the moral of the story is, I was born gay and I was born loving white guys. I can't change who I'm attracted to! The End. I tried. In the land of the rising sun, I tried!

Drunk in shibuya

For the past few days I have been exploring the not so secret underground of gay Tokyo. I've roamed Shijuku 2-chome through and through, leaving no gay bar unturned and no gay sauna uncruised. After all, I did not come all this way to see the Meiji shrine or Tokyo Disneyland!

I'm my opinion, the Japanese men could be hotter, the sex could be louder, the bars could be larger and the drinks could be cheaper. The steps you said were once occupied by gaisens who cruised you are no longer. I guess everything changes. That is the beauty of time.

So how did I get drunk off my face doing a massive ramble in Shibuya you ask? Well when I was home, doing research on this trip, I came across a clip on youtube about these sushi joints where the chef prepares your sushi right in front of you and you choose whatever you want from the fresh fish box. Well, 15650 Yen later and 1 bottle of cold sake, I am typing in bed like a wacked out disco queen.

Never have I got so drunk and off my face. I have however spent more in one sitting, at Vue de Monde, the Melbourne top restaurant du jour. Anyway, this tiny sushi joint in Shibuya was much like Gordon Ramsay's restaurant but without the swearing, and definitely more high brow than Jamie Oliver's Fifteen.

The food was memorable to say the least, as I had baked prawns head (complete with brains and eye balls ), sea urchin roe (tasted just like mayo), and large salmon roe (which u should just swallow don't chew). I even attempted cod roe, which looked a cross between fish intestines, white tapeworm and fly larvae. It tasted like crab roe, but the appearance defeated me so I gave up on that course.

The best thing about Japan so far, and the money most well spent, are my Helmut Lang jeans and my Helmut Lang hoodie, my yoai comics, and my 2nd hotel room which is here at the Granbell Shibuya.

Note to all readers. The Granbell Shibuya provides all comforts and is close to everything you need at around 100 USD a night. Do not spend 300 400 USD on a 5 star hotel because in Japan, whether you pay 1 dollar for a hot dog, or 10 million on a ring, the service for both will be flawless.

Now, as I'm eating my late night Meiji chocolate bar, which is like diet Hersheys, I ponder. Where will life take me tomorrow? And when will the crazy bitches down stairs shut the fuck up!

Homeward bound

Flying to Singapore for a day now. I read somewhere that it's illegal to be gay in
Singapore so I have stashed all my gay Hentai comics underneath the bed at my hotel in Tokyo. So if anyone is interested in some Japanese delicacies, please contact me to find out where they are! LOL.

Anyways, I have thoroughly enjoyed my holiday and funnily enough I am glad to be going. I was starting to be attracted to Asians, because there is definately a big Asian influence here in gay porn, or basically anything. But as per my previous entry, Asians have small doodles so no doubt I won't be satisfied in bed if I follow that root. Excuse the pun. I'm glad to be living in Australia where the men are hot and hung, and I'm a bottom! Yay!

Next year I reckon I should go to Brazil because apparently Asians are a delicacy there and the men there are super hot, according to my Singaporean friend who is over there as we speak!

See Ya Nara. I hope my pronunciation is spot on because I haven't spoken a word of Japanese in Japan. It has all been done through money. Coz money talks in all languages!

Email from a reader in Buenos Aires in his 20's

A couple of weeks ago, a Latin American reader sent me an email telling me about his life:

Hi GB,

I honestly can't think of a reason to be writing you. But I kind of had the urge to do it. I think I should start by introducing myself:

I'm not British, and English is not even my first language. I live in Buenos Aires, a city you happened to visit 4 years ago. I am a gay man, I'm 25 years old. I study film making and I work for a large American company.

My story goes pretty much like this:

I grew up knowing that I was gay. I just couldn't accept it. My parents even sent me to therapy because they felt I was a 'little' too girlish, and they were scared I might turn out to be a homosexual. Then, I don't know what happened in the middle but my sexuality wasn't a problem anymore. I suddenly found a way to suppress all of my feelings towards men and in fact towards anybody. In fact I had a pretty much uneventful adolescence.

Back in 2004, I was friends with this guy that I considered him to be the best friend a person could ask for, and all of the sudden it hit me: I had fallen for him, I had feelings! So I had to get him out of my life somehow, so I killed him (kidding ... I didn't). We had this great fight over some keys and we have barely talked to each other ever since. I know it sounds stupid, but at the time it felt like the right thing to do. My love for him was getting bigger and bigger each day, and I hated that, hence I hated him.

And at the same time as I was falling in love deeper and deeper with this guy, I started kissing girls and fooling around with them, maybe it was a way to make me believe I wasn't gay at all. Years go by and I even attempt to have sex with girls but nope, it wouldn't work out! It just didn't feel right for me. Even when my friends thought me to be the 'promiscuous' of the group. I wasn't, I was a virgin. So it's year 2007 and I find the right girl, Daniela. I'm not sure if I've ever fallen in love for her. But I really loved her and I still do. We only had sex once, after 7 months of having been seeing each other. And when I was convinced that I finally got to love someone, another man appears. A 35 year old sociologist. Anguish, anxiety, depression. All of those things and more were the kind of feelings that I had back then. I couldn't deny it anymore. I was gay. And the weirdest thing is that when I was thinking of breaking-up with Daniela, she came to me and told me that she didn't have it for me anymore. I was totally shocked by that, but at the same time was glad 'cause now I could go have a relationship with this sociologist guy.

Well after some comings & goings we ended up together. Or should I say, he ended up fucking me and leaving me ten minutes after he came. Yeah, it was very harsh. But I did learn a lot. Now, I know what I like, I had this 2-year-long relationship with a 39 years old guy who I happened to know while cruising on the internet trying to look for sex, but that is another story.

