Denial: Not Just An African River

I have mentioned before that I came out when I was 16yrs old to a group of people who were as surprised by my coming out as they were by Lance Bass coming out. (I'm still holding hope for J.T. to get rid of Jessica Biel and come out....a boy can dream). Right after I came out, I became one of those gay's who denounced the community and decided I was above stereotypes and a general need for the LGBT community as a whole. Over the next five years I continued to be a vigilante for the straight community, you know since they were experiencing so many hardships and needed my support, all while claiming to be the "New Typical Gay." Although, in the last 2 years I have embraced this community and called it my own and stopped being such a whiny biznatch about it. Recently, I have had time to reflect on just why I had such a snarky attitude for so long. It's all because of....Straight Men.

This seems like a no-brainer, but like most things in my life...it is not for the reasons you would suspect. I mean, of course, there are the societal pressures to "act straight" and be "masculine" because that's what we have been taught to do since we were really young. There are the general fears of being bullied and having hateful things spewed at you like venom. But, I have a tough skin and I could also give two shits about people who hate me for being gay. My concern is with those open-minded Straight Men who consider themselves to be friendly with the gays, but not completely aware of what being gay is or how it might affect them. 

I decided early on it was my mission to educate Straight Men and be their friend while also putting down ze gayz. I have had a bajillion conversations with Straight Men about how I came out and what the process was and without fail the conversation always has some variation of this: 

Straight Men: So, like, how did you know you were gay?

Me: I mean, just like you knew you were straight. I found men attractive and not the vag. 

Straight Men: Did you ever try being with a girl...sexually?

Me: Variations of "sexually" yes, and it was terrible. Have you tried being with a guy...you know to see if you were gay?

Straight Men: Whoa dude, no. I'm not gay.

Me: Yup, my same sentiments towards trying stuff with women.

Straight Men: So, like what kind of guys are you attracted to?

Me: If you are asking if I am attracted to you, the answer is no. (this is generally true...) I am not magically attracted to all men. 

Straight Men: Wait, so like you're not attracted to me at all? Why?

Me: Are you attracted to all women?

Straight Men: No. 

Me: I am not attracted to all men...soo...you fall under the group I am not attracted to. 

Straight Men: But like, what about me?

Seriously, most of these conversations end with these people being some level of confused at why I am not attracted to them. That's not to say that I have never had strong feelings towards a straight man....but usually when I do, I am able to be with them in some capacity, i.e. they are not 100% straight (Hehehe ...yeahh...get it girl).


With those select few Straight Men that I have found myself attracted to or decided to pursue I always enjoyed the chase. You know that scene in He's Just Not That Into You, where the interview different people on how they know when someone is interested? They flash to two gay guys and they say they know within like 3seconds, with just a glance, whether they want to sleep with someone or not and whether that person wants to sleep with them. That is the most accurate thing I have ever heard about the gay community in a movie about straight people.

(Loveee that the subtitles are in Spanish)

I really honed that skill in college with several people. The first person I really felt the need to pursue that was "straight" was someone I actually met when I was a senior in H.S. and he was a freshman at UMD and lived on my brother floor. I didn't really think much about him at first because the only thing I knew about him was that he was a Drug Dealer. Ok, ok....I know what you are thinking, but I was never really into that in college. I drank like a fish but I never felt the urge to do drugs, probably because they are all illegal. (The hypocrisy of drugs being illegal and bothering me yet the underage drinking didn't is not lost on me, I assure you). But for some reason, almost two years later Drug Dealer looked a lot more appealing to me and was suddenly this attractive man who had "lived a life" in college. 

We were randomly at the same parties at my brothers place and a few other friends along the way and we would always catch each others eyes. It always lasted longer than three seconds and I would get these intense butterflies as if something needed to happen. Then one night at the end of September we were at a party at my brothers place and there was a group us playing "Never Have I Ever" (because when you are 19 and drinking Natty Light you need to play "revealing" games....) Someone would say, every single time, "Never have I ever....been with a guy....sexually". Literally, without fail this question would be the first one asked because I was always the only gay male in the group and I would have to put my finger down, but it was a little different this time. 

Drug Dealer  was sitting next to me and hit me a couple times in the leg to show me that he put down half a finger. He then pulled me aside after the game to have a chat. 

Drug Dealer: Did you see my finger?

Me: Why yes yes I did? Whatever did you mean with half a finger?

Drug Dealer: Well, it means that I'm not sure and I'd like to explore I think?

Me: Aww well lots of people do that in college, thanks for telling me. Lemme know if you want to talk about it more?

Something was fishy but we went back to the party like it was nothing and just drank more delicious Natty Light. The next week we were at a different party (So...I partied a lot. get over it.) and at this one Drug Dealer pulled me into a bedroom to talk again. 

Drug Dealer: I've been thinking about this a lot and you a lot

Me: Well, what exactly have you been thinking about 

Drug Dealer: I think...well... *grabs me and kisses me*

Drug Dealer: Whoa, I just kissed you. We kissed. 

Me: Ummm yes, you did just kiss me.

Drug Dealer: I can't believe I just did that. I can't believe I just kissed...you. *said with a little bit more snark, seediness then I would like*

Me: Welp, I think I am good on insults tonight...thanks. 

I stormed out in drunk dramatic fashion (Surprissseeee) and headed towards drunk food with some friends. Drug Dealer began furiously texting me saying he wanted to talk about things and fix what he said. I was not having any of it, yet I enjoyed the banter and the pining that was filling my phone. Finally I agreed to walk with him to his place and get on the bus back to my residence hall once we had finished talking. 

Drug Dealer: First off, sorry I didn't mean to sound so disgusted. 

Me: You're a real charmer. I appreciate the apology, I often like to have this happen after a kiss. 

Drug Dealer: It's just that by kissing you, I was recognizing that I am not just straight.

Me: Shocker. 

Drug Dealer: Look, I liked kissing you. I want to do it again. Thats what freaked me out. 

Me: Well, I haven't had any complaints thus far. I accept your apology.

The conversation dragged on and we discussed his feelings and what to do with all of them. We also agreed that we didn't have any feelings for each other, but there was an odd mutual attraction. Once we got back to his place...I didn't end up getting on the bus and we ended up...finding other things to do. This back and forth continued over the next year or so. The last time we "spent time" together he left his wallet in my room when he left when I went to go to the bathroom. The funny thing is, I went to the bathroom to try and figure out how to get him to leave to not spend the night. I ended up throwing the wallet out my window to him and saying we should probably not do this again. I said that all out the window. From my 4th floor apartment. Because I'm classy. 

