Good-bye Winter

Good-bye winter!?

It still feels strange living the seasons in reverse.

Nevertheless, to send off this final day of Aussie winter, I thought I'd share my favourite winter memory spent with Sean.

Back in 2007, I took Sean on a ski trip to the Rocky Mountains. He did well for his first time, I'll give him that. At the end of his first day he'd graduated from the bunny slope and was able to join the big boys (like me) on the big boy runs. And because he tends to beat me at everything, I had to grab for the camera after this wipe-out into a snow bank. He absolutely hates this video. That's why I'm sharing it with all of you. Enjoy!



Note to all you romantics - heading into snow territory with your boyfriend is not cold. It's fucking hot.

Brent.

THE SLAP!

I’ve nearly finished reading Christos Tsiolkas’s latest novel, The Slap (if you’re thinking about reading it, don’t read this posting so I don’t spoil it). It amazed me how the author was able to take a single event – a man slapping a child that is not his own – as a platform to dive into the intricate complexities of love, friendship, and marriage.

One of the most endearing characters, Aisha in the face of near marital-break-down comes to a new understanding about love. I have to quote the author here, because his words perfectly describe how I redefined my love for Sean after our near-break down:

‘This was [love’s] shape and essence, once the lust and ecstasy and danger and adventure had gone. Love, at its core, was negotiation, the surrender of two individuals to the messy, banal, domestic realities of sharing a life together.’

Aisha’s fidelity is challenged when she meets a sexy Canadian (as if there’s any other kind of Canuck). Ultimately she forgoes the opportunity for new love to secure a familiar happiness with her husband:

‘She had to forego the risk of an unknown, most likely impossible, most probably unobtainable, alternative happiness. She couldn’t take the risk. She was too tired.’

My own challenge, once the danger, ecstasy and adventure died down with Sean was to feel comfortable with familiar happiness. In my 20’s, love was about excitement. When I turned 30, I panicked because my relationship felt comfortable and familiar, not exciting and passionate. I was constantly bothered by thoughts that I should be looking elsewhere, not surrendering to a relationship just for the sake of wanting familiarity.

But for the past while, I’ve felt as though I can’t take the risk of forfeiting what I have for something that very well may be unobtainable – the fantasy guy who’ll always excite me, never do me wrong, never age, nor fart in bed. I’m too tired to find that guy anyway. There is nothing wrong with familiar happiness. But maybe coming to this realization requires the challenge of a near marital break-down to understand.

Brent.

Tying him down

I've got a theory. The evil Gods of the homo-underworld enjoy conspiring against gay couples on the weekends. I’d rather have an arrow in my ass, thank-you very much.

We haven’t been arguing. But we did have a lengthy discussion about a job opportunity for Sean that would require yet another major move.

My first thought - Ugh! Here we go again!
I’ve already moved twice in three years for his career. And after the last move, we agreed we'd stay put for five years. Catch our breath, relax, and put some roots down (pun fully intended). So I was disappointed he was bringing it up again. Since our decision to stay put, he's considered a change of location three times. Am I bitching? Yes, maybe just a little.

It first I wasn't sure why he brought it up because after doing so, he told me he'd already decided not to apply. But then I read between the lines. Sean was testing the waters. He wants to apply, but knows I don't want to move yet. So by bringing it up, he was seeking my approval. And if I were to encourage him to apply, he'd do it. And I have no doubt he'd get the job ... and I'd be packing up the house.

To complicate things, I’m considering a career change too. I’d like to resume my studies next year, possibly another graduate degree – or perhaps do my own doctorate. Because I have such a great job now that I’ll be able to keep as I study, I want to stay put. I’ve started over too many times in the last couple of years.

I’ve mentioned all of the above to Sean on numerous occasions and he seems to agree or at least understand my concern. I think the hardest thing about this scenario is that I don’t actually want to restrict Sean or tie him down. I want him to be happy in his career. I’ve told him that he should go wherever his job takes him – but I’ve also defined my limits. Ultimately he’s more interested in keeping me than landing the latest flashy new job elsewhere. I wish I found that flattering. But it’s a burden – because sometimes I feel like I'm tying him down. I don’t like holding all the cards here. I feel like I'm responsible for two careers.

I’m not sure if I’m seeing this situation objectively. That’s why I’m posting this. Correct me if I’m out of line. I need a fresh perspective on this one.

Brent

Event Horizon

We’ve begun the official hunt for a third member of our household. We’re ready for a puppy! We’ve decided on a breed and now we’re looking for a breeder who’ll have puppies ready for the early part of October. I’ve got two weeks off work so I’ll be dedicating my time to puppy training.

We’re excited. We’ve even started picking names. I know, pretty cheesy, eh? By the way, we’re getting a boy this time. The last dog was an alpha-female – a real bitch. We adopted her from friends and we inherited a lot of bad behaviours. I know a thing or two about puppy training because I used to work at a Doggy Day Care. So I look forward to starting at the very beginning and making sure puppy knows his Daddies are in charge.

It'll be interesting to see how our future little beast will change the dynamics in our our home. I anticipate many happy moments.

Wish us luck on the hunt.

Brent.