Right now all of my friends know I'm gay, they even know it at work, and we sometimes hang out at this gay party that goes on Fridays with some of my straight colleagues. I managed to make some really good gay friends who helped to get to know the Buenos Aires gay scene. And even my mom knows, and now she's become one big gay activist. I dunno if you know this, but Argentina has become the first Latin America country in legalising gay marriage. Here's a link to the BBC article with that news.

But why am I writing all of this? I don't really know. I perhaps should tell you how I came across your blog a week ago. I've recently been having doubts on how gay male relationships work, is it okay to be in an open one? Or should it be a monogamous one? Even when I don't know the answer I thought your blog was the most interesting and most intelligent I've found on the web. I even told a friend of mine to go read it. He thought it was a big load of lies and unbelievable stories. But even if they are lies and you're making all this up, you still manage to point some interesting and unique points. But I do believe you. Yes! There is a chance that you're a good writer who finds some time to write a beautiful drama as an everlasting novel.

In the last couple of days I've pretty much went through the five years you've been writing this blog and it has made me think and rethink some things I thought I had the answers for. And for this I am really grateful so...Thanks!

I don't want you to consider me as some kind of 'admirer' because it's not like that at all. I just really really appreciate the possibility of seeing and sharing the world and the view we had of it with different people. And you give a great outlook on life.

Well, I think I've written a quite large email, hope you didn't get bored or anything.

Hope everything is good with you and at least I get a reply from you.

PS: Keep on blogging, I know it'll eventually come to its end, as everything else does...but not just yet, okay? :-P

In fact, I did notice that Argentina had legalised gay marriage. I think that's a great step forward for us all :-). But I was curious to know why this reader's friend thought that my blog is lies, so I sent the reader an email to ask him. The answer turned out to be quite simple:

My friend thinks your blog isn't true because he usually doesn't believe in stories of someone he doesn't know and leads a more interesting life than he does!

As I said to the reader in my response to him, a couple of years ago I did a poll to ask everyone whether they thought my blog is true or not. The majority got the answer right. That's still the right answer today, namely that my blog is mostly true :-). The "mostly" typically means that I occasionally do things like combine two slightly interesting true stories into one more interesting story, or in conversations I'll make some minor changes to what people said, often for the sake of clarity. I reckon changes like that are just part of the art of blogging!

To shake or not to shake

A reader recently sent me the story below, and asked me to conduct a poll of my male readers. He seems quite keen to know the answer, so if you're a guy, please vote :-).

I'm an observer, but not an observer of everything. I only keep a lookout for select and interesting things. Things like the sounds that emanate from the cubicles in the gents. I know you're now wondering, "what could those sounds be"? Sounds of a guy in distress after a night of chicken tikka massala, or that hot jerk chicken he thought he could handle? That sounds like blowing raspberries, that's the best way to describe those sounds. Then there's another sound that I've been hearing for the past few weeks.

A sound that I hear after a guy has finished peeing in the toilet. There's a few moments of silence, then the zipper sound, and then he exits. I wasn't quite sure what the sound was after the guy had finished peeing. Half of my brain was having one thought and the other half was disbelieving. This needed some investigation!

In my office there's just 3 cubicles in the gents on my floor, so having worked out who the usual suspects were, I waited in the middle cubicle. As far as I was concerned I was undertaking legitimate business. Investigative business.

One of the suspects comes in. He has a pee and pauses. There's what sounds like a wiping sound and then the flush. Surely he didn't have a dump. His shoes were always in standing posture: I used to do yoga so I can bend and see things what most guys wouldn't be able to. My analysis included several weeks of careful observation. The list of suspects grew. I never realized there was such a big market for men who wipe their penises. Where have the days of a good shake gone?

I set out to further analyse. In Muslim homes, one of the first teachings for little boys is to wipe when you pee and wash your hands. I also know that in non-religious families, some mothers encourage good hygiene by wiping their son's penises after a pee. Little boys are clumsy with their aim so understandably they need to wipe not only their penises but everywhere else. I admit, there's something slightly naughty about a shake. Not because droplets could go on hands, trousers or the floor, but because it's marking the territory - just like the animals do on the discovery channel. Additionally, wiping just seems like so much more clinical, and more work.

I tend to favour a good shake. Maybe 2 or 3 average. I think anything beyond 3 shakes and you border on masturbation. If it's before bedtime and I know that some activities with my husband await, I wipe after a pee. But at the office when I stand at a urinal and have had a pee, I don't have any inclination to wipe, and nor do any of the other guys who use the urinals for that matter.

On a recent holiday to Spain I noticed that two of the gent's toilets I visited had no toilet paper. Does that mean the Spaniards prefer to shake and not wipe? On many trips to Soho in London I've not seen any of the gay boys wipe after a pee. In fact, they average 4-5 shakes while looking across at you.

I'm keen to ask a few close friends of mine if they have a preference. Just to get a better idea if this is a growing trend, to work out whether I need to jump on this bandwagon. But as part of my research, perhaps GB's male readers could vote using the buttons on the right hand side.

If you shake, I suggest you pay attention to a little rhyme I learnt ages ago. "If you sprinkle while you tinkle, be a sweetie, wipe the seatie!"

Update 8-Aug-2010 8:18am
Well, the poll has now closed and it seems that we're largely shakers, see graph below. I find it interesting that 7% of readers neither wipe or shake, which strikes me as slightly uncivilised. However, I know that some gay guys enjoy the company of men who are a bit bestial! Anyway, in spite of HBH's request to reveal my toilet habits, I'm feeling a bit shy so you'll all just have to guess :-). GB xxx

Forbidden love

A few days ago, a reader sent me a link to a horrifying story about legalised homophobia in the USA. Basically, a South Korean guy got married to an American guy in San Francisco in 2008, but was subsequently denied re-entry into the USA to be with his partner. Coincidentally, a couple of weeks ago another male reader had sent me a short story about one of his own experiences entering the USA after legally marrying his American same sex partner. Luckily, things turned out much better for this reader than they did for the South Korean:

January 2008, crossing into the USA from Canada

I am Spanish, in the visa-waiver category, and as such it can be difficult to enter the USA as LGBT tourist. But if you are in a same-sex marriage to a US national, and you are "out" about it, it seems to be even harder. This story is funny now, but back then it felt very intimidating.

