Poutinukkah

My friends and I celebrate a lesser-known holiday at this time of year. With the powerhouses of Christmas and New Years, it's all too easy to ignore this day. Many people might think I'm talking about Hanukkah, which is a common mistake. Although this holy day does owe its roots to the Jewish tradition, it's central meaning is derived from its blending with Québécois (a.k.a. Quebec - the greatest Canadian province ever) culture. This holiday I speak of is called Poutinukkah.


This great religious day owes its formation to the melting pot of traditional Jewish celebration and French-Canadian culinary delight, along with a dash of open-minded humour and alcohol. Poutinukkah is a day where friends come together, to light the traditional Poutinukkah menorah candles and celebrate the joys of life, while force-feeding themselves large amount of the holy poutine. An evening of revelry and good-times continues into the night, as friends make open bets upon what the future has in store for their friends. All is done in good/horrible taste.


In case you you are unfamiliar, poutine is a traditional Québécois dish, of french fried, gravy and cheese curds. Don't let this heart-attack-on-a-plate fool you: it is a gift from the French-speaking Poutinukkah Gods. While containing enough calories fit for 7 person, it emboddies the Québécois zest for indulgence and fun. Don't bash it till you try it.



Yesterday was no dissapointment to the Poutinukkah tradition. We had our token Jew say the Hebrew prayer, as the candles were lit and then we feasted. I had some good natured bets to declare. To make sure all statements are remembered, they must be written down and safely stored in the holy vessel, known as Future Dog. Once a year, on Poutinukkah, Future Dog can be reopened and the bets verified. But until that day, it remains in a safe location, away from those who might want to desecrate the holy relic.


Although this holiday has only existed for about 15 years, its regional celebration is sky-rocketing. I hope it will soon spread outside of Montreal and hopefully become a provincial holiday.

Look at those devout Poutinukkah followers - they are the pioneers.

Talking with a Pool Stalker Part 2

If you haven't already, you probably want to read Part 1 of this story first.

After receiving the 3 hilarious/creepy emails, I decided to reply. I definitely did not want to meet Todd, so part of my intent was to remind him I had no interest in his "massage" offer. I, however, didn't simply feel like writing "I said NO", because I was genuinely entertained by his ramblings. The part where he thought I was straight was some of the best of his writings.

Sadly, I do not have a copy of the email I sent him to show you all. I've made an effort to create a facsimile of my email below though, based on what I remember saying:

"I'm writing back to you to repeat that I am not interested in your offer.

What I do feel like I need to say is that the randomness, that makes up this world, has decided that you handed your note not to a straight person, like you imagined, but a gay person. This doesn't change the situation, since even if I wasn't currently seeing my long-term boyfriend, I still wouldn't be interested. I'm not the type of person who likes to meet up with random strangers for intimate contact.

I have no doubt that this will come off as weird, but I've decided to include a photo of myself, just for the hell of it. This definitely isn't normal, but what the hell. I like being weird.

Regardless if you send me any more messages, this is the last time I will respond."

I attached to the email a photo of myself. The below photo is one taken today of me, since the original picture is lost, due to my computer crashing since then. Again, yes, that's skinny-old me...somewhat nekkid! This photo was taken to look the same as the original.


Let me first just say that this is the first time I have ever told anyone that I wrote that above response. To ALL of my friends, they think I simply wrote back saying "No, I'm not interested. Leave me alone."

Why haven't I told me friends the reality? Obviously, like you all should be thinking, because it was incredibly stupid of me. Letting Todd know I was actually gay (although adding in that I was currently dating a guy, which I was not) would probably be taken as a glimmer of hope in his mind, even when I also reiterated the not-interested part. And sending a photo? I would expect people to smack me upside the head for that idiocy.

Why did I send the picture? Well, I was partially having fun with the situation since I was never going to see him again (and potentially if I did run into him at the pool, I'm still much bigger than him so I wouldn't be afraid) and I partially felt bad for the guy. I definitely don't think anyone should be secretly following their infatuations like that, but I felt bad for the guy since he clearly wasn't really right in the head about all that. Yes, that is the best answer I can give. And no, I didn't secretly want to take him up on his offer.

So, as I half expected, Todd did email back with a reaction to my response. Much of it included that standard motifs of his other emails, as I described in the Part 1 post.

The requisite creepy parts to the email:
"I didn't think of it that much, it was a pretty easy thought [to follow you]. I think seeing you with your shirt off did it. I don't know if you noticed but I also showered in the stall beside you, and I would have almost done anything to helped you shower. So, with all that buildup, I just wrote that note."

There was also the clearly delusional parts in his message, regarding how he thought his original emails could actually convince a straight guy into saying yes:
"So all my hopes and dreams with meeting up with you to give a massage seem hopeless? I have been waiting for over a day for a response. I thought, how can he refuse just a massage? I thought I seemed sincere and nice, so I gave it a 40% chance.. then of course I thought about the possibility of a positive outcome .. and about how enjoyable it could have been."

The main part of what Todd had to say though was pretty much a desperate plea for me to reconsider his offer. If anything, it was sad, pathetic and a little too telling about his personal life. I'm going to forgo reposting that up here. He spoke of how he's only ever been with a few guys during his life and he's desperate. I felt bad that he wrote this out and that I was reading it, but I also felt like an asshole for egging him on, with my picture and response saying I'm actually gay.

He also lets me know that he has convinced one straight guy into being massaged. It kind of makes me feel bad for the straight guy though:
"I talked a straight friend into letting me massage him, (he's 21), he said he'd never let a guy touch him; never let a guy suck him also. I bugged him for about 6 months and decided to try. So, that's why I am asking again, just have to ask you again."

Just as I said in my response-email, I didn't answer this one.

Since then, I have gotten three other emails from him. I've also never answered to any of those either. The first was about 1 month after the stalking event. Todd apparently decided to come back on another vacation in Montreal. I hope he didn't decided to come back, on the slight hope of running into me. His email was short and extra creepy:
"Hey, You never responded to my last e-mail. Guess you didn't want to say not interested again ... anyways, I thought about you the other day .. used our pool .. lol just thought I would say hi."

Yes, the "used our pool" part did send shivers up my spine.

Another 2 months later, he sent me a short email saying:
"thought I'd say hi."

Then on January 1st of 2008, more than a year after the last email, he sent me another short one:
" have a good 2008."

He does seem to be quite smitten by me - of course that's because I'm a stupid fuck who sends stalkers my photo. I would hope he would delete my picture and get on with his own life, with hopes of meeting other people his age and getting over his college/university swimmer fantasy. But who knows...