At some point along the way he stopped selling drugs and got clean and is now married to a girl. This seems to be a theme with the Straight Men I end up "dating" or "spending time", a lot of them are married to women. (No wonder I am single...I keep turning men straight...oof). This is just one of many tales of the Straight Men of my past and why I blame many of them for my denial of the gay community for so long. Every once in awhile I get a pang for that chase...but then I remember...I'm now to lazy for that ish. 

Straight Men: not attracted to all of them, chaser of some Questionable ones

Drug Dealer: A dealer of lovin' not druggin' for me

Fabulously Lost: Putting the puzzle together as to why I am single 

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I love that the month of June is Pride month (even though I wish it were during a cooler month), and that there are parades and festivals across the country. During a time like this, when change is eminent, it is good to gather, be loud, and be proud of who we are to show the world. But holy ballz Batman, if Pride were every month my liver would be shot, my body would be constantly broken, and I'd have very little memory of what goes on in life. This past weekend was, dare I say, crazier than DC Pride...for me at least. If you have been following my stories at all, you understand that there was no way that Baltimore Pride could have been tame, considering I have dated more than half of the city. (Do we like how I refer to my experiences as "dating" people...) This is my Baltimore Pride Experience, for better or worse...

 I decided for this past weekend's experience that I wanted to actually make it out during the evening and not pass out at 11pm like I did for DC Pride. I was going to stay in and get crap done the night before and then make it to Baltimore by mid-afternoon. But as we all know, I can never resist a request for a good happy hour or night out on the town. Some of my first friends from freshman year of college asked to gather, get drinks/food, and get weird. I, of course, felt the need to oblige since I am nothing if not a people pleaser. Plus, when I was a freshman they were juniors in college and they had apartments and were getting ready to be real people and closer to 21 than I was. Basically, they were super cool to me and they liked having me around, ever since then they have been the "cool kids" to me...any opportunity to be invited to their "lunch table" was always exciting.

It ended in shambles and Mexican food. We  proceeded to share rounds of shots like we had discovered the last remaining bottle of tequila on Earth and if we didn't drink it, the recent outbreak of cannibalistic zombies would eat our faces off. (Too soon?) Things get hazy, Mexican food was randomly purchased, and a cab driver took us for a tour of DC because he assumed we didn't know where we were. All of that caused a late start for this tuckered out gentleman and pushed back my arrival to the gay parade.

When I finally arrived into Baltimore at my gay bffl's place, I was ready for the rainbow festivities begin. We got a quick drank before he suggested that we walk from Harbor East to Mt. Vernon (where Pride was being held). For those of you who are unaware of Baltimore geography, that is a bitch of a walk and completely unacceptable for someone like me, who sweats...a lot. (Annnd I wonder why I am single). Almost as quickly as he suggested it, I jumped in a cab and told him and some of our friends to have an enjoyable walk and made my way with two of my lady friends to the festival of colors.

Within moments of arriving  I was accosted with several people I have "dated" over the last year. First we had Betty Boop, who literally just stared at me with his mouth open as if he'd seen a ghost. Now, I had prepped myself for the fact that it was inevitable for me to run into some of the cray crays of my past, I also practiced many reactions and faces so I wouldn't look like Betty Boop did. I gave a half smile before scurrying off into the crowd and hoped that was the worst run-in of the day. (Hahahaha, we all know I do not poses the luck of the Irish, these run-ins would only get better from here)


Baltimore Pride is like one big clusterfuck on Charles Street in between the two main gay bars in the city. Everyone was just outside, drinking, eating, drinking, dancing, drinking and being ridiculous. I ran into some old gays from high school in the process. (Shout out to my Howard County Gays!....that just felt lame to type...) Before I left for the day my mother said one thing to me:

Mama Fabulous: It would be nice if you could find someone at this event. I mean...there will be a lot of options.


Yup, its gotten to the point where my parents pity my single life. I patted her on the arm and assured her I would keep an open mind up about meeting someone. When I met up with some co-workers at the block party I told them about the  request for me to meet someone and instead of laughing at me they asked me what I would want....sooooo now everyone is over my single status. JOKES ON ME.

Co-worker: What's your ideal man, absolute perfect person.
Me: Ethnic
Co-worker: I don't know what to do with that, I need more.
Me: Tall, ethnic
Co-worker: This is why you are single. 
Me: Ughhh.... 6'-6'4", black/mixed, light eyes, more masculine than me, hunky
Co-worker: I should've guessed that. 
Me: I mean....you asked...whatever....he doesn't exist. Single foreverrrrr
Co-worker: Glad to see you aren't dramatic, I'll keep my eyes open.




After roaming around and having a god awful fruity drink, we ended up at City Cafe at the end of one of the blocks. Drinks were flowing there and it was a good place to wait out the heat. Within moments I became friends with a rando who was wearing the same J Crew shorts as me. He was a tall black man (surrrprissseeeeee) who happened to work in the same building as me. We hit it off and even took a picture together. My follow through was terrible. We didn't exchange numbers, names, or anything beyond witty banter and some drinks. Failed attempt at love #1.


It was also at this point that Baltimore Frandz decided we were only going to drink "clear" liquids for the rest of the day. This would avoid the issue of spilling fruity drinks on our outfits and feeling bloated from too much beer. This also ensured that we were all going to be...sloppy(?) by the end of the evening. Gin and tonics also seemed like the "healthiest" choice with the fewest calories. (We did everything in our power to talk ourselves into this being a good idea)


But it was a good idea....because....because....I FELL IN LOVE. It's true. I found someone at Pride! Baltimore Frandz went into Central and went to the upstairs lounge area, where I immediately ran into MIGHTY DUCK, who literally looked me up and down, turned to the queens flocking him on either side and said "There's nothing for us to see up here...let's go". How the mother effing hell did I just get dissed by someone who wore a feather suit to the bar as "high fashion." FEATHERS!

I was obviously feeling dejected and down by this display of gay prosecution and needed a drank...fast. That's when I fell in love. A 6'2" black man with a great smile made initial eyecontact with me and we started making eyes at each other from across the bar. (which means, since I was drunk, that I was probably awkwardly licking my lips and bugging my eyes out...you know...to show my love.)

(The only time Megan Fox and I will ever look similar...)

I guess my exotic mating ritual enticed this gentleman enough to walk over and start flirting it up with me. 

PrideLover: You are so beautiful, it's captivating

Me: HAHAHAHAHAHA, I mean, HAHAHHAHA

PrideLover: What's so funny?

Me: Uhh...oh...you were serious. Umm...I was laughing....dropped drink.

PrideLover: You dropped your drink? Aren't you holding it in your hands?

Me: Person behind bar. And they. Thank you

PrideLover: Haha, you're adorable. Let me get you a drink.

