One

So the gay Internet world of Sydney has been up in arms about monogamy over the past few days.
It's a common theme in a lot of my blogs, and all the reading I've been doing has moved me to add my two cents into the plethora of opinions.
Keeping in mind this is just an opinion: more my views rather than a claim of what it right or real.

There seems to me like there are a lot of people who construct a binary of promiscuous/monogamous, and if you're not one then you're automatically the other.
Either that, or you just don't get a whole lot of action.
(I might just add that when I say "people", I'm pretty much referring to comments that I have seen on Facebook threads when people have made statuses or written articles about this topic.)
But one thing that has really irked me is the idea that some people think that people who "criticise monogamy" (read: don't blindly preach it as the only good type of relationship) don't have the capacity to effectively do so, because they have their own "experiences" that may have shaped or altered the way they view monogamy.

You know what? Fuck it, I will just copy the comment here, I can't recreate its stupidity in my own words:

"I have not found many critics of monogamy who did not also happen to be incapable of it, or have a sexual history that may make it very difficult for them to be happy in it. In either case, their judgment is affected by their choices. Same goes for those who find such joy, peace, and love in faithful monogamy."

Firstly, to deem someone incapable of monogamy is highly insulting.
To assume that people are unable to remain faithful or committed to a person - based on what, a few failed attempts? - is kind of appalling.

And I'll basically put it out there and say that it offends me so much is because I am one of those people.

If you're no stranger to my blog, you'll know that I often complain about failed relationships and how it just "didn't work" for me.
To say that I am incapable of monogamy, however, would be wrong. In most of my relationships I have remained completely faithful and committed.
It just so happened that more often than not I found myself not happy with the situation I was in, and I terminated the relationship, in one way or another.

Yes, I've had sex with people in between these relationships, fully aware that I am not going to pursue a relationship with that person.
However, I treat all my sexual partners with the utmost respect and courtesy, whether they are a boyfriend of months, a close friend I may have known for a while, or even a guy I met in the club that night.
In all these situations, I still think there is some kind of "connection". The depth and intimacy of these connections obviously vary greatly depending on the situation, but I rarely choose to have such experiences that are completely devoid of meaning or connection on some level.
Tell me, would you rather have a fun and playful one night stand with a guy who can still treat you relatively like a gentleman, or be in a monogamous relationship where your partner beats you every other day? Or holds you in an abusive state of mental anguish?

I am often judged for leading a non-monogamous lifestyle. It's not necessarily promiscuous though - it merely means there is no one single person who I have made myself exclusive to.
However, I had a very close friend say to me one time "You know, judging from your moral values, no one would ever guess you were such a slut."
The comment was meant with love, considering I have been sexually intimiate with said friend, but I was a little taken aback that simply being open and honest about my desires and expectations around sex automatically branded me a "slut".
Of course, there's no objective definition of the word, and I've often reclaimed the term in an attempt to diminish its power as a derogatory term.
I am far from conservative, and I refuse to be told that having an open mind and attitude regarding sex means that I am incapable of being monogamous, now or at any time in the future. 

It's kind of late and I'm getting tired and I feel like I'm running around in circles and not making any clear points - this is a blog after all, not a published article.

My main point is that promiscuity or non-monogamy doesn't make you a bad person, and monogamy doesn't necessarily make you a good person.
I know people in monogamous relationships with terrible self-esteem and issues about their own self-worth.
I'm a confident, single man who knows how to safely and respectfully negotiate my way around a sex life that involves more than two people. I don't do it because I think it's the only way to get guys or any bullshit issues like that. I don't do it out of self-loathing. I don't even do it out of pure hedonistic indulgence.
For one thing, I think forced celibacy (note: that doesn't include asexuality) is kind of unnatural - or to be more politically correct, I just think sex is completely natural - and while I have not found a person with which I have all of the emotional, sexual and romantic connections and whom I would like to commit to and maybe build a life with together, and all that heteronormative jazz that usually (but not always) comes with monogamy, I see no logical reason to completely deprive myself of sex.
When the time comes, I'll be ready, and I'll know.

The time may never come, but that's just life.

This is my personal view and experience. I cannot claim that all non-monogamous homosexual men view their situation this way.
But I see no reason why my experience is any less valid than the next man.
So next time you call a guy a slut for taking home a one night stand, just stop, and realise that you really have no idea what his motives are, or what is going on inside his head.

Or, in a serial monogamist train of thought: get to know them a little better before making any rash judgements or decisions. 

Reflection on 2012

So the end of another year is upon us.
I know it's pretty lame, but I found reflecting upon my year last year was incredibly enlightening.
Because when you actually go back and think about it, you remember all the little things, all the big things, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
And it becomes quite apparent just how much can happen in a year.

One milestone of 2012 is that I managed to hold down a casual job for an entire year. Considering my previous record had been no more than a couple of months, I consider it quite an achievement.

But then again, the stories one can tell from their shifts in a fetish store make for some hilarious conversations and interesting ice-breakers at parties.

And the weekend hours suited a partying lifestyle that it almost seemed too convenient. It was as though the job was encouraging me to spend each weekly pay cheque on booze.

And spend it on booze I did.
2012 was a year of 21st birthdays for me, including my own birthday. It meant a lot of reunions and catch ups, seeing friends from high school and other friends who I hadn't seen in a long time.
And it also meant getting together a lot more often with all of my new friends. My own birthday in particular saw the culmination of the last several years of my life, friends from different circles, in all walks of life, coming together to help me celebrate. The highlight of my birthday, however, was definitely taking my mother and my two aunties to my local haunt and stocking them up on cocktails. If you had told me a few months ago that I would have been dancing on top of a podium in the middle of a gay bar with my heavily intoxicated mother... well, knowing her, I might have just believed you.
But I was able to experience it for myself! It certainly made for a memorable night, and in a way it really made this year feel like the closing of a final chapter of my adolescence, and the beginning of the rest of my life. 