And so this brings to an end the story of my stalker and our email interaction. I've retold, and read-out loud the email, to so many friends of mine that the tag line "I think you're cute - do you want a massage" has become a favorite of Liz's. Like I said, no one knows I sent him my photo or told him I was gay, but I think it's for the best that I keep that to myself... and the entire internet.

Let's see if I'm lucky/unlucky, depending on how you see it, since it'll be New Years soon. Maybe he'll wish me a good 2009.

Talking with a Pool Stalker Part 1

Brace yourselves for a long post!

The events of this post took place back in August of 2006. Earlier that winter, I got a serious lower-back injury while playing ice hockey. Although some physio did help the injury, my back still hurt. I wanted to stay active, so that summer I took up swimming at my university's pool. Swimming is a good low-impact exercise for the bones and joints, so it's a good bet for those who are out of shape or injured.

My afternoon routine went normally, that day. I take the train to downtown and walk to the athletics building. I change in the pool locker room, do a few prep-stretches for my back and then I head over to the main pool room.


I jump into a lane, do some warm-up laps, do a few more stretches and then do 30 minutes of swimming. After that, I head back to the locker room to use the showers, do some final stretches under the stream of warm water and then dry up, change and leave.

Instead of heading straight back for my train that day, I needed to pick-up a book to help me choose my courses for the fall and winter semesters. So I make the 10-15 minute walk to the building where I can get the listing. I walk into the particular building, find the course book right near the entrance door, pick it and turn around.

As I turn around, I'm surprised by this guy in his 50s standing right behind me. I hadn't heard or noticed him so I made a little jump. The man didn't seem to think anything of it, as he looks directly at me and says:
"You dropped this piece of paper."

I put out my hand to take the piece of paper, while thinking "I didn't have any paper on me."

Before I can look over the paper, the man turns around and literally runs out the door.

The paper turns out to be a corner, ripped from some university magazine. Some quickly-written words are on the note:

I think you're cute - do you want a massage?, with an email on the backside.

In an instant, I recall where I saw that guy before. When I walked into the pool room, he was standing at the end of one of the swimming lanes, looking at me. When I was back in the single stall showers, after my swim, I recognized seeing the top of his head as he switched from one shower to the another, which where both on either side of mine. I also recognize him when I was changing in the locker room.

So this guy had noticed me at the pool, was around me in the showers and had followed me for the 10-15 minutes walk to go get my course listing...

Having no idea how to react to this, I start laughing out loud.

------

Back home, I thought about how to respond to this situation.

Obviously, being followed by some stranger out of my university's pool is creepy. I wasn't scared or anything, since the guy seemed afraid of my potential reaction, and a part of me did find it pretty funny, since he ran away, but this isn't something I would want occurring again. Knowing what he looks like, it was a little shocking that I could suddenly recall him being around me without me consciously having noticed him at the time. Of course, we're surrounded by people, that we give no notice to, all the time so maybe this isn't odd at all.

The note did create a practical problem: if he's at my university's pool, then he probably has a membership and goes regularly. Therefore, there's a high probability of me running into him again. I don't want to have to see this guy and have him potential ask about this "massage offer". Also, I'm not about to change my schedule just to avoid him.

In all honesty, though, if he had been my age and hot I might just have ignored the message and maybe even spoken to him at the pool, if I ever saw him again. But this is just here-say.

In the end, it seemed like the best thing for me to do was to send a message to stalker-guy's email, provided on the note, saying I'm not interested. That way if he's ever back at the pool at the same time as me, he'll leave me alone.

So I use my normal email to send the following message:
"Thanks for the compliment, but I'm not interested. :) "

That same evening, the emails began.

Let me first preface the rest of this post by saying I now know I made 2 obvious mistakes when responding to his note: First, I was too kind. I should have said "Leave me the fuck alone", but I didn't want to be unnecessarily mean. Second, I should have never used the :) symbol. That was just pure stupidity on my part. The smiley face just leads to trouble.

-------
Over the next day, I would receive 3 emails from my pool-stalker, named Todd. He would confirm that he's actually just a guy on vacation in Montreal. So he's not a regular pool user, although I assume he goes there for the university eye-candy.

Although creepy, the emails are actually really amazing and funny to read. The previous teaser post is the exact copy of the first email. The email gives the feel of looking into an unfiltered stream of consciousness. I do honestly find it really funny that he's addressing me as a straight guy and trying to get me interested in an "innocent" massage, which according to him at least one other straight guy has really enjoyed and it will not turn into anything gay. What are the chances that he would end up handing the note to a gay guy? Haha, oh random world we live in.

The detail of him noticing my stretching is, again, creepy.

The second email he sent was a general rehashing of the first email. Todd says he was afraid the first didn't get through, so he decided to send the second one just in case. Yup, that's a bit too obsessed, but anyway...

I'm not going to paste the whole copy of the third email here, but you should all know that this is when it gets hilarious. My friends, by far, love this email the most. Anything that begins with "I have been thinking for the last two hours or so about this. If you don't mind, I'd like to just write down my thoughts?" has to be good. The third email comes out to about 2 pages, single-spaced, standard text size, in Microsoft Word. He indeed put a lot of thought into it.

Todd describes a series of situations where it would be OK for a straight guy to receive a massage from another guy. Situation 1 includes me, the straight guy, going to see my girlfriend, named Sara. It turns out she's not home, but her older brother, coincidentally named Todd, is there so we hang out. Todd ends up wanting to practice his massage skills on me so I let him. Based on this, I should let him massage me in real life - because it's just simple heterosexual male bonding. The second situation is a variant of the first one, but with a close friend. The third situation is suggestion that he would then owe me a favor, for letting him massage me. His example of the favor would be that he would then have to get me ice cream. I don't know why he thinks it would be a good idea to bribe me with ice cream, but anyway...

Todd's fantasy

Included in this email are some hilarious, not-so-subtle lines regarding what he would love to actually do to me. I think he's now assuming I'm straight, but ever so slightly bi-curious, so maybe being honest would convince me to say yes:
"...or how can I convince you into trying?...You have always wanted to have your feet licked and this might be the opportunity to try it? ok, that might be gross to you .. umm .. "

"I think it's a good offer .. not like you would do anything, just receive .. might be a better idea and relaxing late at night."

This is by far the best quote though. After 1 page of him downplaying the homoerotic nature of the potential massage, he throws out this doozy:
"You might have the idea that .. well he offered me a massage, and maybe I am slightly interested now, on second thought .. he does seem nice enough .. but does he really want to massage my private parts or give me head in addition? Well, honestly, yes, but, again, if you do take me up on the offer, I would just go with your rules. I am happy to just massage your back and neck for say an hour, and have you leave your shorts on."

