Pride Post – No Fatties

By Joshie Jaxon 

Happy pride month, geeks fans! We just had our festival here in Salt Lake City, and I wanted to share my experience. Don’t worry, I’ll be brief. Especially as it’s nearly 2am as I start this piece. Though it’s been on my mind for a few days now. As you can tell from the title, body issues are gonna be brought up. I know I’ve talked on them before, in my far less successful blog, but they came up again, so here we are. Besides, it’s something many of us struggle with, and for some, it’s always on our minds, even if it’s just silently running in the background. 

I’ve attend the pride festival every year since 2001. I even had a booth for my book series a few years ago. Pride for me was always a chance to get out and be among my community, without the safety of a screen to hide behind. It’s a great opportunity to see the various walks of life that make up our LGBT communityas a whole. There’s also plenty of eye candy, as long as the weather is nice; which thanks to fake news, er, climate change, it usually is. The temperature rises, and the amount of clothes people wear lowers. It’s a feast for the eyes, and a personal highlight of the festivities. The main reason for that being the majority of people going around practically naked are the ones you’d associate with the gay community. It’s mostly twinks and the jock/gym gays. The “good-looking” among us that we all secretly aspire to be. Though not bold enough to parade half naked in public, the closest I chose to get was my Joshie Quinn look, sans makeup. I’m confident in my legs. I’m a centaur, we’re good kickers.

Being a bear, those are the people I feel the most comfortable around. I have a different piece planned for da bears, but I’ll touch on them. Giggity. They’re the once facet of the community, aside from the lesbians, that don’t give a damn about size and shape, and celebrate everyone as they are, which is a beautiful thing. I found the local bear booth, and wanted to get a shirt to show my support. Not knowing how it would fit, I asked one of our Chair Bears for a shirt, and without thinking, slipped mine off to try it on. They told me it looked good, and I swapped my original back on. Hugs all around, and I continued with the rest of my day. I got hungry, and found myself in the pizza line with a very muscled bodybuilder. I know this, because during our wait, he mentioned how he was at 12% body fat, and needed to get to four for competition at the end of July. When it was time to order, he said I’d been nice, and bought my slice. Super nice guy. Even though it was odd he wasn’t getting any pizza for himself.

On my way back to Bri, who was waiting in the shade of trees with drinks, I got bumped, and the tip of my pizza slice hit the center of my white shirt. The horror! No tide pen. Not home to pre-treat. I need this shirt to not stain. It’s classic Joshie. I had no choice. I handed Bri my food, and pulled my shirt off. Splashed my water on it, and rubbed so the stain wouldn’t set. It then dawned on me that I was shirtless in public. Fans of the Gab will know that I embraced my body, and generally don’t care about nudity. I am who I am, like it or don’t. However, standing topless in the middle of an event designed to primarily celebrate the gorgeous among us, I felt uncomfortable. Bri asked if I was gonna put my shirt back on, and I decided not to. My logic being, the shirt was still wet, but more importantly, I had to do this for myself. The fact that I thought I had no right to be shirtless among my community made me realize I had to do it, no matter the cost. I had to be able to look at myself in the mirror. 

I kept my shirt off, got some sunscreen, cause I’m a pale, Irish-rooted, vampire, and went back to walking the festival. I was very aware that my shirt was missing. It wasn’t the comfortable feeling I have being nude at home, or even in nature. There was the definite feeling that my community would judge me, and tell me to get dressed. Now, maybe I was merely projecting, but when you see “no fats, no fems, no Asians” on enough profiles, you realize how little the community as a whole wants anyone that isn’t chiseled and perfect. In that regard, I’ve never cared. If you want abs, move on, I’m never gonna have them. I ran into an ex of mine, who pretty much greeted me with the words that this was not a good look for me. I don’t know if it was me without my shirt, or the sparkly shoes and shorts. I didn’t ask. It’s better I don’t know. I did at least one lap of the festival grounds topless. Even got cat-called by my lady boss, which still felt nice to be celebrated for my bravery, as it was. As I wandered, there were others my size that were stripped a bit too, but with rainbow body paint, or #pride on them. I applaud them for being deliberate in their choice. 

I’d like to say that I remained shirtless until I left, but I can’t. I put my shirt back on, and finished out my time. Though I didn’t get any mean comments, or looks that I was aware of, I was still uncomfortable. Even looking back on it, I feel a little anxiety. The real question it left me with, was am I as comfortable with myself as I think I am? I believe so. Hell, I’m naked on the internet in a non “come fuck me” kinda way. Clearly I don’t care who sees me. Then again, it’s the safety of the screen that may shield me from the anxiety. It’s the disconnect that we all have when we get online. It’s what allows us to say and do more than we might in person. I’m glad I had the experience that I did. Overall, I know that I’ll grow as a person because of it. I encourage any of my fellow “fatties” to not be discouraged by the chiseled. Do not let them damage the beautiful people that you are. You’re worth loving exactly as you are, and who you choose to be. Don’t allow their poison to change how you see yourself. If you’re a good person, who doesn’t harm others, you keep doing you. The right people will enter your life, and see you for the hottie that you are, no matter how much padding you may have. 