99.666%

When I’m in need of a little comic relief, I go to see my hairstylist Nick. Sometimes I go to drool – he’s young, hot, buff, and … straight. Very straight. So straight, he’s comfortable flirting with his gay client. I’m not complaining.

Nick and I always get into these lengthy conversations about sex. I used to get pretty turned-on talking with a hot straight guy about events involving his penis. I seem to have a way of making people comfortable talking about sex – or so it seems with Nick. In fact, I have to work hard to keep the conversation away from sex whenever I’m with him.

Today he wanted to discuss fidelity. He’s had a girlfriend since high school and for the last five years he’s stayed ‘loyal’ (I hate that word and it’s misuse, that’s why it’s flanked by quotations). Today he told me he’d consider a quick fling – but only if he was away on vacation.

So I confessed, as I’m confessing to you now: when I was on vacation, I went on a date just for the Hell of it. The guy I had drinks with was aware I was in a relationship and that I was on vacation. We had a fun evening together. No sex, but there was a little feeling each other up at the bar. Maybe a kiss.

Okay, I stuck my tongue down his throat.

It didn’t feel like a big deal. At that point in the vacation, I’d realized how much I was in love with Sean and how much I wanted to make it work. So the making out was inconsequential to me. And guess what? Last year, Sean and I both had sex with other people independently.

I have no doubt that Nick will one day go on a trip with some mates and have sex with some random girl. Should this information ever come to light, his girlfriend will dump him. I can tell Nick really wants to stay with his girlfriend, but let’s face it … he’s not even 25 and his hormones are running rampant.

The number of men in relationships that have sex with other people (frequently or on rare occasion) is high. I need to find some studies to prove my point, but we all know anecdotally the fact men typically aren’t 100% monogamous.

I do believe there is a difference between frequent extra-martial sex and occasional extra-martial sex. If you were to add up all the days of my relationship I’ve been sexually monogamous to Sean it would be 99.666% and vice versa (as far as I know). But yet if I tell people I’ve had sex outside of my relationship, I’m either considered a cheater, or that I’m in an open-relationship. I’d like there to be shades of gray. Because without shades of gray, we have guys like Nick who torment themselves over questions of fidelity.

Keep this a secret between you and I, but I decided in my own mind years ago that if Sean came home and told me he’d had sex with someone else I wouldn’t dump him or punish him. If it happened everyday or every week, things might be different.

I think there are plenty of gay couples who don’t want to declare themselves to be in an open-relationship. They want to be monogamous, or at least mostly monogamous. The later describes Sean and I. Maybe that’ll be the way things are for Nick the day after he runs into Miss Hot Tits in Bali.

Thanks for the shits and giggles, Nick. Oh, and for the haircut too!

Brent.

The cushion

My descent into madness was not slow or gradual. It happened all in one day. A work project made crack. With my head about to explode I skipped out on what I was supposed to do and went for a long walk, treated myself to lunch, then went home and masturbated.

Not wanting to pass along my work woes to Sean, I dusted off my old meditation cushion and sat for a good half-hour before he came home.

Hello my name is Brent and I used to be a bliss-oholic. Like a real addict, you’d find me perusing yoga studios and Buddhist shrines in a neighbourhood near you. For the good part of 2007, I had a perma-smile and flexible hip abductors. I was a step away from vegetarianism and a G.I. Jane haircut.

Then I moved to Australia. Phase over.

Sean liked the blissed-out Brent. I liked the blissed-out Brent too. He was a nice guy – may he rest in peace. So I’m thinking about getting my mojo back. I don’t want to fall into the trap of getting too caught up in my job and the unhealthy ego that usually follows those in my field. And I don’t want to be a bitchy partner.

So bring on the cushion, incense, and full lotus pose! Not to worry, I will never give up my love of sausage.

Enlightened Brent.

Welcome to the Family?

‘Remember to say hi to Sean for me.’

That’s how my Mom ends our weekly phone calls. She adores Sean. When I came out to my parents – some ten years ago – I never thought I’d live to see the day Mom would be passing along messages to my ‘homosexual lover.’

Don’t get me wrong. If Mom had a choice, she’d have me married to a nice white Mormon girl from Utah. We’d have at least four children and a mini-van. But I think she’s finally figured out being gay isn’t something I’m going to change my mind about – ever.

When I introduced Sean to my parents they were nervous. They’d never met my previous partner. They were quite surprised that Sean didn’t match their skewed assumptions about gay men. Sean impressed them for the same reasons he impressed me … although I hope Mom (nor Dad) didn’t get turned-on in quite the same way.

A week after they met him, my parents ringed to say that though they disagreed with my choice to live a ‘gay lifestyle,’ they thought Sean was a decent guy. It was their convoluted way of saying ‘we like this guy – hang onto him’ (you have to read between the lines in my family).

And hat’s off especially to Mom. Last month when I was visiting, I told her I’d had problems in my relationship and she didn’t jump on the opportunity to convince me to go straight. She told me to work at it. No relationship is easy. They require effort. Her comment was no great pearl of wisdom, yet coming from her it meant a lot.

Having even a small amount of family support in a gay relationship can do wonders, I reckon. That’s why I get so angry about religious and cultural groups who chastise their gay children. So angry that if I started writing about it now I’d fill pages and I’m too exhausted for that rant tonight.