My experience was when re-entering the USA with my partner, after crossing to Vancouver where we got married. On the way back to Seattle, this happened:

Immigration Check-point. Entering by car

US Officer: Hello Gents!
My partner and I: Hello sir.

US Officer: Can I have your passports?
My partner and I: Here you are.

US Officer: Where do you come from?
My partner and I: Vancouver

US Officer: How do you know each other?
My partner: I lived in Uruguay for nine months, and despite the fact he is Spanish-passport holder and now lives in Spain now, back then he lived in Uruguay too.

US Officer: Ok, and what's your relationship now?

My partner stares at me warily ...

My partner: We are married! (showing off the wedding ring)

The officer looked at me ballistically.

US Officer: Do you have your return ticket to Spain?
Me: No, I don't. But you have it on your computer. (Because I had entered the US a couple of days before from Spain, and in the airport they registered everything on the computer)

US Officer: Well, I do not. If I had it I wouldn't be asking you. But, when are you leaving?
Me: Next weekend.

US Officer: And, how can I know you're going to leave the US when you have your US partner? (By de facto for the first time ever the US federal government or agency recognized same-sex unions (that was Jan. 2008, Bush Administration)

Me: (Looking down at him and making faces of "I don't feel comfortable in this place") Leaving the US? Yes, I will! Believe me, I will!

My partner: (coming back into scene) I am moving to Spain in a month.

US Officer: OK, here are you passports, BUT make sure you bring your return ticket next time.

Ironically, as we departed, Madonna's song "Forbidden Love" suddenly started playing on our iPod. We looked at each other and laughed!

The times before I had entered the US, I had no problems or intimidation, just average questions. But this time, I believe they knew we were getting married, so they had to ask "What's your relationship now?"

Anyway, as I said, looking back it's funny now :-).

GHO: naked parties in the USA

A couple of days ago, a reader who corresponds with me regularly sent me the following email, in response to the posting that I did about naked parties in London:

Hi GB,

In response to your query about any of your readers attending "naked parties", the answer from New England is "Yes!" About five years ago I found a group called "GHO" for "Gay Hotel Orgy" (not to be confused with the golf tournament that they have in Connecticut, the Greater Hartford Open). These occurred every few months in local hotels, at either noon to 2pm, or after work between 6pm and 9pm, and attended by usually 18 to 24 men of ages ranging from late 20's to 60's. Not all of them gay, a number of married bisexuals attended as well. Their purpose was simple and straightforward: sex with as many guys as willing and able. More oral activity than anal penetrative--oh, hell--just call it fucking--and always cautioned to practice "safe sex." All activity occurred in full view of all participants--no quiet dark corners for private coupling. Condoms and lube provided; recreational drugs prohibited. I attended at least half a dozen of these, over several years. The group was run by a guy out of Chicago who travelled throughout the country, setting up "parties" in cities from coast to coast. Venues were advertised on his web site, exact location given by phone day of meeting. Sadly, this venture died, to be replaced by another group with different name but same purpose. This too collapsed, inexplicably. It was really great experience, meeting all sorts and conditions, so to speak, including once quite unexpectedly a friend who was also a sex buddy.

If you would like to read more, I have kept contemporary accounts of some of these meetings and would be happy to share.

Keep up the good work.

I was intrigued about what kind of 'contemporary accounts' he'd kept, so I got him to send me one of his accounts from about five years ago. In the email, he pointed out that it's much more pornographic than the things that I usually publish here, and he's not wrong about that! None the less, if case any of my most broad-minded readers want to read his account of a GHO meeting, press here.