Until next time, stay geeky, and keep gabbing! 

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Pride Post – To Cut Or Not To Cut. It’s Not Even a Question

By Joshie Jaxon 

This isn’t a normal Pride Post. It’s not a piece on gay culture. It’s more like my Balls to Cancer post, in that it’s more about overall male health. I’m not a shy person. I’ve stripped myself bare before the world, both literally and figuratively. I’ve spoken about my coming out, my cancer scare, my struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts, but this one seems almost more personal than those. Today I’ll be touching on a subject that sparks controversy, discussions, and uncomfortable feelings. I’m going to talk about the impacts of circumcision. If such subject matter offends you, I don’t particularly care. If the worst thing that’s happened to you is you got offended by something on the Internet, consider yourself lucky. I know my mom hates when I cover subjects like this. If you’re reading this, you may just want to stop here. 

I’ll preface my story by stated that I don’t fault my parents for what they did. They were young, and it was the early 80’s. Like many American males, I was circumcised as an infant. It wasn’t for religious reasons. My family has never been big on religion in general. It was an aesthetic choice, made by my parents at the time. They wanted me to be “normal”, and to look like everyone else so I wouldn’t get picked on for being different and standing out. If only they’d known the person I’d grow up to be. I pride myself on being different from everyone else. I see things they don’t. I prefer it that way, and wouldn’t change it for the world. My circumcision on the other hand, is another story. This was something permanent that was done to my body, and I wasn’t consulted or given any kind of say in the matter. How could I? I was a newborn. A doctor took a scalpel, removed a piece of my penis, and I can never get it back. One of the first messages I was given in life was that I was unacceptable the way I was born, and I needed to be altered so that I could better fit in to the world in which I lived. Fuck that. 

Now, I know what most people say about this topic. They’re babies. They don’t/won’t remember it. That’s great and all, but it doesn’t change the fact that my body was mutilated for some Americanized standard of beauty/normalcy. Allow me to counter that particular argument. Say that anything that happened to you today, anything at all, was completely forgotten by morning. Now, say you were raped. Say you were stabbed. Robbed. Mugged. Got knocked up. Whatever. Morning comes. You don’t have any memory of that happening to you. Does it erase the fact that it did? No. You now have to live the rest of your life dealing with repercussions of actions you may have had no part in, let alone memory of. Bottom line, I don’t remember being cut, but I live with it every day. 

Most of us don’t think much of our genitals, except when we need to pee, they’re in need of medical attention, or they’re giving us pleasure. Growing up, I certainly didn’t comprehend the extent of what had been done to me. I knew how I looked. I knew how my peers in the locker room looked. There was nothing that screamed I was physically “abnormal” in my life. Flash forward to the Internet age. Aside from having access to a literal world of information, at an intellectual and educational level, we also have access to people and pornography from all over the globe. With so much exposed flesh, it isn’t hard to notice that not everyone has the same “style” genitalia that you do. You begin to question why. At least I did. 

I know for some, circumcision is a religious thing. I’m not here to bash religion. Whatever you do to yourself or your children is between you and your god. That being said, most religions I’m familiar with state that we’re made in god’s image. That means god, assumed as a male, would have a foreskin. It’s a safe assumption that he was never circumcised. One, who would have done it? Two, who would he have had it done for? Three, he’s freaking god. No one is gonna go up to the almighty and say, I’d hit that, but your penis doesn’t look good. Bitch, he will smite you. Boom! 

I’m not straight, or a parent. I’m not trying to start a fight here, but I don’t think that women should have a say in what happens to their son’s genitals. Yes, that includes single/adoptive mothers. It isn’t yours to decide how it should look/function. At the very least, let him decide when he is old enough to understand the consequences of that action. Think of it this way, ladies. Would you want your husband/fathers deciding to have you or your daughter’s clitoris/labia/etc removed, strictly because he said so, cause you’d be “normal”, and you just had to live with it? Spoiler alert, the answer is hell no. You already don’t want men affecting your right to choose. Your body, your choice, am I right? Of course I am. Why aren’t your sons give that same respect? It’s their body, and should be their choice. Short of medical need/emergency, there is no earthly reason to destroy a piece of your child, simply because they won’t have memory of it, so who did it really hurt? 

I can tell you exactly who it hurts. Each and every one of us. Some men are cut so tightly, that when they hit puberty their erections are painful because there isn’t enough skin there to accommodate the expanded form. Others have sections still connected, while others have so much of their frenulum removed that they experience very little pleasure from penile stimulation. All of this senseless loss, for nothing. The only reason that Americans decided that uncut/intact men were bad, is that societal pressure warped the way we view the male form and what is considered normal. Many go through life feeling cheated, mutilated, betrayed, and incomplete. As I stated, most of us don’t think about it, and are able to function, but there are others, like myself, that are aware of exactly what happened to us, and there’s no way to go back. We’re out of the Matrix, and see the world for what it is. 

