Gay Men And Forgiveness 2

It’s not difficult to find a gay man who has been hurt by another gay man. 

Sure, there might be different degrees of hurt. Some offenses were probably more subtle, while others were more blatant and outward. Regardless, they all can leave a mark. 

The reality is that many gay men are carrying past hurt with them day in and day out. The experience and wound gets re-opened each time they think about the look, insult or slur that was thrown their way. Instead of healing, the wound gets sliced open over and over again. 

On the other side, there are gay men out there who continue to hurt other gay men. Their view of the world is narrow and self-absorption is a way of life. Their self is the center of the world and they swing violently throughout the bars, beaches and community, much like a wrecking ball (cue Miley Cyrus). 

All of this creates a recipe for long-lasting grudges, cycles of hurt and monumental barriers to forming a sense of community among gay men. 

Is this presence of skepticism, paranoia and suspicion of gay men toward other gay men an old phenomenon? Or is this new? Is it something that wasn’t ever talked about or acknowledged before or are we facing a brand new beast? 

What I don’t hear a lot within the gay community is the concept of forgiveness. 

Merriam-Webster says to forgive is to “stop feeling anger toward (someone who has done something wrong)” and “to stop blaming (someone).” To “stop feeling anger about (something) and “to forgive someone for (something wrong)”. 

While there are certainly pockets and moments of love shown between gay men, there is also burning rage in the hearts of many — especially those who have been hurt time and again. 

Both Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mahatma Gandhi spoke strongly about forgiving others. King said, “We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love.” And Gandhi boldly proclaimed, “The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong”. 

It’s safe to say that most gay men have been hurt by other gay men at some point in their lives. What would it look like for you to forgive the gay men that have hurt you in your life? Is it possible for you to let go of that hurt you’ve been carrying around for days weeks, months or even decades? Do you believe reconciliation is even possible? 

Maybe forgiveness is a muscle we’ve allowed to get flabby and weak. Maybe we’ve been holding out for an apology from our perpetrator that may never arrive. The truth is that when we refuse to forgive others, we only imprison ourselves. 

Every gay man reading this gets to decide: Will I carry anger or love in my heart? You can’t carry both. 

Yes, we need to educate our fellow gay men and be bold in confronting racism, classism, ageism and other -isms that too often go unaddressed in our community. 

I fear, however, that without an element of forgiveness, our posture toward one another will continue to harden. The distance and divide will increase and the toxic words we throw toward one another will become increasingly sharp and pointed. 

There’s very little hope of cultivating community and friendships when we can’t stand one another and when we won’t forgive. 

Forgiveness is messy. It’s complicated. Maybe we’re afraid to air our “dirty laundry” to the larger world. If we’re real honest with ourselves, gay men are not at all immune to hating one another. Perhaps a part of you hates other gay men in this very moment. 

While writing this, I came across these powerful words from Archbishop Desmond Tutu:

Forgiving and being reconciled to our enemies or our loved ones are not about pretending that things are other than they are. It is not about patting one another on the back and turning a blind eye to the wrong. True reconciliation exposes the awfulness, the abuse, the hurt, the truth. It could even sometimes make things worse. It is a risky undertaking, but in the end it is worthwhile, because in the end, only an honest confrontation with reality can bring real healing. Superficial reconciliation can bring only superficial healing.

Will gay men step forward to choose forgiveness? Will I? Will you? What will be your first step toward forgiving your fellow gay men?..................


-----"What If Gay Men Forgave One Another?",  by Josh Hersh, July 17, 2014, The Blog, Huffington Post 

See also: Gay Men And Forgiveness 1

Daddy Issues

When you hear someone refer to “Daddy Issues”, there’s always a negative connotation to the conversation. All my life I’ve heard this reference while secretly the topic made sense to me and excited me. I was thinking how wonderful it was to want a Daddy in my life-never agreeing with the surrounding negative comments about this topic. It has taken me years of secrecy and self analysis to accept, embrace and love my inner “boy” that will exist until the day I die.

So yeah, I grew up with a dad that was distant, never paid me attention and never showed me affection.. much less love.

At age 11 or 12, I went on a hunting trip with an uncle and I got lots of attention from his buddies and I was immediately in love with them.

They were MEN, blue-collar, hairy, muscular, truck driving, whiskey drinking, foul-mouthed MEN. The minute I got into a pick up truck with three of them I felt the instant attraction. I remember later that night in my own bed thinking about them and wishing they would have kept me and take me to live with them. I couldn’t stop thinking about those Alpha Men.

The first time I jerked off I thought of a woman, the second time I thought about theMen in the hunting cabin, and my orgasm was 100 Xs more intense.

My first orgasm at age 11or 12 I was thinking about the Men I had met on the hunting trip. From that day on all I could think about was those MEN, those muscled hairy Alpha Men hat talked dirty, hung out together half naked in the hunting cabin , drank a lot and oozed testosterone. I had never been around any thing like this. And suddenly everything instantly clicked in my head that I could belong to them. I can’t explain the feeling of suddenly fitting in or feeling at home or or the planets aligning, but suddenly everything made sense about my feelings.

After that trip, all I could think about was trying to get their attention and do anything to make those MEN happy. I was obsessed with seeing them again and making them smile and feel good. I went from thinking about playing with my friends and baseball after school to just obsessing about taking care of those MEN. I have this uncontrollable urge to please them, and I didn’t know how or what to do but I couldn’t get rid of the urge to do anything for them that they would ask of me.

Then I started masturbating…… And my active imagination came up with ways to put a smile on those faces, and ways to make those MEN feel good and ways to please them.. With no knowledge of how to have sex, I instinctually started thinking about submitting to them, being on my knees and nursing on their cocks like a baby on a milk bottle. I’ve never felt as in sync with the universe as I did when I started imagining me servicing those Alphas. The thought of sucking off Men and getting all of my nourishment from them was as natural as breathing. ( see my blog “ Participate In The Big Cum Experiment”)

So yes, I love my Daddy issues. Discovering that part of myself led to me knowing myself like I never have before. I realized that I was born to please MEN, there is nothing that is a satisfying for me as giving everything to a MAN.Anything you can think of that would please HIM, my body, my money, my hole, my mouth, my throat, anything that would satisfy him I am willing to give.

It’s time we embrace our daddy issues, so we can rightfully and proudly take our place as submissive boys in the world and that take care of, support and worship the MEN around us. The ones that choose us as their own need us too, I consider myself very lucky to have been used as a boy for Some amazing Alphas, most of them active duty military men.

So let’s start thinking of daddy issues as a good thing, let’s use it n a positive contexts, make boys proud to raise their hand and offer themselves to the MEN that need use. I am proud to submit to, service and please the MEN in my life.

And to the wonderful Alphas out there, thank a Dad for giving us our “Daddy Issues,”

-----"The Great Thing About Daddy Issues", sub-fag-cocksucker-for-alphas.tumblr.com

 WARNING:  Blog quoted above is NSFW
 

Human Fountains

When this act made its debut on America's Got Talent around June 2018, it split the viewing audience into those who absolutely loved their comic timing and irreverent debauchery and those who thought the entire act was disgusting and repulsive.



To ensure the correct video loads, refresh the page
Copyright in the video vests in the lawful copyright holders

FuelMix thought it was clever, gutsy and in similar vein to the parody of Le Ballet de Trocadero.

