Unsinkable Urge

So, I've just finished watching Titanic. I haven't watched it in about 2 years, the last time I sat and watched the entire movie, I cried uncontrollably. This time, however, I completely dried every fluid from my body. I sobbed for almost half an hour. It started when Rose told the shipmate that her name was "Rose Dawson." I lost it. By the time that they were reunited in Rose's dreams, I was on the floor convulsing and soaked in my tears and snot.

While watching, I put myself on the boat. I envision how it must have felt to look up at Jack as Rose was on the boat nearing the water away from him. The way that she looked up at him, I felt lost within myself. There stood her true love. There stood a force greater than the iceberg itself. Jack. He was the promise of eternal bliss and joy, in his arms lie a comfort unknown by her before. She knew that she would rather take her chances drowning, as long as she took them with Jack.

I love this movie because it is the perfect example of love. It's that everlasting oasis. No matter how far you journey from it, you'll forever long for it. Even when Rose was old and time had withered her body, in her mind, Jack's love was still as strong as the moment he caught her on the deck. THIS MOVIE IS SO DAMN POWERFUL! GODDAMMIT YOU FUCKERS! FEEL WHAT I FEEL!!!! I want that Jack Dawson love. I want the kind of love that would push me to the end of the world. The kind of love that warms my heart when my body has grown cold. The kind of love that dances through your waking moments and serenades you in your dreams. I want the kind of passion for a person that would force me off of a lifeboat BACK onto a sinking ship. I want to be able to hold his hand and look death in the face. I don't want some one niter who'll be gone in the morning. I want a love that will be there 50 years later.

Second verse, same as the first.

America.


A Nation of Inclusion, Security, and Acceptance



Gay America.



A Nation of Inadequacy, Envy, and Exclusion.

Before

This is me...Straight Me. Dexter, if you will. He's outgoing, witty, brilliant, incapable of standing up for himself, but doesn't have any enemies due to his passive aggressiveness. He's secretly into boys, but keeps his feelings locked up inside a box under his bed. The bible is his favorite book and his best friends are all girls, most of them from his church. Every night when he lays his sweet, virginal self down to sleep, he utters this prayer " Lord, please let me awaken straight, I want a wife and children someday. I know that my feelings and lust are against your will, and I long to see your kingdom when I die." Off to bed he drifts. Morning after morning he awakens to thoughts of Mario Lopez and Ryan Reynolds. His hatred for himself grows with each breath. At school, rumors of his homosexuality brew under the whispers of his "friends" as he dances around the theater pretending to be Storm from the X-Men. Truthfully, he's a good, decent kid. He wished harm upon no one and loves a good laugh. A wide smile is draped across his face, doing its job. Hiding the pain, the inner torture. He walks by his locker and hears "fag" being whispered into the crowd. They all laugh. He runs. At home, in his bed, where it's safe, his prayer of change, is screwed into one of hatred. Hatred for a God that would leave him damaged and defected. He thinks that he's an abomination. A freak accident. Cursed. His parents are distant as a sunset in the early morning. They're perfect. They're straight. Who cares if they're liars, selfish, rude, broke, or depressed. At least they're not gay, he thinks. He would have given anything to be like them. To be normal.

He's never felt so alone. It's as if there's no one out in the world to lift his head and love him.

AFTER

This is me...Gay Me. Dexter, still, if you will. He's outgoing, witty, brilliant, and will put a foot up dat ass if disrespected. He has tons of friends and still no true enemies. He's into boys and everyone knows it. That little box is gone from under the bed and now he treads life with the dignity of being honest with himself and those around him. But, do not be mislead. His prayers still bleed with a yearning to be "normal." It is true that he recognizes that he's gay, but he doesn't fully accept it. There was a time when he loved being gay, but after emotional letdown after emotional letdown, he realizes still, that life would be easier if he were straight. He's a handsome man, charismatic, and intelligent. The guy can seduce a crowd, making almost any one fall in love with him. Well, women that is. Men, on the other hand, turn from him, as if he has some intangible terminal virus. He's never had a boyfriend and cannot fully understand. The process of courtship is ALWAYS played out like this:
Dexter: Hi.
Him: Hey man.
Dexter: Hey. I'm Dexter.
Him: Cool name, I like that show. haha, I'm (Rando cute guy), nice to meet you.
Dexter: Yeah, I like that show too, Rando. You're quite the attractive guy
Him: Thanks man.
Dexter: So, if you're free sometime, maybe you'd like join me on a midnight carriage ride through the woods while getting better acquainted?
Him: haha, you're cute, but I DON'T DATE BLACK GUYS.
Dexter:...uh, ahh, that's cool man. I understand. We could just kick it then, as friends.
Him:...
Dexter: Hello?
Him:...
Dexter:...