There’s a growing section of the male population that is working to restore that which was taken. There are products like the Sen Slip and ManHood, that are designed to help restore sensitivity to the head of the penis, since it has been worn down from years, even decades of exposure to clothing rubbing on it. Think of it like your feet. If you go barefoot everywhere, your skin gets rough to accommodate, whereas if you’re always in slippers/socks/shoes, your feet may be super sensitive. Other guys take matters into their own hands, and spend years trying to regrow and restore their foreskin, some going as far as to have surgery. We’re so desperate to feel whole, to feel complete, to feel like the men we were intended to be. Please, I implore you, before you have your son’s penis permanently altered, do your research. Don’t do it simply so they can “look their dad” or “fit in better”, or because “that’s what’s expected”. At least be honest and say that you don’t want to deal with the maintenance until they’re old enough to do it themselves. None of those are reasons to destroy a child that had just entered the world. Ask yourself, if they were cutting you, wouldn’t you want a say in it? 

Pride Post – Life Support

Pulse Wave Background

Pulse Wave Background Original Vector Illustration

By Joshie Jaxon

 

There’s no Pulse! Rally the community! Clear!

Still no Pulse! Try again! Don’t you dare quit on me! Clear!

Call it. Time of death, 2am.

Wait! We lost the pulse, but the body is still alive.

That’s not possible.

It is. The community is recovering, and getting stronger. We’ll get the Pulse back.

 

Greetings, geek fans. As you know, I’m not much for politics, and find them to be a bothersome, if not counterproductive, aspect of our world. I try to avoid them as much as possible, but given the recent tragedy that hit close to our community, I don’t think I can keep myself out of this one. A gunman took out fifty lives, and people are losing their minds over it. I don’t blame them. If that happened here, I’m sure I’d feel more for the situation than I already do, and I’m not a very emotional person as it is.

However, I’ve noticed that rather than focusing on those lives, people are instead focusing on the one who took them, and using this incident to push their own agenda about it. I told Bri Bones just the other day that this is going to become a measuring stick that people will bring out when they want to make a point; “It’s the worst shooting since…” All that will adhere to time is the event itself, much like September 11th, Sandy Hook, Columbine, etc. People know what happened and where, but not how many lives, or even the name of a single victim. That’s the reality we live in.

Back to agendas, I saw a post this morning that was titled “What if someone had shared Jesus with the Orlando killer?”, and that’s what got me thinking about the selfishness of people as a whole. All these people want is to have a headline that will create controversy, and get people spouting their opinions, without actually having read the content.

What religion a person does or doesn’t have is irrelevant. This person took the lives of fifty people. Those people will never get to have their dreams realized. They’ll never be the author/baker/dancer they wanted. They won’t get to have children. They won’t get to find the love of their life. They won’t get to see their nieces or nephews grow up. Everything they had been building their lives towards was taken in an instant, and can never be returned. It sickens me that someone could hate a group so much that they would snuff out the lives of its members.

People are calling for more gun control, and stopping things like this from happening, but it doesn’t solve the problem at its source. Why can’t we all just accept people as they are, and as long as they aren’t doing anything that harms our lives, let them be? Oh, right, because that doesn’t generate revenue or ratings. People being kind to one another can’t be sensationalized by the media. Controlling the weapons doesn’t stop the people that want to use them, it just forces them to find a different method to attack us.

I’m part of a community that can be gunned down simply for existing. How is that right? I know that I try to keep my head down, and not make a target of myself, but the reality that I could get shot for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, frightens me. Not so much that I’m not going to continue to live my life, but that’s something that has been added to my mind as something to be aware of. I don’t like that this is the world I live in. Though perhaps I always have, and I’m just more aware of it now.

At any rate, people only care about things that they can relate to. The only way to get the conservatives/Republicans to care about gun violence is if a Klan meeting were shot up by a group of extremist homosexuals or transgender individuals. You can bet money that they would care about restricting access to such weapons if they were the ones on the receiving end of the violence.

Whatever the case may be, this isn’t problem that’s going to go away anytime soon. People need to be taught to respect others, even if they don’t agree with them. Do what you want, but harm none isn’t a bad way to live. It’s the way I live my life, and it has worked well for me so far. I’ll continue to try and bring a little joy to the world, and hope that you continue to enjoy every moment of your life, before someone else decides that it’s no longer worth living.

victim

Pride Post – Love Exposed 

 

 

By Joshie Jaxon 

Greetings, geek fans! Your dear Joshie has been going through a lot of reflection lately, and decided to share with you what I’ve discovered. There’s so much pain and ugliness in the world that it could get anyone down, and I am no exception. Everyone seems to be losing their minds over trans people in the restrooms, interracial couples in commercials, etc. In the age of social media, everyone sounds off all their bile and venom, and it seems that those are the voices that are being heard more than ever. It’s depressing to feel like there are no champions out there trying to fight the good fight. I would like to be one of those champions. I want to do something to spread love and joy instead. I want to help lift people up, and help show them that they aren’t alone. I figured the best way to accomplish that, was to help break down some of the race/gender/body type/relationship barriers that are out there. We are all unique and beautiful, and deserve to be celebrated exactly as we are, without conforming to any of the standards that society has declared to be the norm. 