Writing up this experience while it's still fresh in my mind. GHO met at a motel in Southern New England earlier today, from noon to 2:00 p.m. Our host was a late 30-ish good looking black guy. I was the fourth guy to arrive, around 12:15, and found my 30-ish white guy buddy from previous GHO encounter being mauled by a grizzly bear. He recognized me, gave a nice smile and beckoned me over to the bed. I quickly stripped and lay down next to him to join in the fun. Grizzly had short trimmed hair and beard, salt ‘n’ pepper, big belly, average cut cock. He was an avid cock sucker; his deep throat technique was marvelous. While my cub and I deep tongued each other, grizzly went deep on my cock, much deeper than most guys I have been with. The three of us continued to pleasure one another while three other guys arrived and stood around, fully clothed, seemingly unsure about joining the group. Then the cub went to the oldest guy, probably mid 60’s, opened his fly, took out the guy’s cock and started sucking it. This broke the ice, as the other two guys, looked like mid-30’s, also stripped to join the action. #3 was a real nice looking guy, especially when he was naked and with a hardon. He was first to shed clothes, medium height and build, shaved head, trimmed stache and goatee, small tattoo on his shoulder blade. Sort of reminded me of classic Greek statue—except his dick was intact! He had a very nice cut cock at least 7” and thick at the base; stood straight out, demanding attention; pubes shaved except for a little patch of blond hair over his cock. #2 was a little bit taller, slimmer and more nervous—but as soon as he was stripped he knelt in front of #3 and started sucking his cock. Then I knelt down on the floor and took #2’s cock into my mouth—not as hard as it really should have been for a young guy—and sucked him for a while. Eventually it seemed that everyone had a taste of everyone else, except the older guy, who said he had never sucked cock, didn’t want to, just wanted to be sucked. Selfish of him, I thought, but what the hell. #3 had very sweet pre-cum; would like to have had a load from him. I also gave head to the older guy for a few minutes. Our host, 40’ish black guy, was still fully clothed. I asked why he didn’t join us; replied that he never did it on Wednesdays. Within a few minutes, however, #3 guy was nuzzling up to him, deep tongue kissing, rubbing crotches. Black guy started responding, rubbing his crotch against 3’s bare ass. #3 then turned around, unzipped his shorts; I reached in and stroked his hard cock. It didn’t take long for his shorts to come off and for the two of them to lie down on the bed. In the meantime cub and #2 were making out sucking one another. I stood behind cub while 2 was mouthing cub’s cock furiously. I said to cub, if he keeps on like that, you’re gonna cum, whereupon cub started to buck and breathe hard and then shot his load on 2’s face, rubbed it over his lips and chin. Cub apparently had enough of a good time then, so he cleaned up and got dressed. I asked if he would like to meet for lunch some time next week, but he knew he would be busy with work then but would probably be able to meet following week. Hug and kiss and goodbye. Back to bed, where grizzly was entertaining #2 while keeping an eye on black guy and 3. They were lying together with black cock up 3’s white ass; both seemed to be in ecstasy. Then #2 sucked 3’s cock for a while, and grizzly took mine in his mouth for a few minutes, then turned around and presented his ass for penetration. Never one to turn down an invitation, I pushed my hard cock into his well-lubed ass. Unfortunately, the angles of the cock and the hole were not comfortably compatible—I was standing, he was on hands and knees on bed, not quite the right height, so this didn’t last long. Grizzly really wanted something hard up his ass (earlier he had pushed my hand to his ass to give him some finger wave), so he then moved over to #3, who was lying sideways with our host’s cock up his ass and his big hard cock sticking up so invitingly that grizzly just had to sit down on it, impaled himself on 3’s cock and moved up and down for a few minutes. Grizzly thoughtfully cleaned 3’s cock with a damp towel, so 2 could go back to sucking and jacking 3. 3 eventually shot his load on to 2’s face, and then I sucked 3’s cock to get remaining juice, some to taste and some to put on my hand to lube my cock for JO. 2 was right next to me and indicated that he wanted my cum on his face. I was happy to oblige, although I would have preferred to have my cock deep in his mouth while cumming, but I can be accommodating. It was a strange sensation rubbing my sensitive cock head against his slightly stubbly cheek. He then took care of grizzly the same way. We all then cleaned up, got dressed, two younger guys left, while grizzly and I chatted with the black guy for a few minutes. Then I went back to my car, back to work, having very much enjoyed lunch.

I hope you have enjoyed this report. It’s as accurate as I can remember, although there are surely details not recorded. Need I say I am eagerly looking forward to next meeting of GHO.

Email from a reader who lives in a developing country

A few days ago, a reader sent me the email which I've posted below. I also saw the film Precious: Based on the Novel Push by Sapphire recently. Both that film and this reader's email made me realise how lucky I am.

Hi GB,

First of all, a heartfelt "Thank you" for your blog. For middle-aged gay men like me residing on the other side of the world, your blog and that of many others serve as a reminder that it is indeed possible to have a real life beyond the shores. A life lived in a way that I can only dream of – without bigotry, constraints, duplicity, or prejudice.

I live in a Third World country. You may not have heard of my country and it does not matter; we are simply one of the many dozens of inconsequential sovereignties in the United Nations. It is unfortunate that one cannot choose where he is born. If we could, I have no doubt that everyone would have picked a First World country to be born in. I've never been out of the country myself (except once, too many years ago, as a last-minute "just because" replacement when a close friend to went to Singapore). My passport has since expired without any additional immigration stamp.

It is very hard for guys like me to travel overseas. With a low salary, I am having trouble making the most basic needs meet. In a society where "who you know" counts most, men without the "dynamic" connections are consigned to the most menial of tasks. Twiddling thumbs, pushing paper, watching grass grow, seat warming, and pencil sharpening remain in the exclusive domains of Pay Grade 3 and above. Single men and women who do not have the right connections seek those who have. It pretty much sets them for life. When your wife's second cousin's husband's uncle holds a high government position, it pays to name him as a work reference even though you have never met him. Just don't forget his birthday and Christmas gifts. A much closeted unmarried gay man in the midst of a life crisis? I thank all my patron saints and lucky stars I even have a decent job.

I have seen many of my countrymen who have been able to travel overseas. Most of them return with an attitude that I like to call as being pseudo-Western. I call them that because, in their travels, they pick up the bugs and germs responsible for the Western attitude of nonchalance, detachment, or indifference. Unwarranted generalization? So, sue me.

Call it my "colonial mentality" but I have yet to encounter a Western guy (real or pseudo) who will meet with a Third World gay man and genuinely accord him with esteem, homage, and high regard. I am aware that these traits are not to be taken so lightly, may take time, and have to be earned, like honesty and sincerity, but, when one comes into a game with the odds stacked against him, he has to work extra hard and vigilantly to even merit the attention that might be languorously granted to him.

I dislike it how most people (gay pseudo-Westerners especially) take for granted the ease and liberty by which they can readily travel. We of the common lot, however, go through all sorts of trials and tribulations in search of the potent visa. It is no wonder that there are many of us who knowingly and even actively participate in nefarious scams, schemes, and swindles in order to procure the much revered entry visa. Blessed are those with ten-year multiple entry visas.

I also dislike it how these pseudo-Westerners who, upon their return from their overseas jaunts, show off with contempt and disdain. Setting aside the manner by which they acquired their visas, they attempt to dazzle us mere locals with their glitzy blings, counterfeit Louis Vuittons, lurid photos, and flamboyant stories of their forged credit card funded sprees. Crime pays top dollars, you see; the meek and the honest happily settle for loose change.