And we're fully aware of how many gay guys are really, really into spit and watersports - but will never admit it except when cruising deep in a gay sauna, or gym and swimming pool locker room showers, or scrolling through Tumblr, or advertising on specialist hookup sites or cruising in public toilets.

For another perspective on watersports, check out:

Shopping Mall Toilet Attendant 1
Shopping Mall Toilet Attendant 2
Glory Daze, Golden Showers 

Copyright © 2006 – 2018 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG

Craigslist Hong Kong

CL Hong Kong has now removed all personal ads in all categories.

This is part of a worldwide move on all their pages. The official reason is to stop global human trafficking for prostitution.  This is obviously a huge problem and we suspect some ugly truths about the scale of human abduction and trafficking are about to be released.

As we've said before, these are the times of the Apocalypse, the true meaning of which, is that which was hidden, is now revealed

We're not gonna miss the hugely irritating Indonesian, Filipino, Thai and Chinese moneyboys, or the really weirdly-worded ads by Asian trans-sexuals.

However, we have a sneaky suspicion that some presently innocent categories on CL like "Salon/Spa/Fitness will become the new turf for carnal games.  No proof, just a thought.

UPDATE: 7 MAY 2018:  Our suspicion was almost correct: the personal ads and the escorts have appeared in the the "Missed Connections category".  What makes it worse, is that they're not sorted.  You're gonna have to wade through escorts, trans-sexual escorts, heteros looking to hookup, homos looking to hookup - and missed connections.  What a fuckin' mess.

We will miss local and tourist gay men online, in particular:

• the abject stupidity;
• the repetitive insanity;
• the "preferences";
• the outright racism;
• the outright ageism; 
• the number of years over which a fag's age remained the same;
• the ads we instantly knew would fail;
• the number of times we giggled when we saw, "let's do this..!" (more a declaration of desperation than intent);
• the pleas for information on gay saunas which fell on deaf ears;
• whether the self-admitted "average-looking, wine-drinking, "philosophical", "cultured", well educated, "gentle" GAM (a.k.a someone with the visual appeal of paint drying on the wall and the mental incontinence of a dripping faucet), actually found true love with a bloated white guy, similarly depleted in the Looks Department.

Copyright © 2006 – 2018 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG

Shopping Mall Toilet Attendant 2

COMPLETED 3 MAY 2018

In Shopping Mall Toilet Attendant 1, FuelMix described an (actual) late evening encounter with a very "friendly" and utterly unabashed, elderly Chinese toilet attendant.  At the time,  FuelMix was cutting through a shopping mall, having finished from the gym and was simply not expecting what went down:

"So...let's see..." thought FuelMix as his cock hardened, "am I being cruised, admired, abused, molested or serviced by Kevin Spacey's gay Chinese uncle...?.....Ffuuckk..!! This feels good..!"

He ended that post this way:

"Not bad for a 70 year old toilet mouth faggot", thought FuelMix, "In the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger..... 'I'll be back...' "

Five months later, FuelMix found himself cutting through the same shopping mall late evening after the gym, about 10:15pm, needing to piss.  The mall was empty as FuelMix pushed open the Men's Room door not knowing what to expect, or for that matter, whether he'd even be remembered, or who would be on duty.

There was the toilet.  Well lit, completely dry, absolutely spotless and deserted - except for the very same elderly, slim Chinese male in his 70s, standing near the mirrors and sinks.  Again, he was in his pristine starched uniform with the name of the cleaning company discreetly printed on the left shoulder.

The Attendant flashed a broad smile of recognition, pointed at FuelMix and nodded.  He gave a thumbs-up sign as FuelMix approached him to get to the urinals.  FuelMix smiled at him.  The Attendant patted him on the back and stroked his shoulder as FuelMix shrugged off his backpack and placed it a few paces behind him on the incredibly clean floor.

"SSsshhhh..." motioned the Attendant as he placed his index finger to his lips and shuffled towards the door.  Again there was the sharp "click" as the Attendant locked the door. He headed back towards the urinal where FuelMix had released his cock from his gym shorts to start pissing.....

Without a word, the Attendant began to massage FuelMix's shoulders as FuelMix pissed.  It felt really relaxing and FuelMix wondered how many other guys received such personal service at the urinal.

As FuelMix pissed, the Attendant brought one hand down and around to hold his cock.  The other hand massaged FuelMix's lower back and ass through his gym shorts.  Several times, the Attendant deliberately wet his finger on FuelMix's piss stream, brought it up to his mouth and licked it.  From past experience, FuelMix knew the Attendant was a piss drinker and felt his cock getting hard as he pissed.....

When FuelMix finished the Attendant pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and with both hands, gently dabbed FuelMix's cock to remove any dribbles.  FuelMix tucked his cock back into his gym shorts and headed to the sinks to wash his hands.

The Attendant followed, slowly lowering himself to his knees to kiss FuelMix's hairy thighs and legs as FuelMix soaped his hands.  FuelMix dried them, helped the elderly Attendant to his feet and motioned to him to unlock the door.  Not a word had been spoken. 

The Attendant nodded, unlocked the door, smiled and bowed a little as FuelMix left.

Life can be surreal in Very Rich Megacity, at least for FuelMix.


Copyright © 2006 – 2018 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG

Parkside (Uptown Funk And Suck)

"I think this is a gay bar without the drinks...!!" whispered the 20-something female to her anemic looking boyfriend, "they're giving YOU dirty looks...!!....I don't think we should be here....look at all these GUYS.....they're by themselves standing close to each other or walking around nearby staring at the other guys.....what are they DOING....??!!"

"Uhh...OK..." muttered the boyfriend, looking alarmed and insecure, "just keep walking, I won't make eye contact with any of them..."  The sound of her clattering stilettos rapidly faded away. Silence once again descended on the very dark corner of the park at 10pm on a weekday.

"....any of them"  being not less than an astonishing 28 fags clustered in what is rapidly becoming the most notorious open secret in local Fagland, attracting a daily evening feed of regulars - GAMs, whites, students, office guys, chubs, gym guys and tourists in the know -  PLUS the usual trash of Mainland Chinese moneyboys some of whom remove their shirts - as if that's gonna help their case  - PLUS creepy, horny, vaginally-deprived Pakis and Indians with thick accents, dubious identity documents, claming to live "alone" ("alone" being a cubicle in a sub-divided flat with 12 others), making clucking noises like parrots whist scoping a deal for their cock and his cash.

If the usual trash of moneyboys and creepy Pakis was added to the mix, "any of them..." would be approaching a total of 40.

FuelMix stared in amazement and disbelief.  It was a fuckin' Tuesday night for chrissakes....what the hell would this place look like on Friday nights and weekends..??!!

In the darkness and deep silence of massive trees and artfully planted shrubbery, time stood still.  Fags were draped across railings and benches, their eyes transfixed.  If they moved, it was a peculiar combination of vigilance and torpor.  The scene was reminiscent of Wagler Pit Vipers found in the dimly lit Penang Snake Temple, with illegal smoking being rancid incense.

Slithering around curved paths lined with pubic bushes, they bared their fangs and hissed at each other in mutual contempt.