I consider myself a bohemian, and believe in things like freedom, beauty, truth, and love. Yes, I got that from Moulin Rouge. No, it doesn’t make my statement any less valid. My goal is to show the natural beauty that all people possess. I want the world to change what it thinks of as beautiful, and normal, so I’m going to start with me. I lay myself before you, raw, naked, and exposed. Literally. This is who I am. I’m damaged. I struggle with body issues, depression, and occasional suicidal thoughts. I’m gay, pasty, a bit overweight, and in the beginning of what could be a Polyamorous relationship with two great guys that accept all that I am. I have a talent for writing. I’ve written a book series that contains pieces of my soul, and inner pain. I also have this blog where I share my humorous take on a variety of subject. These aren’t the only contributions I want to make to the world. I would like to try my hand at standup comedy. I’m interested in adapting fairy tales for the LGBT community. More than anything else, I want my life to have meaning, and to help give meaning to the lives of others. Whatever condition we’re in, we’re not alone. 

  

I think a lot of the pain in the world comes from trying to carry our burdens on our own, because we think no one else cares about us. We’re all so consumed with our own issues, that we don’t take the time to see the pain the people around us are dealing with. I believe the first step we need is a paradigm shift. We need to be able to voice the things that bother us the most, only then can it truly begin to heal. As I mentioned, I’m overweight. Thanks to mainstream media, coupled with the impossible standards of the gay community, I’m not always comfortable in my own skin. I worry what others think of me, and that they’ll let my physical appearance keep them from getting to know me. I think I’ve figured out why people get so disgusted by the overweight. It isn’t that person specifically, it’s that “fat” is something that can happen to any of us. We ridicule people to reinforce to ourselves that we don’t want to be like them. I’m sorry, but I’ll take fat, kind, and smart over thin and douchey any day. When I look in the mirror, I like who I see, because I know that I do my best to stand up for those who may feel too low to stand up for themselves. 

I covered my battle with the suicidal thoughts in my head in an earlier Pride Post, and won’t rehash it again. I will touch on my depression though. There are days, for no good reason at all, that I feel like a useless piece of shit that the world would be better off without. Occasionally the darkness pulls me so far down that I don’t even get joy from my usual activities, like writing or gaming. I recognize those thoughts for what they are, and have to fight tooth and nail to try and claw my way out from under them. It’s on those days that I try to do something good for someone else, to defy my thoughts, and prove to myself that I still deserve to be here dammit. I know not everyone is so lucky. Stay strong, and don’t give up the fight, no matter how exhausting. You’re worth it. Keep telling yourself that. 

As a gay man I had to come out, because the world in which we currently live doesn’t allow people to just be themselves. If you are different in any way from the norm, you are called out on it, ridiculed, shunned, and more. Point the finger somewhere else, so no one looks at you. The problem with that, is that depending on the culture, they’re the abnormal ones. Again, I think it stems from not wanting to be away from the group, so people agree to extremes that they might otherwise not believe in, if they actually sat down and thought it out. Personally, I’m one of those who doesn’t mind standing alone for what I feel is right. As long as all parties are of legal age, are consenting, and not actively setting out to harm anyone, I see no reason why anything they do should bother us; let alone be our business that we somehow feel we’re entitled to weigh in on. All I want In life is for people to be happy, loved, and cared for. I hope that by sharing some of my pain, it helps you accept a piece of your own. 

There’s no amount of eating, no amount of shopping, no amount of sex that can fill the holes that have been punched in our hearts. The only thing that will, is love. I may not alway understand where some people come from, but I do my best not to hate them. They’re struggling with their own burdens, and must feel pretty miserable if they have to try and spread that pain around. I’m working on a project that will focus on spreading love, and giving a voice to our pain. It is my hope that this project will accomplish all that I intend it to. It can be located here –  https://love-xposed.com 

In the words of Christina Aguilera, “we are beautiful, no matter what they say”. My love and support to you all, no matter what you are struggling with, I’ll say it again, you’re not alone.

Love, Joshie 

  

Pride Post – Monogamy, Poly, and Gays! Oh my! 

  

By Joshie Jaxon

Greetings, geek fans! As fans of our site know from our Pride Post on Apps, and etiquette, I’ve been back in the dating pool for a few months now. Today we’ll be discussing things that may challenge your current view on love and relationships. For the record, I’m not attacking, judging, or pushing any particular lifestyle. I’ve had time to reflect on myself, as well as observe things I’ve noticed during my looking for love adventures. I’m going to share some of those observations, as well as some personal info on yours truly. To those who ask why I share what I share, I feel it helps our community to know we’re not alone in our thinking or experiences. As always, my goal is to entertain as well as educate. Let the geeks begin! 

   

As seen in the picture above, there are several options that one is able to select when listing relationship status on certain apps. I’m gonna touch on some, but not all of them. Mostly the ones that I have personal experience or knowledge about. Let’s start with the first, and most obvious, Single.