Compounding all these internal furies is my inability to be the real me. The real me as being a gay man. I'm gay, yes. Am I happy? You have got to be kidding. Feeling proud? Are you out of your mind? Contented? Get out of here! Ever had a fulfilling relationship? Yes, with my pet turtles. Have friends? Too many. All with their own closets to carry and as clueless as me.

In a draining effort for some gratifying male company, I find myself furtively trawling Internet ads for guys, bi or gay, local or expat, white/black/brown/red/yellow, living or visiting my country and, importantly, seeking "fun". No strings, even.

I have had very little success in that regard. After all, 98.7% of these men want young men only. Who wants a man well past his "use by" date? Further tainted by the fact that we are well-known for fleecing gullible tourists, what chance did I have? I was quite lucky with the 1.3% because all the young men will have been snatched already, or live in a remote island, or the guy is simply too horny to care.

On the rare occasions that I get to be intimate with another man, I relish every moment spent with him. Once, many moons ago, when I was in the arms of a generous mature Scot, I remember wishing that time would stop and the world be still so that this extraordinary feeling of being "loved" will not end. I also remember thinking that the arms around me were to embrace and hold me, not strangle me. I did not care that he was almost old enough to be my father. (Sorry, but I just could not resist adding this: Speaking of fathers, my own dear father was not meant to be. Sperm donors will have had achieved nobler estates and carried out worthier causes.)

So far, all my male/male intimacies have been fleeting and temporary. As much as I'd like to form a stable relationship with most of my sexdates, I know it is just not possible, given the environment I'm in. I'd sell my soul to Devil in exchange for a continuing companionship with someone I'm really fond of but I think the Devil easily realizes he'll be getting a bad deal. Truth be told, I am seething with jealousy and incensed with envy when I read about successful and enduring gay partnerships, especially an East and West union. A mainly internal resentment, I agree, and, most will say, with dubious rationalization.

If being gay is a "choice", then I must have been really stupid. It is so not easy to be happy and gay and live a half-decent life in the bottom third of the Third World. However, having said this, I suppose I should consider myself very lucky I wasn't born in Mongolia.... or Zimbabwe.... or in places where they use minced cat meat in steamed Chinese buns.

Enough of this "woe is me" rant. In spite of (or maybe because of) this, I still hold some hope for my own future. No matter how faint the glimmer may be. It feels like the dying embers of a neglected bonfire... but, still, a burning fire nevertheless.

I look forward to a future where I can be where I want to be, holding hands with the man who will sail with me, through calm waters and rough seas... That dream may be so distant, unattainable, well beyond my reach but this is what is keeping me alive. Life is too high a value to give up without a fight.

"Bulls**t! Get real!" Did I hear you say? Yes, that is clichéd and passé. But what does one do in the face of adversity? I simply refuse to concede defeat. Not if I can help it.

By the way, I am 42. Does it make me a lot more pathetic? I know most will say I'm just angry. Maybe. But the only time I was irrefutably angry was when the dog chewed my Best of Playgirl. All 128 pages of it. I'm glad RSPCA has no office here.

As for readers who may have the irresistible urge to put in their two cents' worth: Please do not hold back. Sock it to me. I enjoy rejection and spite with my breakfast. With spoonfuls of second-class sugar to make the swallowing more palatable. Charity? Don't bother: the Salvation Army is three doors away from me. The Sisters of Mercy only a block away. Contempt? Water off a duck's back.

Many thanks for your patience in reading this rancorous diatribe. Life must go on for every one of us in this planet.

Take care and look after yourself. And more power to you, GB, and all your loved ones – past, present, and future.

I sincerely hope that you will keep your blog ongoing.

Cheers,

A visit to a sauna in Amsterdam

Over the last few weeks, I've been in email correspondence with a gay South East Asian guy who's in his early 20's, and who only accepted that he was gay a few months ago. He currently living in London, and he's written a short story about a recent trip that he had to Amsterdam. However, the story goes into more explicit detail that I usually post here so be warned. But for readers who don’t mind a story with some sexual content, click here.

With a mechanical feel to my movements, which was strangely instinctual at the same time, I find myself in one of the quieter alleys of Amsterdam standing in front of the sauna entrance. Rainbow flags wave freely all over the city signifying all the struggles many of us still face, the freedom many of us long for, and the rights only some of us now have. Many more will live their lives not ever knowing. Pride just ended and I deliberately missed it. I am gay and I am scared.

I look over my shoulders to see if anyone will see me walk into the place.

"19 euros", says the man behind the counter.

My urges were now on a collision course with my reasoning. Adrenaline kicks in. I am doing this.

"Do you have towels?", all I can muster pretending I'm used to all this sauna business.

I make my way to the changing rooms not knowing what to expect. In a place like this, I quickly begin to understand there is no time for that kind of reflection. At the lockers, the eyes of several men dart across the room toward me. I pretend to not notice. I change quickly and wrap a towel around my waist. I suddenly realize how small the towels are. Deliberately small.

I am now walking sex bait.

For the next 30 minutes, I explore the area. Floors of dark room mazes, a bar, a restaurant, a swimming pool, a sauna, a jacuzzi, a lounge area, a mini cinema, and a massage area amongst other things. I am perplexed by what I see and equally amazed by how the place was structured so a 'routine' can be possible. I quickly learn that you just have to walk around like you were doing grocery shopping. Only, instead of taking items of the shelves, people grab your ass or give you a piercing eye-to-eye contact. By the time I finish the dark room mazes, I look behind to see a line of at least 4 men tailing me from behind. Once again I pretend to not notice amidst all the grabbing and touching.

I decide to sit down at the lounge area which overlooks the entrance to the whole area. 'What am I doing here?' my reasoning kicks in. Men start to flock in and occupy the seats near me. They are now looking at me and I feel very uncomfortable. I run out of things to pretend to look at. I pick up a Dutch newspaper and get myself sucked into the surreal oblivion.