Then, something would happen. One or more fags would twitch in erotic anticipation and squirm towards each other.  Like reptiles, they bent and twisted to avoid unflattering park lamps from hitting their skin.  Darkness, or a semblance thereof, was necessary as they groped and rubbed themselves against each other. One would fall to his knees, a backpack would scrape against the ground,  the sound of a zip opening, sucking noises and moans, hips thrusting.  Minutes later, gulping noises and a strangled orgasm.  A white flourish of Kleenex, sounds of zipping up, a backpack scooped up and footsteps disappearing.

He'd be back.

(Or, in the words of Mark Ronson and Bruno Mars, "Don't believe me..? Just watch..")



To ensure the correct video loads, refresh the page
Copyright in the video vests in the lawful copyright holders

Copyright © 2006 – 2018 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG

Gay Men And Forgiveness 1

Underlining, highlighting and bold print by FuelMix:

Sex is easy. Intimacy is hard. Having spent so much of my life sexually frustrated, I didn’t realize how true this is until after a painful breakup with my ex, Kay.

I partially came out at 20. I came out more fully at twenty-five. But I didn’t really properly date until I was 29. Which means I had about a 10-year lag on most heterosexuals. The romantic and sexual experiences that most other people go through earlier, I went through later, but with the same emotionally undeveloped tools as an adolescent. 

So when I met Kay, I rushed in. I felt too much, too fast, and then we fell apart. 

This happens to straight people too of course. But I think our straight peers have the advantage of a larger culture that better equips them to deal with romantic failure. They receive mentorship either directly from friends or family, or indirectly from media, on how to recover from a failed relationship. 

At least for me, I spent much of my adolescence and early adulthood having my own sexual interests dismissed. And so when I finally found a guy who provided the fulfillment of a meaningful relationship, and then had my heart broken, I felt like there was never a point to it. I was rejected by straight culture, and now I’d been rejected by my own. I gave up on any kind of “happily ever after.” 

For a full week after Kay and I ended, I barely left my apartment and just sat streaming videos. I burned through all of True Detective and much of The Wire. Cocktail hour started at sunrise. I deleted him from my phone. I felt lonely all the time. I still do sometimes, though I’m better now at managing it.

Everyone at some point finds themselves feeling abandoned, as though alone in a boat. But as a gay man, I felt adrift, with neither rudder, oar, nor sail, as I watched my straight peers move on ahead. They too went through many of the same struggles, but always seemed to recover better and faster, while I bobbed around at the whim of the waves, traveling each way and none. 

I pursued myriad shallow relationships, rather than investing and losing too much by giving too much to one person. There are ten guys in my list of contacts with the last name “OKCupid.” There are 23 with the last name “Grindr”. For one of them, as a first name I just wrote “Some Dude.” Those are just the ones who made it into my contacts. 

I found lots of opportunities for easy sex, but didn’t push for anything more from the guys I met. 

I even hooked up with the same guy twice and didn’t even realize I’d had sex with him before until, as we were undressing, I recognized a familiar birthmark otherwise hidden by underwear. I still don’t know his name. 

Kay and I lived in the same city, which meant that we would run into each other occasionally. Each time it had been painful to pretend that we were strangers. As two gay men between the age of twenty and forty living in a small city, we were going to share space. We’ve probably shared lovers. But the isolation we’d brought on ourselves had been its own kind of burden. Even worse than the break up itself. The breakup happened and ended. The loneliness that came from going unacknowledged dragged on and on. 

Recently, I was wrapping up breakfast with a man I’d been seeing for eight months. (Both of us had been cautious—we hadn’t had the “boyfriend” talk. Love comes more slowly the second time around.) I received a text with the name heading: New Contact Found: Maybe Kay.

When I got the text, beginning, “Hi, this is Kay,” I felt fearful, anxious and angry. I looked at the calendar: It had been three years and two days since our first date. 

Kay was texting to say that he was sorry for how he had treated our relationship. For years, this was what I had most wanted from Kay. I didn’t want him to beg for forgiveness, or tell me that he loved me, I just wanted him to see that how we ended had left me hurt. But, even more than that, I wanted him to recognize that we had, once, been important to each other. 

The funny thing was, once Kay apologized to me, I realized I could do the same for him. There were things about our relationship that I was sorry for. I had done things I regretted, and had wanted to apologize for, but hadn’t because I thought it would make me look like a chump. I was the one who got dumped. So why should I be the one to say I was sorry? 

But after this exchange, I could feel my anger and resentment toward Kay evaporating. He had been trying to identify what was important to him, and had realized that he needed to take better care of his relationships. It was not something that came easily to him, but he was trying to do better. 

I felt that he meant what he wrote, and I made the choice to believe him. Mostly because I’ve been feeling the same way. And acknowledging that it, and each other, has let me release a lot of weight I’d been dragging around ever since we split. Yes, I had been avoiding Kay. But I had also been avoiding my own fears of intimacy. 

I’d tried to dodge every single guy I’d ever been on so much as a date with, which meant strategizing how to best navigate an ever growing minefield of discarded lovers. Sure, when Kay and I crossed paths we pretended we didn’t know each other, but I’d been doing that with everyone who’d shared my bed. 

Recently, I reached out to another ex after a chance encounter in a thrift store. When I saw Luis in the store, I spun around and walked out. Almost immediately I felt embarrassed and went back inside to apologize, but he had already left, or else was hiding in the dressing room. So I texted him to say how sorry I was that I had avoided him. That the next time I saw him I would say hello. 

Kay and I will probably never be friends. We don’t need to be. But at least we aren’t strangers any more. We can say hello when we see each other in the street. I even opened up my contacts and put his name back in.

-----"Dealing with Rejection: Living openly and learning to forgive", by Cirrus Wood, Beta, October 11, 2017


Copyright © 2006 – 2018 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG

No One Over 35

"Mind if I join you...?" slurred the nameless elderly Stocky White Fag, waving a lurid Green Tea Frappucino, as he lowered his fat waist into the hopelessly inadequate cafe chair at Starbucks downtown.  He was the self-confessed rimming addict who a few months ago in the sauna, spooned Haagen-Dazs Rum Raisin ice cream into FuelMix's muscled ass and ate it out to satisfy his cravings for confectionery and butt.

"Looong time no seeee.....!!..... he purred and winked, "How's that hot ass of yours..??  Thawed out yet after I froze your hole...??  Ate all the raisins.....cleaned you up real good huh.....??

"Heh....yeah..." grinned FuelMix, "I can't walk into a Haagen-Dazs without getting flashbacks..."

SWF:  Wanna hear a joke about gay guys...?"

FM: Sure

SWF:  You know that I'm a gay porn afficionado.....I know my porn like other people know the art hanging on their walls, or fine wine.....I have quite the collection going back decades....sort of like a carnal history of men you know.....

FM:  Yeah, so you mentioned in the sauna....after you'd finished your...um..."snack"...

SWF:  And you know how these gays whine online about, "No one over 35..?"

FM:  Yeah 

SWF: I was trawling through gay porn on Tumblr and nearly shit myself laughing.  Some of those sites are uploading porn that is about 30 years old - and I'm NOT talking about sites specializing in "Vintage Gay Porn".....I'm talking about the usual sites peddling sucking, fucking or - my favourite - rimming action.  Tumblrs are self-curated.  They pick from each other.  There's a ton of 30 year old porn out there, particularly in the muscle boy and bodybuilder category, and it takes an "expert" like me to spot it.  I'm spotting stuff from gay porn mags from the late 1980s and a lot of early 1990s pics from "Colt" who specialized in bodybuilders.