Single is fairly self-explanatory. You are one person, searching for another. If you’re single, you’ve either never had a relationship, or you’ve been in one and it ended for whatever reason, some of which were included as status options. Widowed, Divorced, or Separated, the fact is the same, you no longer have that special someone in your life. Personally, I don’t see the reason to use those three, short of the fact that it does provide a certain amount of information for the people who may be browsing your profile. You don’t have to explain that you lost the person you held dear. It says that you’ve been through, and may not be over, a tough time. Back to the singles though. Most of us are in committed relationships with our tv shows, games, cats, hands, toys, and for whatever reason, we decide we need actual human companionship. That can either be because we’re horny, and in search of sex, which is fun, but can get old. Don’t get me wrong, sex is a part of life, but it isn’t the reason we couple up with people. Ultimately, we all want a campion that we enjoy and who enjoys us. It isn’t that we no longer love our hand/fleshlight/dildo/vibrator, but we want more. I’ve spent the majority of my out adult life, single, and I can say from experience, we as single people want someone to share our lives with. To no longer feel lonely. We want to have a person that enjoys the same things we do, challenges our point of view, or can teach us new things, allowing each of us to grow as a person in a way we wouldn’t have on our own. 

  

The rest of the categories can get a little tricky, so I’ll break them down into specifics. We’ll start with the one that everyone usually has the most experience with, Monogamous Relationships. 

Monogamy is something that we learn subconsciously from a young age. We have mommy and daddy, mommy-mommy, daddy-daddy, or what have you, but we know that they are there for each other, and pending affairs or divorce, they’re the only ones we ever see each of them with. Tv, books, movies, all show the same thing, happy couples that have finally found “the one”. It teaches us that we should be looking for the one for us, and our lives may not be complete without them. Generally that lesson is geared more to (heterosexual) women than anyone else, but it’s still there. You find the one, you date, you become exclusive, you get engaged, and eventually married. Through this entire process, you maintain your fidelity, and never stray. After all, that’s what we’re taught. If you slip up and get any on the side, you are judged as scum for not following what society has decreed normal behavior. I’ve had relationships where we each were monogamous the entire time, some where he cheated on me, and I’ll admit, some where I cheated on him. I’m not proud of it, and won’t go into too much detail. I will say that I was in an unsatisfactory, and somewhat abusive relationship that had left me physically and emotionally starved. I had a very platonic hug with a friend and it gave me an erection. Later, with someone else, I was given the chance to cheat, and I did. I had needs that weren’t being met, and had to do what was right for me. Monogamy can work, but it isn’t for everyone, and that’s ok. The rest of these aren’t for everyone either. 

  

This leads to our next option, Open Relationships. In an Open Relationship, you’ve found a person to be a couple with, but you’re still allowed to sleep with other people on the side. The difference between this and cheating, is that both halves of the couple are aware of the arrangement, and it applies to each of them, not just the man. These relationships tend to confuse the majority of people. It’s hard to comprehend that both members of a couple would be ok with their partner sleeping around. This isn’t a relationship I have personal experience with, but as anyone that has watched the US version of Queer as Folk will tell you, that’s the sort of relationship that Brian and Justin had. Each of them are committed to each other romantically, but can go get laid on their own, or together. Having the occasional threesome can be fun, and allow you to keep your relationship interesting, or try to keep it from dying, but it is distinctly different from the next relationship type I’m gonna cover, Triads. 

As the name suggests, a Triad is a relationship consisting of three people. Unlike an open relationship, a Triad consists of three individuals that are committed to each other exclusively. I’ve never been in a Triad myself, and don’t personally know anyone who currently is. I did once, but their relationship imploded, and one was forced out. For the sake of their privacy, that’s all I’ll disclose about the situation. Their story isn’t mine to tell. What is mine to tell falls under the last category, but isn’t one listed from the picture above, Polyamorous Relationships. 

  

Polyamory is another of the misunderstood “alternative lifestyles” out there. A Polyamorous Relationship is one where each member of a couple may have their own secondary relationships in addition to their main one, if not more. People often mistake it as an open door where anyone can come and go as they please, or people just want to sleep around. That isn’t how it’s been in my experience, or the experience of the people I know. Yes, relationships can be added or subtracted, but it isn’t w/o the knowledge of the others involved. A Polyamorous Relationship can be more complicated than the others, as it has the potential for more people to be involved, and as such, more people who can get hurt if things aren’t handled properly. Communication is the most important factor in a Poly relationship. Well, any relationship, actually. Allow me to share a personal story from my recent past as an example. 

  

