People should have a quick glance at the mirror before they leave their home -- Part One

I do not know why I keep torturing myself.

I am so busy with assessments, assignments, and keeping myself up to date with the ladies in Wisteria Lane; yet, a few days ago, I agreed to go on a semi-blind-date. The blind date wasn't completely "blind" because the mutual friend, who organized this date (she is also the only person that knows I am gay) showed my pictures to The Guy and she also showed me his pictures.

From the pictures, he looked good, not really my "type"; but, still good. I appreciated the fact that the photo he took was not photo-shopped, a profile shot, or a 3/4 shot -- it was a front-on shot (I think there is a specific term; however, my America's Next Top Model vocabulary is failing me, sorry Tyra).

I admit, I was very excited about the date. I wasn't expecting to have sex or anything, but the prospect of going on my first date with a guy, who appeared handsome in the photos, made my heart race and my palms quite sweaty.

I spent at least an hour deciding what to wear,we were going to a respectable restaurant, so I wanted to dress appropriately. I settled with leather shoes, dark-blue jeans (non-tight, thanks), and a Lacoste polo shirt. I think that it was not too fancy, but it still looked good.

I spent another half hour grooming myself:

1. Face shaved - check
2. Hair styled - check
3. Nails clipped and filed- check
4. Have my favorite Calvin Klein fragrance on - check

Because we lived at opposite ends of the city, we agreed to meet up at the restaurant, rather than car pooling.

As I was parking my car, I received a text from him saying he was already at the entrance to the restaurant and that he'll wait for me there. Good, I thought; at least he isn't a pig who already seated himself at the table and started ordering/eating without me.

So, I start heading to the entrance of the restaurant and from afar I see him. I swear, I got goosebumps when I saw him -- the BAD kind of goosebumps.

Where do I begin...

1. He wore flip-flops and 3/4 jeans
   
2. His hair looked like he just had sex in some public toilet
3. His face was all greasy, like a pizza or something, did he even bother to shower?
4. He looked like he smelled bad
5. He did not look anything like the guy in the photo; he looks much, much older in person
6. He had...a skate...board...

Bucket please.

Vomit.

Great, I just lost 1 pound. Thanks.

I mean, come on, it's a restaurant for Christ sake, not some food court, is it really so hard to dress for the occasion. Also, it was HIS idea to come to this restaurant.

Anyway, we greeted with a hand shake (his hands were all greasy and sticky) and proceeded with some small talk. I was getting really hungry so I suggested that we should go inside to our table.

End of Part 1 of this post...I gotta get back to my assessment.

And yes, it did get worse.

QQ

I am allowed to have my opininons

I don't like bullshitting around. We were all raised certain ways; I was taught that if I had a problem with someone I should not gossip or back-stab them and I should confront them and talk about it.

Yesterday at work, I had a major problem with one of my co-worker. She would constantly enter a "depressed" state, this meant that she would stop working and then bitch to us about how upset she is over the fact that she's a twenty-seven year old virgin. She doesn't say it directly, but she's suggesting that the *only* reason that she is single is because she's overweight.

This girl always complains about her weight. She is not morbidly obese, just a little bit overweight, maybe 15kgs higher than she should be. If she had the disease where she cannot lose weight (I remember reading about that somewhere?), I would be much more sympathetic. However, she has lost weight in the past, but somewhere along the lines she just gave up, and let herself -- emotional and physical -- waste away.

I have many friends who are not in the "perfect weight range" but the difference between them and this crazy girl is that they don't bitch and moan about it every hour. My brothers are also overweight; however, they accept it, they're comfortable with themselves, and they are very confident too.

"Vigilant, what do you think?" She asks

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes"

"Well... I think that your unhappiness stems from the fact that you're unhappy with your weight, and that you blame all of the negative things on your life on your weight problem. I think that you're taking the easy way out".

That was all it took. The other co-workers all gave me the "oh no he didn't!" face.

God damn!

Look, I am not going to defend myself to anyone, but I am allowed to have opinions. I watch my weight down to the micro-gram. If I gain 1kg, I instantly go on a diet until I'm back to the weight that *I'm* comfortable with. I don't constantly bitch to my friends or my co-workers that (1) I haven't had ice cream in over a month, (2) that I'm tired from all the exercises and running, (3) that I really want a triple chocolate cake from Starbucks but I restrain myself. I don't bitch about all of this to my friends or co-workers. I just DO it. I really can't stand people that bitch and moan about something (that can be changed) and then don't do a thing about it. Okay, if it's something that you seriously cant change then that's just unfortunate; however, if it's possible to change that negative aspect of your life (by your own effort, or otherwise) then there should not be any excuses.

In her case, she bitches and complains all day, and the only thing she does about her problems is to put some more fried chicken and watermelon into her gut.

I also hate the fact that my co-workers act all sincere and give her "empty" advice.

What good are your advice if you don't follow through with them! It's so easy to tell someone "oh, all you need to do is just go for a two hour run every day for two months and you'll be in shape!". But, isn't it better if you followed through with your advice? For example, if she had let me, I would have helped her exercise and diet and lose weight; I wouldn't have thrown advice at her. I would've followed through.