I also graduated from university - something I knew that I always could, and would, do. Though I just never really thought it was going to happen so suddenly. One moment I was tearing my hair out over sample sizes and sociological methodology, the next minute I'm handing in final assessments and trying to figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do now.
I went to university to find myself a little more, to discover a passion, and hopefully find some kind of professional direction.
While that hasn't panned out exactly how I thought it may, I'm not too concerned. I met an amazing bunch of people during my three years and university, and I know that some of these people will be the friends that I wil have forever, reminiscing as old folks about the way we skipped tutorials to drink and Manning, or how we were consistently late to lectures because getting your morning coffee seemed that much more important, or even mixing up our dictionary definitions and saying something slightly blasphemous of the student radio station.
I've had an amazing time at university, and while I'm so glad that I've done it, I'm also very glad to be finished with it. I think it's given me a lot more ideas about my life and the world around me, and I've definitely grown and matured as a person.
And I swear I'll get a job out of it in the end, somehow. 

And so after all that, there's my relationships...
Never a strong point of mine, I realised that much like my 2011, I had 3 major relationships in 2012.
All three of them were men who were significantly older than myself - nothing "old enough to be your father" creepy, but there was at least a decade difference between them.
I used to be a little embarrassed about it, as though people would always be judging the age gap.
And while I'm not wrong - plenty of people did, and still do, comment on the age of all these boyfriends - I myself came to realise it wasn't a big deal.
Sure, none of them worked out. Each time, in the end it came down to myself not wanting, or not being ready for, a relationship. It took a few times for that to really sink into my head, but I think I finally figured it out.
I don't regret anything though. I had beautiful relationships will all three of them, and the fact that they were all a little older meant that I learnt so much from them. I learnt about people, about life, and they even taught me a lot about myself. I don't want to clump them all into a single learning experience - rather, each one was so particularly special and unique to me that I'm not going to go too into detail about them.
But you men know who you are, and I''ll always love you for coming into my life and changing it the way you have.

I don't have any profound advice or worldly knowledge that I've gained during this year. It was a finale of sorts, the closing of a chapter. There were peak climaxes during the middle, but almost everything in life has resolved itself out.

Therefore, 2013 is set to be the beginning of not only a new chapter in my story, but a whole new volume, the next book in the series of my life.
It's going to be the year that I travel and the year that I see the world. I've already begun the plans for my round the world adventure, and soon I'll be leaving Sydney for an indefinite amount of time.
I might be home for Christmas, but if this year has taught me one thing, its that things rarely go according to plan.
And that's okay. Take life as it comes, roll with the punches, and you never know what's going to be around the corner.

Okay, enough of that. Let's get drunk.


"I don't wanna go to sleep
I wanna stay up all night
I wanna just screw around
I don't wanna think about
what's gonna be after this
I wanna just live right now" - Ke$Ha, C'mon

Beginnings

The topic of this blog is a reader request: trust me, I'm just as surprised as you are...

I have a love-hate relationship with relationships.
Ask any one of my close friends (please don't) and they will tell you that I fall hard, fast and deep, loving intimately and passionately, with a relatively high turnover rate. 

Maybe it's all the Taylor Swift I listen to. I don't know, whatever.

As you will know if you've read my previous blogs, I love being single and the freedom that comes with it. 

I really do.
You get those people who are like "I'm a strong independent woman and I don't need a man to complete me", and then they go home and cry themselves to sleep with Adele's "21" and their nineteen cats. Almost as though the societal discourse that tells us we need a relationship to be happy has warped and evolved and turned itself inside out to tell people that you have to actively display just how totally okay you are with not being in a relationship, even if you're not okay?
Yeah I think I went too far with that one. But the point is, I am usually quite genuinely happy to not be in a relationship.

Despite this, I find myself more often than not in a stage of 'between boyfriends', never really single for long (a la Fergie in that awful track Clumsy, for those with a penchant for bad pop).
I honestly try to avoid it, but something always pulls me in. 

It's those butterflies you get when you make eyes across the room and you instantly want to know whats going on behind those big brown eyes.

It's the chill you get when he his skin brushes against yours for the first time, and despite not knowing him that well you feel like he's gotten under your skin and memorised you from the inside out. 

We're only human, and these simple little human pleasures are what really get under my skin, in the best way. 

I wasn't looking for it. I know its a hideous cliche but love stumbles over and sucks your face off in the middle the Midnight Shift when you really least expect it.
As soon as you really stop looking for love and learn to be happy, that's when it finds you.

Which is actually really cruel and ironic of the universe but just roll with it for now, okay?

And despite repeatedly telling myself that I do not want a boyfriend, I gave him my number and I took the offer for a date.
The nervousness of whether he'll find you interesting or funny when you're sober, the relief when he thinks it's cute when you stumble over your one pre-planned joke and he laughs anyway, the simultaneous relief and excitement when you discover some common mutual interests and you breeze through an hour of conversation like it was nothing.

It's the little things, things that don't make a relationship, but more of an intense, heart throbbing crush. When he walks you home and kisses you by the front door before bidding you goodnight (or rolls over in the morning and kisses you on the forehead before slipping out of bed because he's late for work - I don't judge), and your heart expands while your head contracts and you just feel as though you've turned over every new leaf in the middle of Autumn to find that the ground you once stood on has changed completely. 

It's a certain kind of magic that exists between two people, and with enough energy and enough belief, it's truly a spark that will never go out. 

That's the rush that I live for. 

But as is always the case, life has other plans. 

Sparks can live forever but it doesn't mean it's going to keep two people together.
And now I find myself on the other side, spark still lingering, but my head coming back down to the atmosphere and acknowledging that I just wrote the final sentence in my latest chapter. 

I knew it was coming the moment I laid eyes on him, the moment I laid my hands on him, and the moment I just laid with him.
But I'll regret nothing. 

Whether is burns forever or eventually fades, those who are lucky enough to have experienced real love should never, ever regret it.
And as my life continues on, and I strive to make it out of the 'between boyfriends' zone and land safely into 'single', I feel lucky to have had these incredible beginnings with incredible people.
And one day in the future, I might even have them again. 

"isn't this the best part of breaking up?
finding someone else you can't get enough of" - Liz Phair

"and on a Wednesday, in a cafe, I watched it begin again" - Taylor Swift 

See

I hate the question, 'What do you see in him, anyway?'

I mean it in the most obvious context.
You're head over heels for someone, or at the very least have a little bit of a crush, but the other person you're talking to - your best friend, your therapist, your mother - simply doesn't understand.
They don't see the attraction, or maybe they can't see you working together, or maybe they just thought they had you figured out, and knew your "type", and you're just throwing a spanner in the gears.

Sometimes I think I have a type - I feel like I go for the bad boys who eventually screw me over, because I get bored with the "nice guys".
Yes, I'm one of those people.
But other times it's not that simple.