FM:  So...what's the joke....?

SWF:  All these gays screeching "No One Over 35" in their online ads, are hooked on porn that is 30 to 35 years old...!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA...!!! THE GUYS THEY'RE JACKING OFF TO ARE NOW IN THEIR 60s...!!!  HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA....!!!  And these fuckin' gays don't have a clue...!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA....!!! And everybody knows, most of these gay porn stars don't age well because of drugs.....most of them will look like shit now HAHAHAHAHAHA......!!  

FM: [giggles] 

SWF:  What's even funnier...??  These Tumblr sites curated by 20-something horny college boys, are uploading pics of DEAD GAY PORN actors....!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA...!!!  - and putting captions like, "I'd totally date him.." or "OMG..!! He's so fuckin' hot... I need to suck him now..!" They're so clueless...!!  I'm coming across dead porn guys like Joey Stefano who died in 1994 at 26, Steve Fox in 1997 at 32, Roman Ragazzi who died in 2012 at 38....jeez, there's tons of dead gay porn stars on Tumblr, many of whom killed themselves, like the three I just mentioned. 

FM: [sighs]

SWF: If I tell people these days that I'm a porn afficionado, they'll say I'm a porn addict.  But I know my porn history that's what.  And these fuckin' twinks are jacking off to guys who are now in their 60s or suicidal porn stars. And they're utterly clueless.  When they give me attitude in the sauna these days, 'coz I'm an older guy, I just snicker and think, "Hey kid, I know you smoke, I know you snort poppers and I know you do drugs.....let's see how long YOU live, sweetheart.."

Copyright © 2006 – 2018 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG 

Wearing My Propaganda

1.  Mainland Chinese Over Here
2.  American Brands And Propaganda in Asia
3.  Then There Are The Fags..... 

1.  Mainland Chinese Over Here

1.  Here in Very Rich Megacity, as rich as we think we are, Mainland Chinese - whether visiting or living here -  with Louis Vuitton suitcases and offshore accounts of unexplained and inexplicable oodles of cash, shame us.  Nobody knows exactly how, when and where they made such fantastic sums, but the local Cantonese speaking in a tone that is simultaneously derisive, awe-struck and envious, describe Mainland Chinese cash as "grey money" or the more sinister, "black money".

2.  Mainland Chinese can be found lined up around the block outside the priciest and glitziest fashion, jewellery and high-end watch retailers downtown. They don't just swarm onto the premises like locusts.  They infest the entire mall like cockroaches.  Those are the descriptions of the local Cantonese - descriptions which the government in Very Rich Megacity threatened to criminalize as it didn't show respect and tolerance to "our Mainland brothers and sisters" [sic].

3.  These Mainland Chinese show up with empty high-end Rimova or Tumi suitcases which are wheeled around down, filled with the day's shopping.  It’s all about the brand names – anything that sounds French, Italian or Swiss,  money no object.   It’s not about the style, or the chic or the appreciation of the tailoring or the craftsmanship.   They don’t have a clue.  And frankly, they don't care.

4.  It’s about the swagger and the shrill, slant-eyed shriek of conspicuous consumption.  It’s propaganda by Designer Label and Designer Bling.  They're modeling the power of their cash.


2.  American Brands And Propaganda in Asia

1.  Then there are those American brands retailing in Asia who use generic, white models in nautical, country, urban and semi-sexual settings with pecs, muscled torso or tits on display. The colours on the brand’s logo, a combination of red, white and blue ,evoke the US national flag or national symbol like an eagle.  Or, the brand may hype the Southern Californian lifestyle with glossy videos and promos of sun-kissed, (white) blondish, surfer or jock types  The clothes may be manufactured in China, India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Malaysia, Philippines, Indonesia or Turkey but the T-shirts and the jackets will overwhelmingly have the city, university, military, police or sports teams names of the United States.

2.  The preferred clientele in Asia is 18 to 35, preferably Western educated, weaned on Western values during their formative years and ideally, weaned on mobile devices.  They are avid consumers of Western trash TV -  specifically American - catering to that age group where the artfully arranged actors are wearing exactly those clothes on the rack.

3.  It’s about the attitude, the assumed freedom of choice, the democracy of it all, the camaraderie of style.  In fact it’s a social hypnosis.  The American-intoxicated consumer is unable to realize that they are an unpaid walking billboard for an insidious form of propaganda  –  that “MY values should be YOUR values”;  that “MY way of living (flakey though it may be) is better than YOURS”;  that “MY clothes are an expression of freedom”, "that MY cities are more important than YOUR cities".

4.  If that's hard to swallow, remember that in the days after September 11, 2001 official statements from US politicians proclaimed that American values were not negotiable and were to be exported.  Further, that the US had no problem shaping other people's reality.

5.  Wake up idiot.  We're not suggesting you stop wearing US brands.  But you'd better admit that not only are you wearing the equivalent of a cheaply made, high priced Mao suit charged to your VISA card, but you are a walking billboard of Reality Conditioning manipulated from halfway across the world for their benefit - not yours.  Propaganda takes many forms you know.  It can be fashionable, ubiquitous, high-priced, sexy and subtle.

6.  But when that propaganda is turned on them, that's when it gets hilarious, yet utterly accurate.  For example, Americans love to deride those from South West Asia (formerly known as the Middle East) as "sand niggers", "rag-heads" or "towel-heads".  Yet nearly every American male and his Syphilis bacteria, wears a backward-facing baseball cap, often with a logo.  Those caps are ubiquitous and are worn everywhere, indoors and out, regardless of the main items of clothing.  When we pointed out that they were the turbans of the white trash, the howls of outrage caused us to laugh for days.

3.  Then There Are The Fags.....

1.  Whether or not subsidized by a Sugar Daddy,  some fags will head straight into Designer Label and Designer Bling.  The look and attitude accessorizes nicely with amphetamines.  After all, he worked hard in the gym that week.  He deserves a chemical and stylized treat.

2.  Many fags gravitate towards a combination of those Western brands mentioned above and specifically gay-wear. That body conscious fit is all-important. It’s the mobile Resume of the state of his pecs, biceps, thighs and ass.  A padded jockstrap  or a cock ring is de rigeur.

3.  Fags will rationalize and say that they’re supporting gay (or gay-friendly) designers and that the clothes are just fabulous.  That may be true but the propaganda of gay-wear is Defiance and Daring.  That’s not a bad thing if you have the looks and the bod.  It serves as inspiring eye candy and cross-marketing.  Remember, it's a fine line between marketing and propaganda.

4.  We suspect that however much manufacturers may deny it, it's no accident that compression shorts, the ultra-fitted tights and shirts seen in gyms and on professional athletes, also evolved from gay street and club wear - but now marketed generally as “enhancing your performance” or “increasing your aerodynamics…” or "helping muscle recovery.." or ".....whilst wicking sweat away from your body....."

5.  How else could a str8 guy go home and look his GF in the face.....?

Originally published 4 May 2011
Amended and Republished 6 February 2018

Copyright © 2006 – 2018 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG 

Here & Hereafter 2

5.  The Deathwalk
6.  Fags And Dignity
7.  Who's Gonna Remember Me..?

The most enlightened communities have always comprehended that there was the present life, the act of death and the hereafter.