Now, maybe a sane person would have kept ignoring the emails. You should realize I'm not too normal in the head, so I obviously didn't. I emailed him back. You readers will, however, have to wait for my next post to find out what I said and what happened.

Teaser

Hello All.

Here is a teaser of what will be the partial subject of my blog for the next two posts. This is an email I received not recently, but 2.5 years ago, from a stranger. I will not describe the context or the situation, to which he refers, right now. I'm saving that for tomorrow. It's safe to say, this will be one of my favorite stories of the WindsThatYouRise blog. I have not edited the text below, which I copy/pasted from one of my email addresses, so it is the clear stream of someone's thoughts.

Enjoy.


Thanks for the e-mail anyways, it was thoughful of you.

To be honest, I was really really nervous to do that. I think I was a little daring cause I am not from Montreal and just on a little vacation. I am staying at [My University's] Residence actually for the week.

If I can explain the offer a little more, you might have second thoughts, so I hope you don't mind me giving it a second try. I figure your completely straight, so don't think I did it cause I thought you were gay or anything. In fact, after giving it to you, I was kinda scared, just ran out of the area really fast and though after 30 minutes, that was really different of me, but I will most likely never hear from him anyways.

Anyways, here goes anyways... I really am a nice person, I work in accounting/tax preparation. I went to Western University in London and then Ryerson in Toronto. I really am your most normal guy. Anyways, I really thought you were very cute. I noticed that you where stretching your arms and moving your shoulders about .. I thought you might be a little more interested in getting a great back and shoulder massage. I know getting a note from a stranger like that might seem strange, but .. well, I gave it to you I guess. Perhaps if we e-mail each other a little, you might change your mind? My thinking is, "Well, if that guy seems nice, and decent, well, a really good back/neck massage might be good... but nothing else. I might give it a try for 10 minutes and if I feel comfortable, I'd let him massage me longer, If not then well, I will just leave." Which is perfectly fine with me. I'd also be interested in giving a full massage to you also, if your interested? I know, you just said no, but, I have met a totally straight guy, who is a friend now, and he let me massage him,, he loved it actually." You can set the rules, and I would be more then happy to follow them. You would never do anything to me, you would just receive and relax. nothing else.

Anyways, I hope you don't mind me e-mailing you again. Just giving you a back/neck massage would make my week while in Montreal.. and it would of course be safe, and hopefully, I seem like a nice person to get one from?

Anyways, sorry, had to ask again. Again, I am staying at [My University's] rez until the weekend, so if you seem at all interested or anything, please let me know. My name is Todd by the way.

Thanks again for writing back
Todd"

Yey Christmas!

Christmas and the holidays are upon us!


I've always really enjoyed Christmas, for the presents, the food, the family (even them) and my parent's house's transformation. Since being little kids, we've always gone all-out for Christmas decorating. It looks like Mrs. Santa-herself exploded in the living room, leaving themed decorations behind. I'm also quite proud that among all the mini deers, Santas, stuffed-dolls, pictures and hang-ables, there is not a single Jesus included in the decorations.

Of course, today is Christmas Eve, which means Christmas is not here yet. Today's the traditional day where I hide the fuck away from my Mom because she always goes ape-shit crazy. In her mind, nothing is clean enough, none of the food will be prepared in time, no one is dressed appropriately for this evening's [annoying] guests. Regardless of how much we help out, she's always out to get us, although me in particular. I can dress the same as my brothers but I apparently always look like a bum. Oh well.


To make "Irritated-Mom" time pass faster, I've been watching the DVDs of Planet Earth on my laptop. I love this series because of natural landscapes and animals it shows. I don't think I've mentioned this before but I am big on animals and nature. 7 years of previous jobs center on working with animals and other living things, in different fields. Several times while watching the DVDs, I heard my heart break from cute overload. The narrator, David Attenborough, is perfect. I wish he was my British Grandfather (I never knew either of my Grandfathers) so that I could just listen to his voice forever.


A classic Christmas Day story for me happened about 4 or 5 years ago, when I used to work for a veterinarian hospital. I was the weekend & holiday guy, who came in on my own to feed and medicate [and play with] the animals, along with taking the dogs out for a walk. That year, I worked Christmas morning at 7am, so that I could get home before lunchtime for present-opening. Whilst taking one of those tiny, fluffy annoying/cute dogs for walk (I'm more a fan of the Lab or Husky), the leash broke and the dog decided to make his run for freedom. It became a game for him, since he saw I was running full speed after him, as he ran and swerved across all the streets and through random backyards.

After about 1.5 hours of me chasing, I lost the dog. So I walked back towards the vet hospital, freaking out about what I could possibly tell the owner when they would come to pick up little Fluffy. "I'm sorry sir/ma'am, but I lost your dog on Christmas and he's gone forever."
As I neared the door, I saw that the stupid dog decided to follow me back to the vet building, thinking our game was done. I unlocked the door, pushed it open wide and watched as the little dog just walked right in, as happy as can be. Well, I gave him the biggest kick ever - he deserved it. I am so thankful it happened on Christmas Day though, because any other day of the week the area would have been teeming with car traffic, so Fluffy would have definitely been turned into Smushy, when he was running across all the streets. On that particular morning, I actually saw only 1 car actually going somewhere.


To end this post, whether I know a bit about you, the reader, or whether you're just a "silent reader", I hope you have a good Christmas and/or holiday break. Live within your means and if you're on your own tomorrow then put in a good movie or two.

Here's a classic David Attenborough/Planet Earth moment for you: Click here, since YouTube won't let me embed the video.

The Day It Stopped and the Day I Started

If you think waayyyyyyyy back to the beginning of my blog, I mentioned that I used to periodically get, what I call, intense depressive attacks. I suffered these episodes from about the ages of 17 to 22 and they happened every one to three weeks, or so. I attempted to describe what I felt exactly during these episodes in this post. I don't know what any of you think of it, but I am very proud and really like how I stylistically wrote that old post.

That 17 to 22 age range is a relevant number. The age of 17 corresponds to when I first started, ever so slightly, to not bury away my gayness deep-down inside of me. If you recall, that's when I first started CEGEP and began testing the potential for coming-out to my new friends. The age of 22, on the other hand, corresponds to the day when I finally had an epiphany. This post is about that moment of clarity.

