Tag Archives: sex

My First Sexual Encounter (That I Still Masturbate To)

People usually say, “I’ve known I was gay my whole life.” Although this may be true, it doesn’t necessarily happen to everyone. I’ve never known I was gay my whole life, per se, but I’ve always known I was different. When I was five, I remember having a huge crush on Aladdin and his purple opened vest that revealed twink-like rippling muscles underneath. Now that I think about it, maybe Aladdin is gay. Only now do I know that I was gay when I was five, but I didn’t know it then. Therefore, I haven’t known I was gay my whole life until I came out and reflected on my past. I’ve known I have been gay since I was about 10 or 11, honestly. I knew for sure I was gay when I had my first sexual experience when I got my first hand-job by my friend when I was 14. Some people lose their virginity by then but, unlike them, I didn’t grow up in West Virginia.

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My friend was a childhood friend whose parents were best friends with mine so we used to see a lot of each other. My first sexual encounter happened when…

*To read the complete article on DatingAdvice.com, click here!

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What I’m Obsessed With: Amanda Bynes

What’s the first thing you think of when someone says “Amanda Bynes”? Some may say “crazy”, some may say “train wreck”, or some people, like me, would say “BFF”. Of course, everyone is entitled to their own opinion and some might say that she needs help. In my opinion, she doesn’t need help, she needs me. Obviously, I wish she were a little bit more stable than she is right now cause I read somewhere that her credit card got declined at a salon, but other than that, she seems like a good time. We all have an Amanda Bynes in our group of friends, and if you don’t know who that is, then look in the mirror cause it’s most likely you.

Amanda Bynes has all the good making in being my BFF:

She makes me laugh.

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She does drugs.

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She’s a whore.

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And she makes me look like I have it all together. Watch:

Amanda, if you’re reading this, let’s go to rehab together.

Smooches.

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What Would Ryan Lochte Do… To My Body?

Ryan Lochte is the epitome of every nocturnal emission to every gay prepubescent boy and menopausal woman. His eyes are to die for, his smile melts your heart, and his abs set your loins on fire. With that said, what other reason would I need to tune in to view the series premiere of his own show on E! called “What Would Ryan Lochte Do?” last night? And let me tell you something, the show should be renamed to “What I Would Do To Ryan Lochte”.

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The series premiere of the show ended up reminding me of my ex: all over the place, full of stupid shit, yet I’m still aroused. The show was confusing because the first half was showing him partying and then the second half we get introduced to his family. Shouldn’t it be the opposite way? Then the episode didn’t seem to have anything to hone in on. Maybe because it was the first episode or maybe because Ryan Lochte is just ornamental and not functional. Ryan Lochte’s pitch for this show was definitely his abs because the show never fell short on showing us the beautifully, chiseled olympian body that he possesses. I definitely masturbated more than three times during the show. And maybe a fourth time when I masturbated to his 22-year-old twink of a brother fucking the shit out of me in his tuxedo shirt, but I’m not confirming anything just yet. 

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The only moments in the series premiere that made me so attracted to Ryan Lochte were his ab workouts after a night out of intense partying and the scene where he cried when talking about how much his family meant to him during the time he won his first medal. Seriously, nothing could have topped that moment. Well, maybe one thing and that’s Ryan’s bulge in the picture below.

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Anyways, the show seemed lackluster and I probably won’t watch it again unless it’s to touch myself on those days when I feel Grindr isn’t working out for me. Which means never.

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Smooches.

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Gay Men And Commitment: Being Monogamous Isn’t Monotonous

You know that feeling of love at first sight? You see him. He sees you. And, in that moment, your whole world slows down.

He smiles and you feel a jolt of lightning surge through your bones. You have never felt so alive in your life!

People say that’s love and I agree.

Now that same-sex marriage has been legalized in nine states, plus D.C., many people are now seeing love and commitment is present in gay couples and we aren’t just some sex-crazed animals the media sometimes portrays us to be.

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Make your own rules.

Although there are gay men who do value monogamy, there are those that believe in open relationships.