So some people have check lists; ideal qualities they'd want in a lover.
It can be material things - body shape or size, approximate salary and career/lifestyle, age range.
It can be more personal things - vital common interests, attitudes about certain issues, etc.
You know what I mean; the recipe for concocting the "perfect man".

So people ask you what you see in him - as though, slowly but surely, you could sift through man himself, cast aside the pulp, boy-bits and semen, and look at your near complete checklist of things that you find attractive in a partner.
Why does it have to be like that?

Why treat love like a logical, rational procedure of selecting the most suitable candidate?
Maybe I'm a little jaded because most of my friends have told me that every single one of my boyfriends have never been completely right for me, and time after time, my friends have always proved to be right.
But it's because I don't see anything in them. I just see them.

Those feelings that make someone so appealing, but you can't for the life of you explain why.
When other people see you together and think you're both completely crazy, yet when you're with them everything just feels to insanely good.
Where you can pick just as many things that you hate about that person as you can things that you love about them, yet they don't appear to you as a process of elimination, a competition of pros and cons or a seemingly boyfriend of best value.
You don't want any particular thing about them - you just want them.

I didn't see anything in him.
I just saw him. I just wanted him.
Whether I get him or whether I don't, whether I'll keep him or whether I won't - it's all pretty arbitrary anyway because there's really no way to control it.

All I know is that love isn't logical.
So don't ask me what I want, and for the love of God, please don't ask me 'why?'

'you're the finest thing that I've done
the hurricane I'll never outrun
I could wait around for the dust to still
but I don't believe that it ever will' - The Hush Sound

Perspective

I've always considered my personality to be pretty malleable, adaptable.
My spirit animal is probably a chameleon - I can take the viewpoints and opinions of the people around me and make sense of them, understand them. Well, to an extent.
I use to hate this, because I thought it made me somewhat less of a person. It was like I didn't really have any views of my own and I seemed to be so easily swayed by whatever the people around me had been propagating and arguing.
Now, I guess it's changed. I'm still finding my place in the world, but I feel as though I've listened to enough, and learned enough, to articulate my own views in the context of others, and not be spoon-fed everything by my surroundings. Critical thinking, if you will (I had to get something out of an Arts degree). I found my perspective on the world, finally.
But having the malleable intellect that I do, even that was subject to change.

I've probably written about monogamy before.
I don't know what I said, but I can almost guarantee it's different from what I'm about to say.

Over the past couple of years I've had a lot of lovers, and a handful of partners who were more than just crossing specks of dust, or ships passing in the night.
We got together and moved forward together in the same direction. And I learnt a lot in all the time I spent with them. Yet the inevitable fact is that we, as two specks of dust, separated and continued on our own journeys.
I used to be so wrapped up in the happy ending fairytale, finding the right guy, falling in love. You've seen Disney movies, you know what I'm talking about.
God knows, I tried.
I really did.

I had guys love but ultimately get bored and leave me. I had moments where I drunkenly fucked up and made some bad decisions and said some bad things that pretty much rendered relationships void. I've had people who I couldn't be with any more due to geographic undesirability. But perhaps the worst of all was when, after all the mishaps, I was in a great, committed, happy relationship... except I wasn't happy.
It had nothing to do with the guy - he was probably one of the sweetest guys I've ever dated, and that's what makes it so hard. Why did being with him feel so wrong?

After much contemplation and deliberation and wondering if it was all a mistake, the answer hit me.
I don't need - no, I don't want a relationship.
Human company is something that I enjoy, and necessary throughout my life. But I don't find that level of intimacy essential.
I love my friends, and there's people I can turn to for sexual intimacy if I so desire, without having complications or commitments that I feel, to an extent, restrict my independence.
I felt like I was losing myself in relationships as much as the conversations I had on a daily basis, and now that I've finally found myself, I'm starting to think that maybe it was never my place to be in a relationship in the first place.
I guess this relates back to monogamy purely on the basis that I don't think there's any one person I really want to confine myself and completely share myself, and inevitably lose myself in, just yet.
And I don't think that's a bad thing.

More than ever with marriage equality rights debates, it seems now everyone is bombarded with the fantasy of a happily ever after, when in reality it doesn't have to be like that. I mean, I'm still perfectly happy. Maybe one day I'll find someone, but that doesn't have to be the conclusion to my story.
The cynical streak in me would go a little further to say that none of us are really fit for the happily ever after - it's not natural, and the people who've found it are just delusional.

But I won't - if you found love in this hopeless place, then good for you, I'm happy for you.

Though for the rest of you - don't feel pressured to live your life the way society says you have to. Most importantly, don't let your happiness depend on the lie that there is one single person out there that is going to make you happy, and that you have to find them.




"I'm gonna overcome this, paper hearts can't win this time
and all along I should have known this wasn't your dream, it was mine" - Firewater, Yellowcard


"And what would be practical, Theodore? To get married? And move to the suburbs, and become a home loving, child raising, God fearing imitation heterosexual? And for what? So that I can become another dead soul going to the mall and dropping off my kids at school and having barbecues in the back yard? That's their death, not mine. I'm a cock sucker. I'm a queer. And to anyone who takes pity, or offence, I say 'Judge yourself.' This is where I live. This is who I am." - Brian Kinney, Queer as Folk

Pairs

I'm going to vent a little bit about something that I've been noticing a lot recently.
It's going to be a very whiney, pathetic blog consisting of first world problems, so if you're not really in the mood for that, then this is your final warning: close this window now.

If you're still here, you're either really sadistic, or just as lonely as I am.

Lately in my life, I can't help but notice how everyone is pairing up, and relationships are just becoming so common place that it's almost deemed weird to be single.
And especially weird to enjoy being single.

In every movie, book, social situation, there always seems to be the ostracism or 'othering' of the single person.

And the happy ending, the resolution to all the fucked up shit that happens, etc., is when they meet the love their life and everything is dandy forever and ever.

Peachy. Fucking. Keen.

But it's not like that.

You know it, I know it, love doesn't always come along and smack you in the face, saying "Cheer up buddy, I'm here to save the day!"
Sure, sometimes it does sneak up on you unexpectedly, but for me that usually ends up with me being bowled over and flattened, my feelings and organs being smushed into the ground, like a slightly less agile cousin of Indiana Jones who just couldn't keep ahead of those giant rolling boulders.

