Affirmation

Affirmation



I believe the sun should never set upon an argument...
I believe we place our happiness in other people's hands...
I believe that junk food tastes so good because it's bad for you...
I believe your parents did the best job they knew how to do...
I believe that beauty magazines promote low self esteem...
I believe I'm loved when I'm completely by myself alone...

I believe in Karma; what you give is what you get returned...
I believe you can't appreciate real love 'til you've been burned...
I believe the grass is no more greener on the other side...
I believe you don't know what you've got until you say goodbye...

I believe you can't control or choose your sexuality...
I believe that trust is more important than monogamy...
I believe you're most attractive features are your heart and soul...
I believe that family is worth more than money or gold...
I believe the struggle for financial freedom is unfair,
I believe the only ones who disagree are millionaires...

I believe forgiveness is the key to your own happiness...
I believe that wedded bliss negates the need to be undressed...
I believe that God does not endorse TV evangelists...
I believe in love surviving death into eternity...

- Savage Garden (1999)

Be Gay Today

Be Gay... Today!

:) When it's this fabulously packaged, who on earth can say no?!



Welcome, newcomers, to the Closet!

Cock-a-doodle-doo

Cock-a-doodle-doo



From my readings...

"McWhirter and Madison (1984) found that 73% of their male couples began their relationship with an understanding, sometimes explicit, sometimes implicit, that the relationship would be sexually exclusive. Yet, 100% of those couples who had been together 5 years or longer who start a relationship with intentions of being monogamous either change their intentions or fail to live up to this standard."

- from J.H. Harvey, A. Wenzel & S.Sprecher (Eds.) "The handbook of sexuality in close relationships".2004.

Wow. I guess I always knew the truth. But seeing it right there, in black and white, supported by all the raw data etc was still... strange. Whatever happened to the girlish notions of everlasting love and undying fidelity that SnowWhite's Stepmother and Vivian and I cherished and hoped and prayed and longed for...? Not very sure, really.

SS and I would sit and talk and we'd try to think of at least one or two completely faithful gay couples and we'd have to admit we didn't really know any. And that would lead SS onto his diatribe about "all gay men are chuts!" The romantic in me would make a last-ditch attempt and argue that it's really all about the intimacy between a couple, and if they think fooling around on the side is ok, we shouldn't be quick to judge... and while I still do believe that, I must admit that the naive little gay boy inside me still hoped... Still hoped to find one - o, at least one! - gay couple who was completely monogamous.

And that's why that para from my reading hit home as much as it did. There was statistical certainty there. Not just of the fact that there aren't many monogamous gay couples out there, but also that even they are exclusive now, you can be pretty sure they won't remain so in a couple of years - if they're even still together then. I know that's really not earth-shattering news for any of us gay men - or straight people who have close gay friends... and yet... the naive little gay boy inside me feels awful. It's like a pronouncement: don't you even dare hope for a cozy twosome - because before you know it, either you or your boyfriend will be found fellating the TV repair guy/ gardener/ UPS guy/ Wal-Mart check-out guy/ what-have-you. And even though I know there are probably millions of gay couples who are happy in their extracurricular arrangements, I'm crushed on hearing this kind of a message even as I start a new relationship. I have half a mind to go and show this article to Irish Coffee and ask him up-front when he's going to cheat on me - and then I'd better go and cheat on him a day before that, just to save face. I'm quite aware of how stupid I sound here... and yet... *sigh*

The same article goes on to state: "... there seem to be no significant differences between gay men in exclusive and nonexclusive relationships on measures of love or liking for the partner, closeness, satisfaction, commitment, or relationship longevity... Research suggests that for gay men, agreement about exclusivity versus openness is more important to relationship satisfaction than any specific type of behavior."

In other words, it's just a matter of getting your rocks off. And then it's fine. As long as Prince Charming tells the Beast (so, yes, I have a thing for chest hair) about his one night stand with the Frog Prince, all's well in fairyland.

Whatever happened to the fairy tale, though?

First hockey, now QT

First there was hockey, and now it's...

Queer theory. I'm getting addicted to studying queer theory. *sigh*



How utterly cliched, I know, I know...

What the puck

What the puck...?!