Commitment seems to be such a hot topic in the gay community because it is one stereotype that has definitely been scrutinized and amplified.

I’m not saying straight couples are all loyal to one another and gay men can’t commit. I’m saying every couple makes their own rules.

If being in an open relationship works for one couple, regardless if they’re straight or gay, then they should do as they please.

There isn’t one thing I absolutely hate more than society thinking gay men can’t commit.

Well, there is one thing I hate more, but let’s leave cargo pants out of this…

*To read the complete article at DatingAdvice.com, click here!

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6 Ways To Avoid Contacting Your Ex For Sex (NSFW)

I’m horny. Like, really horny. And very much so single. What does a single gay love to do when he’s horny? Call his ex. If you’re a self-respecting gay like myself, you can agree that contacting your ex for sex is totally not a good option. We all have been there and it never works out to our favor. Yes, the sex will be good and yes, his six-pack will feel amazing against your body, but there comes a time that we have to ditch our ex as our go-to for sex because it’s pathetic. Very, very fucking pathetic. Don’t feel alone because I’m going through that right now. Do I want to call up my ex, who I dated for six years of my life that has the most perfect body, to fuck tonight? HELL TO THE FUCK YEAH! Will I feel great afterwards? HELL TO THE FUCK NO. I’m here to help you, my confused friends. I give you my “6 Ways To Avoid Contacting Your Ex For Sex”.

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I’ve been dealing with this issue this whole week after I had a sex dream about my ex. We were riding on a motorcycle (Sounds very Lana Del Rey, right?) and we were naked together and very hot and sweaty. The next thing I remember is pressing my body all over his and feeling his rock-hard, sweaty body against mine. What was that? You’re hard? Yeah, me too. When I woke up from my dream, I couldn’t help but masturbate. Now, every single day I think about calling him at midnight to have him come over and fuck me till I have no more cum. But, ironically, that would be fruitless. What am I supposed to do? I tried googling ways to get over him, but there wasn’t anything for us strong, gay men. So, I used my own advice and created ways to get over him and the best part is, it fucking worked. Here’s how you do it:

1. Delete him from your life

Every now and then when you’re just checking your Facebook or Instagram, you see him. Whether you fucking like it or not or whether you want to or not, he’s right there. You can’t seem to avoid missing him because he just shows up on all your social networking sites. DELETE HIM! Not only do you delete him from your phone, you delete him from everything. Now, careful, he will see that you deleted him as a friend on Facebook or unfollowed him on Twitter, but there are ways to getting around his incessant posts and tweets. Simply, hide him. Facebook has this feature of hiding people from your newsfeed. Do it. My Twitter app on my phone, called Echofon, has a mute option. You don’t want your ex to think that you’re a psycho by deleting him permanently so simply hide him. That way he will think you’re mature for being friends with him via social media and that way you won’t ever see him. It’s the cyberspace version of running the other way in public when you see your ex.

2. Listen to inspiring music

When I mean “inspiring music”, I don’t mean gospel. I mean Madonna’s “Express Yourself” or Pink’s “So What”. You need these empowering songs to keep you from contacting him. These songs, at least to me, make me feel independent and self-reliant on myself to make me happy. Everyone has a song that makes me them feel awesome as shit and so powerful that they can run for president if they wanted to right then and there. Find your song that’s about ripping your ex to shreds. Besides inspiring songs, party songs also help me avoid thinking about my ex. Songs like Ke$ha’s “Tik Tok” or Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance” seem to do the trick for me. Whatever you do, don’t listen to that bitch Adele. She’ll make you miss him and go crawling back.

3. Exercise hard

If you already don’t exercise regularly, you need to be sent to Milan where they’ll make fun of your obesity and give you an eating disorder. As Elle Woods said it so profoundly in Legally Blonde, “Exercising gives you endorphins. Endorphines make you happy.” Exercising is not only great for the body, but also great for your mind. After my intense step interval or cardio kickboxing classes, I feel alive. I feel great. I feel like I can take on the day. Plus, exercising will help you feel less stressed and keep your body looking fit. You want to keep yourself busy and exercising is a great way. You can spend hours at the gym sculpting every part of your body and not know where the time has gone. Plus, you’ll get great results that will help you landing someone that’s even hotter than your ex. If you don’t want to exercise to keep you from contacting your ex, just please do it for the sake of everyone else that has to look at your cellulite.