I had something pretty good going on towards the end of last year.
But I had to give it up, involuntarily, and I was left without the raging range of motions that I usually go through when I'm getting over someone (if you've ever heard my music, you'd know I'm really just a bitter old bitch).
I guess you could say I was still in a phase, and I power dated (yet I use the term 'date' loosely) through a bunch of guys. None of them really held my interest for long, and the couple that did either didn't reciprocate it, or just fooled around with me and fucked me over (big surprise, I know!).

I've always been an advocate of the "Love finds you as soon as you stop looking for it" theory, so I acknowledge that it would be nice to find a great guy and be in a wholesome relationship, but I try not to let it bother me that I haven't and that I'm not.

So I just try to put it out of my mind.
"Don't think about it, when you stop thinking about it, you just open yourself up more to the possibilities of meeting someone."

And yes, I would totally do that... if I wasn't constantly reminded of these romances and relationships in nearly every single waking minute of every day of my life.

All around me I see couples; old, young, recent, passing their golden anniversary - and everyone just looks so damn happy.

Which is fine - I am absolutely happy for them.

But it kinda puts a burden/air of retardation on a guy like me who's longest relationship has been the better part of two months.

I'm at the point where I want to stop thinking about it, I want to get on with my life as a single person, and start enjoying it. I used to love being single! The freedom, the fun, the independence!

But such is the saturation that I can't not think about it.

It makes me think about the gay rights movement, and all the rights of relationship recognition that we fight for, and at the end of it, everyone seems to go, "Well, we've almost got gay marriage legalised - now I just need to find a man to marry!"

I'm well aware the the principle of gay marriage is about ending legislative discrimination and stopping homosexuals from being classed and second class citizens, regardless of whether you want to get married or not.

But when it is legalised, well... I won't be off the hook of the expectations that most parents (and most of society, at that) have, of their kids growing up, getting married, settling down and giving them grandkids.

Which is all well and good. I honestly have nothing against that.
I just wish I had something else to take my mind off it.

"I'm gonna ask you to stop,

thought I liked you a lot but I'm really upset

so get out of my head,

get off of my bed, yeah that's what I said" - Avril Lavigne, Don't Tell Me

Body

So I joined a gym a couple of weeks ago.

It had been a long time since I had any kind of regular exercise routine, and while I wasn't overweight or particularly unhealthy, I thought it would be a reasonable idea to take some proactive measures towards increasing my fitness.

Because I do enjoy a good workout.

I love the feeling of the endorphines after a good long run, and the burn in your calves and quads as you stretch out to touch your toes.

I've been going to a lot of the scheduled classes, developing a still sporadic kind of routine throughout my holidays, but today I had a free consultation and assessment with one of the gyms personal trainers, that was complimentary with my membership.

He looked at the answers from my lifestyle survey, and measured my fat in twelve key locations on my body.

Now, I know I'm no body builder, but I've always thought that I've had a pretty good body and a decent level of health, considering the some of my extra-curricular activities.

Yes, I probably drink more alcohol than is considered healthy, but if I thought it was affecting my body extremely adversely, I would stop.

After my assessment, I was told that I had 20% body fat, the "optimum level" being 10%.

By this personal trainers standards, my chest was classified as "man boobs" (direct quote), and my situation, for a 20-year-old, was "not good".

As I said, I know I'm not the picture of perfection when it comes to healthy living. I don't know what I was expecting from the session, but it wasn't to be torn down and have my self-esteem eroded away along with my "man boobs".

I left the consultation feeling miserable, like all good intentions for simply being healthy were naive and worthless if I didn't have the sculpted body to prove it.
Which I could have, with some drastic changes and sacrifies... and for $50 of his time each session (fat chance, pardon the pun).

Someone came into my life recently and mentioned something in general conversation which I actually found quite profound.

He said: "I find that a lot of the good looking guys can be particularly rude or nasty. Especially models. These models, they become very insecure, because they're constantly being told that they're not good enough, that they have to look better. It's a very harsh world, and they develop these bitchy defence mechanisms to cope."
Or something along those lines.

And knowing a couple of models, it was an argument that hit pretty close to home (and made me wonder why on earth I'd ever considered pursuing it).
But today, at the gym, it did more than that. It was a nuclear bomb that just demolished everything that I thought I knew about esteem and confidence.

It's a problem that I find rife in the gay community. There's a reason the gym was coined 'gay Church' in Will & Grace. 'Gym bunny' is a common sub-stereotype, and we lust and idolise over the buff men that dance in our bars (and on them, for that matter).

The world is finally starting to realise that the muscly hunks on the cover of fitness/gay magazines are having just as much adverse effects on guys as the wafer thing women on fashion magazines are having on teenage girls.

"You're not perfect until you have the body to go with it" was the personal motto/gym inspiration of one of my friends. Personally I thought his body was fine, but I guess I must have left my gay culture lenses at home that day.
Or maybe people aren't satisfied with being "fine" these days.
Which is legitimate, I suppose. But I've lost relationships/friends to people who were just so obsessed with the gym, that they wouldn't eat out, or splurge every now and then, all because they were so set on getting or maintaining their 10% body fat.

It's sad that people need to have that "perfect body" in order to feel confident.

Sure, some people are overweight, and exercising and losing weight to have a more average sized body is a good thing for them.

It's just this near unobtainable idea of perfection that makes me a little sick in the stomach.

I'm not going to stop going to the gym, as demotivating as today was for me.

I'm going to sweat my ass off going yoga, Pilates, Zumba, whatever. I'll lift a few weights every now and then.

But I don't need a personal trainer telling me what to do, what to eat, and how to live my life.

For me, confidence isn't the biggest set of pecs, or a chiseled abdomen.

Confidence is eating that block of chocolate, or that KFC Ultimate Burger meal, or shit loads of carbs in a bowl of pasta after 6pm, and still being able to say "I am happy with how I look, and how I feel."

Even if it means feeling the burn after an hour on the treadmill the next day.
I want to be healthy, but I refuse to let the quest of having the 'ideal' body get in the way of me enjoying my life.

"but if you can't look inside you,
find out who am I to

be in a position to make me feel so damn unpretty" - TLC

Kiss

When you think about it, kissing is a really weird thing.

We get taught as children to not share our food and drinks, for fear of sharing saliva and eventually contracting some kind of disease. We learn about germs, and in most cases it even goes as far as cooties, or 'boy germs' and 'girl germs', and we're very aware of who and what we are touching, and putting in and around our mouths.

