“I am incapable of having any sexual relations without the aid of drugs. The fact that I am High and Horny every Monday morning in no way suggests that I should perhaps re-evaluate my life choices. Group action over group therapy any day. I’m in denial, guys.”
In all seriousness, the proliferation of the H ‘n’ H tag on hookup apps is indicative of the wide-reaching health problems that a large number of gay men have. No what you’re getting into – and seek help if you’re concerned about your use of Chems.
“I have major issues around my sexuality; in fact, I’m really rather ashamed that I simply adore it up the arse. My girlfriend simply can’t find out. I could never stand the embarrassment.”
The question surely should be: How discreet can you possibly be when having your back door banged in? At least if it’s being done properly with a tonne of machinery, that is.
“It’s just my sexual preference! I’m entitled to my sexual preference! Nah, I am just entitled! Come to think of it, Nah, actually I’m just pretty damn racist.”
Dress it up any way you like, but anything which is calculated to make another person feel inferior by the colour of their skin is racism.
“I don’t look like a gay man, whatever a gay man looks like. Well, they look gay, don’t they? Loose wrists, flouncing down the street. It’s creepy. I’m all man. I’m straight. Straight up the shitter, mate!” The clue to the problem with this term is that little word “acting”…
“I’m hedging my bets, sitting on the fence. Going the whole hog and coming out as gay scares me. I’ll plump for a bit of avoidance instead: plenty of booze, drugs, a bit of this h ‘n’ h’ – anything really that means I’ll forever be ‘curious’, normal, and not have to stray outside my little box.”
“What is it with poofs? Fucking faggots! Queers! Why do they have to parade themselves as they do? A bit of discretion doesn’t hurt. Having said that, have you heard the latest Rihanna album? I’ve got all the moves down – been practising them in front of my mirror for ages.”
“I’m a man, and I fancy men. I want men to look like men, not like squealing little girls. The manlier, the better. Just don’t tell anyone my prized possession is a retro hostess trolley and that I turn into a screaming wreck every time I see even the tiniest spider.”
“No, stop asking! I am not American just because ‘jock’ is an American word, ok. But it’s a cool name, ‘cos it makes me sound straight, like one of those hot footballers, even though the closest I’ve got to team sports is a bit of bukkake. Geek? Well, I’m really into my tech, man. Makes me sound really brainy this one – better than all the other old mattresses on here.”
“Look, I have to state this constantly. It really needs to be reiterated as many times as possible, completely spelt out. No Strings Attached! I won’t and can't-do commitment. Can't-do intimacy. Boyfriend? Draaaama! That just creeps me out. Nah, I’m just a total dick fiend, man – bit of a dick too.”
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