I am not really sure how I was adorable in anything that I did there but we ended up talking for awhile going back and forth. We met each others friends and we even exchanged numbers. Outside of the slight intoxication, it's one of the most normal ways I have met someone in a long time. PrideLover even exchanged numbers with one of my bffl's while I was in the bathroom, to make sure we would end up going out on a date. 

I am most thankful for the fact that we parted ways a little bit later before he watched me scarf down jalapeno poppers like it was my job...and burning the entire roof of my mouth in the process. (because I am classy like that..). The next day he texted both me and my Baltimore bffl to make sure we had fun and confirm that he was, in fact, still interested. I had forgotten I had fallen in love, but was invigorated by the texting and fell right back into it. 

I told a couple of my friends about it and my Brazilian bffl had some choice words about my new found relationship. 

Brazilian Bffl: I give it two weeks

Me: But I have found true love 

Brazilian Bffl: You find love every week, you get bored, and you move on. I give him two weeks

Me: You are not the boss of my heart. It beats to a different drum

Brazilian Bffl: Mhmm, two weeks.

Obviously she has little faith in my ability to find a suitable suitor, but I won't let her get me down. (to be fair...my track record...well, I write a blog about the pitfalls of my dating life. Maybe she's right?) I had another friend semi-belittle the experience.

NJ Bffl: I think its so great how often you fall in love!

Me: I meann...what?

NJ Bffl: I just think its great you have so many adventures and put your all into them

Me: Adventures are my thing, check out my OkCupid profile...I write a whole section about my adventurous life style. 

(Read Also: I lie on my profile about my adventurous lifestyle)

NJ Bffl: Maybe you don't fall in LOVE but more like LUV

Me: Rude

It seems my friends can't decide if they are desperate for me to not be desperate anymore or if they have lost faith in my dating life. Maybe a little of both? Either way I have a date with PrideLover on Tuesday of next week....we will find out how long true love really lasts.

Also, Mama and Padre Fabulous decided to take in the Pride Festival in Baltimore on Sunday for Father's Day. I'd like to point out, that while this gesture is completely and totally awesome and wonderful....it sucks for me. You may ask why? Well, since they are so freakin' accepting of me and supportive, it eliminates the possibility of me writing about a dysfunctional background or having a deep dark past. I will never be a moody songwriter or have a best selling book about my life turned into a Lifetime Movie (Every gay boy can have dreams...can't he??) So thanks Parental Units, thank you for bringing me up in a totally normal home where I was allowed to be myself and you still liked me. Rude. Just ruddeee. 

Fabulously Lost: In love with a stripper and PrideLover and Straight CT (Sooo maybe friendz have a point)

Friends: Faithless heathens 

PrideLover: Unaware of what he got himself into

Parents: Accepting and Loving...and rude.

Pride or Die: DC Edition

So remember that time I told you that Pride was this past weekend and I would update you? Well...I didn't lie. Here is the update. Boom. I am not a liar. Score one for Team Fab! Before I tell you about my fabulous glitter filled weekend I have to tell you about my pact I made with a small group of my friends to not drink for a month.

I know, shocking right? Over Memorial Day weekend I was with some of my lady friends and the decision was made as the weekend was winding down. For some reason we decided that it would be a good idea to limit our drinking before a wedding we are all going to at the end of June. I stayed quiet during most of this only chiming in every once in awhile because I enjoy good beverage or two. A good drank or two allows me to dance like there is no tomorrow, mack it like my lips will fall off if I don't continue, and fall in love strippers and straight men. I am not a slave to the drank or an alcoholic...but I meannnn cahhhhm ahhhhn. (Judgement stops here...rude.)


We weren't going to go cold turkey...well, because that's just something that's too over zealous for a group of kids in their mid-twenties to do. The girls decided they were allowed 4 drinks, total, in a week and I was allowed 7 drinks. We fdecided to start an email chain, "Sober and Sexy", to help motivate each other not to drink. Needless to say....I failed miserably. A solid 72hrs after this deal was sealed I went to the strip club and obviously needed social lubrication to make it through.

I told the group the next day with my head held low and feeling shameful, and you know what they did? They turned out to be the most terrible AA group I have ever heard of. I didn't realize it was a competition...I tried to win back their trust and didn't go out at all the next weekend. I missed a BAR crawl for them and dancing in the club with old friendz. This did nothing to win them over and I was shamed into the corner. One of my lady friends even gchatted me to let me know how horribly I had failed. I felt like I was on the Intervention episode of It's Always Sunny.

(Check it out: Intervention)

Anywhoz, I told you all of that because I'd like to be able to blame them for my dying at Pride in DC. I figure I am nothing if not a good "blamer on others" and this seems like the perfect time to do this.  I would also like to take a moment to blame a couple of other people for my "state" of being on Saturday. 

• The waiter, Drew--- he was charming and kept bringing carafes of alcohol to our table like it was his job or something. (Facts, it was his job. Facts, he did a damn good job)
• The Allies --- none of them stopped me from consuming carafes like they were water. (they also might have been inebriated) 
• My Parents --- their love of a good breakfast fruity drink was passed on to me and in the end....we all blame our parents for everything anyways right?

Ok, now that the blame is allocated to the correct people I can continue. I went to brunch with a group of my favorite Allies and proceeded to drink mimosa's like I'd just lost my job and my only true form of happiness would be found at the bottom of my glass.

 So drinks were a-flowin' and laughs were being had and somewhere along the line I decided that it would be a good idea to post photos to Facebook/Instagram/Twitter like it was my new job. This caused me to be extra vain and constantly check who was "liking" and commenting on the photos. (I deemed everyone who didn't like the photos to be homophobic. It's a thing).

At some point during the hullabaloo I began texting with my mother. Now I have mentioned before, Mama Fabulous  and I are pretty tight when it comes to Mother-Gay Son relationships, but it has gone to far now. I need to be stopped. I need my phone taken away from me, because for some reason I have decided it is good for me to "drunk dial" my parents on a regular basis. (Yup...I drunk dial my parents...judge away). It usually only happens when I am day drinking or fairly early in the night after a happy hour of sorts, but always ends with them talking to me like a child.

This was our "Pride Day" convo;

Me: Hi there Mama Fabulous, you are so wonderful.
Mama Fabulous: Hi! Is everything okay? 
Me: Yeah, you know, just here with some girls eating brunch.
Mama Fabulous: That's great! Are you having fun?
Me: Oh definitely. I called to tell you that I am grateful that you like gay people. So many people have bad parents who don't like them. You are good. You are a good parent. Thanks for not being terrible. I am less damaged.
Mama Fabulous: Well, you're welcome I think. Have you been drinking at all?
Me: Just a little bit, its early. I have had brunch. I would say this to you without the drinks, because you are good.
Mama Fabulous: I don't want you missing out on more fun talking to me, why don't we chat more tomorrow. 
Me: Look how good you are, I won't miss out on fun. I am fun. Love you!
Mama Fabulous: Love you too, please be safe. 