5.   The Deathwalk

1.  In Shamanic cultures, Buddhism, Hinduism, ancient Egypt, Inca and Maya there is the practice of the “deathwalk”. On a person’s deathbed, an intermediary stays with them, entering into a meditative trance-like state to accompany the deceased’s spirit to the other side and then return, having safely delivered them into the Light. It is one of the most noble acts a person could do, a mark of the utmost respect and dignity to the person passing over. 

6.   Fags and Dignity

1.  Fags constantly clamour for dignity only to degrade each other - whether online or to their face, or behind their backs. How many little deaths must a fag endure in his “community”? Is his buffed bod just an armor plating for a whimpering spirit cowering in the recesses of a wounded psyche?  

2.  An outrageous claim fags make is that they are a “community”. That’s a lie. A “community” implies cohesion. How can there be cohesion when the community consists of so many individually wounded, fractured psyches? FuelMix has often been left speechless at the numbers of deeply lonely, sexually abused, fundamentally unhappy fags, some quite young, for whom living in Fagland (either as a postal code or a state of mind) is a daily accumulation of financial, social and emotional degradation culminating in a fundamental lack of self-worth. 

3.  There’s no doubt those are the walking wounded and the living dead. Where is that special person who will guide them through their “deathwalk”, that long night of the soul when incessant Fagland pain finally transfigures them into someone stronger, more noble, more resilient, more at peace with themselves...? 

4.  Anonymity, casual social and sexual encounters are touted as the norm in Fagland. But maybe the norm is the perversion. The frenetic superficiality takes its toll. Nobody says what they mean. Nobody means what they say. So how much is an obituary for a dead fag really worth...? 

7.   Who's Gonna Remember Me....?

1.  Maybe Obituary TV (as mentioned in Here And Hereafter 1) isn't such a bad idea. It  might encourage fags to record something other than their genitals.  Maybe Obituary TV is technology’s clumsy way of returning to the myth of the sacred – the reverence for one’s life, the life of others and the life beyond. 

2.  Maybe Obituary TV is the wake-up call to all of us to polish up the Resume of our lives – something that we can live by, point to and be proud of. Perhaps Gay Pride of the future will not just be a global festival for the circuit party boy or the carnival float queen, but the commemoration of Legacy for the gay lives that have gone before. 

3.  Nobody wants to feel forgotten.  Nobody wants to feel irrelevant.  Nobody wants to feel degraded. Nobody wants to die anonymous. The fag’s hedonistic lifestyle of amnesia-inducing anonymous sex, may be the cheap substitute – and the very antithesis - for what his spirit quietly craves....authentic intimacy, acceptance, honesty, trust and surrender.

 4.  They don’t call an orgasm “the little death” for nothing.  It’s the closest the lonely gay man comes to dying in someone’s arms.  

Originally published 20 December 2007.  

Amended and republished 6 February 2012 | 7 January 2014 | 25 December 2017

 
Copyright © 2006 – 2017 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG 

Here & Hereafter 1

1.  The Individual Anthem
2.  How Fags Deal With Death
3.  The Fag's Final Moments
4.  The Emptiness Of Fagland   
5.  The Deathwalk
6.  Fags And Dignity
7.  Who's Gonna Remember Me..?

Back in 2008, a German TV station became the world's first to specialize in death. For a fee, it broadcasts video obituaries of one's friends and relatives so that their lives may be celebrated on satellite TV. In addition, there are documentaries about death and bereavement as well as hymns. It's a brave concept. Even with a rapidly ageing populations death is such a taboo.

1.   The Individual Anthem

1.  Speaking of hymns, fags have their own too. Fags belt out Broadway show tunes, sing torchsongs or gyrate to the latest dance anthem club mix from the hottest DJ. But...how many fags have an individual anthem for their lives?  

2.  In some African village societies, when a woman gets pregnant, she composes a song for the child she’s carrying. She sings it to the child throughout the pregnancy and teaches it to the other villagers. They gather around and sing that song when the child is born – it’s one of the first sounds the child hears as they enter the world. During childhood, the child is taught to sing for themselves their special song. Their song is performed by the village during milestones of the child’s life. As the child grows older and becomes an adult, they sing that special song to themselves in moments of fear and despair as a reminder of their uniqueness and of the love that surrounds them.  

3. When they’re dying, the entire village, steeped in a history of oral tradition, recollects that person's accomplishments and the milestones of their life. The village gathers around the deathbed and sings that individual’s special song. It’s one of the last sounds the person hears as they leave this world. 

2.   How Fags Deal With Death

Fags deal with death in 3 ways:

(1)   death is seen as an accusation, a laying of blame, a bureaucratic failure that jacked the statistics of fatalities in a marginalized sub-culture e.g. political ineptitude, lack of funding, lack of hospice care, lack of “safe” sex, "a hate crime", or the fag cheated on someone, or deliberately infected people in the past  and now got what he deserved.  

(2)  death is seen as a Politically Correct decorative event with the publicity, the politicians, the celebs and the photo ops.  On cue fags burn candles, wear lapel pins, hang banners, unveil plaques, throw glitzy charity benefits.  

(3)   death is seen as the inevitable result of a ghetto-steeped, less than stellar lifestyle, which ended prematurely or predictably.  

3.   The Fag's Final Moments

1.  The fag dies. If he’s lucky, some of his adopted “social family” will be there in his final moments, a few tears will be shed. He turns cold. They hold a funeral and maybe a memorial. The “family” grieves. The act of death is final. Life goes on and back they go to the clubs, the bars, the drugs. 

4.   The Emptiness of Fagland

1.  For all its diversions, (clubbing, gym, porn surfing, online chatting, drugging, overdosing, shopping, cruising, happy-houring, after-partying, whoring, hustling, thieving, borrowing, going broke, back stabbing) Fagland contains nothing as an empowering rite of passage. Getting fucked bareback in the alley behind the dumpster doesn't count, neither does that blowjob in the stairwell of that building. It’s one large amusement park 24/7 where everybody is - and is on - a joyride. No wonder Fagland is stuffed with chronic under-achievers. 

2.  Other than last year's fashion, clubbing and optional gym classes, there's nothing now in Fagland that serve as milestones of accomplishments in a fag’s life.  For all the crowing in Lamestream Gay Media, there’s little sense on a daily basis of legacy, individual or collective, that transcends the present rush for hedonism.  

3.  Yes, we know all about Stonewall, Harvey Milk, which saunas were closed down or burnt down, the gay singers who drugged or fucked themselves to death, the closet cases, the gay men who were arrested, tortured and executed, the gay writers and composers, quality gay cinema, gays serving in the military.  We've watched all this politically correct wailing about the "need for equality" via gay marriage (which at the end of the day was only about money)  We've already pointed out that the farther gays stay from the concept of "marriage", and all the religious bias it bring to the table, the better.  Civil Union is the way to go.  Separate but equal.  Try telling that to a fag looking to hitch a ride on a political bandwagon.  We agree, some of these events are milestones.....but what's happening now...?

4.  And now we're watching the startling ascendancy of Politically Correct, near-militant Faggotry and the imposition of minority diktat on society.  What started out 40 years ago as a quest for individual freedom, self-expression and respect, has morphed into near-totalitarian suppression of an alternative or dissenting view on Faggotry.  Is THAT the legacy an independently thinking gay man should be accepting..?

