Theodore is not a Whore

I'm very good in bed. I am the envy of my peers with a hot set of "low hangers." I have a muscular torso. I have a large unit, but around the time it became vogue to discuss penis size with potential suitors, I decided to avoid this game, not because I have a pawltry penis, but because I hate being objectified by it. When someone asks me if I’m hung, I just tip my head knowingly and wink. I will not dignify the question with an answer, nor will I hold a ruler up to my erect cock. This cock needs no description. It needs no excuses.

However, I've noticed that sometimes I feel helpless and lost. I’m not sure how this is even possible, because I am hot. But last night, while hanging naked from a leather sling in a dank meat wearhouse, with blood on my ass and the ejaculate of a Malaysian Diplomat’s son on my 6-pack abs, I found myself lusting for a something different. Something to nurture my spirit, perhaps. I might like a bland suburban home with screaming children and dinner waiting for me in a Kiss the Cook jockstrap.

Maybe I’m elitist and slightly racist. That could be part of my problem, but when I’m in San Francisco, I don’t hook up with guys who live in THE CASTRO. If I live in LA, I shouldn’t hook up with any guys who live in WeHo. If I live in Boston, I should stay out of the South End. And what about Chelsea? I made my mind up back there and it is a dead end. Gay people don’t know how to love.

Years of fighting for our rights have worn us down, and we’re great at fighting, but terrible at loving. There's something about a gay mecca that seems to breed the worst kind of behavior, and since I’m seeking quality, I try to find people who are in tune with a more mundane reality, (provided they aren’t ugly.)

So, recently, I have again-begun-trying-to-attempt abstinance from sex when I get urges. I have also again-begun-trying-to-attempt the company of other gay men with personality and brains, but sometimes they're ugly.