Fast forward to junior high school and its a whole different ball game. We learn the biology about food and germs, and know to not put our lips on someone else's water bottle (or just be really good friends enough to know they're not going to give you anything). We also realise that cookies was just a myth, some lie our parents probably told us to stop us from growing up too quickly.

On a side note, I think parents of the youngest generation are not trying hard enough to enforce this myth. Kids are way too slutty these days.

But pressing on, we realise that putting things in and around our mouths can actually be pretty fun. Most notably, other peoples mouths. The first kiss is something that is highly romanticised by almost every teenage movie. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because I'll be the first to admit I enjoy a good snog. Psychological studies have shown that kissing is one of the few universal behaviours that transcend cultural differences. Sucking face with someone is, for all intents and purposes, completely natural. Whether or not your first kiss needs to be a memorable milestone is debatable, but it emphasises the frequent occurrence, as well as the perceived importance, of kissing.

This is all well and good, but as humans we have a knack for taking what seems to come naturally and ruining it with a complex bunch of feeling, emotions, morals and ethics.

The value placed on kissing is subjective, varying immensely between individuals. To some people it means friendship, where a kiss on the lips is just a variation of a handshake. For some people its a special action, loaded with emotional value, and wholly reserved for that special person in their lives. I guess this perspective views it as an extension, or prelude, to sex (whose societal value is a whole new can of worms I'm leaving the lid on, for now). Then there are people who enjoy kissing, but don't put a great deal of emotional energy into it. 'A kiss is just a kiss' kind of mentality, where it's a physical response to a physiological urge rather than any passionate emotion.

Which is where I'm getting at, I guess. How on earth did kissing come to have such a range of complex meanings?

Further still, what confuses me is when people seem to simultaneously use these different variations of kissing in their every day life. For example, if you're in a relationship with someone, kissing them is an obviously display of your love and affection towards them. Things like open relationships or 'hall passes', being able to kiss other people with little to no consequence... I feel that devalues whatever kind of kissing you're doing with your partner.

I'm not saying that casual hook-ups are inherently bad. Kissing a stranger when your single is a little cheeky and usually a bit of harmless fun, but when there's a third party involved, there's a mixed bag of hurt feelings and sticky jealousy that never ends well.
There's exceptions, like kisses that are controversial or well publicised in order to generate a response or garner attention, but that isn't really what I'm talking about.

Why does kissing seem to waver on the line of exclusivity in a relationship, never really choosing a side?

I've seen people shake off their partners kisses with other people as a one-off mistakes, something that's easily forgiven.
I've seen relationships shaken, even completely destroyed, by a kiss of infidelity (although the fact that they lied about it amplified the severity of the situation, something I really do agree with).

Either way, you can't claim to anyone that kissing isn't a big deal.
Regardless of it being a natural human behaviour, you wouldn't be doing it if you didn't want to.

I won't pretend there is a right or a wrong way to value your kisses.

But I do feel that in this day and age, where nothing seems sacred anymore, we should probably stop and think about these things of importance, before displays of affection really lose all meaning.

This focus on kissing mainly comes from the public nature the act can acquire. Open relationships, sex, and things like that can be a pretty private circumstance that isn't as visible as the guy with a boyfriend snogging someone else on the dance floor.

"it started out with a kiss

how did it end up like this?
it was only a kiss, it was only a kiss..." - Mr. Brightside, The Killers

Resolutions

I recently belittled the idea of New Year Resolutions in a Facebook status, saying that people never keep them.
Because I honestly think there is something stupid about making drastic changes for seemingly no reason except for the turn on the New Year. In reality, it's just another day.

For some people having resolutions are just a way of delaying something they don't really want to do. They'll make the resolutions so they feel better at the time, telling themselves they'll change soon. But when it comes to crunch time, I've heard very few stories of people completely sticking to resolutions and having their expected outcomes.

I guess there's something kind of symbolic about New Years Eve, the countdown to midnight. New year, new beginnings, that kind of sentimental psychobabble. Which is fine, I get that, if that's what works for you.
But if you really want to make a change, just do it. New days bring new beginnings too, not just years.

But I also have an issue with the whole 'changing' thing too.

I mean, sure, changing a few habits to be a little healthier, or picking up a new hobby, thats fine.
But people who want to make sweeping, drastic changes to their lives and essentially their personalities, are really only fooling themselves. Those kind of things don't happen overnight. And that's what the new year is - just another night.

I've always had a bit of a complex over two social pressures:
On the one hand, we're always told to be ourselves, stay true to what we belief in, don't change ourselves for anyone.
But then we're also hit with slogans like "Be the change you want to see", and the notion that by making a pact at the stroke of midnight, we can enhance our lives by changing the person we are.

Are you really changing as a person, or are you becoming somebody else entirely?

As someone who spends an excessive amount of time dwelling on existential crisis, I view it as an ill-fitting societal double-standard that is driving todays youth crazy with self-esteem and body image issues. Nobody likes mix signals.

Having said all that, I DO have one resolution: I'm going to start blogging a lot more. On a weekly, if not daily basis. So stick around for that.

"once upon a time
I used to romanticise,

used to be somebody, never mind

I don't miss it that much now" - Ever After, Marianas Trench

Reflection on 2011

I haven't written a blog in a really long time.
I don't know when it happened, but I started to find something really unattractive about having my entire life published on the Internet.
I stopped posting Facebook statuses, about the big things and the little things, and decided to maintain a little online mystery. At least compared to what I was like before.

But I'm going to break out of that little phase, for just a moment, and reflect on my year. Because as soppy and overly sentimental as it seems, I think there's something useful and fulfilling in that. I'd write it on paper and store it in a scrap book under my bed, but I think I've forgotten how to write without a keyboard, so this is the next best thing.

When I look back, 2011 really feels like the beginning of the rest of my life. Or at least the next part of it.

It kicked off with my very first overseas trip by myself. I say by myself to mean without any family members or friends, but having said that, I met an amazing group of people while I was traveling and volunteering in Costa Rica. Spending so much time with the same people, getting to know them in such a short time frame, you form some pretty amazing bonds, and even though they live on the other side of the country, and the world, I met a bunch of people who I have some beautiful memories with and who I don't think I could ever forget if I tried.
I also learnt to appreciate pretty much everything I have in my life, after seeing the simplicity of life in the Costa Rican mountains. At times I was jealous, the way technology didn't have such a firm grasp on their very existence, the way it does on mine. It was a very inspirational 5 weeks and I think it set me up for the changes that occurred throughout my life this year.