5.  So......the dead fag becomes another statistic. His friends clean out the apartment and send his stuff back to his Mom or his sister. They share some of his stuffed toys, divide the porn collection, chuck out the dildos and the stained underwear, quietly pick up the laptop (the less his family knows what's on his hard drive, the better).  Should somebody tell that BF who shows up once a week........?  What's his name again.....?

6.  The landlord rents out the place to someone else.  

COMING UP IN PART 2:
5.  The Deathwalk
6.  Fags And Dignity
7.  Who's Gonna Remember Me..?

Originally published 20 December 2007.  
Amended and republished 31 January 2012 | 7 January 2014 | 25 December 2017


Copyright © 2006 – 2017 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG 

Shopping Mall Toilet Attendant 1

In the post, Late Nite In The Gym Shower, we said:

Sometimes....weird things - no,wait..... make that really bizarre things - happen when one least expects them, even if they take place in a venue that reeks of sexuality, fantasy, testosterone and nakedness......like the gym shower in an ultra-discreet (probably fag-designed) Locker Room.

.....or, having finished in the gym, 10pm in a shopping mall toilet.

FuelMix wore gym shorts, a compression UnderArmour T-shirt and was slinging the obligatory backpack.

He pushed open the door. The place was well lit, dry and absolutely spotless.  It was deserted except for an elderly, slim, Chinese male in his 70s standing near the mirrors and sinks.  He was wearing a pristine starched uniform with the name of the cleaning company discreetly printed on the left shoulder.  He was the Toilet Attendant and flashed a broad smile as FuelMix walked past him.  He looked intently at FuelMix, scanning his body.  At the time, it didn't seem relevant.

FuelMix docked at a urinal 6 feet away from the Attendant, spread his legs, reached under his gym shorts, let his cock out and started pissing.  Having guzzled 3 bottles of watermelon juice from Starbucks,  a protein drink and trips to the gym water cooler, it was gonna be a long piss.

The Attendant looked at FuelMix, smiled and nodded.  Being polite and well brought-up, FuelMix smiled back as he pissed, his cock easily visible.  The Attendant licked his lips, pointed to FuelMix's cock and body and gave a thumbs up sign.  FuelMix felt his cock stirring as he pissed.  It  wasn't the first time a Toilet Attendant had complimented him.

The Attendant walked away.

There was a sharp **click**.  FuelMix turned his head as he pissed.  The Attendant had locked the entrance door. He was walking back towards FuelMix, smiling and licking his lips.....

"Why has he locked the door when I haven't left..?" wondered FuelMix stupidly, "...ohh....I get it...the old dude doesn't want others to come in as he shuts down for the night.."

Not quite.

The Attendant approached FuelMix from behind. Without hesitation or seeking permission, he began to caress his ass as FuelMix was pissing.  FuelMix started to get hard, not entirely sure what was going to happen next - mildly amused at the Attendant's audacity - but still pissing.

Again the Attendant smiled and gave a thumbs up sign.  One hand stroked FuelMix's muscled ass through his gym shorts, the other hand stroked FuelMix's chest, nipples and torso through his T-shirt.

"Waaahh..!!" murmured the Attendant, "vewwyy goood bawwdee..!!  vewwyyy sesseee..!!"

The elderly hand that was stroking his chest, nipples and torso, now moved to caress FuelMix's pissing cock, now visibly horny with the attention.  It was awkward to piss with a developing boner, but it was gonna be a long piss and the stirring boner was slowing it down.

On the pristine, dry floor near the urinal, the Attendant knelt down next to FuelMix and began to lick his cock shaft as he pissed.  One hand stroked FuelMix's hairy thighs, the other hand stroked his ass.

"So...let's see..." thought FuelMix as his cock hardened, "am I being cruised, admired, abused, molested or serviced by Kevin Spacey's gay Chinese uncle...?.....Ffuuckk..!! This feels good..!"

The Attendant's open mouth hovered near FuelMix's pissing cockhead as he repeatedly licked upwards from the shaft.  FuelMix gently moved the Attendant's mouth towards his crystal clear piss stream.....the Attendant continued kneeling, opened his mouth wider and stuck out his tongue......to receive FuelMix's piss.

"Ohhh yeah...!!" thought FuelMix, "think I'm gonna take this old faggot's mouth for a test drive....let's see how he does as my private urinal..." The piss stream continued to flow into the Attendant's mouth, some of which he swallowed, some of which flowed off his tongue.  There was no struggle as FuelMix held the Attendant's head still while he pissed - just the sounds of him gulping piss and gently moaning.

After a while, FuelMix's boner-infused piss stream subsided.  The Attendant knelt quietly, looking at FuelMix while slowly licking his lips.  He seemed to want more, but what...?

FuelMix shrugged off his backpack, placed it on the floor, unzipped it and took out a condom. He took off his gym shorts and unrolled the condom onto his stiff cock.  The Attendant watched quietly, kneeling between the urinals, his head against the wall, his mouth open...

FuelMix approached the Attendant, held his head and started to fuck his mouth, thrusting gently so that Uncle could get used to his cock.  The Attendant started to moan as he sucked.  He couldn't take the full length of FuelMix's cock but didn't mind the thrusts getting harder and harder.

FuelMix gripped the Attendant's head and chin and tilted them back as he kept thrusting.  This forced the Attendant to suck cock a little deeper and he started to moan louder.  FuelMix pressed the Attendant's head against the wall as he kept thrusting, but the Attendant couldn't take the full length of his cock.  In between thrusts, FuelMix pushed the Attendant's head into the urinal and let him lick the remains of FuelMix's piss.  The Attendant loved it and got into the rhythm of sucking cock and licking the very clean urinal (which he'd probably cleaned).

FuelMix's load started to build.  He pulled off his condom and thrust deep into the Attendant's mouth, gagging him, but refusing to let go.  The Attendant started to struggle, but his head was trapped between the wall and FuelMix's hips.  FuelMix pumped his load into the Attendant's throat, locking his head and chin at just the right angle so the Attendant realized he had no choice but to stop struggling and swallow.

Having unloaded his cum, FuelMix walked to the sink and soaped his crotch.  The Attendant crawled behind him and kissed his bare ass cheeks as FuelMix dried his cock with the paper towel and disposed of the condom.

FuelMix put on his shorts, slung his backpack, gave the Attendant a smile and motioned for him to unlock the toilet entrance door.  The Attendant smiled back, escorted FuelMix to the door and gave another thumbs up sign.  Opening the door, the Attendant whispered, "thank you, thank you....see you again...!"

"Not bad for a 70 year old toilet mouth faggot", thought FuelMix, "In the words of Arnold Schwarzenegger..... 'I'll be back...' "

Copyright © 2006 – 2017 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG 

What If..?

"You know the tragedy of being a gay man..?" sighed the 40s GWM, with whom FuelMix was only casually acquainted to the point that he didn't know or care about his name.....

FM:  I can think of several

40sGWM:  It's gay men's propensity to lie in general, and to lie about their age in particular

FM:  That's old news

40sGWM:  Yeah...I've lied about my age so many times, I've come to regret it

FM:  Why..?

40sGWM:  Well, at first I didn't care.  Hell, every gay guy out there lies.  The profiles online and on the apps.....how much of their stats are true..? 

FM: [shrugs] Who knows..?  I prefer the saunas.  You can size people up better and it's more time-effective.