I don't believe in Love. Well, I don't believe that there's love out there for me. I do realize that being mainly attracted to white men is a downfall, and I also realize that everyone has a personally preference. I'm not mad at the men that turn me down. I'm mad at the life that I was given. If I were straight, I would have had a host of beautiful women under my belt. I would be possibly engaged and awaiting my wedding. I'd be on a blissful course to a family, a wife, and children. Instead, I'm 21, a virgin, and hating my current self more than I have my latter.

I've never felt so alone. It's as if there's no one out in the world to lift my head, and love me.

Tutorial: Making a fool of yourself

Step 1: Become completely insecure and unsure of who you are and what you can offer anyone.

Step 2: Go out into the gay world looking for someone who you believe fits your personal criteria

Step 3: Hit on them.

Step 4: Look way too deep into every word that they tell you, until you've created a false relationship between the two of you.

Step 5: Become furiously jealous when someone who you've deemed "more attractive" than you writes ANYTHING on their myspace or facebook.

Step 6: Confront your "boyfriend" about how you feel that he's much too good for you, and that you feel like a "puppy following him around waiting for some attention."

Now, if that doesn't send the guy running and you looking more pathetic than you can possibly imagine. Then consider following through with step 7.

Step 7: After about two weeks of not talking to the guy, send him a myspace message telling him that you're a lame and you'd like to be friends with him. OH! and then wait for the "unread" in the sent folder of Myspace Mail to change to "read" so that you can go ahead and give yourself the green light to fall into a ridiculous depression.

There. You've officially made a fool of yourself.

Suck my dick...cinnamon candy

I don't like it. It serves little puropse over pissing me off to no virtual end. I don't know what spice these candy makers have been sucking on, but that IS NOT CINNAMON! It some odd limbo between bleach and sugar. It burns, it smells dredful, and its wrapped in a very ugly bergundy/red color that makes me want to backhand infants.

OLD PEOPLE

Should be kept on an Island where they can nag each other to death. They are the wrinkles of society and need to be botoxed ASAP. They do have their benefits (and I'm not talking social security, that's a myth) I'm talking about their wisdom. I agree that it is very useful for younger, sexier generations. And that's why I propose that those that I deem very wise, should be harvested for that knowledge in a very Alcatraz, Guantanamo like way.

Deep throating the question.

HOW DO YOU

Tell someone that their breath makes you extremely violent?

Cross breed a Turtle and Goldfish? (I must have my Goldfurtle)

Let a guy know that you're into him, without appearing too desperate?

Let a really nice guy down?

Get Ryan Reynolds Cell Phone number?

Kill a midget properly?

Hide a dead midget?

Make your own Vodka?

Force feed a baby Tiger homemade Vodka?

Fingerfuck Oprah?

Escape Guantanamo Bay?

Shut the fuck up?

Build a full sized, fully operational Gingerbread Loft?

Forget me?

Love me?

Hold me?

Kiss me?

Cheat on me?

Get me pregnant?

Surprise me?

Make me love you?

Answer me?**I want answers. Like, foreal, no bullshit. ANSWER ME!**

Amazing sex is promised

He's six feet 2, cute smile, green eyes and my date for tonight.

We started the night out doing a little bit of shopping, he bought the coolest pair of shoes.

We caught a 9:40 movie. It was okay, could have been a lot better. But I didn't care.

Then we walked through the Delmar Loop, the strip was alive with people and couples, and street lamps...The weather was warm with cool breezes, perfect.

He bought a hotdog from a street vendor that we shared.He's a wonderful guy.

His name, you ask.......Dexter L. Peebles.THAT'S RIGHT BITCH! ME!

I took myself out tonight, in leu of any man that would or could be interested in me. This is more than just a dry spell, it's Oprah's Vagina, the driest, loneliest place on Earth. It's actually not as funny as you or I would like to think, I'm cursed. I traded everlasting happiness for Beauty, Wealth, and Power a long time ago. You may say "well, Dexter, you're not powerful nor wealthy." And I say, Fuck You. My point is that I am beautiful, thank you for not doubting that, my point really is that I, along with two other, are bonded in a curse that will leave us lonely and wanting for the rest of our lives.

So go, you lucky soul with your sex and your hugs....ENJOY YOUR LIFE. Enjoys those blonde hair, blue eyed blessings. Those chocolate bundles of African Bliss. Those Asian...things. BE GLAD, for you are free to love and wander the world aimlessly with the man or woman...or animal of your heart. Me, I must sit at home with a vast collection of porn and dildos...waiting, wanting, crying...while Bre is cutting, and Markesha Drinking. FArewell cruel...thin, beautiful, world. I'll take my Beauty, Markesha will take her Talent, and Bre will take her life.
Don't look back at what was written, only look forward to our Deaths.