Once upon a time, your Joshie had been engaged, and had a live-in fiancé. For the privacy of those involved, we’ll call him Joey. After being with Joey for several months, I met his friend, Andy. There was an instant attraction to him, and lust as well. I was compelled to know what it was like to sleep with him. Having known Andy for years, and also having slept with him himself, Joey actually talked to Andy about it, and gave his blessing if it was something Andy wanted to pursue as well. Andy did, and we arranged to get together. I had Andy in my room, while Joey hung out in the living room. Instead of it being torrid and passionate sex, Andy and I ended up talking, while nude. He shared some of his past, feelings, and insecurities. I offered physical and emotional comfort. We did end up getting off, but it was more love-making than just the sex we’d initially both intended. That’s where trouble started. Andy and I started hanging out, and going out on unofficial dates. Despite the fact I still came home every night, Joey got jealous, as this wasn’t what I had asked for, or he’d initially agreed to. I couldn’t help myself, it wasn’t lust, it was love I was feeling. It was that exciting, new, anything can happen love, and Joey wasn’t having it. In hindsight, I see where he was coming from. His jealousy, and possible insecurities, eventually drove Andy from my bed, heart, and life. Those who’ve read Pride Post – Suicidal Tendencies, located here – https://gaygeekgab.com/2015/07/08/pride-post-suicidal-tendencies/ , this is the relationship I wrote of. I was as devastated as I’d ever been, and didn’t see how I could ever repair the damage I’d suffered. Joey was still there to help me pick up the pieces, which made me feel like an ass to have my fiancé help me grieve over the loss of my lover, especially as he’d triggered it, but it was what it was. The ordeal with Andy had taught me something about myself, in that I was able to love two people in similar, yet different ways. After a few months, we were able to open up a dialogue about our relationship, and what we wanted from it. We determined that as our love had survived that, there was still something missing, and we set out to find ourselves a third, or possibly a second for each of us. Our relationship ended, as while searching for another, we neglected to work on the relationship we were already in. 

Getting back to my original point, there’s no option for Polyamorous on the sites/apps I’ve used. You can say you’re widowed, but not that you’re Poly. The closest they have is “It’s Complicated”, but that sounds more like you fell for your ex’s brother or something. Having been able to admit to myself that maybe I’m not just looking for Mr. Right, but possibly Mr. & Mr. Right, I’ve noticed more people out there waiving their Poly flag high. This flies in direct contrast to the hetero-normative monogamy that I touched on earlier. It almost feels like as Poly people we need to come out yet again, but as Brian Kinney teaches us, unless it’s your dick I’m sucking, then it’s none of your goddam business. At the same time, the only way for any group or people to gain acceptance is through exposure and visibility. As long as everyone is consenting adults, I think relationships fall under the Wiccan Rede of do what you will, but harm none. I don’t do religion, but I live my life doing right by the people I meet, by my morale compass. Whatever category you currently or previously fit in, just know you’re loved, and will find it in your life exactly as you are. We’re out there. You do not need to sacrifice yourself to make others happy. Do what is right for you, and those you love. Everything else is gravy. Until next time, stay geeky, and keep gabbing! 

  

Pride Post – Balls to Cancer

  
By Joshie Jaxon 

Greetings, geek fans. It’s been a while since I’ve done a more personal piece, and almost nothing is more personal than today’s subject matter. I’m here today to talk about that bulge in our pants; specifically, our low hangers. Unless it’s cold, we’ve been in the pool, are nervous, scared, there’s a breeze, or any other number of things that cause them to retract. That’s right, I’m gonna talk about my balls, and I encourage you to do the same. Either about mine, or your own. Up to you. The goal is education, entertainment, and to get the conversation started. Fair warning, there will be more “adult” level pictures than I usually post. 

  

Now, unless they haven’t dropped yet, and if that’s the case what are you doing reading my inappropriate posts, odds are that you’ve touched and played with yourself at least once. I’m betting that you all have, as penises are one of nature’s greatest gifts, and should be appreciated often. How often is up to you, your access to lotion/lubricant, and your threshold for chaffing. That being said, we all touch ourselves for pleasure and release. That’s just the basic biology of male plumbing. If you don’t release your scrotum’s contents on your own, your body will do it for you, most likely at night. Whether you sleep in jammies or not, either way you’ll have a mess to clean up. Back to touching yourself. No, don’t click for some porn and stop reading! I’m not done yet. That sounds dirtier than intended. Eh, what else is new. 

  

There’s an issue that can affect any of us, and is easily preventable, well, treatable may be more accurate, but is hardly ever talked about in conversations. I get it, talking about your boys is intimate, and if there’s a potential problem, it can be scary as well. It is difficult admitting that our prized equipment could have a problem, especially if that problem could be testicular cancer. The key factor here is early detection and treatment. As I stated earlier, and probably will again, we all touch ourselves on a regular basis. It’s time to add another level to that. No, I’m not talking cockrings. It’s time to start fondling your sack for more than just fun. It’s easiest when your nethers are warm, and your scrotum is loose. During or after a warm to hot shower is good, as is virtually any summer day. Winter causes shrinkage, but with the miracle of modern heating devices, you shouldn’t have too much trouble. 

  

Now for the technicalities. Cup your balls in your hand. You’ve had them for life, you already know how they hang. Get a sense of the weight, and how they normally feel on their own. They have space to move around in there, so you’ll want to focus on one at a time. Roll each testicle between your thumb and fingers. It’s normal to feel the epididymis and vas deferens, they are what cause there to be sperm in your cum. What you’re looking for, well, checking to make sure isn’t there, are any lumps or irregularities than what you’re used to feeling down there. Anything that may be on the testicle itself, could be cause for concern, but you’d want to check with your doctor, or healthcare provider. There was a clip I saw online, thanks to a link I found from the charity, Balls to Cancer / @ballstocancer that really is one of the best I’ve seen on the subject, and I’m including it here for you to watch. 