4. Party harder

If there’s anything that I don’t do better than fucking, it’s partying. I would say that partying not only is great cardio but also great to keep your mind occupied from thinking about papers, projects, deadlines, or exes. If you want to not contact that certain ex of yours, you’re going to have to start to make plans and keep yourself busy. Get your friends together to get hammered at your local gay bar! If you don’t have any friends, call me. I’m always down to get drunk all the time. Some say I’m an alcoholic but doesn’t everyone drink alone in their room? It’s just when I’m completely drunk and hear my favorite dance song blare in the club, it excites every bone in my body. You need to party if you want to avoid thinking or even contacting that guy. Instead of calling your ex, call one of your friends and make plans.

5. Buy shit you love

Gifts always make people happy. Since you’re probably single and have no one to get you a gift beside your ex, get yourself a gift. Whether it may be some amazing clothes from Urban Outfitters, some greasy fast food from Taco Bell, or even a brand new BMW, do something for yourself that makes you happy. I personally love getting a makeover so I take myself to my favorite spa and get a smashed crystal and sea salt scrub pedicure and an avocado facial. Or you could go on Grindr and get a different kind of facial. Either one works best.

6. Masturbate

Self-explanatory. Here, I’ll help:

Hope this helps. Comment and let me know what you do, bitches.

Smooches.

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I Survived Saint Patrick’s Day 2013 But My Liver Didn’t

If there isn’t any one thing that is more furious with me, it’s my liver. For this gay, Saint Patty’s Day was by all means an epic proportion of everything awesome. Which translates to “I don’t remember shit”. I know I’m posting my Saint Patty’s Day weekend adventures a day late, but you don’t understand the hangover I had yesterday. Saint Patrick’s Day, however, is supposed to be a day commemorating the spread of Christianity to Ireland and I commemorate that by fucking any hot, drunk, straight guy I see. There once was a time when I fucked a straight guy on Saint Patrick’s Day whose name was actually Patrick. Talk about being lucky.

Anyways, my celebration began on a Thursday night where I was eye-fucked and hit on by a girl. I can admit, being hit on by an attractive girl does something to me, but little did she know I was eye-fucking the blonde guy behind her. It just happened that our eyes crossed paths and before I knew it, I was dancing with her. Of course, it was my-ass-to-her-vagina type of dancing, but that didn’t slow me down. I rode her vagina till it was sore. After my friends and I left that bar, we walked right next door to the other bar. This bar was definitely slow-paced due to the fact that there was only about six people in the damn place. As I was ordering my Blue Motorcycle, I caught the eye of a hot guy sitting right next to me. Once the bartender handed me my drink, I heard him speak.

“Hey, that drink looks cool. What are you drinking?”
“Oh, it’s called a Blue Motorcycle. It’s really good!”
“Mmmm. I bet it is…”

After making small talk with him and signing my bill, I turned to my right to finally look into his eyes and have a great conversation with him. Only, when I turned to talk to him, his eye wasn’t looking at me, but yet he was still talking to me. I shifted my vision from looking at his right eye to then looking at his left eye. His left eye was starkly piercing my eyes attentively as I was looking right at it. That’s when it struck me: my future ex-boyfriend was crossed-eyed. He later then caught on to me noticing he was cross-eyed because my eyes would keep changing line of focus from one eye to the next. He then got up and actually left the bar. He was so hot. Sad. Later on after walking to the car from the bar, my friend and I encountered a man who was sitting on railing and then fell flat on his face and ate concrete. My friend and I looked at each other and then around us to see if anyone was going to help, except there was literally no one around but us two and Humpty Dumpty. After realizing that we were the only ones who would have to help this man, we ran over to him to help his drunk ass up. After getting him up, we asked him where his friends were and if he had a cell phone. His response could only be reenacted by Chewbacca and Charlie Brown’s teacher. We soon then left him and let him continue to be a mess and proceeded to go home.