I’m glad my parents have changed. Perhaps they’ll never fully embrace my relationship like those of my straight siblings, but progress is progress.

The Good Doctor

For the second time this week, I woke up to the smell of burnt toast. Apparently Sean has lost his touch with the toaster. I’m a hypochondriac at the best of times, so I’ve not enjoyed starting my day with the panic I’m about to have a seizure or stroke.

‘Please tell me you just burnt toast?’

(That’s me being a drama queen)

‘I didn’t make toast. Oh my God! Your head’s about to explode! I’ll dial triple zero.’

(That’s Sean being a sarcastic bitch)

Sean’s been great about seeing me through my worst hypochondriac moments. He's been the first partner to come with me for those nerve-racking HIV/STI test results, the first partner to humour me when I tell him I’ve got cancer disguised as a runny nose.

I’ve had knee problems lately because I’ve decided it’s important to squat 200% my body weight twice a week. Typical ‘me’ behaviour, I’ve worried this isn’t an injury at all but a symptom of a fatal disease. Sean had a look at my knee tonight and said it looks swollen. Then he asked if I wanted him to amputate (we've got a great knife set).

Sometimes when I go into a panic about the latest plague to inflict my body, I appreciate Sean pulling me back into reality. With gentle humour, he reminds me of the previous affliction I survived. I know I can be annoying at times, so thank God I have Dr. Sean looking after me.

Sleepless in Gay Couple-dom

The past two nights Sean and I have had difficulty sleeping. He’s suffering with sinus congestion, and my knee has been aching like a bitch. We tossed and turned and fussed all night.

Isn’t this why we have a spare room?

At one point, I got up to leave and Sean asked where I was going. I said the spare room. He told me to stay in bed with him.

It was cute and endearing. So I swallowed a few paracetamol tablets and went back to bed.

It’s funny that not too long ago, I posted an entry, ‘The Spare Room.’ I discussed my need to sleep alone every now and then. Lately I’ve been finding little reason or desire to do so. An interesting shift, I reckon.

Still, I really need to have a good sleep tonight or else I’m going to start acting MORE crazy during the day.

I think it’s time Sean and I make an investment into our sleepytime future and buy a King size mattress for Christmas. One of those giant bad-ass mothers you can jump on one side and the other doesn’t move. Let’s hope the advertisements are as good as the real thing.

ZZzzz.

Sleepy Brent

In the Trenches

After my posting last night, I scurried around the house like Rosie the robot maid on steroids. I wanted the bedroom to be neat, tidy and romantically lit. My goal was to be washed, brushed, shaved and laying in bed with a book before Sean came home. He came in much later than expected and I’d nearly fallen asleep. As he came in, I thought about canceling the whole operation but decided it would be in the best interest of my relationship to follow through.

Sean sensed the mood immediately. I massaged his shoulders which lead to sex – though no new positions or roles. Dealing with his garlic breath was a bit of a curve-ball, but I improvised.

I won’t share more details because I don’t write gay erotica.

Afterwards we talked a bit about why we’ve been in sexual deadlock for so long. He told me he’s nervous that things might go sour again in the relationship. I told him that I’m bored with the usual sex roles. Both concerns are legitimate. But if I show consistency, I’m sure he’ll relax a bit more and perhaps be more interested in doing the things that turn me on.

It’s work. It always is. The ‘romance’ period of my Making it Work mantra has cooled and now I’m in the trenches doing what needs to be done. There’s dirt in trenches … and lots of it. But I still stand by my cause.

Brent :)

Little Steps

One of my readers posted some great advice about yesterday’s sexual frustration. Thank you, Mann for your comment. Sometimes we develop ‘blind spots’ in our sex lives and blame our partner for our dissatisfaction.

So is Mann correct? Is my blind spot simply I’m a ‘shit top?’ (by the way, Mann, using the word shit in a sentence about anal sex makes me nervous)

I’ve definitely been slack about getting Sean to loose-up before riding the stallion (i.e. Me). I haven’t been rough or macho when I’ve fucked him, but I haven’t done my best to be encouraging and patient.

Most of Mann’s suggestions had to do with pre-fucking operations. The problem is, Sean and I have been really lazy about the making-out stuff. For example, the last time we had anal sex (months and months ago), I literally lubed myself up and got into ‘fuck me’ position, then called Sean upstairs. And although this probably sounds a bit kinky, it wasn’t.

Sean has said many times I’m not much of a romancer when it comes to sex. He likes all the making-out stuff as much as the orgasm. So if I want to explore sex in new positions, I’m going to have to seduce Sean. I have to turn him on with touching, kissing, and gentleness. I learned this about my partner a loooong time ago.

On the flip side, I’m often the opposite. If Sean rung me right now and said he’s coming home to screw me, I’d be totally turned on. I can go without the foreplay in exchange for some wild animal sex. Sean knows this about me. So we both know which buttons to push in order to get the other going, but neither of us is pressing them.

I’m sure a lot of this has to do with the fact that not too long ago things weren’t looking so great between the two of us. And although we’ve both agreed we want to stay together, I do believe there is still some reluctance to go the extra mile.

There’ll be no quick fixes.