I am a mess. Who drunk dials their mother? WHO? (That's a rhetorical question...jerk). I have a phone full of people who would love to talk to me and who might also be day drinking and can understand my logic. Jeez, I could also open Grindr...which may or may not have found it's way back on my phone. Uhh...errr.. I was mugged and someone grabbed my phone and then put Grindr on it and then made me keep it on there. It's not my fault. I. was. mugged. (I will go to any lengths to blame others for my actions....). Instead I called my mother.

Outside of that, the parade went off without a hitch and everything was fantabulous. We watched in the scorching heat as rainbow boa's, ass-less chaps, pink cars, drag queens, famous gays, politicians, and religious groups marched around Dupont Circle in support of the most amazing community of people. I purchased enough rainbow crap to last a life time and proceeded to lose a majority of it over the course of the day. I also did that thing where I become insanely generous and bought my group a bunch of rainbow stuff too, that they also lost throughout the day. Overall it was a bad day for money but a good day for Fabulously Lost.

In my head I made connections with a ton of the people marching. I felt myself "making eyes" and falling in love with several of the groups. I also got some stellar photos of my favorite groups:

Ummm...do I need to explain why they are my fav? I'd go all Brokeback Mountain with them....

I have no idea what they are...gay fruit? HAHA...fruit...HAHA..get it?

Everyone went batshit crazy when they walked by...need I explain why? Big Love, anyone? Anyone at all?

I also took about 42 "videos" that I thought were pictures...so I missed a lot of the cool floats due to my inability to use my fat fingers properly. As the parade finished so did my tolerance. I ended up passing out with my Twin until almost midnight. We missed several gay dance parties, made some queen's very frustrated,  but ended up having a grand time staying up watching Footloose.


Ok, ok, so I know it wasn't as eventful and crazy as I thought it would be either. I got drunk, bought rainbow crap, called my mother, and slept. It was a lovely day but I think this weekend with Baltimore Pride might end up being a little bit crazier. Most people tend to think that DC is better than Baltimore for most things, and they may be right, but I know Baltimore like the back of my hand. I know the ins and outs of that little gay community and I suspect there to be some cray cray shiznat to go down. Hold on tight ladys and gents...this might be (hopefully is... *wink, nudge, nod*) a bumpy ride.

Fabulously Lost: Owner of more Rainbows than San Francisco
My Liver: A medical phenomenon
Mama Fabulous: A saint for dealing with me
Photography: Not a job option

Things I Arbitrarily Hate

Generally people would say that I am a positive upbeat person who likes to be liked and likes being around people. There are moments that you don't want to cross me or you'll see the she-devil rise within me (i.e. don't interrupt me during "my shows" or talk poorly of Britney. #facts) For some reason along the way I have picked up random things that make my skin crawl and make me want to punch unicorns and teddy bears and other happy things. Below is a compilation of the top things that I arbitrarily hate.

1. Home Depot

     This place is where happiness goes to die for me. I have never disliked any place more than this and for literally no reason. Maybe its because...wait for it....I. Hate. Do-it. Yourself. Projects. I have no urge to learn how to fix or build things. I gain absolutely no pleasure out of making things and then using them. I feel like doing this is depriving children in sweat shops the joy of making $.34 a day. Is that really how we are going to help foreign economies? (I'm a giver at heart). Basically what I am saying is...Home Depot is responsible for the economic downfall of America and most other countries.

2. Libraries

      I love reading with every bone in my body. I love free things (because I'm half jew). And I really like things that are organized. One would think that a library is somewhere I would love to spend my time enjoying all of the categorized free things at my finger tips. I hate them. All of them. I have not met a library I enjoyed going into. They freak me out with their silence and their inability to allow me to socialize. The pressure to be intelligent. What if I want to read Chelsea Handlers new book? I see the librarians scoffing at my choice. Ohhhh the judgement. I went to the main library on UMD's campus a handful of times in college and felt the life being sucked out of me. I snuck alcohol in there twice to make it less painful...it barely worked. (Yes I had to resort to alcohol to handle being in  library. And no, I won't go to Home Depot drunk. Power tools and alcohol seems unintelligent.)

(This makes me want to vomit profusely) 

3. Televised Sporting Events 

      I enjoy going to sporting events and oogling at the attractive athletes. Usually there is some sort of food or drink that is present at these events and I am a happy camper. While in college I went to one football game all the way through, other than that I went to tailgates like it was my job. (I still can't name anyone from the football teams....though I did have stellar nicknames for them. Hot Black Man 1, Hot Black Man 2, Future Husband, Future Mister (male version of mistress), etc) Watching a game on a television screen rages me. The games can be slow moving, I'm watching a bunch of people I don't care about hitting, throwing, passing a ball into some sort of "goal." The commercials are usually terrible (I'm looking at you Super Bowl...you've let me down. Shame on you) and someone is usually pissed or yelling at the T.V. I have never watched the Tony's (Awards show for theatre...uncultured people) and yelled or screamed over a performance...cried, yes, but never yelled. (Obviously this would be my version of the Super Bowl)


4. Tom Hanks
     I watch movies with him in them and I begin to get Hulk like rage. He is a perfectly nice person who was in one of the first major movies about being gay (Philadelphia) and has never personally hurt me or my family. Yet, Mr. Hanks annoys me the minute he begins talking on screen and all I can think about is how another actor might have made these words come alive...instead the words come out of his mouth and murder any happiness in the room. When I found out he was going to be in The Divinci Code, I stopped reading the book and made it my personal vendetta to make it the biggest flop in cinematic history. Unfortunately, the furthest I got was throwing out my copy of the book and refusing to go to the movie with any of my friends. (HA....I'll show you Tom! I will be anti-social and refuse to hang out with my friends just to spite you! ZINGER)

(ENRAGED, this makes me so upset. ugh.)

5. The South
      Ok, so a lot of you might think that this is totally justified since it's the Bible Belt and they produce things like homophobia, racism, and Paula Deen, but I think of this as an arbitrary hate because I personally haven't had terrible experiences. (I mean my wallet did get PICK-POCKETED while I was in Richmond for Memorial Day...but that's neither here nor there...). I think it stems from my fathers view of the South, which has generally been negative... But my chest clenches up when I drive further south than MD and I feel like I've entered enemy territory. I am waiting for the Westboro Baptist Church to start picketing my car as I drive. I am not terribly sure about the geography down there either...I vaguely know where Texas is and Florida...but I was completely amazed recently when I looked at a map and saw where Tennessee is actually.