As surprising as this may sound (perhaps most of all to me), I've become a fan of college hockey. At first, it began with curiosity, mingled with the promise of freebies that no grad student can resist: ooo, free entry at this grand spectacle I've never been to before - maybe I should go! So, I asked Irish Coffee whether he'd be interested, and of course he roared his approval, and off we went.



Of course, my perspective on hockey is a teeny bit different from that of Irish Coffee's and the other hardcore fans who thronged the ice arena... so, while I was definitely checking out the game, I also had some other fantabulous observations:

1. Hockey players aren't really as sexy and chiseled as I expected them to be. Personally, I think the hunks of college football are... hunkier. Irish Coffee assures me, though, they're usually dumber and duh-er than footballers.

2. The playing band was awesome! I loved the little ditties the band would suddenly come up with, trumpets and drums and all... and some of them were even jiving up there while playing! :) I'm not very sure whether their knowledge of the game per se was any better than mine - and let's not even go that far. *sigh*

3. Loads of sorority sisters were there, clapping their hands to the school anthem, and generally squealing in delight. Irish Coffee says, there's a whole organization of "hockey whores" (I actually like that term!) who go big time for the hockey hunks! When I asked him whether there were any groupies for the gay hockey players, he looked at me as if I'd just uttered blasphemy. But then, he pointed me in the direction of the playing band. :)

4. Hockey game food sucks. Big time. The pizza is cold, the cheese on the hot dog is artificial goop which gives you a tummy-ache barely three hours later, and the less said about the bread sticks the better.

5. And I do like the silly sound effects the announcer comes up with - the jingles, the spoofs, the crazy bursts of popular oldies like The Final Countdown and Bad boys, bad boys - very corny, but very entertaining. Of course, while I found the whole ambiance wildly fun, it all served to annoy the hell out of Irish Coffee who was there for the game. (ho hum)

OK, so I'm not a very sports-friendly gay person, and I liked the spectacle of the hockey game more than the game itself, I suppose. I chatter a lot while watching the game about things hardcore fans would probably think inconsequential, but here and there, I did pick up some ideas like the 'face-off' and the 'penalty'. O, and yes, the testosterone activity was phenomenal: and that always gets a rise out of me! :)

So, I wasn't bellowing "KILL HIM!", and "BREAK HIS LEGS!" at the top of my lungs like a very charged-up Irish Coffee was, and my loudest whoops probably sounded very gay, but when the two teams started thrashing and punching each other at the end, I felt like a very happy Roman emperor (all of them were bisexual, anyway!) egging them on.



All said and done, we left the arena, after watching a great game (our team won, of course) and an even better fight... and I even groped Irish Coffee a bit up in the stands. He didn't complain of diverting his attention from the game when that was happening! :)

I feel pretty

I feel pretty...



Oh so pretty,
I feel pretty and witty and gay,
And I pity... Any girl who isn't me today.

I feel charming, Oh so charming,
It's alarming how charming I feel,
And so pretty... That I hardly can believe I'm real.

See the pretty girl in that mirror there:
Who can that attractive girl be?
Such a pretty face,
Such a pretty dress,
Such a pretty smile,
Such a pretty me!

The other day I cajoled Irish Coffee in TIVOing West Side Story for me, and Natalie Wood's little number had me in splits of laughter! Now if that isn't a fabulously fag song, I don't know what is! Even Irish Coffee, all grumpy-gus straight-gay man that he is, had to chuckle when I did a little CT impersonation and almost broke the wine glasses with my such a pretty meeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (Completely worth it, I tell ya!)

Not very sure I liked the movie - o, much too over the top in the melodrama department, though I did like the Puerto Rican dance number - but that little ditty was amazing! If you haven't already, then take a look...

Post-holiday Trimmings

Post-holiday Trimmings

Came back home the other night and started stripping down my Christmas decorations. The holidays are over, my three-week long stay at Irish Coffee's place is done, college has reopened, classes have resumed, and there seems to be a sudden lack of romance. Well, till I make my midnight phone call to Irish Coffee, that is. :)

There's a veritable mountain of work and academic papers to be written just waiting for me, and yet the largest, arguably most important project on my plate this semester is literally that - on my plate. The Happy Holidays are gone, and the pounds I put on during those fabulous times have to be chased away too. Re-enter, the PHAT (Pretty Hot and Tempting) Plan.