I like Girly Music

No longer will I pretend to want to hold.

I WANT TO BE HELD.

No longer making myself watch football

I WANT TO WATCH GOSSIP GIRL.

No longer listening to Coheed and Cambria

I WANT TO LISTEN TO ALY & AJ.

No longer wanting to kiss.

I WANT TO BE KISSED.

No longer wishing to be the straightest gay guy you know

I WISH TO BE THAT ONE FAG.lol, I kid.

Being true to yourself is undoubtably hard to do, but the first step is to position yourself in a place that fits who you are inside. That may mean changing your group of friends, or moving to a new place. You owe no one anything. All you'll ever have is yourself. Protect and Perfect yourself. Regret nothing, wish only for the best. Choose only the best. Take more chances, live more on an edge rather than in the middle of the platform. Don't conform. Love, Love, Love.

The "Maybe"

Do you ever think that it's time to stop?
Maybe it is?
Maybe it's time to stop wishing that you were a little prettier.
Maybe it's time to stop beliveing every word that you hear about you.
Maybe it's time to stop beating yourself up over mistakes that you've made in the past.
Maybe it's time to stop wondering what life would be like "if only"...
Maybe you're perfect
Maybe the way that you look is exactly what someone is looking for.
Maybe the words that people speak are only a reflection of their insecurities manifesting.
Maybe that mistake that you made will lead you down the correct path.
Maybe if your life was the way that you want it...life still wouldn't be how you want it.

I believe that if we thought more about how wrong we can be, we wouldn't be wrong nearly as much.

Anal stimulation

I'm different. Once again, I've managed to turn what appeared to be a "rut" into a learning experience. I'm speaking about my ever depressing battle with being single. Recently, I had become frustrated with the fact that I am utterly incapable of finding a boyfriend, or known to Carrie as the "Manfriend." But, I evaluated my need for a significant other and I discovered an ugly truth about myself. I'm a perpetrator. All this time I had been presenting myself as someone that I really wasn't. So naturally, I was sending mixed signals into the universe, thusly causing a blockage of positive energy preventing anyone from seeing me as compatible. Sound like a crock of hippy bullshit? Well take another whiff you pretentious cum guzzler because it's not. It's All American Bullshit. But, there is some truth within the corn nutty sentence above. I wasn't being Dexter, I was being what I thought others would take kindly to, and that's never a good choice. Misrepresentation would lead me down a passage of anonymous butt fucking that would leave my heart darker and even more spacious than before. This time around, I vow to only offer what is genuine and true, and if this faggoty tree bears no fruit, then I'll still have me dignity...and lotion.

The Reason you're probably single. The Gay Filter.

It's common knowledge that gay men are extremely picky when it comes to choosing a spouse. But are our requirements too specific? Of course, most of us would love to date a Ryan Reynolds or Chris Evans, but how likely are we to pass up a chance at an actuality chasing a fantasy?
The Gay filter works like this,

I want a guy who:
Has amazing Abs
Pretty teeth
Nice, Managed Hair
Big Hands
Charming
Funny
"Straight Acting"
Has Money
Is good in bed
Sensitive

The problem with the list above is that it only applies to about 25 percent of the American male population, hetero and homosexual, cutting the gays chance of finding this perfect man in half. So, technically you, fag boy, could meet 100 men and out of them you could POSSIBLY find 12 that would work for you. Sounds good right? 12? That's good enough for me, you think? WRONG! The second thing wrong with the gay filter is that most likely, you, yourself don't fit into that 25%. Which means that if you were to meet 1 of the 12 men that are perfect for you, you are NOT perfect for them. It's the sad, and very inconvenient truth, but you're a big boy now. Wipe your tears and come off your cloud of ridiculous nimbus.
Solution? Why yes, there are several. Firstly, you can wake the fuck up. Chris Evans and Ryan Reynolds are fictional depictions of real men. You have no idea what they may be like in their intimate lives. Setting your standards from hollywood celebs will only leave you lonely or in a relationship built only on physical attraction, which we all know won't last.
Second. Love yourself. Men who need constant affection and self verification through intimacy are prone to making bad relationship based decisions. The best way to find a good man, is to be one yourself. You would not want to date a guy who was unimpressed with himself, or overly insecure. Learn to hold yourself, learn to dine alone, learn to enjoy life alone. Once you're capable of loving your own life, helping someone else love you will be a lot easier.
Thirdly. Decide what's really important to you in a spouse. Detailing too much will cause even the best of men to fall short to your filter. Remember, want only as good as you, yourself, can offer.