(Found this: http://www.buzzfeed.com/mjs538/the-3o-best-anti-westboro-baptist-church-protest-s, makes me lolz)

6. Hipsters
     Now, I don't arbitrarily hate hipsters because of the reason a lot of people dislike hipsters, I dislike them because I am not one of them. I share similar taste in music with them and I can sympathize with their plight and dislike of "the man" and other main stream shit...but my look doesn't match. I want so badly to dress like Johnny Depp and walk around with several piercings and just feel like I belong with that crowd. I have tried a couple times to be more "emo" and I take it too far. The debacle of 2008 ended with an odd argument with my mother about how she "just needed to let me be unhappy because that's the real me." (We laugh about the ridiculousness of that sentence all the time....I am nothing if not overly dramatic)

(I just want to wear a circle scarf and not look like I tattooed a glittery rainbow on my face)

All of these things have the potential of becoming things I enjoy and like over time I assume...(Except you Tom Hanks...never!). I used to hate vegetables because I was told they were good for me and I used to hate being spontaneous because its hard to schedule being spontaneous and it would stress me out. Now I no longer dislike these things. There is hope. Not for my dating life...but maybe for Hipsters. 

DC Pride is this weekend....Expect a full update on Monday or Tuesday. For Realz. I shall be playing around the city with my Twin getting toasty on mimosas. 

Fabulously Lost: Not handy...or into Cast Aways.

Arbitrary Hates: Plentiful 

I'm In Love With A Stripper

Can I tell you about the weird couple weeks I've had? Ha ha ha...who am I kidding..of course I can tell you, you've already opened this post. In the last two weeks I have blacked out 2x, traveled to the deep south, had my wallet stolen, had my car sideswiped, had a panel fall off my car (surprisingly in no relation to the sideswipe action), fell in love, and became the stripper whisperer. Now this whirl wind of events created a chaotic few moments for me but I remained relatively positive throughout the entire thing, which is not usually how I handle things. In most cases, when something crumbles in my life...I shout it from the roof tops so people will think I have some street cred against my white middle class upbringing. Instead I took most of these things in stride and just tried to fix them...I mean I guess this is kind my "shouting it from the roof top" moment...whatever, suck it.

Alright...so lets get to the nitty gritty of it all. It's true, I fell in love last week with...with...a Stripper.

How does one fall in love with a stripper, one might ask. Well it all started with my Bocce team, (I'm aware of how ridiculous the sport is and even more ridiculous that I am on the team...) which consists of a bunch of gay men and straight women. We all went to a dinner party a couple weeks ago and decided we were going to go to Secrets, an gay all nude male strip club over by Nat's stadium, after our game one week. The last time I went to a strip club I was 18 and it was a seedy female strip club outside of DC. I, obviously, didn't have the best impression of strip clubs from this event and wasn't overly excited about this decision to go. However, I am nothing if not a team player (and you just don't say no to a bunch of queens).


Well, I forgot about all of this and last Wednesday I showed up to our bocce game in critter print shorts, flip flops, and a button down. (I never really understood how to dress for sports...). After the game was over we were all standing around discussing whether we were going to go to Secrets and finally someone made the executive decision we were going to go....and we all followed. The thing that made me feel kinda weird was one of my friends had his straight friend from CT visiting. (we shall call him Straight CT...clever, I know).  I just felt kinda bad for the dude that we were heading to this type of strip club...but I didn't voice any objections.

I kid you not, Secrets is in the middle of nowhere. It is about a 15minute walk from the stadium and it is next to a power plant...there is NOTHING else around it. When we were driving down the street towards it, I was convinced that this was some weird hazing event and some of the new gays were going to be left in the middle of nowhere to find our way back. They'd call the game "Follow the Rainbow" and whoever got home first was guaranteed a spot on our Fall bocce team. (Sooo...I have an active "expect the worst" imagination). We knew we were in the right place because the large black box of a building had the most massive rainbow flag plastered on the front that I had ever seen. (As if being a gay nude strip club wasn't flashy enough...we put our bat signal on the front of the building...like really?)

(We've ARRRRRRIVVVEED)

We arrived at 8:50pm and tried to get in...but the place didn't open until 9pm. WE WERE THE FIRST PEOPLE AT THE STRIP CLUB AND WE HAD TO WAIT OUTSIDE. I was almost completely sober and dressed like I belonged in a J Crew catalog (I am obviously being very generous to myself and my style here...its been a rough couple weeks, just let me have it)...not outside of a nudey bar in the middle of bumfuck DC. When the place finally opened I felt like the guy collecting our cover was looking at us like we were a bunch of his kids who just graduated high school. I bet he was thinking "Awww they just grow up so fast. I hope the real world treats them well." Except in this instance, the real world was dark and upstairs and full of naked men and alcohol. (soooo maybe he was right...)


Literally, as soon as we walked in the door of the bar there were 5 naked men dancing in various places of the bar. Now, I knew I was going to a strip club where the men were completely naked, but I thought there would be some show or they would take some clothing off. Nope, not here. You walk in and all they are wearing are a pair of shoes and socks for you to put money in. I was shocked and kept laughing out of awkwardness. I was laughing and covering my eyes and unsure how to handle this sober. Sooooo, I went to the bar immediately to order my signature gin and tonic (every proper lady has a signature drink...). When I turned around from ordering my drink I was accosted with one of the strippers junk inches from my face....and I gasped and clutched mah pearls.

(I meannnn....yeah basically what I did)

The stripper laughed hysterically at me and pulled away. He then decided to chat with me from his post at the bar. 

Stripper: So, I'm guessing this is your first time here?

Me: The last time I was at a strip club I was 18 and it was female strippers. It was just further confirmation that I am gay. 

Stripper: Yeah, you and some of your friends look lost. Plus...you arrived as soon as we opened. 

Me: I meannnn....not by choice! I was dragged. I don't know how this works. 

Stripper: It's fine...I like people who show up early. 

Me: Well...thats me? I like your boat shoes (I would notice the only piece of clothing he is wearing)

Stripper: Ahh I'm not supposed to be wearing these! I forgot my sneakers, don't judge me!

Me: Uhhh I was serious...I mean I'm wearing critter print, boat shoes are like shoe porn for me. 

Stripper: Haha...oh, well thanks. I'm jumping off but I'll be back...

I proceeded to drink copious amounts of gin and tonics while trying to awkwardly converse with my friends and not look at all of the flailing penises. It was a futile attempt because if you weren't looking at real life penises their were penises on all of the T.V.'s. Before I knew it, I turned around and there was my Stripper. (hehe, notice how he is "my" stripper now?) He was sort of dancing and looking over at me and laughing, because by this point I was attempting to dance with a couple of my friends. Which was sad since we were the only 10 people in the place. I decided to walk over to him and give him a dollar. 