After waking up on Friday with a hangover only a masochist would love, I began to make plans for my night out on the town for that evening. Friday nights have always been my favorite night to party and since it was Saint Patrick’s Day weekend, nothing could top the drink specials. My group of friends made our way to our local bar and decided to ring in the weekend with a bang. This bar had the best drink special I had ever heard: $1 Drinks All-Night. After the bartender told me that, my world all of a sudden became brighter. You know those Claritin-D commercial where they all of a sudden see “Claritin clear”? That’s how it was for me after ordering drinks off a dollar menu. I became a drunk mess within the next hour. As I went to the bar for my 17th drink, the bartender told me he wasn’t serving me anymore. It was right then and there did I have sympathy for Lindsay Lohan because she has had that happen to her countless times and let me tell you something, being cut off from the bar is the worst buzz kill ever. I became furious and insinuated that he was racist, thus calling him a cunt. I walked away and then all of my worries disappeared when I heard the DJ playing “Macarena”. I lost my shit like it was 1996 all over again and twerked harder than Beyonce at The Super Bowl.

On Saturday, I slept throughout the whole day and woke up on Saint Patrick’s Day with my liver and I ready to take on the day. As my friends and I entered our favorite Irish pub, we encountered our friend throwing up his crab dip all over the booth where were about to sit. He had began drinking at 2 p.m. that day and it was currently 9 p.m. that night. Even though we started our Saint Patty’s celebration really late, our friend drank for us. He was spotted by a bouncer and escorted outside. I spotted an old friend of mine at the bar and went over to say hi to her. She and I then decided to do shots of Irish Car Bombs. After that, I slipped into a drunken haze where I ended up ordering two Screwdrivers, a glass of Pinot Grigio, a Natty Light (WTF?), and two Rum & Cokes. I was dancing with more girls than the straight guys and I feel as if the straight guys were applauding me for not being a so-called “pimp” but twerking harder and sexier than all of the girls at the pub. After hours of dancing and smoking cigarettes, I went over to the bar to order another Screwdriver. The bartender ended up giving me the drink for free cause I was hot. If only it was a male bartender. As I was sipping my drink, I turn around and see a a guy giving attitude to my friend. As I walked over there, she kept saying, “No, this is my coat. I don’t know where your coat is. Do you shop at Burberry? I don’t think so…” He then began to spew all this bullshit and saying “FUCK YOU SLUT! FUCK YOU AND YOUR CUNT ATTITUDE!” That’s when the inner diva came out in me and I went up to this big, strong, sexy, angry man and said “DON’T YOU EVER SAY THAT TO MY FRIEND YOU ASSHOLE. I WILL FUCKING TAKE YOU!” I immediately began to adjust my black suede heeled boots in order to fight when the bouncer came up to my hot enemy and took him outside. That was my first time ever getting into a bar skirmish with a straight man. I felt alive. Like any buzz, that alive feeling wore off as soon as I came home and crashed in my bed.

How was your Saint Patty’s Day celebrations? Actually, never mind, I’m exhausted…

Smooches.

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Grindr Is For Fucking – Not Dating: Part 2 (NSFW)

As we were sitting there in the lush and classy bar I had taken him too, L**** decides to fill me in on his life. I come to find out that he’s adopted from Russia and my immediate thought was that he is a spy. He then continued to talk about his childhood and how he came out to his parents. Talking to him was like pulling teeth. After each story, he would pause and wait for me to ask him another question. He wouldn’t take initiative in asking me a question. This happened consistently throughout the night. When I started to ask him about his family, he said something that shook me to the core.

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“So, do you have any brothers and sisters?”, I asked.
“No.”
“Oh, okay. Any cousins?”
“Yeah. And I’ve fucked all of them.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I’ve fucked all of my cousins.”
“I’m going to order another drink.”