But here’s the deal. I’m going to seduce Sean tonight. I’ll push his buttons first and let you know how it goes. I won't hold any expectations that it'll lead to him down on all fours, but perhaps this is an important step in the larger picture of rejuvenating our sex life.

Damn. This bloody blog is keeping me honest!


Brent.

Stuck

U2. Stuck in a Moment. A classic post-break-up, get-your-shit-together song (I love hyphens). I play the song on repeat when I’m having a shitty day or when sexually frustrated.

‘Sexually frustrated?’ You ask. ‘But you have a boyfriend!’

Sexual frustration happens IN relationships?

Understatement of the year.

Sex can be such a strange creature. Sometimes it’s the driving force of the day, and other times I couldn’t give a fuck - literally.

Today, I was horny. REALLY HORNY. Sean wasn’t home all day. But his absence wasn’t the source of my sexual frustration. Even if Sean had been home I still would have locked myself in the bedroom and jerked off to porn for a half hour. (By the way, masturbating is a non-issue in our house. I’ve walked in on Sean during a wank, and other times, I specifically tell Sean I need ‘alone time’ with my laptop).

Part of my sexual frustration today stems from an ongoing sexual dynamic (notice I’m not calling it a ‘problem’). Simply put, Sean doesn’t like to bottom. We’ve tried only a handful of times. Yet, the times I’ve experienced topping with Sean or in other relationships, I’ve felt incredibly satisfied.

What can I say? I’ve got a thing for butts. We’ve all got our sexual quirks. I’ve always had a preference for topping, yet somehow I ended up taking an almost exclusive bottoming role in this relationship (and that ‘somehow’ is worthy of a little reflection at some point).

The past year I’ve become disinterested in ‘bottoming’ for Sean. So I reckon he’s a bit sexually frustrated too at times. I’m not giving up on bottoming completely though. I’ve experienced a great deal of pleasure from bottoming … and I highly recommend it to anyone who reckons it’s not for them. I just want a little of the other side.

Nothing compares to the satisfaction I get from topping. Sean knows this and he sometimes flirts with the idea of taking one for the team. We’ve got the toys, lube, you name it. But he just doesn’t show an interest. And when I suggest it in bed, he shies away and makes excuses.

So we’ve been in sexual deadlock for some time. Most of our sex has become masturbatory – both individually and together. Some days I really get stuck on the issue and it drives me nuts. It didn’t help that I when I went to the gym today, I saw more bare athletic asses in the locker room than I’ve ever seen on Sunday.

This is not a deal breaker for me. We have such a wonderful life together and I refuse to make a big fuss over the top/bottom thing. But what should I do the next time I start feeling sexually frustrated? Listen to U2 on repeat and wank off until my dick hurts? I’d love some suggestions on this one.
Until then, I’m off to bed hoping to be un-stuck tomorrow.

Brent.

How I met Sean

The story of how I met Sean sounds a bit like a Kristen Bjorn movie. I was a tight T-shirt-wearing graduate student, age 26. And I had the hots for one of my teachers - a hot Aussie guy, age 33 with an ass that brought down my grade point average.

The ‘big scandal’ about Sean and I is that we originally met in the classroom. But don’t get your hopes up, there was no bent-over-a-desk sex. No blow-job detentions. Nothing like that. I just had the hots for my professor. Shit happens.

I didn’t even realize at the time Sean was gay. In fact, one of my female classmates also had the hots for him. Maybe it was the accent, but neither of us got the gay vibe from him. It was all wishful thinking on my part.

On the last day of class (Sean only taught me one subject during my degree), I was returning some equipment to Dr. Sean’s office and he asked me if I wanted to grab a coffee.

My initial thought? He’s going to tell me I failed the subject.

We went off campus for a coffee. He talked about all the good things he’d heard about my work, papers and research. Then he asked about my situation. Was he probing to find out if I was single?

I was pretty shy because I was in shock over the fact that the guy I’d been fantasizing about for a semester was sitting across from me at a table.

After two hours of chatting, I still wasn’t fully aware I was on a date. Sean had hinted at his orientation, talking about his disdain for American social politics and marginalization of homosexuals. But I played my dumb blond card and never told him I was, in fact gay.

He suggested dinner. We ate at one of the most romantic places in the city. Nice wine, food and conversation. Was this a date? When he paid for the bill I had my answer.

After dinner Sean and I went to a local beach where he talked endlessly about local history. He was trying to bore me into kissing him, I reckon. But I didn’t budge - could I really kiss a guy that earlier that week had been marking my assignments?
It took me two more hours to finally lean into his arms. I kissed him long and hard.
That’s how it all got started.

These days I have to remind myself that Sean was once my teacher. Maybe I should channel our history for a little bedroom role-playing, but to be honest, I try not to think about him as my teacher. However, I really like it when he wears a red hooded cape.

‘Oh my,’ says Little Red Riding Sean ‘what a big penis you have!’

Actually we’re not that kinky.

Happy 5th Anniversary, Sean.

Brent.

Tight Ass

He’s lost it. Gone completely off his rocker. Sean was home all day (I think he took a sickie) just so he could play with modems, phones and cables … and ring every internet/phone company in the country. Why? He’s convinced we spend too much on internet and phone.