Let us first backtrack to an evening in February of 2008 (about 1 year ago), the day before the conversation that led to this epiphany. That night I had a depressive attack. I pretty much stayed in my room the whole night. The episode was just like the others: untrue thoughts and irrational feelings, that in the moment felt like indubitable truths. I felt intense sadness and fear over the fact that I knew my family would erase me from their memory when they discovered I was gay. At the same time, there was so much rage inside me because I knew my closest of friends didn't respect me and could never accept me for who I really am. As a whole, I knew I was the only person who was like this and that somehow this was a well-deserved punishment. For this time, the outside world didn't exist; I was alone, as I brooded and wallowed in my emotions and teary eyes.

There's no real point of getting into the nonsense of that above stuff now, because it's only in the deluded, depressive moments that any of that could make perfect sense.

Let's now fast forward to the next day, when I'm sitting in a car with Fiona and another friend. We had just finished catching lunch together. Our mutual other friend was giving us both a lift back to our respective homes.

The event of the night before was still in my mind. The intensity, the emotions, and, surprisingly, the awareness that I shouldn't be thinking like that. Up until then, I had never really mentioned my depressive attacks before to anyone, but I wanted to say something to get some opinions over something I thought I needed.

Me: I don't know really know how to say any of this... There have been these things bothering me lately...and I don't like it. I get into these sort of mini depressions. I know it's not normal and I'm tired of feeling like this. I think I want to see a psychologist or psychiatrist so that I can get some help.

This was definitely a new situation for myself, the driver and the other passenger in the car. I wasn't sure how to express my thoughts, without exploding out at all of them all at once and I know that neither Fiona or our other friend was used to me saying something like this.

The friend who was driving, decided to pull the car over to the parking lane and turn to look at me. Don't let her nameless status typecast her as unimportant in this memory, because he words are key.

Friend: Do you really feel that your problems are so bad that you really can't speak to any of your friends and instead need to seek out a stranger?

That is the moment when it hit me.

I was always reserved about my sexuality and problems. From the first time I came-out, to the last person to know. The vast majority of times that I spoke about any related topic to homosexuality, it was always others asking me questions and me trying to find the words to describe what I felt. Don't get me wrong, I made lots of progress over the years, with different people, but I was always holding myself back. For 5 years, my friends were always having to fish out answers from me. At the same time, the resounding things that many of them told me was always along the lines of I'm Okay with who you are and I just want to know you. From Fiona, to Liz, to Alicia, to Tim, to Xav, to Mike and to countless others who's names I have never said. All they wanted was for me to be comfortable in my body and to just share my worries, likes and musings in relation to my gayness. Whether laughing over the awkward moment I had with a crush or consoling my worries about my family, the only thing they had asked me to do was tell them.

It wasn't this specific friend that made the difference, but her words put the final Click into my mind: I just need to talk with my friends.

So for the first time, in that car, I talked about my depressive attacks. I told them how insane each episode felt and how it did mirror my real fears. And then I spoke to them about other problems I had been having recently. And then I told them about the awkward and hilarious hook-up I had before Christmas. And then I told them about anything else I had held back.

And then when I got home, I found Alicia online and I retold her everything that was said in the car. And later that night, I met up with Xav, Tim and Mike and told them all as well.

Since the epiphany that day, I've never had another depressive attack. I still have high days and low days, but I consider those normal. My comfort with sharing my gayness has skyrocketed since that day, because I stopped looking for clear moments when my friends were obviously interested in hearing about "gay things". I don't undercut myself, by thinking that they don't want to hear about this... I just say what I want now, and I know they like to hear about it.

What I Left Behind

With the lease on my apartment coming to an end, I've been slowly moving my things back into my family's house. Even with the many potential pitfalls of this decision, I've decided to stay with them until this summer. If I find things become unbearable, I've already made a deal with Tim to move into his apartment's tiny, overpriced extra room.

It's the oddest feeling to be back in my childhood room. Growing up, I was never one for throwing things away, so the shelves and walls are covered in trinkets that I found and received from the age of 0 to 19. When I originally moved out, I left all of this behind. Being back here is like a little time warp into my younger days: there are plenty of stuffed animals, that I got before I turned 10. There are tiny, collectible statues of soldiers, and cats, and rare coins; all of which were given to me by my Grandmothers or family friends. Quite of few useless souvenirs, from family vacations. The posters on the walls have all been there for at least 7 years. I swear that some of these things probably even came with the room.

I realized a while ago that I don't need many physical possessions to be happy. When I left all these items behind, I never gave another thought to them. From my apartment life, I've obviously recollected lots of useless objects, but I'm sure I could do without them as well. What remains in this room, which is a hell of a lot, is pretty much just decoration.

I think the odd feeling I get is because all these trinkets are reminders of a younger me, that I am no longer. I'm not some 10 year old kid anymore, who spent his time playing with plastic animals and lego (although anyone could argue I currently have the mental capacity of a 10 year old). I'm not the 6 year old who loved collecting things and cat poster. I'm also not the 15 year old who just went along with his parents' ideas and suggestions. In a way, the room feels like it belongs to a stranger. None of this is mine and I don't want to go back to it.

Tomorrow or the day after, I'm going to box up all these things. They won't be thrown-out, but instead stored away and saved. Memories and reminders are nice, but I don't need these surrounding me. I've very much a become a different person than the child that originally kept these things and called this room home.

Horny

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Quotes of the Night & Cat

And here's a sample of the things that left my friends and I screaming with laughter. Remember, it's all in the delivery.

------

Friend: Oh my god, you're not circumcised?

Tim: No, he's a gentleman - he has a hat.

------

Liz writing on with a marker on my arm:

I wish I had chest hair

------

Tim: I like dating women with a little extra meat on the bones. That way, they're not fast enough to run away from me.

------

Me: I want to cum in your hair

Liz: !!!

------

Liz: Givin' handjobs right, left and center - that's what's for dinner!

------

Unrelated to the funny things heard, Liz drew this for me. Maybe I'm feeling very sappy or I just like cats a lot, but I think it's so cute.


It's going on my note board.

Tattoos

About 2 months ago I decided to give yoga a try. Surprised by how much effort it really takes, I've stuck with it because it's fun and it's a pretty good alternative to going for a very boring 45 minute run. The studio I chose only does "hot" yoga, which means they keep the room heated to 41C (106F) during the sessions. If you have ever felt that temperature, I can assure you that twisting your body into awkward positions and fighting your muscles' exhaustion for an hour and a half in that gets you drenched in sweat and ready for sleep.