Me: Hey, just wanted to give you this for being nice and loosening me up when I first walked in. 

Stripper: Do you wanna touch me?

Me: HA..what??...I...wait...no. What? Who...thats...I mean you're attractive..but..what?

Stripper: Don't you know the rules? Ohhh I guess you don't since you've never been here (no one ever said he was smart) When you give money you can touch one of us above the waist or below the knees. So do you wanna touch my chest?

Me: Oh, um I mean I don't want to objectify you. I mean, I know you are automatically being objectified because you are a stripper but I feel like that's not me. Other people can, I don't judge but I guess I feel like I want to know someone before I touch them. You seem very nice. There is nothing wrong with you, you are very attractive. I just respect your right not to be touched. So I think I will refrain. 

Stripper: Hahahha, thank you? That's really nice of you. 

Then he..he...leaned over and introduced himself to me. We stood there for the next 20min and he told me his life story. He told me about where he grew up, what he wanted to do with his life, why he was stripping, how many siblings he had, and finally what it was like being nude all the time. When I apologized for monopolizing his time he thanked me for listening to him and said he was happy to dance and talk to me. Every time he came out to do a set he would talk to me for a majority of it. 

On his third set of the evening he grabbed my hand and put it on his chest. 

Stripper: You know me now so you can touch me and be okay with it. I feel respected 

Me: *Blushing* Oh goodness, that, well., you have a nice...its...your body.

Stripper: Hahaha yes, that's my body...I can't give out my number but I can take numbers..

Me: Sure...I mean I don't expect you to call or text but I am flattered you want it. I mean, even if you just want to be friends...you aren't really my type because, well because you are white. But everyone needs a stripper friend, right?

Umm...WHAT??? Did I just say "Everyone needs a stripper friend" to a stripper who I just went all Oprah on? Does everyone really need a stripper friend? I tried to act cool as I analyzed the fuck out of that statement and began getting more and more embarrassed by telling him everyone needs a stripper friend. Finally I handed him my number and he held onto my hand for a moment. We had another moment before I have my friends come over and he dances for them. My Stripper wins over my friends, which I decided was a good sign if we were going to work out. (Because I am crazy and planned out how plausible it would be for me to date a stripper)

My signature drink had kicked in full force at this point and I begin talking to Straight CT.

Me: So how does it feel to be in a gay strip club looking at penises when you like vag?

(I am nothing if not forward when drunk...)

Straight CT: I mean...I didn't think my first strip club ever would be gay and full of men, but you guys are having a  good time. I can appreciate that these are good looking guys. 

Me: That is fairly cool of you. I saw you hitting on one of my girl friends earlier...tryna get at that?

Straight CT: I'm hoping to move to DC soon, so that would be sweet if I could set that up. 

Me: Adorbs. 

Straight CT then began dancing around like crazy and I realized he was the same level drunk as me. He started dancing provocatively with his gay friend who he came with. I thought nothing of it, I have a couple straight guy friends I dance dirty with just for fun...but I did take note of this. Then Straight CT began dancing with me and unbuttoning his shirt. Unlike the stripper, I guess I decided I didn't respect him because I just began touching his lovely body and dancing very closely. 

Then out of nowhere he takes his shirt off completely and wraps it around my neck and pulls me in close to dance. In an unusual burst of confidence I decide I am going to just go for it....I'm just gonna do it...I'm just going to...BAM, I kissed him. We began making out and dancing like maniacs before he pulled away. 

Straight CT: Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. You're a dude

Me: Yes, yes I am

Straight CT: You're a dude and we just kissed. I just kissed a dude

Me: Yes, yes you did, we did. 

Straight CT: I'm in my first strip club, its a gay one and I kissed a dude. Don't get me wrong you are a good kisser. But you're a dude. 

Me: Yup, I'm still a dude and we kissed. Did you want to go for it again?

Straight CT: Let's just dance and let me process?

Me: No skin off my back...

Well, his processing took 5 seconds before we were kissing and dancing again. After a bit we all decided to leave and I said goodbye to Stripper and Straight CT. 

The next day I was feeling rough and talking to my twin (She is literally the short, black, female version of me...SEPARATED AT BIRTH...sister from a different mister...and mother?) and I told her I didn't know if Stripper  would text me or call me and I was sad. She responded pretty flately

Twin: Well, he might not call or text because he saw you getting it with another guy. Might be a deterrent. 

And there you have it ladies and gents. I fell in love with a stripper and I macked it with a straight guy. As if my life couldn't get any weirder I take it one step further....on a Wednesday. 

Secrets: My new favorite place

Strippers: Everyone needs one...?

CT: A now significantly more interesting state

Fabulously Lost: Hot Mess

Bro's and Sisters?

I was put into an interesting predicament recently that was partially my fault. It has been a really long time since I have gone on more than one date with a person. I have become a first date connoisseur of sorts. I can tell almost instantly when it is going to fail and at what point I am going to bail. You'd think with expertise knowledge like this I would have mastered the rest of dating...but that is neither here nor there. Now this little tale is actually about how I have handled my recent excursion into the world of the unknown...also known as "Date 2 and Beyond."

I met this gentleman like I meet most of my gentlemen friends...online. We sparked a conversation up after he gave me a "high" rating of 4 out of 5 stars on OkCupid. Now, riddle me this, why did I feel that I should message this person after they decided I was ONLY worthy of 4 stars? I am obviously a 5 star stud. (Hardy har har...I mean...at least 4.5 right? RIGHT?). Anywhoz, whatever reasoning I had for accepting this date has abandoned ship and a part of me wishes I could take it back...but I will explain why in a bit. 

We went back and forth for a bit and decided to meet up for dinner and exchange numbers. He seemed like a fairly decent white guy from right outside of Baltimore, except...well...except he was a Bro. That's right, in all of his photos he was doing bro-y things like drinking beer and being rowdy and liking sports and weird stuff that makes me feel even more homosexual than I actually am. (Didn't think I could feel more homosexual...but I did). I tried to rationalize this by telling myself that maybe he will take care of me like bro's sometimes take care of their girlfriends. I like being taken care of. This was going to be a success. 

(I am constantly confused on how I am supposed to greet my male friends. Do we hug? Do we slap each others backs violently. WTF? No seriously...someone tell me..)

Broseph and I decided to meet on a Sunday evening at a pub not too far from my house. He lived on the opposite side of Baltimore so we decided to try and find something in the middle. But I lied. I didn't feel like driving too far from my house on a Sunday and I claimed that this restaurant in Catonsville was mid-way, except it was 10min from my house and 30 from his. The sick part...I felt like I had given myself the upperhand by choosing this place. He was now traveling a far distance just to see me. SEE WHAT GIVING ME 4 STARS GETS YOU?!?! (It's the little realizations that help me understand why I am single..)