After he told me how he fucked all of his cousins, his reached his second strike. Some of my friends told me that wasn’t sick since he was adopted and not blood related to any of them, but once I asked my friends if it would be okay if he fucked his brother, then they all responded with a “Yeah. You’re right…” I couldn’t believe how brutally honest he was – I mean I had to give him credit for that. But, too much info, girl! I was thinking of taking him back home and fucking the living daylights out of him, but now I was questioning myself. He was really hot and fucking a guy and his cousin was a fantasy of mine, but never once did I want to explore that in reality but to keep that shit on PornHub.

“So… Do you still talk to your cousins that you’ve – um – fucked?”
“Oh, yeah! One of them is my roommate. He keeps telling me he’s straight but I’m like ‘Dude, I’ve licked your cum off of your dick and know how it tastes!’ And let me tell you, his cum doesn’t even taste good.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I mean, not exactly, because I’ve never tasted my cousin’s semen but I do understand your disgust in horrible tasting cum.”
“Yeah. But, my uncle is really hot, too, but that would be wrong if I fucked him.”
“Oh, wow.”

At that moment, he yawned. I immediately saw this as a sign from God herself telling me to get the fuck out of there and run away.

“Oh, no. You’re tired?! Let me drop you home. Check, please!”
“Oh – um – okay.”
“No worries, we can fuck another time.”
“Yeah.”

I think at that point he realized that he had said a bit too much. Then, this motherfucker decides to tell me he didn’t bring his wallet. It was at that moment that he struck out with strike three. How convenient to not bring your wallet…

The car ride home after was an utter disaster. It was not only awkward because I ended the date, but this guy’s alcohol was kicking in fast. He was drunk and rambling on and on about tattoos. He apparently wanted a Russian mafia symbol tattooed on his spine, but then rationalized that he would be shot and killed because he felt the mafia would hunt him down for making a mockery of Russia. I was legit scared because he apparently knew the consequences of having such a tattoo and not actually being in the mafia. How does he know so much about the Russia mafia? Is the a part of the mafia? When is he going to kill me? My thoughts were cut when he proceeded to show me an app he got on his phone that simulated police lights.

“If you are ever behind a slow ass motherfucker, you should get this app. It simulates cop lights and the people driving in front of you will think there’s a police car behind them and pull over to the shoulder. They get the fuck out of the way and you drive past them. But don’t do this because you can be fined.”
“Oh, for like impersonating a cop?”
“No, for pretending to be a cop, silly!”
“You need Jesus.”

At that moment, I checked out of our conversation and the date as a whole. He started to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher to me. It was right then, on our way back home, that my friend texted me to go out to the bar with them. I immediately texted him back and said I would be there right away after I get rid of Evelyn Salt.

As I pulled into his driveway, he leaned in to kiss me but I gave him my cheek. It was a rude move, but I was turned off and could not get wait till he left. He told me he would call me tomorrow and demanded that I text him once I reach home so that he would know that I made it home okay. That was sweet. I wonder if he says that to his cousins once their date is over.

L**** called me for two weeks after that and I continued to ignore all of his phone calls and texts. I then deleted my Grindr. He finally got the message and never contacted me again. Lesson learned. To quote Taylor Swift: Never, ever, ever date someone from Grindr.

Have any of you ever had a weird Grindr experience? Comment or tweet me @GayManPrblems or @TheGaylyDose and let me know!

Smooches.

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Prayers For Lindsay

When I was younger, I used to avoid getting into fights. I wish it was because I was a peaceful hippie who wanted love and not war, but that wasn’t the case. I was small and afraid of hurting my face because of my future Ralph Lauren modeling career. Only when I began college and started my great drinking habits (Seriously, I can drink three bottles of merlot and not feel a thing) did I realize the importance of self-defense. I remember when this bitchy queen got in my face one night at my favorite gay bar only because his boyfriend was trying to talk to me. Then that twat threw his drink in my face and that was when the hair pins started flying. Let’s just say I gave a new connotation to the term “gay bashing”.