Of course, being a college student in the US of A, you're almost expected to put on weight. A friend of mine here calls it "the freshman fifteen". After all, when you're running from class to class, and from paper to paper, it's all you can do to grab a piece of artificially cheesy pizza, or extra-greasy burger with fatty fries, and some fizzy soda pop... And when you don't know how to cook and don't have the patience for it either, like me, you're pretty much doomed to put on those excess calories. And then, of course, it was Holiday time. Loads of great food in Chicago, lots of eating with the Irish brood, and before I knew it, I stood on the weight to realize I'd gained (gasp) ten pounds.

So, the other day, Irish Coffee and I sat on the love seat and pored through this diet book, looking at the loooooong list of banned foods - all the while, munching on low-fat brownies. (Yes, such an unearthly thing actually exists!) Turns out, the genius who wrote the book says that diets should be determined by blood groups, and so an O+ guy like me should stay away from lentils, corn, wheat, bread, pork, cabbage, cauliflower, potatoes, cheese and a whole host of other foods that formed my staple diet a week back. Now, even though I don't completely buy that blood-diet logic, and am scouting around for copies of the South Beach diet, a lot of those aforementioned foods probably are bad for me! *sigh*

So, this evening for dinner, I popped over to the dining room and helped myself to salad. Not the yummy decadent Bombay salad with its dripping meats and pasta and corn, but a rudimentary American-style one: lots of lettuce, beets, carrots, spinach and broccoli, with some lean turkey strips on top, and low-fat balsamic dressing. O, and yes, Diet Coke.

Some time back when I called up Irish Coffee for our nightly conversation and told him about my evening meal, he chuckled and said I shouldn't worry...

My reply? "Thank God, he made boyfriends to say stuff like that!"

TONIGHT in the Closet

TONIGHT in the Closet...

*background music: drum rolls, which give way to jazzy tune composed of loud trumpet and electronica version of We Are Family, while graphics play scenes of Closetalk's life*

Hello again and Welcome to The Tonight Show with Closetalk.

Our Top Story tonight...

*graphics swipe*



Politics takes center-stage tonight, as the results of the Iowa cockus (did I spell that right? Feels much nicer this way, anyhow...) finally came through, throwing up winners Barrak Obama from the Democrats and Mike Huckabee from the Republicans, and now the action shifts to the next state, New Hampshire. Now, according to the polls, the most important deciding factor for Iowa was econmic policies and changes envisioned therein, but it's no secret that the Rainbow Brigade is pinning it's hope on a Democrat President to get elected - either Obama or Edwards or nutcracking Hillary - and push through gay marriage laws, while Huckabee's a Born-Again Baptist minister who thinks fags steal babies brains at night while they sleep. Funny thing, really, that the election action now shifts to a state which became the fourth in the Union to legalize civil unions for gay men and lesbians. It's also a strange and sad coincidence that while all this happens, the first governor to sign a statewide gay rights law (in sleepy ole Wisconsin, no less!) passed away. *sigh* Looks like a long battle ahead, boys - time to emigrate to Canada, you think?

*graphics swipe*



Well, maybe not. Not, if you're a goody-goody sap who likes to donate blood, cuz the Canadian Blood Services has a ban on accepting blood from gay men who've been sexually active since 1971 (ouch!), and that's what student groups there are protesting against now. The surprising part here is that even the American Red Cross which, till recently had a similar ban on accepting blood from sexually active gay men (their limit was 1977), is lobbying to lift a similar ban this side of the Great Lakes! Will wonders never cease...!

*graphics swipe*



When it comes to the "long arm of the law", some of us may well have a fetish for this sort of thing *giggle*, but for others, like this South Korean police officer, it takes on a (no pun intended) deeper meaning. :) Private Kim Hyun-jong is the second police officer in South Korea to publicy come out, and he has vowed to fight social prejudice against LGBT minorities in his country. I'm looking for my pom-poms now to cheer him on!

*graphics swipe*



Meanwhile, here's gay prejudice of another kind... in the UK, a female bouncer of a gay club has won a suit against her old boss, the gay owner of a gay club for harassment and ill-treatment because she was, well, straight. Sharon Legg, 33, who worked at Dreams in Bournemouth, said that her manager repeatedly called her derogatory names such as “breeder”. Legg is, of course, a self-confessed fag hag... and I am being completely politically incorrect and loving the term she was called. *giggle* Breeder!