We're not in a third world country. There is help readily available for this sort of thing. I want to tell her to stop being ashamed of herself and seek help.

But then she had to act like a crazy bitch.

So, now I'm the black sheep among my co-workers.

Fuck em'

It is time to care about...your straight friend!

I am the type person who tries really hard at anything and everything. Even if the task looks unachievable, I’ll give it a shot. This attribute has proven to work for me – rather than against me – so far in life.

I don’t know what it is about straight athletic guys that interest me so much. I’d try my hardest to get them to like me. In the past, I’d learn to play sports that I hated (why don’t they want to watch Grey’s Anatomy with me, in my bed, underneath a nice cozy blanket); I’d go to parties with them, just to “fit in” (I hate parties – too many fake people); I’d smoke (I’ve stopped now, lung cancer? no thanks ; I am no longer cool); I took drugs (key word: took). By doing the things I’ve mentioned above (and many more that is unlisted), I have gained their respect and their friendship.

It is also very hard for me to control myself because most (except one or two, sorry K and T) of my straight friends are 7’s and over. It’s so unfair. If I was a girl, and they were still my friends, I’d bang all of them in a heartbeat. No regrets.

Sometimes I lay in bed at night thinking how sad it is that they don’t really know me. They think I’m single because I’m holding out for the “right chick”. I want to tell them that I’m single because I’m in love with them. But the feelings aren’t mutual. They love me in the “bro-mance” sense. I love them in a “poke me please” sense.

I’m very secretive about being gay; but when I do decide to come “out” I want it to be like My Sweet Sixteen Party. I’m still young anyway, I know I have to come “out” to my friends eventually, I just don’t want to be thinking about that just yet; maybe next year.

So, after the last lecture my friend Will-Always-Be-Straight-Handsome-Hunk asks me what I’m going to be doing this weekend. I tell him that I’ll be:

1. Working out. I assure him that I need to be in tip-top shape to please the honeys. (Truth is I won't be working out this weekend; unless you consider binge-eating "working out". Actually, I'm sure a mouth workout counts for something...)
2. Not studying. Let's face it, only nerds study. I mean, who wants good grades and a good job; especially in this economy...
3. Breaking a girl's heart. There’s this girl that likes me, and she thinks I like her. I think she's a skank; a total whore. Deep down I’m actually jealous of her: she sleeps with all the guys that I secretly hope would sleep with me. Sigh.

Will-Always-Be-Straight-Handsome-Hunk asks me if I can drop him off home (because it’s raining). Of course I say yes; I’m such a good friend and a good human being. Secretly I pray that this kind gesture will make him gay. Maybe before getting out of my car he’ll give me a kiss. Hey, you can’t blame a guy for praying.

As I’m reversing out of the student car park area Will-Always-Be-Straight-Handsome-Hunk hits the “play” button (car CD player). So the intro of the song starts and I think to myself “hey this sounds familiar… oh shit! I forgot to change CD’s!” Then the singing starts…

Red One.
Konvict.
Ga Ga.
Wo-ah.
I've had a little bit too much....

[Lyrics to the intro of Just Dance..]

I think to myself “Shit, it’s over, my whole facade has crumbled; he knows I’m gay. Come on, no 'straight guy' listens to Lady Gaga…”

Then something weird happened… he was singing along.

He…knew…the…words…to…the…song.

I think I love him. For real! I think I smiled throughout the whole song and when the song ended,I asked him (in a joking but dead serious tone) if he wants to go to the Pussy Cat Dolls and Lady Gaga concert with me.

“Nah man, that’s gay!”

Fuck him.

Heartbreaker.

Jerk.

What's the difference between me and you?

Many years ago I went through a brief stage of denial; I tried to convince myself that I was "Bi". Looking back, I can't help but laugh at myself -- what a fool! But hey, I'm only human.

I've always wondered what it was like to be a straight guy. You know... to look at a naked picture of a girl and get an erection. If I could be a heterosexual guy (preferably a jock -- to further stereotype myself) for just one day, I'd flirt with a guy (who I think is gay but in the "closet") and torment him. I'd let him buy me drinks, pay for the movie tickets, pay for dinner. And just when he thinks I'll f*ck him, I'd be all like "Ew, bro, what the hell you doing?! Get your hand off of my crotch! Dude I'm not gay, I'm straight". I'd then leave in a hurry, making sure to flex my body as I walk away.

And...

It's time to wake up! Snap back to reality! Back to being a gay guy living in a world that doesn't (generally speaking) accept homosexuality. It'd be awesome if I woke up one day, took a step outside, and all the guys (and girls) that are gay/lesbian have a special name tag. Something that is preferably easily identifiable; for example, a tag on the arm which reads "My name is Jeff -- I am gay!" (pink coloring). This would make my life so much easier; no need to activate my gaydar (which has been malfunctioning for the last 5-6 years); no need to throw myself onto drunk straight guys; no need to act like I'm interested in "hot chicks" around my straight friends. I could come "out" without the fear of coming "out" and still remaining single. I like to fool myself into thinking that the only reason I'm single is because I'm a gay guy that does not go to gay clubs, pubs or any of that fancy gay networking things. Imagine if I come out and I go to gay clubs, pubs, and those fancy networking things -- and I REMAIN single. My ego would be crushed.