Rather than go to all the trouble, I suggested he prostitute himself out once a month for extra cash. Maybe he’ll turn the idea around and start pimping me out? I’d consider prostitution if it meant he’d stick with a phone company for more than six months.

I had two options when I noticed him digging for old modems: 1) Get annoyed and tell him to stop being so damn cheap 2) Watch and enjoy.

Option one was not conducive to my 'making it work' mantra, so I decided to perv on his butt as he crawled under the desk. Who’d have thought watching your boyfriend plug in cables could make you horny?

When I came home from work, he still hadn’t come up with the solution, so I’m going to prostitute myself. I don’t want to see him go through this again tomorrow. Anyone know the going rate?

Maybe I’ll just give Sean $20 in exchange for a blow job.

Okay. In all seriousness, I’ve reminded myself to appreciate Sean’s dedication to our budget. If it wasn’t for his comparative shopping, we’d spend more than necessary. I’m not disciplined enough to find the best deals for phone, electricity, gas, and mortgage rates. So even though I often feel he’s overly obsessed with saving money on utility bills, I remind myself that it’s for a good cause. We enjoy a comfortable life - touch wood – and if the cost of that comfortable life is a day (or two) of nutty behaviour from Sean, so be it.

Brent

The Rings

Sean and I went on our first date 12 August, 2005. So in two days, we can officially say we’ve been together five years (and thank God for that since I’m tired of rounding-up). Unlike our wedding anniversary - sometime in March - I never forget the anniversary of our first date. I guess it’s a more significant date for me – though I don’t know why.

We went out for dinner tonight to celebrate since the next two nights are looking busy. I’m not going to lie to you – it wasn’t the most romantic dinner. We talked about work, iphones, and tax returns. But hey, what were we supposed to do? Stare lustfully into each other’s eyes and play footsies under the table?

Sean did throw a surprise at me though. Right before the bill came, he reached into his pocket and pulled out our wedding bands. Last year, we fell out of the habit of wearing them.

The wedding ring has always felt too traditional for me. But I was touched by Sean’s gesture of bringing them along to dinner. We agreed that we’d start wearing them again. I think it’s a great reminder of our commitment. I’ve decided to wear mine on my left hand … after all, it is a wedding band and we ARE married.

Stay tuned for a fun and exciting homo-erotic story of how I met Sean.

☺
Brent

Validation

Remember Abbey? The mutual friend of Sean and mine who got caught up in our relationship dramas a few months back? Well, we were invited to her place for dinner tonight. It was the first time the three of us have been together in a long time.

Being the busy boys we are, Sean and I arrived in separate cars. Sean left shortly after dinner and I stayed to help Abbey with the dishes.

‘You boys look happy. It was great to see you flirting with each other again,’ she said.

It was the second time a friend had commented on ‘how happy we look.’ And it’s true. I AM feeling really content with how things are going. I guess I didn’t realize how stressed-out I actually was when things were rough-going. I’m glad things have improved to the point that friends are noticing a change in us.

Even though Abbey and I no longer discuss the particulars of my marriage, I entertained the conversation for a few moments. Getting positive feedback about your relationship is something worth reveling for a moment or two. It validates all the effort I’ve put into Making it Work.

Of course, the real validation comes from the fact I live with Sean and we’re still in love. But let’s face it, it’s nice to hear you’re on the right track from the people who know you best.

Brent.

Six Feet Under Therapy

My favourite television series of all time is HBO’s Six Feet Under. With its dark themes and confronting honesty, it’s not a show for everyone. Especially not for those after some light entertainment and a couple of laughs.

I bought all five seasons on DVD and have been through them a few times. I recently watched the pilot episode with my friend, Sam who hasn’t seen much of the show. Sam is facing some challenging times ahead as he struggles to live his life as a gay man while maintaining close ties with family and co-workers who do not accept homosexuality for religious reasons.

I’ve prescribed a dosage of Six Feet Under for Sam because it’s a show about family, relationships and the struggle we all face discovering our life’s path in the face of that unavoidable truth: life is not permanent.

If Sam decides to watch more of the series (I strategically left them at his place), I suspect he will relate to the David Fisher character. Like Sam, David Fisher always seems caught between doing what’s best for himself and what’s best for his family and career. Being gay adds another dimension of difficultly.

I read the following on Wikipedia:

“Six Feet Under creator, Alan Ball said ‘I'm like David in that for years I tried to do everything right, as if that would some way redeem me.’ When he first conceived the characters, in one interview [Ball] said, ‘David was just always gay. He was the brother who was “the best little boy in the world” who did everything to please everybody, and that's such a classic gay thing.’

Sam’s admitted many times he wants to make his family happy. He’s even considered marriage – to a woman. His rationale? Stable family relationships, kids, and a ‘normal’ home life. My high-school friend did exactly that – after coming-out to me, he got engaged. The last I heard he’s still married to his wife and has two kids.

I’ve threatened to crash Sam’s wedding if he ever decides to marry straight. I wouldn’t do such a thing unless I was convinced he was 100% gay. And believe me, readers, he’s just as gay as me. And that’s pretty gay.

