Monday, November 16, 2009


He did it again today….
He called. He called? He called and for a moment I stopped breathing and for a moment I was pissed and for many moments afterword, I was hurt.

Here’s the thing…
A few years ago, at the ripe age of 16 my father caught me and my neighbor/best friend fooling around. We were up in the old tree house in the backyard, apparently he called me to come down, and I didn’t hear him, which was no shock because I had a dick in my mouth. Earlier in the week, for the very first time, I’d discovered porn. Poor Ryan didn’t know that he was going to be my lab rat that afternoon. We were in the middle of the “somewhere over the rainbow” when I heard a loud scream. As I was coming out of my backbend, I see a fist coming towards my face. I felt a cowboy boot kick me in the rib, the warmth of spit crowned my head and the screams of hate and disappointment rang back and forth in my already throbbing head. And the only thing I could think was, if Ryan didn’t like it that much all he had to do was say something, ass. As another fist attacked my already shaken body, the voice rang in my head again, and I realized that hate was spewing out of the mouth of my father. These words, these wound inflicting, heart scarring words, were falling out of the mouth of the same man who said he loved me not even four hours before. I didn’t know what to do.

“You disgust me you faggot! Get the fuck out of my face and out of my house!” I can hear the melody of his hate to this day, every pitch, and every inflection. I can see the spit gathered at the side of his mouth. I remember saying nothing. I remember hearing my heart crack. I remember feeling blood trickle over my lip. I remember my world stopping. The last thing I remember, after gathering my things and what I had left of my pride, was the sting of his hand against the back of head and an “I wish you were never born, I hate you!”
He left the next day. I lost a father. I lost one half of my support team. I lost the man who taught me to play catch and the piano. I lost the man who bragged to everybody how he could hold me in the palm of his hand. I lost the man whose splitting image I became.
I gained a new understanding of me.
He called today for the first time since then. I didn’t answer.
I wonder what happened to Ryan?

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


Here’s the thing…

Man + titties= mitties. Hi I’m Brayden and I have mitties! Just your good ole fashion, true to everyday fashion man titties! I can’t. Today I tried on a wife beater, the terms not PC but who gives a fword, and noticed two small mounds protruding from where my caramel pecs once stood. WTF? This weight gain is like herpes it starts at your mouth and moves all over your whole body. I just can’t. What’s next, cankles? Damage, I’ve got those too. I’ve learned through my years of gayness that there are three things you never say to gay men:

1. Your going bald,
2. Your getting old
3. You’ve got man tits!
I don’t know maybe I made up the last one but dang it it’s relevant.

I would like to take some time now to provide some facts backslash observations I’ve notice. Do stay tuned…

Fact 1. Man titties look good on no one. Babies can pass because they’re cute and baby smelly and fat and still vomit on themselves. But once that oh-my-God-you-were- just-born -charm runs out, they’re lives also start to go down the drain.

Fact 2. Man titties are often sported with pride by senior citizens who want to show that they’ve still got some muscle on their 649 year old bodies, granted the muscles have completely fallen victim to gravity and Ben Gay, but nonetheless, a shape of a former beautiful pectoral is still outlined.

Fact 3. Man titties pose a health threat. There are no manuals on proper man titty health. Is there a mammogram that specializes in tit l’ homme, and if so what kind of doctor would perform the test, an outofshapeatologist? Where could a fellow go to perhaps get his moobies sized? Is there a danger in taking a sensible jog with a malter(man halter) or morts bro(male sports bra). All these are uncertain, unfortunate things that come about from this situation.

Friends there has got to be a way. A way for people with man tits and those without to live together in perfect harmony. I have a dream. I have a dream that one day I too could wear a high waist 1922 style pant and not have my moobs dangle o’er my belt. I have a dream. I have a dream that one day black tit and white tit could live together and be judged not by the content or girth of their mitties, but their style of dress, as all good gay men should be judged, I have a dream. I have a dream that with enough working out, a plastic surgeon and check cut straight from my trust fund that I too could be shirtless at 6 Flags.
Enough with all this cra-cra, I’m off to the gym!

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Prince Charming

Today, hunty, today.
I just left a Starbucks, enjoying a sensible, yet non recession proof 1.92 cup of coffee, when I fell in love. I mean maybe not love, but an intense lust with a twinkle of hope in my heart and an extra rise in my groin. Walking down the street clad in a skinny jean, a winter fur lined vest, Canal sunglasses and Uggs-my Thursday brunch in the City look-I walked past this store and there he was. Ohhh just thinking about it makes me giddy. I look at him, he looks back, I look away. He looks, I look, we both look away. I look, he looks, hell...look you get the point. My breath was taking away and I didn't know what I wanted to do. So I test the water. I swing my head, give such a smokey eye that my iris cramps, by the way,awkward, and I lick my lips. He continues to stare blankly, judging, not judging, staring all glassy eyed and I'm thinking what the f-word. I look at my phone, fake a text, all the while glancing over at him. I can feel him staring but now, now I've got to play hard to get. I drop a piece of paper daintily out of my bag and in my best gutter butt Playboy mansion kind of way, pick it up. I can feel him staring, oh and it feels good. I'm not letting him get these Lil Debbie snacks that easily, but I can't take it anymore. I walk back up to the window, wink and go inside. There is a woman between me and him and him and I. I get this another one of those damn DL brothers? Shit, i misjudged. I simply can't ignore her like any other woman in my life, so I speak to her very annoyed. "I'm sorry how much for that black dildo in the window?"

Who says the man of your dreams can't be found. I found mine being at the right place at the right time. Excuse me, I have a little date with my Prince Charming.