A definite benefit of hot yoga is that everyone wears the absolute minimum amount of clothing, since they're sweating like mad. With half the room covered in mirrors, it's a bit of an effort for my wandering eyes not to stare at the shirtless guys in their underwear. It seems I'm not the only person with this problem either. When I notice other people starring at me, I become self-conscious, unfocused and then fall out of the "Yodelling-Bear" or whatever the name of the position I was in. I think I've also lucked out on the time when I go to yoga, because it was the least number of people while still having the highest ratio of hot guys.


What I notice most though are peoples' tattoos. A whole bunch of yoga-ites have some really awesome tattoos, that make them really attractive to me. And it's not like they just have one tiny little one; they have full sleeves, lower legs or shoulders covered in them. Theirs tattoos are usually big collages of different themes stuck together. Part of me kind of wants to befriend these yoga people just because of their tattoos (and obviously because they're good looking). It's just so fucking hot - especially because none of them have those stupid tribal tattoos (although even with the tribal tattoo below the body is super hot).


My friend tells me that getting tattooed is addictive. She started off with one small one and then a second, and now she has a shoulder, her chest and various other places covered.

I would love to get a tattoo, but I don't really feel strongly enough about anything to want it stuck on me. Maybe I don't thinking impulsively enough, since plenty of acquaintances have tattoos simply for the cool-looking factor, while carrying no other meaning. Naturally, the tattoos make them look more make out-worthy, but that's besides the point... No wait, that IS the whole point!


Alternatively, maybe the people I know aren't the most full thinking...

Your Mind and your Brain

Today (tonight?) is going to be a bit of a biology and psychology lesson. Don't worry, I promise it will be painless, interesting and fun.

Kieran and I play this game, when I'm over at his house to work for the day. We each take turns getting hooked up with our biotech equipment, while the other reads and interprets the results. For your terms of understanding: our work uses a lot of different monitoring sensors, that tell us how a subject's body is reacting. The key idea behind the equipment is that the subject-themselve isn't consciously aware of the subtle changes within their body, depending on the situation and their potential medical or psychological circumstance.

The best sensors to play with are the EEG (a.k.a. brain) sensors. As one of us acts as the test subject, the other places the sensors on whichever sites of interest and monitors the subject's different brain waves during a task or question. The neurons in your brain fire are different rates and times, depending on your state of conscious, mood and where in the brain you're looking at. The sensors can detect all of that. Depending on the site of placement for the sensors and the level of knowledge you have regarding the subject, you can learn a lot.

From playing a simple computer game we get from our work, Kieran can tell instantly when I get bored and lose focus by only looking at what the sensors are reading.

With the right sensor placement, I can tell if Kieran is brooding over some past situation. If I ask him a question about his deadbeat Dad (those are my words, not his) his brain switches instantly to intense focus and feeling stressed.

In a way, this is me. Click to enlarge. If you understand it, I should give you a job.

Everyone's brain is just a collection of neurons with specific connections and activity rates. A person with some form of psychological problem, however, is likely to have a different set of neurons connections and firing rates, when compared to the brains of the general population. At a specific site of the brain, someone with a mental problem could have intense activity when the average person has very little, or vice-versa. For example, if you look at a teenager with ADHD, the neurons in certain parts of his brain fire too slowly, which puts him/her in a state of automatic drowsiness or feeling zoned-out. Similarly, some people with psychological problems lack the correct communication between two areas of their own brain, when compared to the connections of an average person. Anyone with Down Syndrome is an unfortunate example of where the brain is severely incapable of communicating with itself. Sites of his brain for emotions can't get information from sites of his brain that process the objects in his environment... so in the end they just can't understand things around him.

What does this mean? Some people mentally feel the way they are because their brain isn't capable of processing information like it should. They feel a certain way because they are incapable of anything else. If the neurons don't fire normally, how can the ADHD kid possibly stay calm or focused on learning something? He can't.

There's always hope though: your brain, it's neuron connections and activity rates are malleable. Neurons can rewire to communicate with new areas and also learn to be more or less active. Through specific training, a teenager with ADHD can change his own brain so that be can effortlessly stay focused.

People aren't always born with these bad brain connections; they can be made on their own. The brain of a person who suffers from long term depression changes its neuronal connections to better imitate that emotional state. This means that the effects of an abusive relationship or hopeless outlook, extended over months or more, can lead to a brain being wired to naturally feel depressed by default, even after the person frees themselves from that shitty relationship or life gets better. Effectively, your environment can change your brain.

Kieran: Think of something happy and tell me about it.

Me: Ok...I'm thinking of [friend's name]'s summer party and jumping off the boat house. Haha, then all of us streaking.

Ah yes, the boathouse

Kieran: Hehe, nice. Ok, now think of something neutral...like doing laundry.

Me: Alright.

Kieran: Yup, I can see it now. It's nothing wrong but this part of your brain fires a little slower than it should. It might be layover from you used to be depressed...

Me: Ya, probably...

Physical trauma also rewires the brain. If you get hit hard enough in the head, the momentum of the impact causes your brain to strike against your skull. That type of hit obviously fucks up neuron connections.

Me: You know, this area of your head doesn't respond like this other part.

Kieran: I could understand that. When those guys jumped me after my soccer game, that's the part of my head that hit the concrete.

Me: Jeez, I'm surprised you can remember that.

Kieran: Ya, I can only remember up to that impact and nothing else.

You shouldn't worry about every little bump or extended bad mood though. Your brain is resilient - it's good at repairing itself.

And now you know a little more.

One last name for the books

All too often I look at my life, past and present, and think that I have things a lot tougher than most people. In reality, this isn't true - it's just part of human nature for me to get caught up in my own struggles. When I think about the situations other people are going through, I can be quick to say:

That's nothing. They have it easy. He/she just isn't willing to do something that's so clear and easy... They have no idea what's it's really like to go through....

Again, that's just part of being human. From my perspective, some conflicts can be so unimportant and easily resolved, while from someone else's perspective it can be so hard and confusing. The collective experiences I've had are different from other people's experiences, so what's hard or easy is accordingly different for each of us. If I push myself out of my self-absorbed, Western-centric world, I can easily imagine at least 5 billion people who's lives are incomparably more difficult than mine. Unfortunately, I'm human and most of us have a hard time looking outside ourselves to get that perspective.

You might think I'm going into some sort of guilt trip / let's think about the little people out there, but I'm not. The post is going in a different direction from ... (Aside: I don't think I portray myself correctly in this blog, because in actuality I'm a bastard. I can be very caring but I can also be a complete, self-centered asshole. I really wouldn't bother doing the whole think of the unfortunate people...)