  

http://www.newnownext.com/important-lesson-on-checking-for-cancer-from-rugby-player/10/2013/

Let me share a little or two story of my own. Like any gay man, I watch Queer as Folk. In fact, I remember when it was brand spanking new. Now, even though it’s been off the air for a decade, I’m still gonna call spoilers. There’s a arc in a later season where Brian is getting a BJ in the back room of Babylon. Afterwards, the guy says he wants Brian to see him again. Brian says no. The guy explains that he’s a doctor, and he felt a lump on Brian’s testicle. Brian goes in, discovers he does have cancer, and begins treatment. Not the way you want an anonymous blowjob to end, but still, good thing he found out when he did. After watching that season a few years ago, I decided I needed to be more diligent, and checked myself after a shower. A discovered a rather significant lump, that was definitely not one of my testicles. I wrote a short story on it, but in order to detach myself from the emotion of it, I told it in a third person perspective. I know it happened to me, but I didn’t want to own and re-live what I went through during that period. I’ll include the story at the bottom of this post so that you can read it on your own. Second spoiler alert, I’m fine. Your Joshie will be around as long as he can to share the twisted contents of his head. Dunno why I did that one as third person too. Maybe I’m a tad too disconnected from things. That’s an issue for a later day. 

  
The second story I’m going to share is a recent one. A friend of mine had been complaining about a pain in his sac. He said it felt like he’d been kicked in the balls, but he knew he hadn’t been. He knew about the scare I’d had, and that I try to stay educated on such matters. He said he might have me check, but he wasn’t ready to face the potential reality. A couple days later, I asked if he still wanted me to check things out for him. He said sure, stood, and lowered his pants enough to expose his equipment. He isolated the one he wanted me to check. I sat on a chair, and took his ball in my hand. It sounds like the start of some kind of male nurse porn fantasy, but trust me, when you’re on the receiving end of such a fondling, there’s nothing sexy about it. I relaxed my eyes, and relied on my fingertips to relay what information I needed. Sure enough, there was a small, hard, lump on the testicle. I asked if that’s that he’s been feeling, and he said yes. I had him feel mine as well, so he had a comparison. As it stands now, he’s waiting to go in to see his doctor, and find out what it is. 

  
I know that I’m usually here strictly in an entertainment capacity, but this is a subject I feel very strongly about. It wouldn’t matter if me or my friend had been straight; if anyone needed me to check and confirm something in their danglers, I’d do it. Obviously I’m no medical professional, but I’ve got a good idea of what should feel normal down there. Male anatomy is a subject I’ve been interested in since I first explored mine. Yes, for sexy purposes, but it’s also good to check the manual on something you’d like to stay in working order for years to come. Do your research. Talk to friends or family. Just get the conversation started. In short, fellas, check your fellas. A minute a month could save your life. Until next time, stay geeky, and keep fondling! 

  
As promised, here is the detailed story of my experience. 

He’d found it while he was in the shower, and when he did, his heart stopped. There was no mistaking it, it was a lump. His right seemed fine, his left was another matter. A cautious man by nature, after toweling off, he took to the internet to see what it could mean. Sadly, the websites all said virtually the same thing; if there was a lump in that area, it was most likely cancer

His mind raced as several possible futures ran through it. He tried to tell himself that he would be fine, but even he didn’t believe it. That night, he tried to sleep, but it didn’t come. He sat in the darkness, and once again researched what could happen. Worst case scenario, lefty would have to be removed. As the man pondered what that would mean to his sex life, the website stated that there would be little to no impact. It provided little comfort. As 4 a.m. approach, he looked up the number for his physician. He would call first thing in the morning, which was only a few hours away.

When he called the office to set the appointment, the person on the other end asked what it was for. “I believe that I found a lump.” he explained. The man was given an appointment for the end of the day, and was told that they would call if there was a cancelation earlier in the day. Now all the man had to do was get through work.

First thing he told his boss when he got in was that he had to leave early. She asked what for, and for the second time in an hour, he said it aloud. This time was more real somehow. It was as if once a person that he knew was let in on it, there was no way to take it back. Once approval was granted, time slowed to a halt. As much as he wanted answers, he dreaded them at the same time. It didn’t take long for the man to worry himself sick.

Finally the end of the work day arrived. Music was little help on the drive to the doctor’s office. With only one other patient, he didn’t spend too much time in the waiting room, and was finally was called back. The nurse was polite and friendly. Under normal circumstances, the man would have been more sociable. As it was, he was tired and a little light headed. He hadn’t really eaten during the entire day.

Twenty nerve wracking minutes later, the doctor arrived. The man had the brief thought that he was cute, but it quickly went away. The doctor asked if there was a history of cancer in the man’s family. The man shook his head. There was none that he was aware of, but then again, he’d only known his father for the past four years, and this sort of thing just hadn’t come up. The doctor put on his gloves, and asked the man to remove his pants. He joked that this would be more uncomfortable for the man than it would be for him, since he did this sort of thing all the time. If the man hadn’t been as afraid as he was, he’d have remarked that he wasn’t that unfamiliar with being touched by men. In spite of the cute doctor touching and rubbing his lower regions, the man didn’t get any pleasure from it. The websites had said that an erection wasn’t uncommon, and not to be embarrassed. With as preoccupied as the man was, he didn’t get beyond half mast. Fear had overridden his body’s natural reactions. 

