We need to talk about the butt fucking. Now I know this can be
uncomfortable, so we'll just have to find a way to ease gently into it.
I'll start off with some light fingering of ideas I've been tossing
around in my head for the past week.
So, I've got a roommate. You guys have roommates? Yeah? It's great, you
can split everything; the bills, the groceries, chores, whatever. You've
got someone to talk to, you're not lonely. The other great thing about
roommates is that you can blame them for anything embarrassing that you
have lying around your place. Say you bring a girl home from the bar,
and it's going well, and she starts looking around...
"Oh, is this your DVD box set of Twilight?"
"No, no. That's my roommate's. He likes that shit, I don't..."
"What are all the used napkins and tissues next to the computer?"
"Oh shit, that's my roommate. Yeah, he's disgusting, he's always
doing nasty stuff like that. I think he’s been sick. I don't even know
why I live with him, really."
"Wow, is this a framed, autographed picture of you and Robert Pattinson?"
"No, no. No, that's... my roommate's just really into photoshop, and he
thought that'd be funny, and he put it in a heart shaped frame, just to
mess with me, you know? Yeah, he put the glitter and the little jewels
on it; he even put on some lipstick and kissed it, the fuckin' weirdo.
Can you put it down now, please? You're smudging it."
Wouldn't it be great if you could just keep doing that, with everything? Anything embarrassing, the whole night:
"Oh, you know what? This is actually my roommate's penis. That's why
it's not doing so well. You know, you live together, things get mixed
up. Just the other day, he accidentally wore my Pink FLoyd T-shirt."
The girl calls you a few weeks later.
"Well, technically, it was my roommate who gave you herpes. You were the
one who insisted on continuing, so... yeah, he's been spreading that
shit everywhere. He's out of control. Don't worry, he's got the name of a
good doctor for that, very discreet. I'll get the number from him."
No, that could never happen. You can't mistake your roommate's penis
for your penis. Guys have a very close, complicated and deeply personal
relationship with their penis. It's the only penis in the world to them.
It's funny, a lot of guys will get all freaked out and disgusted by the
sight or thought or smell of another dude's cock, but they rely on
their own for everything that guides them in life. We have the one, the
uber-penis, and we're shocked that you could ever entertain the notion
of tackling another man's... tackle. If a woman ever cheats on a man,
it's not the kissing or intimacy or anything else that bothers us. It's
the fact that somehow, on some level, you didn't think that our penis
was enough. Everything we've based our entire way of life on, all of our
beliefs, shattered, because somehow the uber-penis just wasn't
delivering. It fucks up our entire world view.
The uber-penis makes all the important decisions. It warms your hands,
and creates a global stigmatism causing the majority of the world's
problems. Seriously, most of the issues threatening humanity today stem
from a man's insecurity, which like everything else is directly tied to
the abundance of his anatomy, the bulge of his brain, the plethora of
his penasia. You women have some power here, because you ultimately
are the judges in said standards of girth and largeness of labial luge
logs (did you know that only ex-boyfriends have tiny cocks?) If women
started a whispering (eye) campaign about how small dicks are all the
rage, then the world would finally be ripe for your taking (after you
defeat the Chinese.)
We don't want to know about other dicks. It's just terrifying for some
men. All the borderline homosexual thoughts are frightening, yet we
know they’re intriguing. I've been involved in several conversations
with men where this phrase was said:
"Man, I would just be gay, if it wasn't for the butt fucking."
Really? That's the ONE thing that's keeping you back, the fucking glass ceiling that limits your potential gayness? Anal?
There are so many things to explore here, but I'll try to be brief.
Let's just glaze over the obvious, which is that the one thing keeping
you from being gay is that you are NOT gay. You are (supposedly) straight, and
therefore don't need to clarify or justify anything beyond that. What
about liking women? That kind of keeps me from being gay. Tits and
vagina, there's some appeal there, right? You've gotta like women
somewhat.
The funny thing is (well, maybe not funny) that these are usually the
guys who desperately want to fuck their girlfriend in the ass. So it
can't be that they find the act of butt fucking so off-pudding...