All of the sudden he walks in. He looks a bit mature and continental. His body was not bad at all, perhaps an ex gym rat by the distinct lines of definition only weathered by age. My guess is that he's Dutch ... if men were meat, then Dutch men look like they've been marinated for a long time ... beautiful and 'appetizing'.


He walks pass me and turns to look. I give him a smile and he returns it. I shift in my seat indicating that the space I just made was for him. He sits down next to me.

"Hi", I say shyly.

"Hello", he replies with a smile.

"I am new here and I've never been to a sauna before", I play the innocent card because in all honesty I am entitled to it.

"Oh? I come here from time to time, it is quiet now but it will get busy later."
I move closer. He does so too. I try to engage in small talk. I don't think I am supposed to.

"I'm from London, you?", I'm thinking that would be a good start. I hope I don't kill the moment.

"I'm from around here, but further away from the central area", he answers maintaining that kind of eye contact.

"Oh wow! You can probably give some pointers then. It was so hot outside I decided to pop in, but like I said I know nothing about saunas!", yes that card again.

"Just stay safe ... the statistics they give us show that a high percentage of men who go to these places are HIV positive. Just practice safe sex and you'll be fine."
The notion strikes me very hard. Do I think this is all a game?. This could be one of those things I will regret for the rest of my life.

I remain quiet for the next few minutes while he caresses my whole body with his eyes. He begins to move closer ... and closer ... until I could feel his breath. I look up and we kiss. My hands playfully make their way across his chest to feel his nipples while his hands wasted no time on my chest, oh no, they were down there already. I get really hard and I wonder if he is hot as well. I place my right hand on his lap and make my way up his towel. Hard and silky wet. Somehow I make it more than it already was and we both enjoy every second of it. Bliss.

After 10 minutes of kissing and touching we stop and get out of each others' embrace.

"Hey, I'll see you later?", he says getting up.

"Yeah you will."

I am still melting from the kiss because I don't get kissed a lot. Or at all. On a time scale, I've only had my first kiss 3 months ago. Since then I hadn't kissed anybody else. I reason with the situation that he didn't want to get off yet because he had just come in, so maybe he will calm down first and get more action later. I must be right ...

About half an hour later, after I gain a bit of confidence, and after more ass grabs, I find him in the mini cinema watching a porn movie and slowly stroking himself. I smile at him as I make myself comfortable in the seat next to him. We were in the first row of seats in front of the big screen. No conversational exchanges this time, just visceral driven eye contact. By this time the line of men following me from behind grew to a smallish crowd of 8. My impromptu fan club stay and linger around pretending to watch the movie as well.

I find my hand resting on his left thigh. After teasing him for a few minutes, he gets really hard again and stands up. I remain in my seat and he leans forward to kiss me.
The kissing grows to a wilder, wetter and more sensual exchange. The kiss in the lounge area looked like a good night kiss compared to this kiss. If I could put it in words, then I would say we were gorging on each others' mouths. I quickly remind myself that we are blocking everyone's view in the mini cinema. Until it hits me that we are now the view. I stop worrying and prepare myself to give the other men a good show.

He takes his towel off and began stroking himself while kissing me. My hands rub his back up and down. I move from one erogenous zone to the next (I had googled this a long time ago! What a pay off!). Our lips maintain. He starts to stroke himself faster and harder and I move one of my hands down there to slow him down. Hard and wet like before. I get myself out of the stalemate kiss and start to kiss and lick his upper body. I keep the tempo steady and enjoy his chest area.

I manage a sideways glance to catch a glimpse of the little crowd. It's bigger! They're all staring and touching themselves!

His hands were around my face now and he moves his face closer to mine and starts to kiss me again. I caress his hard and chiseled thighs and feel his perfect torso. As he gets closer to climax I tell myself to make my next moves count. I stimulate his nipples with one hand and squeeze his balls softly with the other.

He moans.

Louder and louder.

His stroking ... faster and harder.

"Aaaah!", that's him.

"Mmm", that's me, with 'him' all over my chest.

The fear is somehow forgotten. I embrace the moment like the first few drops of rain after a drought. I am in Amsterdam. I am free. I have a right. I am gay and I am not scared anymore.

After cleaning himself up (and me), he begins to touch me. I gently take his hands off me.

"It's okay", I say to him with a smile. "You don't have to stay", I have no intention of relieving myself anytime soon.

He smiles and kisses me again before he leaves. My small crowd disperses and I have no doubt that some of them are now washing themselves up in the shower. A few remain though ... watching ... staring.

I quickly get up to use the showers and get freshened up. 'Not time to leave yet', hello there new reasoning. I start to make my way up to the lounge area again, 'He said it will get busier', mind and body now one.

After sitting around for 5 minutes, I get up and start with the dark room mazes again.

This time with an intensified sexual conviction.

Email from Virgin Driver

A couple of days ago, I got a lovely email from a reader who called himself "Virgin Driver". In the email he told me that my blog had helped transform his life, had helped him to come out as a confident gay man, and had also inspired him to blog about it too. Getting emails like that always makes me very happy, and makes me think that blogging is a highly worthwhile activity. Although at the moment his blog is invitation only, he sent me his first posting with permission to use it here in my "Reader's story" category. This is what his first post says:

Introductions

So, I'm a 24 year old virgin who can't drive, but not for much longer. The thing is I'm gay, but up until a few weeks ago I couldn't really admit that to myself. Of course I've known for years, even started to accept it internally, but three weeks ago something just clicked. I changed from "slowing coming to terms with my sexuality" to being "gay and proud of it" and ready to do something about it and tell people in the very near future.

So why am I blogging about this? Well it's cheaper than therapy for all those years of repressed sexuality, but mainly because the thing that made "something click" three weeks ago was a blog. If this can help another gay person come out and fell happy and confident about their sexuality then it will be worth every word. The last few weeks have been some of the most exciting and revelational in my life and I want to be able to look back and remember how it all felt.