*graphics swipe*



And, finally, we end this fab-u-lous episode with the news that my boyfriend has long suspected, but never really had the proof to throw back in my face, during my driving lessons: a British study has concluded that women and gay men make lousy drivers. Moreover, gay men rank behind women in terms of navigational skills. Behind a wheel, that is. Cuz everyone knows that we know how to navigate the club circuit better than anything! So there!

Well, that's it for tonight, lovely people. See you again soon for another edition of the Tonight Show with Closetalk. Adios, sayonara, al vida, and don't forget to buckle your seatbelts... as if that helps! :)

Prettier than Russel Crowe

So I'm prettier than Russel Crowe, really...

It's the close of the holiday season with the start of the new year, and it's been an interesting week, really. I've been "meeting the family", you see.



So, the last time I found myself in a similar situation was back in Bombay, when I first met the Wicked Witch of the West, Natureboy's gal Friday. WWW was witty, bitchy and pretty - just the sort of person I gel with o-so completely, and we ended up being great friends even though the Natureboy-Closetalk romance didn't last too long. Aaa, but last last week was different. Last week, I was introduced to a 20-member strong immediate family and a 35-member strong extended family. Irish American. Whoa. And I'm horrid at fake accents.

It's been about four and a half months now that Irish Coffee and I have been together, so when his family moved back for the Christmas holidays, it was quite inevitable that I'd meet them. My first encounter with the aliens was when one of them - his older sister - came over for a midmorning coffee some two weeks back, and so I sauntered out from the bedroom, trying to not look guilty as the gay whore from the subcontinent who seduced her innocent-as-a-babe (yea, right!) brother some twenty minutes ago. We drank coffee, ate slices of pie, chattered about this and that, and by the end of the conversation, I found myself invited to a great prime ribs party she was throwing for the whole family a week later. I gulped and accepted.

As it turned out, I got a chance to meet the Family even before the big prime ribs party. A day before that was scheduled, Irish Coffee got a phone call that the whole family was already assembled and there was a demand that he come right over. So I dressed appropriately (no Boystown tee) and got into the car, and soon found myself surrounded by sisters and brothers-in-law and nephews and nieces and bawling babies and a father. Ummm... okkkkkkk then... So yea I was pretty nervous, not moving much, trying to be very polite and all that, and I kept thanking god for the talkative niece and the cute (if bawling) baby who deflected attention away from me. I got some questions thrown at my general direction and tried to answer them as nicely as possible, trying not to appear as (a) the uppity grad school student who's going to become a high-brow academic who doesn't give a shit for Midwestern middle class people, or (b) the gay tramp who's trying to infiltrate our good Catholic family. *sigh*



Russel Crowe had nothing on me! :)

There was a short break that evening, and then I found out that everyone was then going to pack into their cars and drive over to another bigger party by 'Uncle Dave' in his house. The extended family... ooo, goody.

Uncle Dave's house turned out to be this lovely old mansion-type, overflowing with Irish bric-a-brac, and his son kept on talking about good ole Ireland with me, trying to convince me to go there the very next season. There was booze, loud music, even louder people and interesting artifacts all around, so I actually had a pretty fun time. Before we headed out to meet the family, Irish Coffee had told me he was going to introduce me as his 'friend' and not 'boyfriend', because he didn't want the "o, you slut!" looks from some disapproving elements right after they'd come to terms with his ex, and though I'd agreed, I don't think anyone really bought that story.

Anyhow, the big prime rib party went off quite well, too. I decided to get on the family-pleasing offensive and baked a batch of brownies for the lot. There were party games and yummy food and great wine, and I probably gained five pounds that evening.

By now, most of the Family have departed for their respective homes, and it's back to me and Irish Coffee here again. We brought in the new year, watching the second part of the Godfather trilogy and eating a fresh batch of brownies (that's the only thing I can cook, really), and some great snuggling on the couch. :) I missed my Bombay boys and remembered the great New Year's Eve party we had last year, but was quite content with my Irish Coffee here. I'm not sure whether we'll last forever or not, but it does feel great to be here with him, to cuddle and snog and do up the Christmas lights. And to watch the Godfather over my excellent brownies.



Happy New Year, netizens. :)