Gloves came off, and pants came up. The doctor felt certain that what he’d felt wasn’t cancer. Still, he wanted an ultrasound, just to be sure. An appointment was made for the next morning. The man was assured that as soon as the doctor had the results, that he would be contacted. The doctor told the man to try and not lose any more sleep over it. The man nodded in agreement, but knew that it would still be another restless night.

When he got to his car, the man called his father. He asked about a possible family history of the disease. His father said no, and asked the reason for the inquiry. The man explained what had happened, and where he’d just been. His father told him that he had something similar on his own lefty, and asked that he be told when the man had his results, in case he needed to get his own looked at. On his drive home, the skies opened up, and rain poured angrily down on the earth. It was as if the heavens themselves were venting the man’s feelings, since he was still too numb to do it himself. He managed to get to sleep by 2 a.m., but knowing that a call would be coming in the morning, it was anything but peaceful 

The nurse called and let him know when he would be able to come in. Unfortunately for the man, it was in the middle of his work day, not before as he had hoped. The man made it to work nearly an hour early, so that he could discuss the possibly of having a few hours off during his shift. Luckily for the man, there was time available in the schedule, and he didn’t have to decide between his job and his health. He managed to eat a small muffin, but still didn’t have much of an appetite.

It was a beautiful day outside, but the man wasn’t able to enjoy it. As he drove, his mind was still filled with thoughts of the impending exam, and its potential impact on his life. The doctor had told him it that the results would be given the same day as the exam. The man saw good and bad things in that. At least he would know. Whatever the outcome, he would at least have the answer.

The technician called him back, and took him to a small room. She instructed him to strip from the waist down except for socks, she joked, and then to lie down on the table and cover himself with the provided sheet. For the second time in as many days, some strange person was going to be touching him. This time is was a woman. The man laughed slightly in his head. The last time a girl had seen what was in his pants, he had still been a child. The man waited anxiously for her to return. The nerves of being naked on a table with only a sheet protecting him would have been a turn on under normal circumstances. His body started to react to the thought, but the technician entered, and his fear came with her. This was it. 

She explained what she was going to be doing, as she pulled back the sheet, taking care to only expose the pair that she needed to exam, but not the rest of him. The man expected the gel to be cold, which wouldn’t help the area she was going to be working on, but it was room temperature. There was a giant monitor on the wall in the man’s field of vision. Seconds later he was seeing inside himself. The technician was friendly, but professional. She explained what she was seeing, and why she was checking from the angles that she was. The man found the whole experience to be surreal. Naked and exposed, he was having a conversation with a woman as her instrument was making pass after pass over his dangly bits. Even with the activity in that area, the bit that was covered didn’t stir at all. It was as if it too, was concerned about the fate of its companions.

A dark mass appeared on the screen, and after having looked at what should be normal, the man knew that it was something out of the ordinary. He felt his heart rate elevate. The technician looked him in the eye as she explained that it was most likely fluid, and not to worry about anything. Easy for her to say, he thought to himself. She moved to the right, since that was the one he had said was normal. After a minute or two there was another dark mass, this one significantly smaller than the one that had been found on the left. She explained that it was a small cyst, and not to be concerned, as they were fairly common in men of his age. She took another pass over both of them, and showed the man how it appeared that he just had a bit of fluid, but that the radiologist would need to look at everything to be sure.

The technician told him that he was alright to wipe off the gel, and to get dressed. Alone, with the door closed, he removed the sheet. Again, the inappropriate thought of anyone being able to walk in on him before he was dressed gave the man a brief thought of excitement. He shook it off, and continued to put his clothes on. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, and wasn’t able to entertain any other thoughts until he knew what the radiologist thought of what he’d seen.

The man was shown to a small waiting area, and was told that he could watch TV while the radiologist examined his file. He left it turned off. He was so close to answers, that he couldn’t allow himself any level of distraction. Whatever was going to happen in the next few moments was going to impact his life. The man remembered that it is always better to hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. In his mind, he tried to imagine having an actual surgery. He couldn’t do it. That was one thought that was too intense to think of without a diagnosis to back it up. He could hear the radiologist and the technician talking, but couldn’t make out what was said. A few minutes later, she joined him in the waiting area. She was smiling. The man took it as a good sign. The technician confirmed that it had been an epididymal cyst on the left. It was non-lethal, and didn’t need to be removed, unless it grew and started to crowd the area’s natural inhabitant, or caused pain. There was no trace of cancer, and the man was going to be fine. The man had to ask her to repeat it, as it had not been the answer he was expecting. He wanted to hear it again, before he would be relieved. She gave him the good news once more, and told him he was free to go.

The man wasn’t as excited as he thought he would be, and he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he had spent too much time in his own head, rather than relaxing and waiting for evidence before stressing himself out. Either way, he was looking forward to calling his father and giving him the good news. A bright future loomed on the horizon, and he was going to be a part of it.

To end on a humorous note, here’s a pic I did on #FumbleFriday for @BallstoCancer