I got three tattoos this year. The first one, Pura Vida (Spanish for 'Pure Life') on my right foot, is symbolic of the time I spent in Costa Rica, and the lessons I learnt there.

I moved out of home this year, which was also huge. While it's a family owned property, which removed the hassles of renting and leases, it still meant living on a daily basis without the help or motivation from my family. I found that really difficult at times. At times when I wasn't feeling my greatest, it was an effort to just get out of bed. When I had the flu I had no one there to look after me, and it was very easily to quickly fall into a depressing loneliness. But despite all that, living in the city was extremely liberating. Drastically reduced travel time from university meant longer sleep ins in the morning, and increased proximity to Oxford Street meant many, many more trashy nights. This year was the beginning of my love affair with Stonewall on a Wednesday night, and my pile of mail from Malebox has steadily been growing over the past 9 months or so.

Oxford Street and the nightlife was still a big part of my year, as it was in 2010, but it felt different this year. I was a local, and regular, and half the time I found myself sipping on a cider on a school night, just because I felt I had nothing better to do (uni assignments totally didn't count). I had to learn self-control, because eventually my body basically broke down and I became really sick, a rare occurrence for me. So despite my carefree lifestyle that I quickly adopted, I also had to mature and great deal and learn when it was actually appropriate and when I had to reign in the alcoholic genes and treat myself like the adult that I wanted the world to treat me as, too.

Having said that, my second tattoo was inspired by Lady Gaga and along with my best friend, no matter how mature I become, I will still have 'Bad Kid' branded into my shoulder as a reminder of the fun I've had, and the nights I could stay out til 4am and still get up for work or uni in the morning and not actually feel too terrible.

University continued along rather uneventfully, in the academic aspect, but once again partying and social life played a prominent part of my year. I made a lot of new friends from all walks of life, and I'm thankful to have met every single one of them. Work wise, I burnt through a couple of jobs. I broke my vow on never returning to hospitality, very quickly regretted it, and then started fresh in two new areas: promotions and retail. I am loving both of them, especially the retail position, where I already feel like I've joined a new family of lovely people who I'm so glad to have met.

The last thing I want to reflect on from this year is my relationships.

Boys tend to come and go in my life, but this year there were three that really left an impact in my life.

Sadly, things didn't work out with any of them.

The first break up was his fault. He reminded me how much I hate liars, and how much a value honesty.
The second break up was my fault. He taught me that sometimes, honesty isn't enough to be able to save things.
The third was no ones fault, just an unfortunate circumstance that had to tear us apart. He taught me that there's a lot more to a relationship than two people liking each other, and some things just come with an inevitable time limit.
I live by a motto of no regrets, and though I was hurt several times, and did a number of things that I'm not proud of, I feel like I took important lessons away from all of them.

My final tattoo of the year is my own memento of the most important lesson: "I'll take the truth at any cost."
I'd prefer to have no relationship at all than have one based on lies or mistrust.
I'd like to think that's not a reflection of while I'll be single at the stroke of midnight tonight, though.

I still have the utmost respect and positive feelings towards two of those three.
I guess that's how things work out sometimes.

So in the end, 2011 was neither a good year or a bad year.
I had my fair share of both. Met some incredible people and made a bunch of friends who completely changed my life, suffered a few mishaps and tragedies, but nothing all consuming or that I couldn't bounce back from.

So ultimately, it was a year of growing and learning.

Here's to the new year, 2012, where hopefully I can put some of those lessons to use.

"arrogant boy, love yourself so no one has to
they're better off without you

arrogant boy, cause a scene like you're supposed to

they'll fall asleep without you

you're lucky if your memory remains..." - Therapy, All Time Low

Goals

Of course, it had to happen.

That moment in life where you sit back and actually think "What the fuck am I doing with my life?"

Sitting down, trying to find the motivation to start an assignment, I decided to think about my future prospectives and how it might be applicable to a job in the future that I'd love to be doing.

And it was then that it dawned on me... I didn't want to do anything like this in the future!

Maybe this moment of horror doesn't happen to everyone. But to be honest, this isn't the first time it's happened to me.

I've spent many a night on the phone to family and friends, complaining that I hate what I am doing, yet unsure of what it actually I want to do.

And I get told, "Robert, you're a smart young man. You can do anything you want!"

But that's the problem! What do I want?

There's also the subtle implication in that phrase, which is: "You're really smart, don't let it go to waste, do something super intellectual and impressive and high-pressure because you'll look like a massive failure if you don't live up to your perceived potential."

And I think that has been a major problem for me.

I don't want to be a doctor, I don't want to be a lawyer.

Sometimes I feel that I'm not smart enough. Other times I think I would be smart enough, but I have very little motivation to actually do anything like that.

Which made me feel lazy. Because I didn't feel any extreme passion towards kind of typical job.

Truth be told, the only passion I've every really had was for creative things, like music and writing. Things like this, things that I knew that I was good at and things that I really did enjoy.

Except no one ever encourages you do pursue any kind of career in that kind of area.

I've always felt as though the few things I've wanted to do are the few things that were never reinforced as something that I could do, never made out to be an achievable goal of any kind.

So now I'm stuck in an ultimate limbo world.

Studying a degree, doing two majors, one which I enjoy and one which I hate. I get to do a lot of writing, which I enjoy, but I don't often get the chance to be creative, which is quite suffocating. I'm still able to be creative and write music on the side, but often not as much as I'd like because I'm too pre-occupied about work I should be doing for my degree, and never feeling able to strike the right balance.

I have goals. I know they're probably achievable.

Let someone I managed to let everyone else's bullshit get in the way to the point that I don't know what's actually true anymore.

And I still have another essay that I should be writing.

"They called it education, I saw a means to an end

I saw my life another way" - It's Not A Bad Little War, Bayside

Regret

I used to say that I'd have no regrets.

That everything I've ever done was a stepping stone, a learning curve, with everything turning me into the person that I've become.

And that in the end, it might all be worth it.

I don't believe that anymore.

Because sometimes, we really should know better.

Sometimes it's a lesson that you're already supposed to know.

And now I know I've done things that I truly do regret.

Hurt people that I loved.