Coming out to myself - properly - was the hardest part (I hope). Unlike some guys who worry that their parents will freak out or their friends will abandon them, I genuinely can't see that happening to me. I also live in one of the best cities in the world to be gay in: London, and I work in an industry where it definitely won't affect my career: Creative.

I have a really caring, open-minded and liberal bunch of friends. There are already lots of gay guys in my extended circle, so apart from an initial shock they should get used to it pretty quickly. Although if I'm honest I don't think there will that much shock, they probably put the pieces of the puzzle together themselves a long time ago.

As for my parents, they're pretty liberal, they like to think of themselves as good, modern, middle-class, open minded people. They've never put any pressure on me or my brother (who I'll get to later) to be or do anything, they just want us to be happy. Even if they initially have trouble accepting it they'll try to happy for me. There's another reason I'm optimistic about it, which I'll get to below. I don't plan to tell them for a while yet, I want to build up my own confidence and have the ability to support them if they need help when I do come out. It took me about six years to accept my sexuality so I can't expect them to be 100% fine over-night, but they'll get used to it.

As for my brother, well that's a different story, but not the one you might expect. The thing is he's gay too. Apparently it's not as unusual as you might think. I've been about 99% sure he was gay for the last few years, but didn't really think about it too much. He was also the first friend or family member I came out to, just last weekend. I wasn't planning to tell him first. But I knew he was gay and I wanted us to be able to talk about it. We're not really that close, but I think part of the reason for that is because up until last weekend there was a great big elephant in the room that is our relationship. I'm not entirely sure how he took it, I thought we would have a really good talk about a lot of things but we only talked for about 15 minutes and then didn't mention it for the rest of the weekend. Maybe he was shocked, he said it had crossed his mind, but I'm very quiet and reserved so wasn't giving any of the obvious signals. I'll have to try talk about it with him some more but we don't live in the same city. He's going to be visiting London in June when he's going to introduce me to his boyfriend of one year.

Well there is so much more I need to punch out on this keyboard, but I think I've written enough for now, coming up in future posts:

Gay support groups (or Gay.A. meetings as I call them)
My early memories and thinking for the first time that I might be gay.
Living in the closet in San Francisco.
Using gay social networking sites.
Making gay friends.
Meeting my brother's boyfriend.
Coming out to my close friends.
Telling my parents.
Going to my first gay bar.
My first date. (happening this Tuesday)
My first "experience" (Although I'm not sure how explicit I want this blog to be, so don't get your hopes up)
Being out at work. ( haven't got a clue how that is going to work yet or if it even needs to happen)
My thoughts on relationships and casual sex (constantly evolving)
Gay culture reviews and maybe some gay rights history too.
And last but not least: learning to drive.

It's all ahead of me and I'll try to share (almost) every detail here too.

Lastly a shout out to the two blogs that have helped me massively so far, London Preppy, who like me was a 24 year old virgin and whose coming out post kick started this whole process and gaybanker whose wisdom, experience and honest blogging helped me take the next steps.

A reader's first gay experience

For a couple of years now, I've been in occasional contact with an Asian reader of mine, mostly by email but including a few MSN conversations too. He's a guy who identifies as being gay, but until recently had never had a physical experience with another guy. Almost since we started communicating with each other I'd been trying to persuade him to find a nice guy for a bit of fun, so that he could find out whether he enjoys gay sex or not. Since he lives in a big American city with a large gay population, I reasoned that there must be at least one gay guy who he'd find attractive enough for a first experience!

Last week, he finally sent me an email to tell me that he'd had his first gay experience, in which he also described exactly what happened. I thought that his story might be useful to other guys who're in a similar position, such as the guy who was looking for light fun recently, so I managed to get my Asian reader's permission to post his email. It goes into more explicit detail that I usually post here so be warned. However if anyone does want to read the story of his first gay experience Click here.

Hi GB,

I had my first experience today with a guy. I found him through gay.com, as you suggested ;-). It started last week. We chatted a bit and he offered to give me a first experience. He is early 40's, very masculine, and pretty good lookin. I like older guys for sure. He gave me his phone number during the chat. I was surprised. I didn't think I would respond actually, but curiosity got the better of me. I sms-ed him a 'hi', and he asked if I just sent him an sms. LoL. I said yes. Anyway, we then decided to meet him sometime today.

I was extremely...extremely...extremely nervous! I went back and forth his unit door, still deciding if I should go ahead to knock his door. I did. He opened the door half naked! Towel wrapped around his lower body. Apparently he was halfway through taking shower. He said I can talk to him while he was showering. He didn't mention that I actually got to watch him taking shower as well. I have seen naked guys in gym shower before, LoL, but I never ever stared at one full frontal like this before. Kinda weird but nice at the same time. One thing attracted my attention, his penis is long, much longer than mine! I am Asian, and from general knowledge I think Asian guys do have smaller penis than a Caucasians. But wow it kinda blew my head away seeing a porn-size penis like that, ha ha ha but at the same time I was feeling inferior, and not sure if he would like mine. So I told him directly that his is big. Ha ha ha I didn’t know what I was thinking making comment like that, but I suppose kinda implying him that mine is actually smaller than his. He was cool with it, but then said he saw bigger! My god!

He was buck-naked out of the shower and we had a little chat. He sat me down on his bed, and asked me what I’d like for sex, and I said I don't know at this stage. He then asked me if I'd like to see him in jockstrap. I said yes. It turned out to be very sexy seeing him in it. He asked me if I'd like to touch his cock, and I did. I gave it a rub and it was becoming real hard. He then laid on his stomach on the bed and asked me to rub oil all over his back, ass, and eventually I rub his cock as well. GB, his cock is big, I really like touching it.