40sGWM: Exactly, the majority of them know they're wasting time surfing profiles.  They know the failure rates are high.  It's a voyeurs game.  Very few will actually hook up because they've already assumed that each profile has lies in it.  Besides, before the apps came along, they got burned and conned pretty badly in chat rooms and Craigslist

FM:  Probably

40sGWM: But here's the thing...every now and then I run into a cute gay guy, maybe in the sauna or cruising on the street, or making eye contact somewhere. We start chatting generally about where we're from, what we do, where we live....we're having a really good conversation and he asks about my age. Straight off the bat, I lie.....I quote an age 10 years younger to see his reaction.  I prefer guys younger than me, 20-somethings or early 30s, so I don't wanna come across as too old and scare them away....so I drop 10 years immediately.  You know how it is with gay guys.  For some reason, in gay sub-culture, being 35 and over is the kiss of death.....god only knows where THAT came from...

FM:  Yep

40sGWM:  But the irony is that 20-something guy probably told me his correct age.  Since I've already lied to him about my age, I feel that I polluted the conversation or our sexual encounter and my behaviour towards him changes.....I start pushing him away socially and sexually.  Initially, it gave me a sense of power - that I could control my encounters - but the effect was that I got rid of some really good people and lost the chance of real friendships

FM:  Real friends in Fagland are hard to find.  But there's no shortage of flakes, liars, backstabbers and gossip queens

40sGWM:  Lately, I've been reconsidering my behaviour and wondering if I'm a coward for not having the courage to tell younger guys my real age, for fear they'll reject me as being too old.  In my quiet moments, I wonder if I'm just another fag lying my way through life or if I'm going through "gay menopause" or that I'm deep in denial because I'm over that dreaded age of 35 and can't bear to face the facts

FM:  Denial runs real deep in Fagland.  It's a hedonist-based culture.  It's based on looks, apparent youth, drugs, partying and sex.  After a certain age, they arbitrarily marginalize you - not realizing that they're gonna reach that age too and probably look like shit

40sGWM: These days I've been wondering what if I had the courage to tell him straight up what my real age was..?  What if he just accepted me as I am...?  What if  I was strong enough to handle his rejection because I was too old for him...?  What if I behaved as if I was genuinely proud of my age..?  What if I really didn't care what people thought of my age..?  What if I didn't lie to the younger guys about my age any more..?  What if I actually made some really nice, younger friends..?
I'm not proud of the way I've acted.  Something has to change.....I can't go around lying to myself as a gay man, even though gay culture is based on lies

FM [dripping with sarcasm]:  Wow...! A white guy with a conscience.....who would have thought..??

40sGWM [grins]:  You hate us whites don't you..?

FM [grins]:  Sorry, it's just a "preference"

Copyright © 2006 – 2017 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG 

Flight Attendants

COMPLETED 27 SEPTEMBER 2017

1.  Four GWM Flight Attendants
2.  Male Flight Attendants:  Str8 vs Gay 

1.  Four GWM Flight Attendants

1.  FuelMix dropped into the University of Fag Bar (pending accreditation) and found himself on the periphery of a cluster of 4 male flight attendants huddled around a bar table. Think of an anal sphincter that shrieks and twitches; and the fascinated reader has a good picture of the animated Faggotry going down at that table.

2.  FuelMix is ambivalent about gay flight attendants. With few exceptions, those he's met or fucked have ultimately turned out to be a "What the hell was I thinking......?" aftermath.  As Joel Barker pointed out in his book, "Paradigms", the only thing that survives when a paradigm shifts, is wisdom. In the same way as FuelMix resolved not to fly certain airlines - particularly those from God's Own Country - FuelMix resolved to be much more choosy before fucking a gay flight attendant.

3.  Realizing that the anal sphincter of just-arrived, social retards from God's Own Country would provide nutritious blog fodder, FuelMix turned his gaze on them.

4.  All four were white, middle aged, frumpy and flaming. Instead of engaging in conversation, each vied for attention in a style that was declamatory and operatic.The  fag didn't make so much a conversational point but rather, proclaimed his views in a manner that was partly Anthem and partly Aria.

5.  At first, FuelMix thought their conversational style was a humorous charade. Then he realized that it was entrenched. There's nothing worse than an adult fag pathetically trapped in his mannerisms. Worse, with those kind of mannerisms, the 4 fags would find it difficult to operate in any environment outside a pressurized cabin, except perhaps a hair salon or men's retail, balls-deep in the fag ghetto.

6.  True to form, the 4 flight attendants exhibited all the characteristics that FuelMix has learned to avoid when assessing fuckability:

• They hadn't slept in 24 hours;
• The drinks were flowing thick and fast;
• They were shrouded in a haze of cigarette smoke;
• They were wheezing and coughing;
• The were completely up to date on the latest drug du jour, when to take it, how to take it, how to ride the high, how to recover before showing up for the next sector's flight;

7.  It was a fair bet that regular sleep deprivation, jet lag, booze, cigarettes and drugs had resulted in all 4 of them wandering the planet with compromised immune systems;


2.  Male Flight Attendants:  Str8 vs Gay

1.  One of the contradictions that FuelMix has wrestled with over the years is that he has tons of respect for straight male flight attendants (yes fags, there are some) and considerably less for the gay ones. 


The Straight Ones

2.  Off the job, the straight male FA's are thoughtful, considerate, emotionally mature, sometimes married with kids, always polite, stop to talk, invite you for a coffee, introduce their girlfriends.  These guys actually read books, listen to self-improvement courses -  just all around nice guys who are fun to hang out with. And they know FuelMix is gay.


The Gay Ones: Version 1

3.  By contrast, Version 1 of gay FA's are weird.  Off the job, the fag attitude and the Bose headphones kick in. Make eye contact with them in the gym, accidentally or on purpose, and witness the famous head-swivel and the "Tsk, Tsk" sound of feigned annoyance.  These are the guys who will check YOU out in the Locker Room AND the showers, then look the other way when you catch them. They are the ones with the perpetual look of annoyance and the "I'm too good looking for you" attitude. (Hint: these are the ones who are the most effeminate, but will never admit it).


The Gay Ones:  Version 2

4.  Version 2 FA's swing to the other extreme:  ultra-congeniality to get to your cock.  These are the guys who will:

• make instant eye contact in the gym;
• flash a megawatt smile in the free weights area;
• check you out in the gym mirror and shyly lick their lips;
• find an excuse to compliment your bod;
• ask you to spot for them on the bench press so they can exhale onto your thighs;
• enquire about your career, which cities you've visited, looking for gay clues, whether you might drop the name of a gay neighbourhood.  They'll innocently mention the names of known gay bars in a few cities to see if you'll react;
• repeat several times which airline they work for and their favourite type of aircraft;
• follow you into the Locker Room to keep the conversation going as you undress.  If they like what they see when you're totally naked, they'll compliment you more and offer their number;

Inspired from the TV series, we call Version 2, "CSI Airbus-Boeing"."  That's because they turn their workout - and yours - into a forensic investigation of your body and your sexuality.  They're kinda fun in a limited way for an off night.

5.  You'll know Version 2 is getting to Fourth Base when they gently stroke your body, earnestly confirming that this IS the right muscle group that benefits from the exercise. Then they'll throw in a remark like, "I see you're wearing "Addicted"....that is such a HOT brand.....looks REALLY good on you..!! I MUST get to Barcelona..!!"  As if "Addicted" is a badge worn by body-conscious, body-flaunting, hot gay men. (Hint: it is).