Kieran is one of the very few people, or potentially the only one, whom I feel can understand my collective experiences and difficulties. From my perspective, he has had a tough (and interested) life. I can easily say he has been through more than anyone I know, including myself. We have faced similar, however completely different shit in our lives - think of it as the two opposite sides of the same coin - so different but still complementary. This is the strong basis of our friendship.


Although Kieran was not named before, I have eluded to him twice in this blog. He is one of the friends for whom I got a job at my work. It's his house where we would play video games instead of work. His photo is also at the bottom of that post. He then got two more photo-ops on the blog when I briefly mentioned my past attraction to him.


After being acquaintances with my greater group of friends for a few years, Kieran was brought into the circle soon after I gave him a job. Before then, my friends and I knew and really liked him, but never got close enough to become part of the regular gang. As Alicia, Kieran and myself hung-out via work (or "work"), Kieran and I bonded over our lives.

This, in brief, is what we learned:

We both grew up in loving homes, with both parents and 2 siblings each.

In primary school, I was diagnosed with leukemia (cancer) and spent the next 3 years being treated. For Kieran, life was normal.

In high school, I dealt with being was gay by descending into my ultra-closeted state-of-fear, protection and depression. I slowly mentally pulled myself away from my family, while maintaining a happy face for all to see.
High school for Kieran went as expected for a straight kid who excelled at school and sports, until his sister was diagnosed with cancer. The family would rally around her and her health would fortunately improve with time.

CEGEP would be start of [very] small steps for me accepting my sexuality, although still hiding it from my close friends and family.
For Kieran, CEGEP would be the shit hitting the fan. A walk home from his soccer team's game would end with him being jumped by a bunch of the opposing team's players. They apparently didn't like losing to his team, so they beat the shit out of him, putting him into a coma for a few days and forcing him to stay lying down for 3 months.
A year after that event, Kieran's mom would be diagnosed with breast cancer.

Entering university, his mom's health would steadily decline. As the unifying force and support in Kieran's family, his mom's sickness would cause a collapse in the lives of Kieran's sisters and father, along with his own. Kieran would try to take her place, but it would be too much. His sisters and father would each develop their own type of depression and problems. It would only worsen, when in first year of university Kieran's mom died.

Leading up to today, every month has been a trial for Kieran since he effectively became a parent to his two sisters and father.
Kieran's dad went deeper into depression and combined that with heavy drinking. Who knows what's gone through Kieran's dad's mind, but he has become deluded. He sold their family home and moved to the country, to get away from his kids, memories and be left alone. Back in highschool, it became apparent to Kieran, his mom and sisters that their dad was also gay - since there were plenty of unusual web browser entries - so that is likely to be connected into Kieran's father's psychoses.
All on their own, Kieran's sisters had only Kieran for help. Conversations by phone with their father would only end in abusive yelling. Although one sister has steadily gotten onto her feet and is starting to take control of her life, the other sister has always felt like she never fit in with the people around her. Like her dad, it's obvious she also has some deep rooted problem, which culminated this past summer with her attempted suicide by swallowing whatever pills she could get her hands on.

By comparison, my life has been smooth sailing. Just about all my friends know I'm gay and I've become incredibly comfortable with myself. I'm still afraid of how my family will take, some day when I tell them, and paradoxically I also have this internalized fear that I just don't care much about any of them. Oddly enough over the last few weeks I've felt increasing anger toward them, but that's a topic for somewhere else.

Clearly, Kieran's life and my life have not walked in each others' paths, however, like I said before, they've been reflection on the similar events, just from a different angle: The cancer, homosexuality, losing family and trying to keep them together. My sections of the blurb are short just because this blog has gone through them enough already. I could go into much greater detail about Kieran and his family, but the post has already gotten long enough.

People bond over mutual struggles and that is what Kieran and I have done. It's a comfort to speak with someone who has gone through so many things that could easily mentally destabilize anyone. I've spoken with him over moments when he's hitting the ground hard, but he always manages to come back. The loss of his mom, and essential loss of his dad is tough but he seems to be tougher. He has listened to my problems with my family and is always capable of giving a good perspective, that other side of the coin if you will. It's a widely accepted between all our friends that Kieran is the one person you can always count one when in need. I hope that I can one day been seen in such high regard as him.

This is not to say my relationships with Xav, Tim or Mike are weaker, but they really haven't experienced anything difficult in their lives. Obviously, I'm making that mistake that I described at the very beginning of this post by analyzing another's life based on my own experiences, but I just can't help that. As amazing as they are, I don't think life has tested them much just yet.

I guess it's time to bring this to an end.... Kieran, what can I say about him...
Well, he's felt something similar to what I have and I look up to him. I can't really say anymore.

And this was Sunday...

In case you had ever wondered, this is what I would look like if I was a prison-bitch.

With this knowledge, you can now sleep better at night.

Nightmare

This morning I woke up terrified, with tears already down my cheeks because I dreamed I was re-diagnosed with cancer.

No matter how angry or unforgiving I could be, I would wish that on no one.

From Blog to Real Life

All the posts I've written in this blog have been recollections, comments or reflections on/of my life. Its been pretty much a one-way path: what happens to me day-to-day in 'the real world' decides what is put up here.

Well, it's now time for me to write about the newly formed blog to real life pathway: how my blog has actually caused changes in my everyday world.

It's been almost 3 months since I've started writing, for the first time on the internet as well as the first time for my myself (and appreciation of others). Apart from Talya, no one in my life knows that I have a blog. Even when I do see Talya, I don't ever really talk about the whole blog experience. That doesn't really bother me much. This is all such a personal reflection that I don't exactly want my friends to be able to have that window into me. Ironically, I don't mind strangers knowing this stuff about me since I feel protected by the fact that I don't actually know any of you. I'll gladly stick to secretly blushing when I hear a friend abstractly ask, "What weird type of people actually blog about themselves?"

Since starting this endeavor of solidifying my thoughts on a virtual piece of paper(or I guess I can call it a hobby, although that makes it sound lame), I've become better at explaining my view in a normal conversation with friends. Since I've already gone through the effort of ordering my thoughts on a particular subject, it becomes so much easier to clearly restate it. Sometimes I even feel like I'm reading from a paper, because I don't need to try very hard to recall all those little details. Even the posts that lack a bit of coherence give me a base-level structure for explaining thoughts and things.