Turned myself into the people that I hate.

Hating myself for what I've done.

They say two wrongs don't make a right.

Apparently, wrongs just can't right in general. They're just wrong.

You're wrong. What you did was wrong.

And you can blame it on anything: alcohol, drugs, your state of mind, stress, peer pressure.

But in the end you're still the one who looks like a fucking arsehole.

No, you are the fucking arsehole.

And maybe your regrets are important - so that you remember that.

No matter how much moral high ground you think you take, you can still do the things that make you sick to the stomach.

And no matter how much you beg or grovel, nothing makes them better.

You just have to stew in your skin and know that you were wrong.

"spent all my life waiting for a moment to come

walking single file, waiting for a moment to come

but it won't

I'm halfway to happy now

and I always mistake it for progress"

- Killing Time, Bayside

Envy

I used to think a little bit of jealousy was a good thing.

In a way I guess it can stimulate competition, and that way you've got to really work for something if you want it.

Some of the great achievements in history probably happened because that guy was jealous of anything that another guy did before him.

Though, there has a be an obvious distinction between healthy competition and petty vendetta.

After all, it's not one of the seven deadly sins for nothing...

Unseen and untreated, a feeling of envy can become dangerously consuming.

The feeling of watching someone get exactly what you wanted, while you're left to look on from the side lines, in some cases can be nothing short of traumatic.

It becomes more than jealousy: it becomes a fiery rage.

In reality, it's probably just the way the cookie crumbles, but you can't help feel as though that person is taking something away from you with the worst intentions, as if they intentionally meant for you to feel that way.

Because, from the other side of the coin, that's hardly the case.

The times in my life where I've found myself as the subject of other peoples jealousy, I had been blissfully unaware of such an ugly manifestation of envy.

I was merely taking the steps in my life towards something that I wanted, and I discovered sides of hostility in people that I never would have imagined or expected.

And while I would love to feel some kind of sympathy, the ridiculousness of the way things pan out leave me with a combination of bemusement and pity.

I've also had the displeasure of feeling a little green lately.

Watching one of your close friends obtain something you would've killed to have: it's hard to not feel as though sometimes they're rubbing it in your face.

But then I try to take a step back: why should they be punished with my negativity for doing something that they've wanted for just as long, and worked hard enough to actually obtain?

The answer is, they shouldn't.

As envious as I may feel, I harness the feelings enough to be genuinely happy for them.

Because I am. And I think that's a true sign that you can tame the green-eyed monster.

Jealousy can make people do terrible things, say things they'll most likely regret.

It can also motivate people to take a more noble road to achievement.

I'm just glad that at least I could make that distinction.

"Jealousy, turning saints into the sea" - Mr. Brightside, The Killers

Sleep

I don't remember the last night I had a decent sleep.

Hell, I'd be surprised if you could find anything that resembles a decent sleeping pattern in the last month of my life.

I wish it could be solved as easily as a more comfy pillow or an extra blanket, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the source of my insomnia was purely physical.

Having said that, waking up with a hangover 3 of 5 week nights probably attests to why I am consistently sporting the tired eyes of 'stoner chic'.

Maybe because half the nights of the week I'm not sleeping in my own bed, or because I stumble into bed at 3 or 4 in the morning, home from doing... well you probably don't want to know.

I've definitely given a different meaning to the phrase 'getting to bed early' - they never specified AM or PM, right?

The physicality is one thing, but psychologically it's draining.

I'm tired, but getting up and going to bed seems like such an effort.

So I'm awake, either at my computer or drunk between someone else's sheets, until I can't really fight the supposedly reasonable conceptions of society, and the results health sciences, on what is considered an appropriate amount of sleep.

That last sentence was a bit of a jumble, but hey, maybe it proves my point?

If it was one or two nights, or God forbid I was doing something worthwhile with the waking hours, maybe it wouldn't be such an issue.

But I think when it gets to the point where you go to bed at 11:30pm, but your body clock isn't used to crashing until 4am, that you may have a problem.

I'm a train wreck, out of control.

There's no slowing down, so it looks like I'm powering on until I crash.

"if I could trade mistakes for sheep

count me away before you sleep" - Panic! At The Disco

Esteem

If we're going to be totally honest, I can be pretty arrogant sometimes.

Not outwardly, of course. To the public eye I can usually dull it down to a subtle sheen of confidence.

So what changed?

Why do I suddenly feel so inadequate?

I used to spruce myself up before every night out.

I'd do my hair, wink to the mirror and think 'Damn boy, you're looking fine tonight'.

Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the comparative sobriety, or maybe it was just me waking up to smell the roses.

But I hated the way I looked.

I wanted to hide, to change, to destroy all evidence.

Where I once let it all hang out, keeping no secrets, I was suddenly ashamed.

Every past compliment simply meant nothing. I could feel guys watching me, but instead of feeling attractive, I felt ugly, like some freak they were all judging.

I used to think how weak anyone with a body image issue would be, to succumb so easily to the outside world pressures.

I guess I just kept my own insecurities from myself.

"LA told me 'You'll be a pop star:

all you have to change is everything you are

tired of being compared to damn Britney Spears

she's so pretty - that just ain't me" - P!nk

Similarity

They always say that opposites attract.

Right now, I'm not so sure that I'd agree.

I've somehow only just realised that there's one consistent problem that I've had with every boyfriend, every relationship, every fling, every single attempt at romance, no matter how mighty or mere.

How it escaped me before is beyond me, but it's finally been brought to my attention that I've had next to nothing in common with them.

Because no, being gay doesn't count.

Yes, all gay men (or at least out ones) have similar experiences of coming out, no matter how heart-warming or tragic their variations may be. You can exchange stories and pretend you're really connecting, but it pains me to realise I've had these kinds of chats with strangers on the internet as easily as I've had them with my lovers.

Then there's those typical gay stereotypes: partying, drinks and drugs, Ke$Ha, etc.

I used to joke that a love for Lady Gaga was mandatory in any perspective partner.

And while it makes for a fun night out, and can be enough to bond over with close friends, it's not exactly a unique connection of any kind that could lay down the strong foundations of any sort of successful relationship.

I've never dated a musician. I've never dated someone who had a particularly or especially proactive view on politics or gay rights issues (which is kind of hard to believe, no?). I've never dated someone quite so interested in spirituality and mysticism. I've never dated anyone who really shared any of the passions I have in my life, who I really and truly had something in common with.