I want more than anything for Sam to come out to his family. I want him to experience a romantic relationship not kept in secret. He’s told me he’ll come-out to his family once it’s necessary – meaning once he’s in a committed relationship. Until then he doesn’t see the point.

This sounds familiar to me. I didn’t come-out to my parents until after I’d been in a gay relationship for six months. I needed the ammunition of being able to say ‘I’ve had a boyfriend for six months. See? Being gay isn’t just about sex. It’s about commitment too.’

But the argument did little in proving my point to Mom and Dad. And the funny thing? After I used this ammunition on them, my boyfriend and I broke up.

Vicariously Sam knows the realities of being in a gay relationship from what he’s witnessed from his friend’s relationships. He’s seen mine in the toilet and on the mend, he’s seen a few couples stay together long term, and he’s seen dozens of relationships end.

I know he’s a bit apprehensive about gay relationships and that’s understandable. To embrace life as a gay person he will probably have to experience a few heart-breaks.
Maybe that’s why Sam still flirts with the idea of a religious marriage-of- convenience to a woman. But I just want him to know that happiness can be found in gay relationships in the absence or presence of family support.

You just have to be careful of how you define happiness. That’s another reason why I’ve prescribed some Six Feet Under therapy for Sam. Because if there was ever a realistic portrayal of a gay couple in a television series, it’s Six Feet Under’s David and Keith.

Why? (don’t read this next bit if you don’t want to know what happens)

They deal with coming-out issues
They break-up
They get back together
They try an open relationship
They try monogamy
They go to counseling
They fight
They have great sex
They struggle to make it work
They forgive each other
They struggle to make a home in a world where gay couples are not always supported and viewed with equality to straight ones
They realize they are, in fact, the ideal partners for each other
They love each other despite all of the above.

And here’s my theory: I reckon straight couples go through exactly the same shit, but honor, pride and keeping-up-appearances keeps them in-the-closet about it. I believe gay men are just more open and honest about what actually happens in their relationships with each other.

On the whole, Sam’s family will be happy if he marries a nice girl. Things will look pretty on the surface, but there’ll be just as much turmoil for Sam as being in a gay relationship. But if he’s out and open about who he is, at least he’ll have us to fall back on. Gay friends that’ll talk openly and candidly about love and relationships in a very gay way.

Boys in Cars

“There is only one social phenomenon that spans the entire twentieth century, only one line on the chart that truly correlates with divorce rates. Automobile ownership.”

Dan Savage in The Commitment

I’m with ya, Dan. Sharing a vehicle with your partner is never a good idea if you value the stability of your relationship. Sean and I shared a car for nearly a year. IT SUCKED. But now that we have our own cars, we still fall victim to CRRS (Couple’s Road Rage Syndrome) when we travel in the same vehicle.

I noticed the problem the very first time he was a passenger in my car. He’d get dizzy and nauseas and have to blast the air-conditioning on himself – even in Canadian winter. Then, of course, he’d make the usual back-seat-driver comments, badly disguised as friendly suggestions:

What Sean said:
‘I prefer driving in the other lane this stretch of road.’
What Sean meant:
‘You’re driving in the wrong lane, dumb ass!’
What Sean said:
‘Oh, is there another way to the markets?’
What Sean meant:
‘You totally missed the turn. Idiot!’
What Sean said:
‘I’ve never parked here. I usually go further up.’
What Sean meant:
‘You not actually parking here, are you?

Yes. The above was a bit catty, bias and unfair. So for balance, I’ll list my driving shortcomings:
1) I’m not assertive on the road.
2) When I have a passenger in the car, non-assertiveness becomes old-lady-ish.
3) When I talk and drive, I drive slower than speed limit
4) When I have a passenger I forget where I’m going
5) I panic when people watch me park
6) I once drove on the wrong side of the road (in a confusing car park – so I think that’s excusable)

Sean is an assertive, confident, methodical driver. So when I’m his passenger I notice him doing things on the road I’d never do. On many occasions, I’ve gasped and gripped my seatbelt. Yes, that annoys him.

We just got home from a trip to the mall (with me driving). I pulled all my usual driving-with-passenger disasters and Sean pulled all his motion sickness stuff. But we didn’t get upset with each other until I was pulling into the driveway at home. He suggested I back into the driveway and then decided to coach me through it (bad idea on all accounts). It brought back those suppressed memories of driving lessons with Dad.

So when I logged on to my blog today and read the suggestion from one of my readers that I should open-up and write a passionate poem about Sean I laughed.
The poem will have to wait for another day.

But, there is always one good follow-up to a bad Saturday morning spent in the car … a Saturday afternoon of horny sex in the bedroom. So if you’ll please excuse me … I have to go now.

Vroooooom.

(that was cheesy, wasn’t it?)

Brent.

The Busy Bits

Summary of the past 72 hours:

Number of meals shared with Sean: 0
Wakeful hours spent together: 3
Wakeful hours spent together watching *Supernatural: 2
(*Sean bought the box set and we’re working our way through them. The series wouldn’t be nearly as captivating if the leads weren’t so bloody HOT)
SMS’s sent to Sean: 2
SMS’s received from Sean: 2
Missed calls from Sean: 3
Number of half-awake good-bye morning kisses: 3

We’re not having a fight. We’re just busy and have opposite schedules. A friend once joked with me saying, ‘The best way to make your relationship last is to barely see each other.’