I've also gotten significantly better at remembering things about myself, whether stories from my past or little moments during my day. For example, I had kind of forgotten that my guy-friend asked to me to join him and his girlfriend in a 3-some, until speaking with someone recently. If someone asks me to tell them some stories now, I can actually immediately remember plenty of zany, beautiful, sad or funny things off the top of my head. Yay for improved memory! When also does something I see as significant or memorable, I even make mental notes now to potentially write about it in this blog. Maybe that's a bit too obsessive or sad, but I think it's awesome!

My blog has also given me a good perspective on myself and when I'm feeling depressed. By tendency, I reread my posts and make edits up to 2 days after they're written. My revisions have made it painfully clear that whenever I feel down about myself, I tend to be pretty incoherent and illogical. The circumstance that makes me sad is in itself irrational, but I can never tell that in the moment (like this stupid post about if I was different). Being able to peer into that past situation, through my writing, comforts me. It lets me realize that I shouldn't think that way and that hopefully I'll grow out of it.

As a final note, I find myself carrying my camera more often these days because I want to get fun pictures to throw up here. Nothing I take is ever good quality, but it's just something I appreciate. I think for you guys, I should probably try and get better at walking up to random hot guys, asking them to take thier shirts off and take picture of them, haha. I think maybe you'd all enjoy that, since clearly all guys in Montreal are beautiful.

Cheers.

Eargasm

I would hope that all of you have experienced an eargasm at least once in your life.

Just like the name suggests, it's like an orgasm, but for the ears. It could be from a new track on the radio or a song fresh from downloading. Something about the instrumental rifts, bass, vocals, lyrics or mix of sounds makes it pure perfection. Maybe you start swaying in your seat or dancing standing up or just lying down thinking about whatever image the song brings up in your mind. Either way, it's memorable, amazing and you feel like for just a moment you were touched by God, if you believe in that.

Then, you want to listen to it again and again and again.

It's the normal "hey, I like this song". It's so much more... I mean, how would you explain what an orgasm feels lie? You can't exactly. You just need to experience it for yourself. Same thing with the intensity of the eargasm.

I guess I can make the comparison to being super high or very drunk, but it's nothing like either of those. Whatever the situation, it just feels great, memorable and so exceptional (although being drunk/high is probably not memorable at all).

Personally, I tend to be the type to dance while sitting - a lot of bobbing of the head, wording the lyrics without making noise and just plain FUCKING RULING THAT MOMENT.

I realize this post brings out the worst in my hipster-wanna-be-ness, but whatever. You spent the time to read the post so it's actually your fault. Haha, blame yourself!

To end off this post, here is one song that has given me an eargasm. In all honestly, I would be amazed if anyone listened to the song from beginning to end, since when a blogger throws up a song in a post I typically can't stand it for more than 20 seconds before I decide I dislike the song and close that internet window. I am indeed full on my way to hipster-douche (YYYEEESSSSSSSS!!!).

The above song is My Girls - by Animal Collective

If I was Different

Mike, myself and two others were over at Liz's apartment for a nice evening of nachos and chatting.

The conversation made its way to the discussion of peoples' personalities. Mike told the group that he thinks he has pretty weird character. Liz disagrees with the opinion and says he really is a "normal" type of guy; all of us agree with her. She continues by saying that, as comparison, my personality is definitely weird. Everyone also seems to agree on. From my point of view, it's not like this is a secret; I think I have an atypical personality, or as I like to call it: I'm a weird kid. This blog is a ultimate list of examples of the strangeness and oddities that make up me.

However, to have everyone agree in unison about this makes me feel kind of down about myself. None of them meant it as an insult, but I kind of took it as such. I have a lot of friends and acquaintances and I enjoy my interests and activities, but part of me feels that if I was a bit more "normal" it would be easier meeting and bonding with any general person I met. For example, if I didn't get so joyful at the prospect of Arts&Crafts night at the bar (references here and here) and if I didn't like to climb around abandoned buildings (reference here), maybe I'd have more normal interests that people would more likely share in common with me.

This isn't the first time that it has crossed my mind to maybe tone-down the weirdness of myself. When I meet new people (like in friends-of-friends), sometimes I tone down my personality to become less loud, more quiet and simple and agreeable. It's not like I'm normally screaming and irritating, but I suppose I would potentially "scare someone away". If I just try to be more like them (or anyone else), I would get along better with people. This could also be a way that I might even make some gay friends, since obviously I don't seem to be able to relate so easily with them.

There no reason to kid myself: if I were to meet any of you consistent readers (...all 7 of you?...), I'm sure you would find me odd or awkward.

I realize this is just one big unnecessary emo moment since I do normally like myself, but I still wonder if it would make things easier if I was different...

On a slightly different note, that situation at Liz's is also a prime example of when I get self-conscious from people directing their unsolicited attention onto me (as compared to when I want attention with my comments and antics). After the weird personality comment, Liz also decided to point out how my arm looks bigger again so she wondered if I was still working out. Normally, such a comment would make me feel great (like here), but being still in the mood of not wanting this attention, I kind of just shyed-away and told them all to not focus on me...

Jeez, I need to go to sleep. I'm great around strangers, if I want to be, so I should try to just forget about what Liz said. I shouldn't put myself down like this.

Maybe if you asked 3 years ago...

When nervous about how someone will react to a question or statement, most people try to soften their words to lessen the shock value and make it seem a little less important. You know when someone asks you a question, half-joking and half-serious? It's like that. There's leeway in their intonation, so the question can be taken in 2 ways: if your response is negative, they can pass off what they said as just a joke, but if the reaction is positive they can just go with it. Well, that's exactly how my friend and his girlfriend proposed that we have a threesome.

It was just us 3 at my apartment, making food and relaxing. I hadn't seen either of them for a long time, since we went to different campuses and lived far apart, so it was great to catch up with them. Having each eaten way too many quesadillas, we we're all lying down on my tiny bed. Music was playing and we were all scrunched up a bit - with my guy friend between his girlfriend and myself (Yup, that's how pornos start).

I don't remember how he segwayed to ask it, but it came out just like I described above. With a little bit of a chuckle, so it could seem like a joke if I took it that way, but not completely:

"So, I don't suppose we're gonna have a 3-way are we?"

His girlfriend stayed silent. He stayed silent. They waited to gauge my reaction. Silence...

---

I had a huge crush on that above guy friend all through CEGEP. When I was outed to my group of friends there, he didn't really care - although I didn't really know him much at that time. As we become close friends in our second year, my crush got a lot stronger with good reason. We would hang out all the time at school and then on evenings and weekends I would always be over at his house. I slept there plenty of times. He had a double mattress in the basement so we would just talk shit all night and end up sleeping in the same bed. Oh ya, at one point he also filled the "fetish criteria" of having his hair dyed blue/green.


