Tag Archives: the gayly dose

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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So You Think You’re A Drag Queen?

Whether you’re a macho straight man or even a prissy girly-girl, everyone has an inner drag queen inside of them. From the way you walk, the way you talk, and even your diva ego are all aspects that every drag queen uses when they’re performing on and off stage. I believe if I were a drag queen my name would be Kitten solely because I fucking love my cat. Every month at Town Danceboutique in D.C., there’s a fabulous event filled with wigs, make-up, and attitude that puts Naomi Campbell to shame. The event is known as “So You Think You’re A Drag Queen?” and it brings all the glitterati sashaying to Town just to catch their favorite local drag queens compete to become the next big act in D.C. And your’s truly got to go backstage and get the inside scoop.

If you’re still somewhat hazy, or somewhat drunk like me, about “So You Think You’re A Drag Queen?”, my friends over at Metro Weekly have been documenting it since 2010 so watch the video above. “So You Think You’re A Drag Queen?”, hosted by Lena Lett and Shi-Queeta-Lee, is essentially an homage to the ubiquitous “RuPaul’s Drag Race” where there is a panel of guest judges (Derek Brown, Epiphany B. Lee, Tatianna, and Ba’Naka) that critique the queens and the winner is chosen by the audience. Let me just say, the turnout was mind-blowing and there even was a bachelorette party taking place. Let me tell you, nothing gets straight women going than seeing a drag queen throwing them shade. Here’s an example:

Drag Queen to bachelorette party: “Let me see your ring, honey. Oh, it’s sooooo tiny. Good for you, sweetie!”

S-H-A-D-E

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(Lena Lett)

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(Shi-Queeta-Lee and her perky nipples)

The drag queen contestants were:

Alessandra McQueen

Porcelain St Clair

Francesca Adams

Kellie Nicole Savage Black

Zendaya Thorne 

Kit Valentine

One of my favorite performances was done by Ba’Naka Deveraux, who performed “Boy Is A Bottom“. So chic.

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(Ba’Naka Deveraux performing “This Boy Is A Bottom” whilst getting her coins)

Honestly, I couldn’t really remember the rest of the show because I was in a text war with my drug dealer. But if could guess, there were drag queens, dresses, wigs, like maybe Tatianna from season 2 of Rupaul’s Drag Race was there…

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Also make-up, high heels, maybe a Dolly Parton drag queen…

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(Porcelain St. Clair, above, ended up winning the competition. Side note: her parents and family came out to support her. So cute.)

My all-time favorite and the drag queen I was rooting for, Alessandra McQueen, took to the stage and released her inner Sasha Fierce.

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After the show I got to go backstage and catch up with the hilarious and profound Lena Lett who is also an ordained minister. How fucking amazing is that?

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(Lena Lett with Jesus)

Since Lena is a devout catholic, we got to talk about the Pope. “I think this Pope is a breath of fresh air. He is very humble.”, Lena says, “He takes the message of the gospel personally and the integrity of the gospel personally.” When it came to her performing as a comic in the drag queen circuit, she told how she’s been performing for about 17 years and has collected about a thousand outfits over the years.

I also got the opportunity to catch up with one of the runner-up of “So You Think You’re A Drag Queen”, Francesca Adams.

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(Francesca Adams)

“My middle name, in boy form, is Francis, so that’s where I got Francesca. And Adams I took from a very dear friend of mine.”, she told me while I stared at her flawless eye make-up. Although Francesca performed to Richgirl’s “He Ain’t Wit Me Now (Tho)”, she does cite Beyonce as one of her musical inspirations and fashion inspirations.

Oh, yeah, and this happened.

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(Kellie Nicole Savage Black)

Town hosts “So You Think You’re A Drag Queen” every month so be sure to attend if you’re ever in the area. You’ll get to see things like this…

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(Kit Valentine)

Great cutlets, girl.

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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What I’m Obsessed With: Jax Taylor

You know how it felt when you stumbled upon Christian Louboutin men’s loafers for the first time? That moment when your heart melted and you knew it was love at first sight? That’s exactly how I felt when I first saw Jax on Bravo’s Vanderpump Rules. I watched every single episode and always thought that Jax was one hot piece of ass in every episode, even when he had his shirt on. Upon watching the reunion episode last week, did I notice what a great guy he really was. Let’s ignore the fact he cheated on Stassi, hooked up with Laura Leigh, and lied about everything, he still kept one thing sacred in a relationship that I cherish the most: Being sexy.

Jax Taylor is a model turned bartender, now at Sur, that has modeled in various different fashion campaigns. When he first started out in the modeling industry, he and Channing Tatum were roommates. Did you get a boner? Yeah, so did I. Can you imagine how the morning rush in that apartment was like? While one was showering, the other was at the sink brushing his teeth. Maybe they even helped each other get dressed and had all-night fuck sessions when they were in between girlfriends. One can only dream. And later masturbate to that dream.

Anyways, I can’t wait for the return of Vanderpump Rules and its second season on Bravo. Now, can someone help me out with my raging boner I have?

Smooches.

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Over It!

There are so many things in this world that make me happy. Penises, nipples, spinning class, and kale are some of the things that make life worth living as a gay man. Even though this world is full of great things, it’s also full of bullshit that I am totally done with. “Over It” is going to be a segment that talks about things that I’m totally over a.k.a. that I’m sick of. Hopefully, you’ll be over them too after I explain why. If you aren’t, then I’m over you! Here it is:

Blackberrys

I was a fan. I used to have a Blackberry Bold back in the day when they were hot. Notice I used past tense. Now, Blackberrys have the same functionality and technology behind an actual blackberry fruit. They are a dead technology. So, throw away that Blackberry and that fax machine you probably have to.

Girls who watch sports

Please, bitch. We all know you watch sports to turn on guys. I saw you with your Ray Lewis jerseys at the sports bars cheering when the Super Bowl was on while you were chugging three beers. And I also saw you the other night in your little black dress on a stripper pole while sipping on an Appletini. You ain’t foolin’ nobody, hunty! Girls who are “into” sports are full of shit. Just because you watch a football game and scream right after everyone else screams, doesn’t mean you’re a fan. I would love it if you named at least eight players on your favorite sports teams and the corresponding referee calls. And, all of the dumb straight guys eat that shit up and find it sexy when they see a girl watching sports. You girls disgust me. By the way, why haven’t I thought of this strategy to pick up straight dudes at sports bars?

Hipsters

Stop riding your bicycles everywhere you go. Stop drinking organic carrot juice. Stop watching documentaries. And start showering, start driving your cars, and start wearing deodorant. You’re hot and all but I would like to tell the difference between you and the local hobo pissing in a water bottle. Thanks! P.S. Cut your long hair. The shaved head/short hair look is in.

Nightclubs

I love dancing as much as the next person. And I love pole dancing as much as the next go go boy. So, if I want to twerk in a mosh pit full of sweaty gay men I’d just go down to my nearest bathhouse orgy. I am SICK of all this little gay boy divas waltzing around my favorite D.C. gay nightclub with their fucking multicolored skinny jeans and plunging v-necks. I want to dance without you having to spill your drink, which you probably got from blowing a gay man who bought it legally, all over my new Prada velvet blazer.

What are you sluts saying “OVER IT!” to? Comment below or tweet me at @GayManPrblems or @TheGaylyDose and let me know!

Smooches.

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