It’s true that less face time means less opportunity for conflict, but need I say it – aren’t you missing out on the good stuff too?

Missing your partner, I believe, is generally a good emotion (as long as it’s not ‘gone off to war’ yearning). Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?

We both work in creative fields, so sometimes we have periods of intense busyness followed by breaks where there’s relatively little to do. Sadistically, I kind of like the busy bits best. I like the excitement of seeing each other at the end of a long day … even if it’s just to sit together and watch two cute boys on T.V. fight ghosts.

The size-difference marital clause

I have a new running joke with Sean. It’s called the size-differential marital clause.

Let me explain.

I saw an absolute muscle monster at my gym today. At minimum he’d have weighed-in at 130 kgs. Pure muscle. Neck as thick as my torso. He was the real deal - a heavy-weight bodybuilder.

He was spotting his girlfriend as she did pull-ups. She looked like a feather-weight compared to him and I worried that if he put a little muscle into it she’d be torpedoed into the ceiling.

This got me thinking about size difference between romantic partners. I know a lot of guys who have very specific ideals for how big or small their partners should be. What’s my preference? I used to claim I didn’t have one because all the guys I’ve dated, including Sean, have had very different body types.

However, after spending a few minutes with a calculator this afternoon I discovered all of my partners have been no more than 2-9% taller, shorter, heavier or lighter than I. Maybe all other guys went under my radar? And I thought I was open minded!

So now that I’ve decided to embrace this simple fact, I’ve informed Sean – jokingly – that if his height or weight should grow or shrink beyond a 9% differential, we’ll get divorced. He said the same goes both ways. Gotta love the cheeky bastard.

So here’s an idea for all you iPhone lovers. Design an application that will calculate size difference (as a percentage) between you and your date/partner. I’m sure it would be a hit on first dates.

Maybe not.

Brent

P.S. What do you guys think of the gay couple in Modern Family? I've only seen one episode so I haven't formed an opinion ... but I think one is brewing.

Housewife

Is anyone familiar with the music of singer/songwriter Jay Brannan? I bought his album on iTunes sometime last year. I play it anytime I’m in the mood for some acoustic gay folk (is that a genre?). The last time I listened to the album was right before I went through airport security in Los Angeles airport. I put my iPod in the x-ray tray and when I was collecting it on the other end, a guard picked up my iPod and turned it on.

‘Housewife?’ he asked. ‘What kind of music is that?’



I chickened-out on my opportunity to enlighten him on acoustic gay folk. I just told him Jay Brannan was a folk singer. The guard relaxed, then wanted to talk about folk music for real. Who was my favourite singer? Had I heard of so-and-so? I thought he was never going to let me go. It was a strange moment. I’ve never been asked about my tastes in music in airport security … especially not in LAX – the most unfriendly airport on the planet.

Maybe the guard was just one of those butch, straight-acting gay guys having a little fun with me. Actually, I doubt it. I would have loved to have seen his reaction when he went home that night and checked out Jay Brannan online. I hope his girlfriend checks his browser history!

Anyway, Housewife is one of my favourite tracks on the album. I love Brannan’s reasoning … what’s wrong with wanting to play the traditional wife role in your gay relationship?

I like role-division in a home. It just makes things easier. Modern couples - gay or straight - live in a society where distinct divisions are no longer generally agreed upon nor accepted. I think this is a good thing because it requires us to come up with creative solutions to the who-does-what question in the home. I like the fact that most contemporary couples have the option of defining their roles in the house whichever way they want.

When I first moved to Australia, I was unemployed for a few months so I played ‘housewife’ while I searched for employment. I used to pack lunches for Sean, iron his work shirts, fold the laundry, make the bed, take the dog for a walk – you name it.

In the process, I discovered things I liked about the traditional housewife role – laundry, doing the dishes, home organization, and occasional vacuuming. But there were things I really hated as well – the ironing, the cooking, dusting, cleaning bathrooms … and fear my career was in a gradual state of atrophy.

When I started getting busy with work, I continued to do all the household stuff I liked, and Sean did the same – thank God he loves to cook. Of course there are a few things we both hate doing, so we trade off on those duties.

Both Sean and I were raised in homes where Dad was the bread-winner and Mom stayed at home doing housework and child rearing. Neither of us would enjoy taking either role exclusively (as I discovered for myself). I’m glad we both have our own work and that there also aspects of housework we both enjoy. Sean and I are very different from our fathers whom we’ve never witnessed holding a vaccum or feather duster.

Role division can be challenging at times, but so far we’ve got a pretty good system running. One day I’d like to have a cleaner come in to do the stuff we hate. That’ll be my expense to manage. I'm thinking hot naked maid???

Still, I admire guys who are bold enough to come out of the closet as ‘housewives.’ I think there are a lot of them out there. And why not? There’s nothing wrong with it. I just think it needs a better title … ‘househusband’ seems like the obvious, but it needs a gay twist. Any suggestions?

Happy cooking and cleaning to all you gay house_____s out there.

Brent.