I ended up working with him in Costa Rica for part of the summer, between the end of CEGEP and beginning of university in 2004 (I was 18/19). It was actually for his Dad - my friend, myself, his girlfriend (not the same as above) and another friend would help with with random construction work. It was actually just outside of Tamarindo, the big Americanized town on the west coast. After working 6am to noon, we could get the afternoons off to do whatever we wanted - which was pretty much go surfing.

When not working, we spent our days paddling around in the ocean, swimming in a pool or being lazy. We were pretty much always shirtless and in our board shorts, so it wasn't a big surprise I spent my time looking at his body. He was a pretty good looking surfer kid: lean body with some good muscle, shaggy hair and comfortably masculine. He was also as tall as me, which is surprising for me. When not in swimming trunks, we were just walking around in our boxers...

Even though his girlfriend was there (along with our other friend), he seemed to like spending time mostly with me. He had a joke that apart from sexuality, we were perfectly alike. Body, reactions, personality... Another joke he had would be to ask about each other's penis.

Him: So Thomas, how's your penis? Going well?

Everyone, including him, knew about my crush. Twice we spent long nights drinking tequila and it was no surprise that I would get a huge hard-on just sitting next to him, as we played cards in one of the bedrooms. He would start touching my leg (again, I'm only wearing boxers) and he'd watch the bulge of my boxers grow. Everyone thought it was hilarious. At one point, I was turned on so much and for so long, my boxers would even get a little wet spot. Again, we would all laugh and they would take some pictures . Too bad my computer lost those pics when it erased my hard drive crashed...

When we drank, and when his girlfriend and our other friend would fall asleep (alcohol does that to them) my friend and I would just keep joking around the compound. I don't know how it got to that, but we started a game of pulling each other's boxers down when the other least expected it. Oh, homoerotic-male bonding. Obviously, this would only get my dick going more. Him seeing my hard-on pushing against my boxers would get him to laugh and wrestle around more . Eventually, he got my boxers off completely once so I just stood there with my dick standing up yelling:

"There, since you want to see it so bad here it is!"

All through this, I always assumed he was straight. He had a girlfriend and I thought he just liked to horse-around. He was the type of straight guy who was confident and relaxed with himself so he just didn't care. He got that from his Dad, the former big downtown-club and music venue owner in Montreal, who almost exclusively hired gay people, since according to him they bitch a lot but do a better job.

I often did get odd feelings from my friend - the way he'd have a big smile while looking right right in my direction, for no reason. Just fixed and looking at me. He'd have lingering eyes for longer than "just a normal stare", as if he was processing a thought or feeling related to me. Nothing would be said, but there would always be those little moments. At the time, I wasn't in a head space ready to even try to make a move with another guy, so I was just riding the wave there and having fun. No reason to think about it any further.

----

And so there was silence. Use three, sitting on my bed.

"Haha, ya right. The three of us can barely stay on the bed right now"

Yup, I decided to let the question go as a joke.

What used to be, is not how it is now. I'm different. My crush ended years ago. Assuming I could/wanted to do a threesome with a girl, I wouldn't want to potential have those awkward reactions afterward, with two of my friends (his girlfriend was my friend before they dated as well).

Also, I'm not really interested in 3-somes. I much prefer the 1-on-1 friction and touching.

A chance lost? Meh, whatever.

Pipecleaner Glasses

If ever you needed confirmation that my friends and I have the maturity of a perverted 9 year old, here it is.

Oh, the amazing things one can create with only pipe cleaners.

Completely unfair - she looks so much better with them than me.

I resign to either touching my nipple erotically or fake masturbating

Oh, the magical things one can make with popsicle sticks and laughter.

Pick a number to get your fortune.
(I hadn't seen one of those for years and years!)

Xav: I must choose carefully, because it will be my destiny...

Oh wow, he lucked out.

"You banged 42 dwarves (and they were hermaphrodite dwarves)"

On my attempt: I'm either being a little humble (ONLY 27 inches?) or my Mom has a big fan-base.

THE END

(I promise a real post tomorrow)

Boobies

Every so often, when I drink a huge amount of alcohol, I get inappropriate. I don't mean the normal verbally-rude or blatant shit-talker, nor the inconsiderate guest or flash-everyone-my-privates-inappropriate. Those are all quite fun and, by my friends' and my own standard's pretty normal. The type of inappropriate I'm talking about is when I start to molest my female friends' boobies.

It starts off innocuously: We're all laughing and drinking. One of my lady friends is sitting next to me or on me. Maybe I'm practicing my gangs signs (below). Everything is normal.


Then, when she least expects it, WHABAM - Hands all over boobs!


At first, it's all just a funny joke. Someone takes a picture and my friend isn't offended because she knows I'm gay so it's not like I'm getting off on all of this.

But, then my wandering hands keep going....And this is when everything gets fuzzy. I never remember fondling my friend's boobs. The alcohol and my poor inhibition control can be blamed for this. Typically, it's only the next day that someone informs me:
"You were going pretty wild all over her chest yesterday."

Of course, I feel bad when I hear this because if I can't remember ever doing it I wonder what else I can't remember, such as maybe the owner of said breasts yelling "Stop fucking molesting me!". I'm lucky, because that's never happened. Why hasn't it happened? Well I consistently always fondle 2 women's chests: the girl in the above picture and Liz. Liz tells me she has had to slap my hands away because I get too "investigative", but the other (nameless) girl seems to just go with it. Since we all know each other well, no police are called!

Naturally, I always do this with a crowd around. My straight guy and lady friends are always watching. Tim likes to remind me that he has even yelled out:
"God, why does he get to touch your boobs and not me!? I'm ssooooo good at it!"

Ironically, my friend in the picture above says plenty of straight guys can't touch her as well as I can, which honestly unsettles me a bit.

Kieran likes to remind me that most of the time when I start fondling the boobies, I use the line:
"This is only for empirical research!"

Forgetting about the potentially unfortunate molestation charges I could receive one day, I wonder why I do this? It's not like I want to experiment with women. When I figured out I was gay a long time ago, regardless of how closeted I was I didn't want to even try to fool around with the opposite sex. I don't think I get off on it - of course I'm also drunk enough that I never remember this happening. But honestly, I really doubt I'm looking for a titty-fuck...

For the time being, I've kind of reasoned that I do it just to entertain everyone else, since I love to get attention (in my situation of choosing) and I always want everyone to have fun. Hopefully I'll grow out of it or grow out of getting hammered, but really I doubt that second one will be happening soon.