I've dated cynical, atheistic med students, amazingly-built health-freak/gym-junkies, party-boy hairdressers-turned-bankers, allergy-ridden liars, even a MECO student with a passion for Twilight fan fiction (who's ambition to be a 'lady of leisure' was probably the closest thing in common I had with any of them; the inherent nature of which rendered us quite incompatible).

Most of them have been lovely guys, gorgeous people who instantly captured me with their personalities.

I'd like to think that I did the same with them, but in the end, the spark dies.

We brought the bricks, but are we collectively lacking the mortar that holds us all together?

The flame petters out, and I'm left with a hollow, burnt-out shell of what was shaping up to be my happy ending.

I've been hit with the 'it's not you, it's me' line more than I'd care to admit, but in most cases I'd like to believe that their reasoning was perfectly legitimate.

But maybe, in the larger scheme of things... perhaps it is me?

I know I fall hard and fast, and sometimes I think I fall in love with the idea of a person more than what they actually are.

And then I just get disappointed when they don't see me the way I see them.

Or that I just don't see them the way they really are.

"so go on and think about whatever you need to think about,

go on and dream about whatever you need to dream about,

and come back to me when you know just how you feel." - Why, Avril Lavigne

Decisions

I hate to admit I'm a terribly indecisive person.

I can never seem to decide upon a place to eat on the first date, or which movie to rent from the store.

So you can imagine how much I must hate the actually important life decisions, right?

Because the worst part about the big decisions is that you're never really going to know if you made the right choice.

If he turns out to be allergic to seafood or lactose intolerant, or if you feel as though you wasted 2 hours of your life and would rather have stared at the wall, it's pretty obvious that you made a mistake.

And so what of it? You'll probably just take it in your stride, learn from it, and not make that same poor decision twice.

But the important, long-term decisions, they tend to affect your life in countless more ways.

And in the end, you're in the future, and when you look around you and realise what a fuck up it's become, all you can do it ask yourself "What if..?"

I can't necessarily blame my poverty or unemployment on a Bachelor of Arts, but I might look back and think, "Would I be in this position if I studied Law?"

But my gripe is that some decisions seem right.

Are there always alternatives? If not taking the right decisions automatically taking the wrong one?

Is inaction really so bad?

Sometimes you don't really know, and though I've always been an excited advocate for change, first-hand experience has taught me there are some heart-breaking changes that could and should be easily avoided.

Is it wrong to make a pre-emptive decision?

In essence, choose to not make a decision because you'd rather not figure out which one really is the right way.

Life seems to take control, and carry me forward. But sometimes it also seems to get in the way.

Pre-planned change, all rehearsed and orchestrated, somehow takes the back-seat to the unexpected, the unforeseen.

Or maybe I just can't practice what I preach.

A subtle, unconscious masochistic streak has allowed me to get far too comfortable in the rut.

Or, God forbid, maybe I'm just not ready.

"when mystery fades we identify the problems, but they may not be problems after all"

- On Love, On Life, Bayside

Infidelity

Think back to 'Affirmation' by Savage Garden.

As a child growing up in the closet, one of the lyrics that I used to find comfort in was 'I believe you can't control or choose your sexuality'.

Of course, now that's something that a lot of us accept, possibly even take for granted. Haters will hate and say that we chose to lead this despicable lifestyle, but the people who count know that it's just not so.

But lately I've been noticing, studying, and agonising over another particular line in the song: 'I believe that trust is more important than monogamy'.

There are two reasons why this sentiment strikes a chord somewhere within me:

The first is that, for whatever reason, the gay scene and community tends to be characterised with a stereotype of horny promiscuity, being unable to 'keep it in your pants', and thus a lot of infidelity and experiences of intimacy (depending on your definition of the word) outside of any initial relationship.

Now, I'm not as delusional as to think that only gay people cheat on each other. There are plenty of lying scumbags from all genders and sexualities.

However, I've noticed that not all of these situations are a malicious or foolish act of infidelity.

In homosexuals, I've seen a peculiar prevalence to 'open relationships', people who are in a recognised and (arguably) committed relationship, but who are not reprimanded should they have any kind of affairs with someone else.

There's a line between a second relationship and a casual hook-up on the side, but when I've questioned people in these circumstances, it came down to a simple "I just don't believe in monogamy anymore."

And maybe that's not so implausible. Very few species on this Earth actually find one partner and mate with them for life.

We're all human, and sometimes mistakes do happen. Wouldn't we all be better off in accepting that, and being honest to our partners, and being able to move on from it.

I always thought Miranda was such a fool in the Sex and the City movie for leaving Steve, after he had the courage to admit to her a one-time mistake that was eating him up inside, obviously due to the love he still felt for her.

I'd rather know that if my partner hooked up with someone else, they would tell me upfront about it, instead of blindly having faith that they would always remain faithful, no matter what.

And maybe that will change one day, but for now it still seems to me that trust really is more important than monogamy.

The second reason is more a personal reflection than a community affiliation.

I have been in the situation where a partner was unfaithful. However, I never found out until after the relationship ended, on considerably good terms.

But the fact that I found out through someone else, the fact he never had the guts to man up and be honest with me, the fact he went to so many lengths to cover it up and tell so many lies - it destroyed our remaining friendship, temporarily destroyed my sanity, and brought me ever so close to destroying him.

I don't like to dwell on what if's, but deep down I can't help but wonder if things might have been different between us if he had just told me from the start.

But that belief came back around to haunt me, when I unfortunately found the tables had turned, and was in a position I swore to myself I'd never be in.

Laying all technicalities and bullshit aside, I really liked one person, but ended up getting with another person.

In that occurrence, I learnt that getting with a second person doesn't always change the way you feel about the first.

And so I practiced what I preach. I confessed, I told the truth.

The results were favourable. Maybe because we are gay, we are more open-minded to that kind of situation, or maybe I just found someone truly understanding, who saw my intentions beyond a little slip-up.

Regardless, I know that whatever happens, I have no secret to bare, nothing weighing me down that I need to get off my chest.

Never, ever would I use this reasoning to consider cheating to be totally acceptable, in any circumstance. I guess sometimes it's just not as bad as a lot of people think it is.

But this series of events has led me to believe that trust really is more important than monogamy.

"he kissed my lips, I taste your mouth

he pulled me in, I was disgusted with myself" - Thinking of You, Katy Perry