And it can be, if done incorrectly. You know there's poo in there?
Fucking poop! You thought looking at your dick as Prom Queen Carrie was
bad the first time, try feeling some shit with it, and then having it soft serve its way down your shaft when you pull out. I'm sorry to be so graphic, but that's
precisely the risk you're willing to take.
So it must be butt fucking another dude that's the problem. I'll put
aside the argument that being a catcher would be uncomfortable, since
every guy who has homo ass-pirations thinks he would automatically be a
top. And let's skip right past the fact that a man's g-spot or a-spot or just a spot is up his
ass, and it therefore should be quite enjoyable once understood.
I just wonder why that's the go-to singular reason. What about
intimacy? Are these guys saying that they would be okay cuddling with
another guy? Holding hands? Bathing? And what about his penis? How do
you mediate the dueling uber-penii? How do you solve a problem like
Maria?
And what about kissing? Guys, have you ever kissed another dude? I mean, really? Like a deep, sensual kiss? Let me tell you a story.
A friend and I took a couple of girls to a gay bar one night. The agenda
here was to let the girls go get free drinks and dance and have fun,
then be the straight guys waiting for them when they're drunk and horny
from dancing all night. All you have to do is hang back and kill time.
So my friend and I go to play pool, and we meet a couple of fellas. They
ask us if we'd like to play teams, and being the open-minded young
liberals that we are, we graciously accept.
And we have an awesome time. These guys are cool, they insist on
buying us drinks, we're shooting the shit, shooting pool. After a few
hours the night is dying down and we're getting ready to leave. Now, I'm
not a complete asshole (?) I know the guys are interested, and I know
we've kind of been leading them on. I have had many great conversations
with really cool guys that I didn't realize were flirtations until
halfway through, and I've always tried to be as honest and understanding
as possible. I may have been drunk past such courtesies this night.
So I walk out of the bathroom and one of the guys, about 35, good
looking, not hot, a little below my level, is standing at the bar
calling me over. I walk up and he's ordered us a couple shots of
Goldschlager. Being the cheap drunk that I am, I accept. I take the
shot and intend to leave. Then, as I put the glass down, I notice his
intent.
He's standing at a bit of a lean towards me. His head has a
slight bob to it. There's a glint in his eye, and a smirk of gentle self-satisfaction on his face. And then he goes for it.
Now, there was probably only a second or two of actual time that
passed, but somehow, my brain was able to process all of the following
thoughts:
"Oh shit, here it comes. You know what, it's fine. He's really nice,
he bought me a bunch of drinks. He wasn't pushy or abrasive, he spent
his whole night talking to me. There is absolutely no harm in letting
him have this moment. I know I'm not interested. I know it doesn't have
to go any further, and who knows? It might be nice for me too, it's just
a kiss. People just kiss at the end of the night, and they move on. You
can deal with this. Why not?"
And I realized that this is the exact thought process that girls might go through at 1:50 AM every single fucking time they go out.
So he does it... and it's fucking amazing!
No, it... I was going to say that it's probably one of the worst kisses in the history of gay
kisses, but that seems offensive in too many of the wrong directions. It was like when Lea Thompson kissed Michael J Fox in Back to the
Future, or when you put on someone else's underwear. You just know that
it's not right.
His mouth didn't open very much, and it was like he didn't even have
lips, just facial hair that bristled against mine and made these awkward
sandpaper sounds and brought visions of sagebrush and tumbleweeds to my
schlager-fucked brain as he just pulsed his fat, squishy tongue in
there and barely moved it around. I mean, aside from it just feeling incredibly
awkward, he was also just a lousy kisser.
So I backed away, thanked him for the drinks, and turned around to see my friend and our dates watching in agape-ed awe...
Now, I don't feel bad about this. I've been that guy, and he was fine
going home and jerking off. He'll regret spending all that money on
shots, but that's just how things are done. Ladies, I encourage this
behavior. You've got it coming, and so do we. So enjoy your free drinks,
and our gentle defeat.
Or, go let our roommate fuck you up the ass, if that's what you're both into.
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