After hearing the news of my beloved Lindsay Lohan getting into a bar brawl this morning at 4 am, my blood started to boil. Clearly, I have been in her shoes (Not literally, but so would love to try on her Giuseppe Zanotti’s) and know what bullshit this harlet of a starlet must’ve gone through.

Apparently, Lindsay was at a bar celebrating. Whether it was celebrating the premiere of her shitastic “Liz & Dick” Lifetime movie or whether it was celebrating that Lifetime offered her a job, the girl was white girl wasted. Even though there are no sourced determining that factor of Lindsay’s state of mind, but let’s all be real – she was drunk. The fight happened after a girl, who was in the next table over, was told by Lindsay to give her some space. I guess that bitch was trying to take sips out of Lindsay’s glass and that’s when Lindsay broke loose. So, of course, Lindsay threw a punch and got arrested. Now the ginger bitch has violated her probation – officially.

So, everyone, let’s all say a prayer for Lindsay Lohan. She needs help and another career path.

Smooches.

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Welcome to the Gayborhood, Joe Simpson!

Jessica Simpson’s career is somewhere rolling over in it’s grave right now. Her father, Joe Simpson, has gotten a divorce from his wife, Tina, because of his newfound sexuality. Joe Simpson, according to sources and close friends, has come out of the closet and declared his gayness to the world. Allegedly. Wasn’t he a pastor? Let the church say: HAY GURL HAY!

I mean look at this guy, he has a fucking gay face for fuck’s sake. Like how could we not have known. Whatever the case, I am ecstatic. He is one hot daddy that I would definitely worship if you get what I mean. Bow chicka wow wow! Sorry, Tina. Apparently, he and his newfound love interest, 21-year-old wannabe model Bryce Chandler Hill, caused the split between him and ex-wife, Tina Simpson just over a week ago leaving Ashlee Simpson lipsyncing how she feels and Jessica Simpson still wondering what the fuck “chicken of the sea” really means.

I mean, just look at Ashlee Simpson’s new hipster-fuck of a teaser music video she just released for her new single, Bat For A Heart:

Girlfriend is seriously a hot mess right now.

Many sources are reporting that Joe Simpson is in fact sexually active with Bryce, but Joe, his rep, and Bryce have all denied the story claiming that it’s not true and all false. I beg to differ. The story is so detailed that it couldn’t possibly be false. Like, how the fuck does someone make up that Joe Simpson is fucking that Bryce twink? Like who the hell is Bryce and why choose him above all other twinks? How do they know each other? Why do they know each other? It just seems like they are just trying to cover things up. It also seems that Bryce is probably getting paid to shut the fuck up and not say anything about his relationship with Joe Simpson. And take a look at Bryce (see below), he needs the money for a new look. His twink look is so 1999 that I could vomit.


But, Bryce isn’t the only guy that Joe Simpson has been fucking. Another fruit has come out of the darkness. Male escort, Joey Anderson reports that he, too, has had sexual relations with Joe Simpson claiming that his appetite for sex is insatiable! He reported that he was called to fuck the dog shit out of Joe for three hours. Now that’s what I call a good time. Bet you 20 bucks Joe screamed, “You make me wanna LALA!” right before he exploded all over Joey’s face. And did I mention that Joey also passed a polygraph test? Yeah, the man’s that confident. Anderson reveals:

Over the course of two hours or so, we rolled around, kissed and gave each other oral. We’d take breathers and then start up all over again. He seemed to have an insatiable appetite for sex and never really appeared tired.

Anderson said that Joe was very pleased with his services and even texted him to set up another play date. But, he’s fairly certain that this wasn’t Joe’s first time fooling around with a man. He states:

Whatever the case, I’m probably not the only one. After being a family man, and a religious one to boot, for all these years, I’m sure he’s out sowing his wild oats with a bunch of boys. Joe has lived a lifetime of deceit regarding his sexuality. Before the dust settles, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear about a lot more guys coming forward.

Let’s just say from now on, I’m going to only fuck older guys. Lesson learned thanks to Joe Pimpson.

Smooches.