Good News

I saw my friend Bryan today. He dropped in on me this afternoon wondering if I had time for coffee. I was quite eager to catch up with him because he’s just returned from a first vacation with his boyfriend, Chris.

I barely know Bryan’s boyfriend even they’ve been dating ten months. But so far, I’ve been impressed by Chris every time we’ve socialized.

Before they left for vacation, Bryan told me he was nervous about the trip. He’d never traveled with a boyfriend before and he was apprehensive about spending four weeks together. Up until the time they left, the longest amount of time they’d spent together continuously was three days.

The good news is that the trip didn’t bring about any big surprises or revelations. Except one – they realized they want to move-in together in the near future.
My reaction was a bit like Charlotte from Sex in the City when finding out one of her best friends is getting married. Actually it was nothing like that – I was just really excited Bryan and Chris are thinking about moving-in together.

Bryan and Chris are first boyfriends to each other. Neither of them have been in a long-term gay relationship before. The lucky bastards are still in their 20’s.

Here’s where I want to draw a point. After I moved in with my first boyfriend, every new gay guy that we met socially tried to convince us that because it was a first relationship, it would never work. I was a bit vulnerable to the opinions of others at the time. I let a lot of guys convince me that I needed to pay my dues as a single before I could do a committed relationship. My first boyfriend was the first guy I’d had sex with, and when guys found this out, they told me I needed to have lots of sex before I could figure out what I wanted.

My first boyfriend and I are fully responsible for our eventual break-up, but I’ve always been a bit angry with my ‘community’ – especially the older males – who were constantly feeding ideas into our heads about why we shouldn’t be with each other. And the more I heard this message, the more curious I became about sex with other people. And guess who were the ones offering us sex? That’s right, the same guys trying to convince us we shouldn’t be monogamous or committed because we were too young and naïve.

Sometimes I wonder if the relationship would have lasted had we had a better support team of gay men who weren’t out to sabotage our relationship.

I believe there are lots of guys who support each other in their relationships, but when being in a relationship removes the couple physically from the scene (as it does in many cases) couples often feel isolated from each other. I’d argue many of us don’t get the social support from our peers. But maybe I’m bias, or maybe I haven’t met enough like-minded people.

I suggested to Bryan that he brings Chris around to our place more often so that the four of us can get to know each other better. He seemed keen. My motivation – though I didn’t disclose this – is that I want Bryan and Chris to have another gay couple that acknowledge and support their relationship. Even though I wonder if Bryan and Chris WILL in fact work out – that is not for me to say, or determine. All I can do is support them, especially because they are kind to each other and the relationship seems genuine.

Even though this is an anonymous blog, I just want to welcome home Bryan and Chris from vacation and wish them many happy-moving-in-together-conversations.

Brent

(500) Days of Summer

I have a new favourite movie - (500) Days of Summer. And, no surprises here, it’s a film about falling in love.

I recommend the film for those of you who ponder questions of fate and coincidence when falling in love. The two main characters hold opposing beliefs on the matter. Joesph Gordon-Levitt’s character (whom, I reckon is looking pretty hot) believes in soul mates and true love. The female lead, played by Zooey Deschanel, does not.
I won’t summarize the plot in case you haven’t seen it. I liked the film because it challenged my thinking about falling in love. Over the years, I’ve had vacillating opinions about whether fate or coincidence introduced me to the men I’ve fallen in love with.



The guys I’ve fallen for have always entered my life in such curious ways I’ve often thought fate brought us together. I thought I’d met ‘the one.’ The trouble is, I’ve had multiple ‘the ones.’

The fact I’ve fallen in love with numerous guys over the years has ruled out the one-true-love theory for me.

I’ll expose myself a bit here. Last year, my biggest challenge was sorting out whether staying with a partner and making it work was, in fact worth it. I began thinking that if a relationship had to be worked at every day, then maybe I wasn’t with the right guy.

I bought a book called Are you the one for me by Barbara De Angelis. I’ve since trashed the book. It sucked royally and I wanted to strangle the obnoxious author from beginning to end. But, she had good points. Getting caught-up on the ‘is there a “one” for me’ question can really fuck with your head. You end up in a perpetual dating cycle thinking ‘he’s not the one,’ or ‘he might be the one,’ or you constantly question whether the person you’re with is actually ‘the one.’ Those who think they’ve found their true love will suffer when they get dumped by him/her and refuse to let go. Then they become crazy stalkers.

I’ve since learned to say, ‘who gives a fuck?’ I’m with Sean now. He treats me amazingly. We get along, we love each other, we’re not beating each other up or emotionally abusing each other. So worrying about whether he’s ‘the one’ has become irrelevant.

We’re either going to break-up or stay together. I’ve realized that is a choice. And since he and I have both made the same choice to stay together, it’s working. And I do believe that the more years we spend working on it, the less likely it will be that we’ll separate. (I hope I didn’t just jinx the future by writing that).

But even if Sean walked out on me five years from today, I believe there’ll be other opportunities to experience love. I’m a relationship optimist. Oh my God, did I just say that? I sound like Julia Gillard: ‘Well, Kerry, I've described myself as an optimist and describing myself as an optimist I'm gonna say … ‘

But I’ve digressed. Watch (500) Days of Summer and tell me what you thought of it.

Brent.