I must say that the worst type of heterosexuals whom I have met are the ones that support the most outrageous things in this world but treat homosexually like the plague. They would act extremely "PC"; "Oh! I'm so glad Obama won, it shows that America is really progressing!" Then when the Ellen Degeneres show comes on, the same "PC" heterosexuals say something so stupid which consequently make them look like dumb-asses: "You know, I think one of the reason Ellen is so popular is because she's a lesbian". Yeah... that's it. I'm sure it has nothing to do with her being a hard worker or that she perservered in an industry that is, in my opinion, still currently homophobic. I'm sure Ellen is popular only because she likes to eat pussy.

I look at these homophobes and I think to myself: our genes are so similar (99.9% or something), and we both are so privileged (running water, shelter, two arms, two feet), so what the hell went wrong? What makes you so much better than me? What exactly is the difference between me and you?

I can't imagine myself waking up one day, thinking "Today is the day. Today is the day that I will stop talking to all of my straight friends. Today I'm going to be a heterophobe. Screw those straight couples, I'm going to act all disgusted when I see a guy and a girl hold hands".

I'm a firm believer in relativity; what may be relatively important to me may not be relatively important to you. Everyone, at the end of the day, can have their own opinions and beliefs. But this one thing is so hard for me to grasp. This idea that gay people chose to be gay. Is it so hard to understand that we were born this way? A pastor once told me that being gay is the devil's doing. I won't even get into that.

It is time to care...of our skin!

There are so many things that are out of our control.

I can make precise plans regarding how I would like my day to go. But by the end of the day, I could have done NOTHING of what was originally planned and this would seriously annoy me.

Did I go for my run at 7:30am? - No.
Did I read 30 pages of Novel A? - No.
Did I clean the fridge out? - No.
Did I meet up with friend 01? - No.

E.t.c.

It can get extremely frustrating.

Normally, however, I usually accomplish everything I originally set out to do. But some times I procrastinate.

One thing that always makes me get to sleep -- without any sense of guilt -- is knowing that I took care of my skin. I know that straight guys (generally speaking) are sooooo afraid of letting other people know that they take care of their skin. Is it really that shameful? To me, a healthy, clear skin means that you take care of yourself -- or, your genes are amazing.

Okay I must admit up until a few years ago I didn't really take care of my skin. I didn't think I really needed to. I could just wash my face with water and that will be it. Now (early 20's), I feel that I need to properly wash my face, use toner, and moisturize. You only get one skin... per se'

It's funny, I am very adamant about taking good care of our skin; yet, when people ask me what I use (to cleanse e.t.c), I just say I use water. I guess I'm afraid that if I tell them that I use a cucumber scrub every few days or a strawberry mask it'll scream out "GAY!" -- I blame the media for this.

I'm not "out", I'm sort of afraid of coming "out", I'm worried that everything that I've worked so hard for would gradually disappear. I know that I need to come "out" eventually...

It's silly really. I mean, I'm worried that:

1. My friends would love me less; but if they are truly my friends then their love for me wouldn't change.
   
2. My parents would love me less. But a parent's love is meant to be unconditional. Is it really my fault that I was born this way? Do you think that you did this to me? Is this [being gay] even something to be ashamed of? I think not.
   

I know that my best friends and family will be supportive. But there is always that space in the corner of my mind that says to me "what if...".

What if they disown me? What if my friends never talk to me again? What if I lose everything?

It's this fear that holds me back. It is this fear that will stop me from growing as a man. But I will overcome this fear soon. Real soon.

Which brings me back to what I was blabbering about earlier... I feel that taking care of my skin (morning and nightly routine or whatever) is one thing I have control over. And it's a feeling that's so empowering.

There's so much poverty, hatred, jealousy, backstabbing, and gossip going around in the world which directly and indirectly affects me... and I'm so glad I have the luxury to be able to smother on a nice cucumber facial mask and just relax; even if only for 15minutes.

:D

I have been one of those "silent readers" whom read many, many blogs, but doesn't comment. I decided... what the heck, I should start one up also!

But, I feel like there are certain "ingredients"/factors/criterias that are necessary to create a successful blog. The good blogs that I have read seem to be:

1. Insightful
2. Funny/witty/tongue-in-cheek
3. Drama-filled
4. Emotionally 'touching'

If this is the case then i am F*CKED! My sense of humor is weird; I am about as insightful as a grapefruit; my life is pretty stable -- not much drama; and err...how do I emotionally touch someone?

However, I feel that the very best blogs are the ones that don't give a sh*t about what other people think. As if they write on their own terms and they don't write just to get more comments or more readers but they write because it is from the heart.

So that's what I'm going to do.

Heck, I think I've always been good at living life on my own terms anyway.