Big Fat Hairy Living

My office mate just got a new project, and he’s all excited about it. He’s all excited about how cool the new project is. I don’t know whether to be happy for him or sad for him. Meanwhile, all I can think of is Chuck from the Arktos bears. I want to spread his legs, bury my face in his huge hairy ass, and rim him like there’s no tomorrow.

Cruise any bear personal site, and you’ll notice that there tend to be three camps: the chasers, the bears/cubs, and the chubs. For some reason, the men who identify as “chubs” often perfectly fit the stereotype of the fat slob. They have bad chub hair, bad chub glasses, wear awful clothes, and generally look incredibly ugly, even though they may not be any fatter than men who identify as bears or cubs. Why is that? What is it about labelling yourself a chub that almost forces you to forget about your appearance? I don’t get it.

Last night on the way back from Claude’s place, I ran into a hooker while walking along Homewood Ave. She looked at me and asked, “You’re not looking for a date, are you?” I shook my head. “I didn’t think so,” she chuckled.

My answer wasn’t entirely correct. I was looking for a date, but she was about 150 pounds too skinny and lacked the required facial hair, chest hair, and penis.

At Eric’s urging, I went out to the Toolbox last night. I’m glad I did. It was packed full of Arktos bears from Ohio and a fair number of new Torontonians that I haven’t seen before. After a little hinting — something I really wished I didn’t have to do — I was eventually invited up to the after-hours party. I had a great time with two of the bears from Arktos and got back home at 5AM. Strangely, that one drunk ugly leather man from the Toolbox who always tries to paw people and nose in on their action was at the after-hours party. He’s annoying and ugly, and I didn’t actually see anyone doing anything with him. Who invited him??

It may come as a surprise, but I’ve now realized that despite my diversions with slightly skinnier guys, it’s really the hugest guys that hold my attention. Hugest as in taller than me, bigger than me, and covered in fur. One guy from Arktos, Chuck, really interested me. Black hair, goatee, fur all over his body, broad shoulders, a big gut, and wearing a white jockstrap. That’s the kind of man I need to snuggle up to at night. I need someone like that: tall and wide and covered in fur.

I’ve always thought that honesty is important in a relationship, be it a friendship or a romantic relationship. My question is how much honesty is too much? Is there such a thing as too much honesty? Suppose a friend of yours is doing something that’s really bad for them, but they just can’t see it. Should you tell them and risk your friendship, or should you remain silent and hope that they’ll realize with time? In some cases, the answer is obvious: for example, if they’re stuck in an abusive relationship it’s your duty as a friend to help them get out. In other cases where the danger is not so immediate, can’t easily be forseen, or may not even really exist, what do you do?

For anyone who’s interested in reading about homosexual self-oppression, take a look at With Downcast Gays. It’s a booklet that was written 25 years ago, but is still accurate today.

I tried to avoid it, but I have to comment. Some self-oppressing gays on Livejournal seem to have totally missed the point of the Gay Pride Parade article at The Onion.

The fact that you don’t get the point of the article proves how blind you are to the oppressiveness of mainstream society. How can you not understand the humour of the article even when you’re confronted with the following quote?

But, for mainstream heterosexuals unfamiliar with irony and the reclamation of stereotypes for the purpose of exploding them, the parade resembled an invasion of grotesque outer-space mutants, bent on the destruction of the human race.

“I have a cousin who’s a gay, and he seemed like a decent enough guy to me,” said Iowa City, IA, resident Russ Linder, in Los Angeles for a weekend sales seminar. “Now, thanks to this parade, I realize what a freak he’s been all along. Gays are all sick, immoral perverts.”

Let me translate for those who need it: the article is poking fun at the ignorant heterosexuals. It’s not seriously claiming that Gay Pride parades should be sanitized for heterosexual consumption.

Why should we remodel ourselves in the image of our oppressors?

Yesterday I saw an ex-boyfriend sitting in the park beside the 519 with a cute muscle bear. He had shaved his face, so he looked different; I didn’t recognize him at the time. Later I heard that he had seen me and had told a friend that I turned away from him when I saw him.

Only when this friend told me what the ex-boyfriend had said to him did I realize who the somewhat-familiar face had been. Even if I had recognized him, I’m not sure what I would have said. What happened between us still hurts me a little. The last time I spoke to him he said he never wanted to talk to me again, so I haven’t been able to talk to him at all.

I went to Frank Stollery parkette at the corner of Yonge and Davenport, just where Church curves and terminates at Yonge. Usually that parkette is filled with hundreds of pigeons, but tonight it was empty. I had brought lots of seeds for them, so I was disappointed. I went into the Canadian Tire and bought myself a very beautiful small plant as compensation. It’s very pretty.