Politically Neutral Selfies?

Not a hookup but a feeling/experience that begs incorporation, lest the saga suffer potholes. I'm currently acting out what I finally recognise as an alter-ego/avatar, and my only defence against this dissonance taking insidious root and being anything other than 'serious' play? 

This blog. 

 It's a session of updating my user selfiez that's made me realise this. I'm flaunting and flexing like the world is watching, when in fact I'm unflatteringly lit by not lime but skylight, in the least glamorous setting; a boys room, with its accompanying smells and sceptic surfaces and familiar chaos (I love it. Is this how post-industrial God feels about the world today?).

Oh fuck. Even as I write this, I've been rejected because of misrepresentation. I haven't properly curated my selfiez, and this lawyer-cum-National supporter who'd previously expressed an interest has gone cold, thanks wholly to selfiez that sell me as overly-intense/activist/pro-cuordoroy. 

I could already sense a right-wing fragility in this guy, and could've avoided scaring the poor dear off with closer attention to selfie-detail. 

Note to selfies; when dangled for sex these are ideally apolitical, especially prior to establishing a recipients stance. If political stance is known, indulge! Especially if there are fetishised radical leanings to manipulate. Try a Che Guevara tee with sativa accessories for your typical lefty, and for the far-right perhaps a suit and monocle with discreet swastika cuff links. 

But what's overtly political about my shoulder length hair and beard? Any statement either would've made in the sixties has well and truly worn down to banal appropriation. Was this guy raised in a commune? 

Also in my last post I mentioned a hookup with a Fijian/Persian boy who'd been made to feel awful about himself while out one night on Auckland's fag strip, some punters critically citing his grindr profile rather than extending fellow feeling to someone obviously pretty fresh. How fucked. I despair of this country's normalised prejudice against Asians and Indians (broad terms), and am convinced that's what this was; racism in the cloth of deferred righteousness. 

Fuck you oh nameless offender. There's no community for any of us, gay or straight, with these pricks running amok. I hope your family renounced you when you came out, it's probably what you deserved. 

Kidding, that's not a time I'd wish on anyone. 

What cunts though.

To Live And To Let

(or A CONTINENTAL BREAKFAST)

In the name of all things spontaneous, I let an itch dictate (as per usual) and had a hookup at nine o'clock in the morning. I didn't have work until that evening, and with a good eight hours to kill had nothing but empty propriety to dissuade me from thinking it a good idea. Which it definitely was because this was one of the more satisfying fucks I've had recently (do I just have a negligent short term memory?), but looking back there were environmental factors embedding and hallowing the event, such as the weather (pristine) and already being in an open, breezy mood akin to glee-club preludes.

The guy had a really nice place situated in an inner city nook angled to conceal some of our eye-sores, so that looking out I only saw heritage buildings against clear blue sky, pigeons and all, like some antiquarians Parisian fantasy.  Then he made me coffee and we exchanged the usual stats over a Marlboro light. 

This is done to simulate intimacy for those not entirely convinced of the nobility of so mannered a meeting. I've had hookups where after opening a door you're hurtling towards a silent expectant body, all necessary information previously submitted in chat. And that's fine.

But this one had wobbles, hadn't been in the country for too long, from Sydney and of a delectable Persian/Fijian blend, and I'm guessing was using grindr more for finding friends in the city, and that our sex was a lovely mishap (for him, I'm the lecher).

So we talked, before and after. We talked about some stigma within the community regarding grindr that I was unaware of. He'd apparently felt judged one night, had overheard some guys saying in disparaging tones, 'I've seen that guy on grindr', as if to say how desperate or pathetic the app is. Well buddy, what's your excuse? If you're going to chase tail for its own sake, live and let live cunt. I'm done with nonsensical sexual hypocrisy, I'm officially calling it off for the rest of 2014 and thereafter. I relish the privileges of our liberal society, no it's not perfect but bagging its perks is counter productive. Intolerance is perhaps even more galling when it comes from fellow fags.

They're just jealous bro.

Hags

I used grindr drunk and between the hours of four and six am the other night, which I'm understanding is standard practice, new to me though seeing as I'm without a smart phone and use a tablet without data, thus I go fishing from home. If I had the app with me at all times I'd be significantly less productive and/or punctual, generally. 

I'm going to refrain from using it at this time, and in a similar state in future. In hindsight it was out of some weekend fomo compulsion, getting home to an empty bed still a nubile twenty four year old (cough) under the influence. It just didn't feel right. 

However the resulting hookup was hurried and subpar. And I felt less in control. 

But, he was cute, and there was some promise of seeing each other again, perhaps both of us feeling the lamentable circumstances of our meeting and wishing to repair first impressions accordingly. His flat mate was a fuck wit though. It's like nine am and she storms in on a Sunday morning declaring he's meant to be up and drinking with her, oblivious to the fact he's got a bed-pal as she lifts the blinds, or not so oblivious as she sees my dishevelled and disbelieving head above the covers and tells me I look eerily like Ben, on which they both agree. Who the fuck is Ben? And excuse me, but could you tell your hag to rein it in? I'm naked for fucks sake! 

What's weird is this isn't the first brush I've had with an invasive fag-hag flatmate in the last few months, both of whom are single no doubt. Would this kind of behaviour be acceptable on the flip side, with my hookup storming into her room one groggy morning-after, disrupting her innocent cuddles with a presumably conservative het buddy?

I don't think so. Basic boundaries in any living situation shouldn't be affected by somebody's sexual orientation. I found it patronising. 

Also, sort your fucking drinking out! Unless its mimosas over brunch or you're holidaying in the Greek isles, Sunday morning beverages other than water range from coffee to smoothies. Period.