Big Fat Hairy Living

As I was changing into my workout clothes at the gym tonight, a big, naked beefy guy with a huge hairy chest and a big floppy dick lumbered up to one of the lockers beside me and starting toweling himself himself off. He took his time drying himself off and sorting through the stuff in his locker, and he was blatantly flaunting his above-average dick. Naturally, I basked in his blatant flaunting.

It was pretty obvious from the way he was acting that he wanted all the other guys in the locker room to look at his dick, and it’s pretty obvious that the reason was its size; how many guys with small dicks do you see parading around naked in locker rooms? It’s almost invariably the guys with big dicks.

Having said that, it occured to me that, even though he obviously wanted to draw attention to his big dick, if I, as an obviously gay man, had said something to him like “You’ve got a big dick there, dude,” he would have punched my lights out. Voyeurism is okay as long as it’s straight men looking and comparing, but as soon as you let on that your interest might be more than simply comparing the size of your dick — your masculinity — to his, it’s bad. Very bad.

The reason is the meaning behind the look. One look affirms the big guy’s masculinity, and the other one subverts it. The big beefy guy knows this. A man looking at another man as a sex object is subverting his masculinity, treating him the way he treats women: as passive objects to be leered at. It seems especially ironic when the leering takes place in the gym locker room, a place associated with the ultra-masculine activity of weight lifting.

Incidentally, he was walking around with his foreskin retracted so that the head of his dick was completely bare. I’ve seen quite a few guys do this in the locker room. What’s up with that?

I highly recommend that godless heathens like me read the Raving Atheist’s blog. The Raving Atheist is snarky, but is right on the nose most of the time.

How was my Pride weekend? See it in pictures: Saturday pictures and Sunday pictures.

Some conversatives actually had the nerve to march in the Pride parade yesterday. All five gay conservatives were marching carrying signs for “gay friendly” conservative candidates. I screamed at them to go home, and they smiled and pointed at their sign saying that their candidate was pro-gay marriage. “Have fun with Myron Thompson and David Chatters,” I yelled. Who are Myron Thompson and David Chatters?

David Chatters: “When you go into the issue of homosexuals and lesbians, I think it’s in the interests of society to have the right to discriminate against that group of people … I think society has a right on that basis to discriminate against them.”

Myron Thompson: “I want the whole world to know that I do not condone homosexuals. I think it is wrong.  I think it is unnatural and I think it is totally immoral.”

Gay men and women who vote conservative are like chickens who vote for Colonel Sanders.

I had one of my best Pride weekends ever.

The lowlight, which wasn’t much of a lowlight at all, came while waiting in line for the Black Eagle, when a fat chick with a tacky red vinyl purse scammed her way inside by telling the doorman she was in there to meet some deaf men because she teaches the deaf. I told her that she was a scammer, and she replied by protesting that she wasn’t and blowing me an air kiss. When I got inside, I saw her talking to some friends, so when she left them, I asked who she was. “Oh, she’s a friend of a friend. I don’t like her at all. And I hate the way she blows air kisses.”

Yesterday, walking out the front door of my apartment building on the way to getting my hair cut, I ran into a cute Italian cub type. He came up to me, told me that I was cute and rubbed my belly, telling me that he’d seen me on the street before but that I’d been too quick for him. I took him upstairs to my place where we had a quickie before he had to return to his friend and I had to get my hair cut.