Queen’s Diary – IONAZ February 2002

Another damn Valentine’s Day and I’m single. I have never, ever, in all my time on the planet EVER had a significant other come Valentine’s Day. Of course, he’s never come because he doesn’t exist. I like to think I’m fairly nice and kind of responsible, outgoing, fun, funny and humane, but for some reason that doesn’t seem to bring in the men. Well, it brings them in, they just don’t stay for more than a baddaboom baddabing. So it comes as no surprise to me that I’m single this year again, although I did have hopes that I wouldn’t be. Unfortunately, my last relationship has ended, may it rest in peace.

Which brings me to the thought for my diary – Why can’t we stay in love? I mean really, I’ve loved several men, and still, in some ways, care for them. Truth be told, I do love them, I just don’t LOVE them. How many times have you heard that from someone? How many times have you wanted to throw your martini in his face? How many times have you thought about the ten bucks that martini cost and realized he’s not worth it? Me too!

But we gay men work on the “Is He Shaggable?” premise for meeting men. Worse, we interact based on that criterion. I have several friends who don’t think I’m sex-material because I’m not their type. Generally, I think the same of them. We hang out all the time and have a blast – because we answered ‘no’ to the question. We can enjoy the person because we aren’t interested in his privates.

However, sometimes it doesn’t work that way. When Person A wants to schtupp Person B, but person B gags at the thought, watch the fireworks as they try to interact. I’ve seen some pretty amazing explosions from people who qualify for ‘mild-mannered’ when caught in this situation. It’s like watching Dynasty crossed with Will & Grace!

And then there are the people who find one another fully finger-lickin’-good. When two gays want to f@#k they don’t waste time with the whole “What’s your middle name and when’s your birthday?” thing. Come to think of it, sometimes we don’t bother asking the first name. It’s not that we don’t care, it’s just that it’s all about the sex!

Yep, it’s the sex for me. Not just the random boinking that I get to do when I find some scrumptious guy. I’m talking about daily interaction with one another. It’s the sex that drives us to do everything in our lives. It all boils down to the detachable penis theory of love. You can be faithful, but your dick might not agree with you. Sometimes, your penis may roam.

Is this a bad thing? No. Its wonderful, really, especially if you just let it roam and do what it wants. It’s your best friend in most situations. If it won’t get up, don’t use pills, just acknowledge that you’re a bottom and roll over. If it’s hard constantly and has the size to do it, plug every boyhole in site. Why not? It’s more fun than pining over the fact that you don’t have anyone to take you dinner on the 14th, or get you flowers, or chocolates.

Isn’t there a song?

Oh give me a home, where the penis can roam, where the bears and twinks will both play. Where seldom is found a straight guy around, but the bi’s and gays both get laid… etc.

Ok, so perhaps I spent too much time at the Rodeo last month.






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