His hand rubbed my crotch, and I offered to take off my clothes. At this point, it looked like he like what he saw, so I feel quite comfortable with it. He rubbed me with some oil as well, and then unrepentantly he gave me a blow job. Wow, I was a bit surprised, because on the chat a few days ago, I'd just like to have a jerk off session. But it was nice seeing someone suck, ha ha ha, and strange and nervous and the same time.

He gave me rimming as well. Man, rimming is very very good I thought. I like it very much. But after that he asked me how about kissing? LoL, and I said 'you just rim my ass though'. Thinking about it, I should actually say something a bit better than that. He was a bit surprised but said fair enough. He went back to toilet to mouthwash and kissed me. I don’t know much about kissing, but I didn’t enjoy it that much. His tongue stuck out all the time, and I was just sucking on his tongue, which was kinda weird. Is that normal way of gay's kissing? And I could taste his mouthwash, which was not good at all.

He asked me if I'd like to do the same. I hesitated at first because I am wearing braces at the moment, and worried if my gum is bleeding etc. I told him that and I could see that he was a little irritated. Maybe because of my previous rejection of kissing him after rimming me as well. :-) Anyway, I like his cock a lot, and I couldn’t help myself. I sucked him, just a little, at the head then lick his shaft and a bit of balls.

The next part is what I enjoyed the most, I laid on my back on the bed, and he was on top of me, kissing me, and pushing his hard cock and rubbed it between my thighs. I love the feeling that his body pressed against mine and we were kissing as well. I didn’t quite enjoy the kissing still.

He asked me if it’s the time to put on the condom. Sensing that it meant anal sex, I said no, no anal please. Luckily he understood, if he pressed on, I think I probably would gave in. LoL, which then I would walked home in a funny way.

In the end he asked me to kind of sit on top of his chest, pushing my cock against his mouth. I like seeing him sucking on my cock, and GB in the end I actually cum in his mouth a :-P Not sure if that is safe? I did warn him that I am going to cum, but he said to go ahead, so I did.

Overall I enjoyed it, probably more if I wasn't really nervous. I was disappointed that afterwards he said he got to get going soon and asked me if I'd like to take a shower. I thought we were going to snuggle a bit afterwards :-(

Getting oral was not what I have expected. I thought it would be much better, but it sort of does not gave me too much pleasure at all, kinda there but not a lot kind of feeling. I don't know what to expect, and probably that’s what it feels like? Or perhaps I have already jerked the day before... LoL, so my cock wasn't that sensitive anymore.

So GB, I got my first experience now! After waiting all these years, my curiosity got the better of me. I am still bit worried, tried to do whatever safe. I am not sure if oral, especially me sucking him was that safe given I have braces.

It was good, but wasn't mind blowing :-). It would probably better sex if I have a relationship with the guy first. It was really a meet-sex-go type of activity. Perhaps that’s a norm in gay world. I am probably a sensitive-type of guy that wants more of out sex....

PS. Sorry for long email.. ;-)

A reader's gym encounter

Last week, a young reader who enjoyed reading my old gym posts sent me an email asking for advice on London gyms. At the end of the email, he'd written about one of his own gym encounters from a few years ago. It's a nice story so I asked him whether he'd mind if I posted it, and later that day he replied to say that I could use the story if I wanted. The story is a little more explicit than what I usually write here, so bearing that in mind, if you want to read the story CLICK HERE [over 18's only]!

A few years ago when I was about 19, I was going to the gym regularly during morning free periods, usually between 10 and 12. With lots of time on my hands I usually stayed and made use of the facilities to their full extent. I noticed another guy, maybe two or three years older than me, who was there most of the times I went but I never really thought much of it.

Sometimes our showers coincided and I could see he was quite serious about the whole gym thing; his body was sleek, like a swimmers (think Ian Thorpe) and his cock always looked a little swollen. He looked a LITTLE like a buffer version of Christian Slater. He also took a long time under the showers, they were REALLY good strong power showers!!! He had never been in the steam room before, and I didn't expect him to be there this time. In fact I didn't expect anyone to be there since there was nobody else in the gym at that hour.

When I walked into the steam room though, dripping with water, pumped from my session and thinking about having just seen him in the shower, all of my muscles (including my favourite one) were a litter bigger. It was quite steamy and I walked straight towards the back, but I had to stop short because he was sitting right in front of where I was headed, his face in line with my navel, almost eye to eye with my old chap. I was taken aback for a moment, but so as not to seem rude I sat down next to him.

He asked how my workout had been, I wasn't expecting that either, and he said he had seen me taking some of the aerobics classes over the last few weeks (true). We made some cheeky chat about standing at the back of the class to get a better view of all the ladies, and then he asked, quite seriously, "So you prefer to be at the back then?" I could see the innuendo but I had no idea what to do with it, so I turned it on it's head "You prefer to be in front?"

It went silent for a while and we both looked down for a bit. I snuck a sly glance at his cock and could see it was definitely making it's presence known. My own little friend reacted instantly (and rather overfriendly) - boing, I was up!

I started to cover it and noticed he was rising quickly too, but what I didn't notice was his hand coming through the air to land gently on my shaft. I jumped, and he took his hand back and apologised. I apologised, he apologised again, then I took his hand and guided it back to my cock.

He stroked me so gently. He got on his knees in front of me and slipped his mouth around me. It was like velvet! I am ashamed to say I didn't last very long, but he didn't move, he swallowed it all. No girl has ever swallowed for me before or since, and when he sat up I could see he had unloaded as well.

"First time?" he asked me; I lied and said it was - but it was the best (up until then).

We both showered again, I got a little manly pat on the backside as he left and that was that. Although I never saw him again, I always get hard just remembering it!

I'd be interested to hear from any readers with views on where the best gyms in London are for gay guys interested in activities. Also, do any other reader's have any gym stories of their own that they'd like to share?