He rolled in a little late since he didn't realize how far the restaurant was...not that I had any room to be upset. I had also already downed a gin and tonic so everything was gravy with me at that point. We ended up sitting and talking for a really long time. He opened up about his family and work and all that jazz. Tony Bromo was kinda boring but nice, plus he fed me a good amount of attention. I even ended up paying for dinner because I felt bad about making him drive further, though I didn't tell him. (I would make an AWFUL Mean Girl. Sorry Regina, I will not wear pink on Wednesday)

He then did something that made me want to see him again. Brofessor X kissed me in the rain as he walked me to my car. It was magical. It was like out of a movie. I was swept off my feet. So I immediately agreed to the second date and couldn't wait for the next cheesey cliche to happen. What I wasn't ready for was how to decide what I could and couldn't do between our dates. The night before our second date was the night that I met Black Bieber.  So I obviously didn't feel a dire need to be a one-man kinda guy yet. Our second date came and went with a casual lunch and museum walk. There was something amiss and I was desperately clawing at trying to figure out what was wrong with this gentleman. 

Our third date was planned for the following Sunday and we were supposed to do dinner and a movie. The Friday before our date I decide to go out dancing with some friends in Baltimore at the gay bar. The more I drink the more I want attention. Like a lot of attention. Like I want to be fawned over and desired and I will take it from anything that moves that has the dangly parts between their legs. (Surprisseeee...I'm classy).  I'm furiously texting with Han Brolo who was contemplating visiting me at the bar which is something I was obviously pushing for. 

The only person left with me at the bar was one of my best friends who is on the verge of black out. When she gets drunk she gets T-Rex arms...and does some....interesting things. I turn around to tell her about Broheim coming and T-Rex is flicking a shirtless shot-man's nipple piercings. (same thing as a shot-girl except a man...because we are gay and like men better. Duh.) As I was about to pull her back from this, a shirtless man grabbed my arm and began mackin' it with me. Not one to be a prude I obviously obliged in my altered state. A few minutes into this random sesh I get a text message from Brotastic letting me know he was about to enter the bar. 

(This perfectly describes my feelings at that moment)

I pulled away from Shirtless Man immediately and tried to explain why we had to stop mackin' it. 

Me: Hey...so this is awkward but this guy I am going on a third date with on Sunday is about to come in the bar

Shirtless Man: Your boyfriend is about to walk in the door? Wtf??

(he did actually say W-T-F, because we are apparently in h.s.)

Me: No, no. We are going on our third date on Sunday. Definitely not my boyfriend

Shirtless Man: So you two are dating?

Me: No, no. There is something missing and I am not sure what it is. I mean he smokes which is unattractive but there is something off. I'm taking the third date to figure it out. He cliche kissed me in the rain so I'm giving him points for that. I just don't know.

Shirtless Man: I just want to know if we have to stop making out...I don't care about your fucked up logic.

Me: A little harsh, but understandable. We should just be friends...you're a good kisser though. 

As I turn around to talk to T-Rex, I get a tap on the should and there is Han Brolo smiling and pulling me in for a hug. He takes me to the dance floor where we start dancing and mackin' it...almost exactly where I was dancing with Shirtless Man. I stop for a moment and notice over his shoulder that Shirtless Man is glaring at us from the other side of the room. He is slowly plunging eye daggers into Brotimus Maximus as we move back and forth interlocking lips every once in awhile. Searching for ways to fix this situation before in escalates I am given a pass out of nowhere. 

T-Rex saunters up to me and tells me she is ret-ta-go and needs to leave now. Thanking little baby Jesus I turn to my Brofriend and tell him I need to be a good friend and take her home. She tells me to wait just one more minute as she spins around and walks up to the pierced shot-man and flicks his nipple and belly button piercings one more time. Saved by the bell I return to her place and pass out wondering how I am going to deal with our next date. 

Brozilla texts me before our date on Sunday and asks me if we can do dinner and a movie at his place instead of out to save some $$$. I go back and forth for about an hour before deciding I am willing to make this trek to his house solely because I feel guilty about the other night. Things that I know about his house before I arrive: He lives with his older sister, he has lived there for a couple years, it's in the middle of nowhere outside of Baltimore. Little did I know I would be finding out exactly what was "missing" and why I couldn't fully connect to this otherwise decent human being. 

When I arrived at the house I was greeted by his sister who told me Rambro was finishing up cleaning and would be up in 5 minutes. We shared some awkward conversation and about 20min later he rose from the basement just to let me know he was going to take a 10minute shower to get fresh for me. I smiled and said it was fine and then the interactions got rulllll weird. 

Broseiden: Hey sis, are you going to start making dinner?

Sis: Yeah I was just about to get started! I am making your favorite. 

Broseiden: I can't wait! Fab, she is the best cook ever. You'll be getting a great dinner tonight! 

Sis: Oh hush! You know I love cooking for you. So sweet. 

She then pulls out a jar of Ragu sauce and pasta. Now, I am not one to be snooty or rude or look down on the way people cook, but don't tell me that this is there idea of what a good cook is. You can tell a 10 year old to put that together. Ok, ok I am now ignoring the elephant that has just entered the room. WHY THE HELL IS SHE COOKING DINNER FOR US???? (You were afraid I wasn't going to talk about it, right? Ohhh just you wait)

Immediately my mind went to Friends, like it does when I need help figuring out most of my life situations, and the date Rachel went on with the guy who was super close with his sister. I began to panic.   (Go to 2:42....its only funny when it's not happening to you) I kept telling myself that this was just a blip and that she was just cooking for us to save us time. She wasn't going to eat with us. They both know this situation is weird, right?

The answer is no. They didn't realize this was weird and she joined us for dinner and also dominated the conversation. They talked about their Mothers Day plans and their other siblings. They talked about how long they had lived together and all 2 of her ex-boyfriends. They discussed me like I wasn't really there and they discussed our future dates. Our. Future. Dates. I tried not to laugh out loud at the thought that there would be future dates after this. Once she was finished her food I guess she decided to head out and let us finish the date on our own. 

Sis: So are you guys going to watch a movie up here?

Brosie Brodonnell: Oh I don't know, we might watch up here or down in my room.

Sis: Ok, well you can watch any of my DVD's. I have all the seasons of Gilmore Girls, it's a really good show. You should check it out. 

Brosie Brodonnell: Sounds good. Thanks for the amazing dinner sis! 

Do I really need to say anything about that? Gilmore Girls? Really? Ok cool, thanks for that little nugget of information about this show. Oh but the best is yet to come. We begin watching some movie on HBO before we begin mackin' it a bit. He stops and asks if I would like to finnish the movie in his room. Being the classy lady I am, I decide to agree and see where the night takes me. 