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Top Gay Halloween Costumes for 2012

Halloween is most probably my favorite holiday of all. From the costumes to the drinking to the anonymous sex with the hot guy with abs dressed as a shirtless football player in the club’s bathroom stalls – everything is fabulous about Halloween. This year, Halloween is going to be extra fabulous cause the costumes are going to be ridiculous. There are so many costumes to choose from – and I’m not talking about one of those costumes that is basically a piece of string – I’m talking about those creative gays who wear something topical and outrageously funny which show them as being knowledgable in pop culture. Those other gay sluts who dress up as “Adam and Steve” are just good to look at or invite over for a casual threesome in the alley where the dumpsters are. For all you fags who don’t know what you’re going as yet for Halloween, you disgust me because this should be the event you plan your whole year around. But, don’t fret. I give you my top picks for the Best Gay Halloween Costumes in 2012!

Honey Boo Boo

For all you bears or just plan ol’ fatass gays, this costume is perfection. Nothing screams 2012 like Honey Boo Boo does. You better “redneckognize” that his costume will for sure help you win Best Costume at your local gay bar or gay club. Just be sure to say, “A dolla makes me holla!”, after you put those singles in that go-go boy’s underwear. Brownie points if you can work in a joint-costume with a fat fag hag and make her be Honey Boo Boo’s mother.

Paul Ryan

If you don’t know who this hot motherfucker is by now, then you should seriously go play in traffic. If there’s anything hot about the Republican party this year, aside from Mitt Romney’s sons, it’s most definitely Paul Ryan. the nominee of the Republican Party for Vice President. Just throw on your most glorious Gucci suit, Vuitton dress shoes, a red Prada tie and you’ve got yourself a winner. Except for the fact that Romney is going to lose because he’s a homophobic sexist who wants to take money from everyone – or as I’d like to call him: Satan. But anyways, regardless of what your stance in politics is, I want to see a hot Paul Ryan costume. All you daddies with hot bodies, this may be the only chance you get for scoring that prepubescent boy you’ve been eyeing on Grindr.

Whitney Houston

How will you know what costume to choose? Duh – be the ultimate diva, Whitney “Crack Is Wack” Houston. Get a crack pipe and learn how to say “Bobbaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy” because this costume idea is sure going to kill – no pun intended. Whitney Houston has to be one of the most iconic gay icons and what better way to honor her than to be her. I know some queens who already think they are her with their diva antics. All you have to do is wear a gown, get an awesome bronze “Bob” weave, and put your hand in people’s faces. Brownie points if you make a Zombie Whitney Houston cause you’re definitely going to get a blow job from me in the bathroom this year.

Selina Kyle

The Dark Knight Rises was the most highly-anticipated movie of the year. I have personally seen it three times. The first two times cause I love everything about Batman and the third time was to jack off to Christian Bale during that dungeon scene where he was working out. Trust me, if you haven’t seen it yet, see it for that sole reason. My fave part of the movie was also bad bitch Selina Kyle cause she’s purr-fection. I’ve always felt that Catwoman and I are kindred spirits. Both of us are sexy bitches who use whips and leather when we see a guy. Selina Kyle is for all you twinky boys who enjoy a walk on the wild side. All you have to do is wear a tight black patent leather bodysuit, enormous stilettos, and talk like you’ve got a dick shoved down your throat. But please, if you’re even a tiny bit fat, don’t wear this costume otherwise I’ll be tempted to call you Fatwoman instead of Catwoman – got it? Also, remember to swallow – Catwoman always drinks up cream to the very last drop. Me-owwwww!

Psy

What’s my favorite song from Psy? Obviously, it’s “Gangnam Style” cause that’s the only song that literally EVERYONE knows. Even that old guy who fucked me at the retirement home knows Psy. Psy is the biggest thing coming from Asia since kids learned how to sew for $1 a month. To get the perfect Psy costume, all you have to do is wear a suit, part your hair, wear sunglasses, and act like you’re riding a horse – or a guy – or whatever that makes you bounce up and down.

If none of these costumes seem to work for you, just go as this:

Just promise to me that you won’t go as someone sober. I can’t tolerate that shit.

Smooches.

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