The Gay Ones:  Version 3

6.  These are the middle aged, usually white, close-to-retirement, grey, fat queens.  Sorta like the ones we talked about at the beginning of this post.  They missed the AIDS bullets in the 80s and 90s and couldn't care less.  But they are also the ones constantly hammering their immune systems via drink, cigarettes, poppers and drugs.

7.  Version 3 claim to have gone to college and graduated in say, International Relations.  Somewhere along the line that transformed into bragging about cock they sucked between Maine, Mexico and Mauritius. 

8.  Bitchy, venomous and diva-like, because of their apparent seniority, you'd think they were the ones actually flying the planes, instead of steering the trolleys.  We avoid these ones.

 
The Gay Ones:  Version 4

9.  These are the hidden gems.  Again, they're usually middle aged, close-to-retirement, white or Asian.  These are the ones who absorbed the full horror of AIDS in the 80s and 90s, probably lost some friends, or significant other having looked after them.  They understand mortality and how precious Life really is.  Many of them are already alone in their life.  They'll mix with their colleagues, but don't really regard them as friends.  They're very careful about their health.

10.  There is something angelic about Version 4 when you meet them.  They've been through a lot, but they keep it to themselves.  They talk softly and carefully.  They are born to serve - there is a dignified submissiveness and discretion about them.  They're not so much Flight Attendants, as Airborne Butlers.

11.  They will softly ask for your number or email so that they can contact you when they next come to town. And they will. Their correspondence will be courteous and professional. 

12. They will have picked the restaurant in your city and made the reservation, a quiet corner table and a view.  Over dinner, they'll present you with a small gift they picked up in another city 'coz it reminded them of you.

13.  Then they'll suggest a walk along the waterfront, gently touching your hand now and then. They're not relying on their looks.  They're relying on their class.  And when they shyly invite you back to their hotel,  their room will be pristine, the lighting just right, fluffy towels and a bathrobe for you afterwards, their compliments quiet and genuine.

14.  And their sexual dedication to service and bodyworship and giving themselves up to be fucked every which way, multiple times...?  Mindblowing.  Utterly mindblowing.

15.  Then you'll get the assisted shower, the towel and the fluffy bathrobe.  They'll help you dress and they'll walk you down to the hotel lobby.

16.  As they leave town, they'll send a Thank You note from the airport, with a request to meet again.  They'll keep their word.

Copyright © 2006 – 2017 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG

Old School

Ask any fag with experience and they’ll say that the keys to successful cruising on the street, mall, locker room, toilet, bar, sauna or wherever, lies in 3 factors: confidence, body language and the look.

To which FuelMix would add a 4th factor: hotness.

Cruising in public, however furtive, is actually a brazen act of public defiance liable to criminal charges of indecency or loitering with intent or soliciting. But this post isn’t about the criminality of cruising. It's about the convergence of the 4 factors listed above and the head-on collision with so-called "online cruising".

Real-time  face to face cruising requires skill, persistence, finesse and a certain skill to determine compatibility. Cruising is in the other guy’s face and everything’s on view. It’s also awfully hard on the feet.

So, along comes the Web, the fag chat rooms, the apps: Grindr/Jack'd/Scruff/Growlr. Theoretically hookups should happen with a mouse click or a swipe. Pull up a chair, lie on the bed, arrange a lunch time quickie, post a profile, a pic, say what you’re into, what you’re looking for, when you wanna meet and bang!!…the trick shows up like a pizza delivery.  Exactly what you ordered.  All smiles, good manners,clean cut, freshly showered, smelling of Tide, high-priced body wash and Ozone.

Not so fast.......

1.  The attitude of the fag claiming to cruise online is quite different to the fag’s attitude whilst cruising on the street, yet the professed desired result is the same.

This is a crucial point because it shows a marked divergence in strategy which leads to zero, or infuriating, or an utterly disastrous online result.

2.  The fag’s propensity for lying (an ingrained and inbred characteristic that first started as a survival method in childhood to cover up the fact that he knew he was “different”) shows up in all its glory online. Virtually every fag with an ISP has had at least a dozen experiences with online fag flakes. That’s not to say that 2 fags won’t lie to each other when they’re cruising on the street, but since cruising in those circumstances is mutually visible, the most they can lie about is their age, drug use and health status. Online, there’s no shortage of what they can fabricate. Going digital, is inherently nefarious.

3.  The truth is that fag chat rooms are NOT a place to hook up. They are merely a place to loiter (without threat of criminality), waste time, rabble rouse, insult, get insulted, get angry, get pissed off and log off. In fact, very little chat actually goes on in the public rooms. Conversation is cursory, pretending to be banter. At other times it’s virtually non-existent.

4.  If cruising on the street is supposed to be anonymous, chat rooms are not. Every key stroke can be traced. The notion of cruising for anonymous sex shatters right there. (We are prepared to accept that with surveillance cameras installed all over the streets and parks in the West - in the fight against terrorism of course, - cruising on the street is not that anonymous either).

5.  In the real world, cruising is a silent, predatory action marked by repeatedly returning to the same spot (or series of spots in a given area) in search of action. Online, the chat room is a crypt with a revolving door, names spinning in and out leapfrogging to the top of the newly arrived list. All the while, they’re hoping for an acknowledgement or a flicker of interest. Most of the time they get none. It’s the cyber equivalent of “stand and model”. The silence can be deafening.

6.  In the real world, when no fish bites, you just walk, take the bus, hail a cab, hop on the subway and get the hell out of there plotting to return at some later date. In cyber, fags leave their profile in the chat room for days at a time. It’s a sure sign they’re desperate. It reminds FuelMix of a particularly notorious fag who would take up residence in a certain public toilet cubicle for hours. He’d bring porn, sandwiches and coffee in a thermos flask. It was jaw-dropping in its hilarity and deeply pathetic. It was also the only public toilet to have the aroma of freshly roasted Arabica beans and piss.

7.  So why have fags bought into this notion that chat room cruising is easy and fun? Probably because it appears to be the quickest way to see profiles and (sometimes for a fee), pictures of dudes. That’s really the hook – the curiosity factor. Every fag in his heart knows that right now he’s just too fuckin’ lazy to get dressed and go to the other side of town to actually meet the dude, or he’s still at work, or it’s late, or he’s surfing during class, or still high, or not even in the same city. In the meantime, why not toy with that apparent jock in the same way as a kitten toys with a ball of wool? He can be vague, tantalizingly nebulous, complimentary and even carry on a conversation…....hell, we all lie. What’s the harm?

8.  That ain’t cruising by any definition.

9.  Face it. If the guy cruised on the street is more interested in oratory than oral sex, walk.

10.  True cruising has the briefest of conversations, the shortest, sharpest answers to the right questions and a snap decision. Even getting to and finding a place to play is done in silence or only occasional conversation. True cruising on the street or anywhere else in real time, is characterized by libido and instant lust, a shared commitment to get it done and get it done right.

Yeah, it's Old School.  And it still fuckin' works.

Originally published 3 February 2009.  
Republished 4 November 2011.
Amended and Republished 23 July 2013 | 3 November 2014 | 5 May 2016 | 5 September 2017

Copyright © 2006 – 2017 FuelMix All Rights Reserved
ON A MOBILE DEVICE, VIEW THE WEB VERSION OF THE BLOG