When we get downstairs there is not a T.V. or computer in site. He basically told his sister that we would either be watching a movie or hooking up. WHO TELLS THEIR SIBLING THAT WHEN THEY ARE IN THE SAME HOUSE?!?! I am extremely close with both my brothers and we joke about our escapades at different times but we never tell each other whats going to be going down when we are in the same house. 

All of this led to me leaving dissatisfied with the date but finally satisfied with why I felt so off about this creature. To all the Bro's out there....never invite your sister on a date with you. You already have the Bro thing working against you. 

Fabulously Lost: Smart gut feeling, poor life choice maker 

Bro's: Need not apply

Shirtless Black Men: The more the merrier

Marriage???

Alright, so I know that there has been a lot going on in the last 72 hours dealing with gay marriage and I decided I wanted in on the discussion. I feel like it is kinda like the massive elephant in the room if I don't discuss it, since all of my posts thus far have been about me trying to find "The One." But I want to take it a completely different way than you might think that I am going to take this post. Obviously I am for gay marriage and I shed several tears when Obama-rama decided to support gay marriage....

(Okay...so maybe I felt a little bit like Sally Fields...)

I'd rather give you all the reasons why I think you should let me marry whoever I'd like, besides the fact that it's basic human rights. Plus, my decision to marry will not stop the dysfunctional heterosexual marriages occurring on Teen Mom. (Pinky promise I will continue to let this happen if this is the last thing I do...)

Soooo let's get started shall we?

1. I will have the most fabulous wedding known to (wo)man.

          Did this not occur to anyone? How wonderful weddings will be if the gay's had a crack at them? You honestly think the Royal Wedding has anything on my wedding? There will be doves and live bands  (yes multiple bands) and it will be the biggest thing to hit whatever city I am residing in. 

          I wholeheartedly plan on getting married during one of the coldest months of the year because I suffer from...from...sweat. I have mentioned this before that I am someone who sweats when I exert the slightest bit of effort. (During Snowpocalypse '10 I walked about half a mile and had to begin stripping because I was sweating. IN. A. BLIZZARD) So the wedding industry, which has its lull in the winter, will have new life breathed into it when I get married. This wedding will be a winter wonderland of epic proportions and I plan on having everyone I know there. I tell people all the time that I am not sure if I want a small intimate wedding or a medium sized one...and thats a bunch of bullshit. If I could televise my wedding I would. I have no shame and I am a little bit vain. (shut it...I am admitting to being a little vain, let me have a moment). I won't be a Groomzilla, but there are things that I have been dreaming about doing for some time. 

           The only thing I have set in stone is that my two brothers will be my best men and I know what song I want to dance with my mother to. (I know...I'm a horrible person! I can see why people don't want me to get married. Having my FAMILY be the most important part in my wedding....disgusting)

2. I want to be the Angelina Jolie of the Gays.

          Now, I have a hard time admitting to this because I am on Team Jen (yes that is still going on in my mind and I will always stand up for Rachel Green), but Angelina is such a frickin' good person in all other areas of her life. I mean the woman isn't the best actress in the world but she has adopted most of Africa...how can you hate on that? 

           You may be asking what this has to do with gay marriage and in my mind it has everything to do with gay marriage. I am someone who believes it is better to have two parents than one. This in no way puts down single parents, I have so much admiration for them, but wouldn't it be a little easier to have a partner in the situation? So for me, I want to be married before I start exploring the option of children. At this moment in time, depending on the state I live in (I'm side-eying you, southern states) this would mean that I would never be allowed to become the Angelina Jolie of the Gays. 

             I want to be able to adopt some of the kids from Africa that Angelina can't get to. It's gotta be a burden on her shoulders to have the world wondering when you are going to take on another country or continent of people in need. That's where I come in! I am young and full of life and ready. 

(THESE ARE MONSTERS!!! It looks like they are trying to read a newspaper to her. DON'T THEY KNOW PRINT MEDIA IS DEAD!!!! She will surely be behind in school now.)

3. The Bible told you to let me...

       Wait...what?? HOW in the WORLD does this make sense?? (I must be on crack! GAY crack!) But in all seriousness...yeah the Bible told you so. 

        I grew up in a fairly religious household where we went to church most Sundays and attended Sunday School and got confirmed and volunteered with them and made a difference in my community. I never went up in flames stepping in the church for being gay and I was never forced to leave after I came out (which I did publicly at my church in 2006). Now, I have had my spats with religion and I still have some issues that I am working out, as any 20-something does, but I was taught the same thing from the time I was little until now.  It's the basis of most religions actually:

³⁴ “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another."

It doesn't say "love everyone but the gays" and it doesn't say "As I have loved you...but not you gays you're shit outta luck, everyone else I still love ya. HUGS." So how are you showing me any love, like GOD told you to, if you don't allow me to experience the highs, lows, and everything in between of marriage. 

4. I'd like to have the option to divorce...

         (I might be on gay crack....) Don't you think the Lifetime Movie Network needs some new ideas? I think it would be riveting television to watch the demise of a gay marriage on television on the most dramatic network. If I ever get divorced (which I won't cause I...well just cause, rude.) it is going to be just as epic as my wedding. I want it splashed on the tabloids and for it to make it into every blog and magazine known to man. I want the divorce itself to make me money because of the exclusive headlines. I am obviously going to either be independently wealthy or marry into wealth, so it will be messy with no prenup. 

           Does this sound ridiculous? I mean...I am a little fabulous, so this makes a little bit of sense, but isn't this what we have been taught. We keep discussing how Kim Kardashian had a 72 day marriage and made millions, Britney Spears was married and divorced inside of 55hrs, and Kelsey Grammar broke up his 15 year marriage over the phone. We talk about if these people can get divorces, then the gays should be allowed to get married? Why can't we all experience this lovely depiction of marriage and divorce?

             OR....let's all stop discussing all of the horrible things heterosexual couples have done for marriage and comparing it to how gay's should have the right to marry. I don't give a flying flip what a heterosexual couple does with their money, with their marriage, or with their families... All I want is the right to experience all of that as a married person. I want the option to marry, divorce, remarry, or stay single. 

Those are just  a few of the reasons why I want to get married...or want the opportunity to. I am a fabulous 20-something gay man with big dreams for my wedding and hopefully one day I will be able to share it with all of you. 

Fabulously Lost: Still single...don't worry kids

Obama: Grew a pair in the last year. Woot woot! 

Gay Marriage: One rainbow away from bringing this economy back on its toes

Gay Divorce: One broken rainbow away from a Lifetime Movie 

Jesus: Best Surprise Cameo in a Gay Blog