LXII. The Guy Who Made Me Leave L.A. (The ParTy Series: Part IV)

“Maybe I’ll move away. Start somewhere new, I’ll let you have L.A.”

– Gryffin feat. Katie Pearlman –

I can’t pinpoint one exact reason why I wanted to leave Los Angeles. It’s a place where I began to discover the kaleidoscopic facets of my adulthood, my sexual desires, and, most importantly, love. I developed long-lasting relationships with some of the most beautiful souls I have ever encountered and created fond memories that I still cherish to this day. I fell in love with the city almost instantly all corners of its vibrant streets were filled with an abundance of unceasing excitement. LA made me believe I was capable of anything; to be whoever I want to be, to be free. For a while, I had no desire to ever leave. Los Angeles will forever have a special place in my heart.

LXI. The Guy Who Put The Dog In Doggy Style

“Even annoyance was part of the pleasure we took in each other”

– Garth Greenwell, Cleanness

Dear the person responsible for giving out official names to all sex positions,

First of all, how did you come up with all these weird-ass names? For example, doggy style. What made you think it’s a good idea to draw inspiration from the way dogs reproduce? I did quick research before writing this chapter, and I learned there are way too many obscure sex positions out there. Like… The Wanton Wheelbarrow. What in the bloody hell is that?! And how does any sane human being find any enjoyment in this torturous position? I always seek for pleasure in sex, not trying to break a couple of bones.

Call me a boring bitch or whatever, but I’m perfectly content with the good ole’ missionary position. What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic after all.

LX. The Guy Who Blew Me By The Beach

“What? You don’t love me for my subtlety”

– Julia Quinn, Bridgerton

Let’s talk about public sex. Generally, being naked in public is fantastic — exposing your body in its most primally vulnerable state to our mother nature can be liberating as fuck. But don’t get me wrong… I’m not an exhibitionist (I’m not trying to kink shame any of you). Unless you’re Timothée Chalamet, I detest the idea of my flat ass being objectified by some creepy dudes. And don’t get me started with my overwhelming stage fright and riddling anxiety of having strangers judge my dick-riding prowess. That said, public sex could be a truly magical adventure that I wish all of you could experience one day. Let’s just say that the only thing stopping me from blowing a stranger’s dick at the beach is the fear of going to jail for public indecency.

Does anyone want to buy me a private island with a pristine white beach where I can have biweekly, obnoxiously loud sex on?

LIX. The Guy Whom I Had Sex With On The Apartment Balcony

“You got all the muscles and the features I want, and I want what I want, my love”

– Troye Sivan –

“What’s your type?”

The question got thrown around on dating apps as if one’s visual aesthetic is the sole factor in gauging your appeal. So my question is, what’s your view on physical attractiveness? Do you often find yourself falling for the same type of person over and over again? Do you limit your dating pool to a specific definition of beauty? I have encountered many people who exclusively date the same type of person. Heck, some even wear their preference as a badge of honor. Rice queen, size queen, daddy hunter, you name it.

The more important question is: as a person on the receiving end of the attraction, how would you react to it? Would you find the admiration flattering, or would you be offended that your existence is reduced to your melanin level?

(Didn’t I mention I was going to write about a rice queen in the previous chapter? Well… here it is!)

LVIII. The Guy Who Made Me Try Crystal Meth (The ParTy Series: Part III)

“Every time I feel good, I think it’ll last forever. But it doesn’t”

– Rue Bennett, Euphoria

To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t excited to write this chapter at all. Drug abuse has been an ongoing issue within the LGBTQ+ community, and I’ve witnessed how it destroys the lives of people I care about. My hope is that, by sharing my experience with you, I can be of service to those of you who are wrestling with similar issues. As per usual, I will do my best to keep my story as authentic as possible. That said, there will be some Squirttale-esque flare mixed into the narrative for additional entertainment values. So I apologize in advance if I come across as glamorizing drug abuse as it’s genuinely not my intention. Please keep in mind that I’m by no means advocating reckless drug use. And if you are currently struggling with substance abuse, this chapter might not be right for you, as you might find some of my contents triggering. So for once, I’m giving you permission to skip the chapter if you choose to do so.

P.S. Do yourself a favor by reading chapter L for a quick recap of my previous story with this chapter’s muse!

LVII. The Guy Who’s Not Ready For A Relationship (First Gay Crush Series: Part II)

“I know better than to ever call you mine”

– FINNEAS –

The different ways to define a relationship these days are confusing as fuck. I’ve seen two people who act like an old married couple but don’t mind saying they’re just “seeing each other.” Sure, how people want to define their relationship is none of my fucking business. However, things can get complicated when the parties involved have different expectations for the love affair. It’s unfair for one person to be invested in the relationship while the other is still busy exploring their options. One can say that this problem can be avoided if you can communicate clearly with your partner. But God forbid we ever show our emotion as people these days get turned off the moment the “what are we?” talk comes along. Dating as a millennial is so fucked up.

As a side note, can somebody tell me the differences between “going steady,” “seeing each other,” “dating,” and “in a relationship”? And why do we feel the need to have these confusingly distinctive labels?

LVI. The Guy Who Moved To Los Angeles (First Gay Crush Series: Part I)

“Do you want to try? Get to know each other. You don’t have to like me very much, just open your heart to me”.

– Sarawat, 2gether: The Series

Have you ever come across a person so intriguing that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to get to know them better? Whether it’s because of some superficial reasons or their witty Instagram captions, you have this burning desire to explore the things that could happen with this person. You are aware that, in reality, this person might not live up to your expectations. Still, you couldn’t care less about the possibility of being let down as you’re more interested in knowing the inspiration behind their puppy pics on Instagram. This person is the projection of your ideal partner. I personally don’t believe in the idea of love at first sight, as I believe that love is a culmination of tedious processes. So I guess you can call this experience, what, an initial attraction? Whatever this thing is called, it’s the feeling I felt with my first gay crush.

P.S. This is the long-awaited continuation of Chapter III. Feel free to go back to that chapter for a quick recap!

LV. The Guy Whom I Hooked Up With In A Marriott Lobby Bathroom

“Hey Dad, look at me, think back and talk to me, did I grow up according to plan?”

– Simple Plan –

How comfortable are you talking about sex with your loved ones? Do you spill the T about your personal conquests with the same people who changed your diapers years ago? I personally find it excruciatingly awkward to talk about my sex life with my parents. Even if I weren’t into taking a penis up my butt, I would not be comfortable with my parents thinking about a vagina belonging to a girl my age. I am perfectly fine with my parents assuming that I am still a twenty-something-year-old virgin, which we all know is not the case. For whatever reason, I rarely talk about my personal life with my parents. So to those who know me in real life, please don’t tell my parents about this blog. I don’t want to die of embarrassment just yet.

LIV. The Guy Who Sneaked Out To The Treasure Island Hotel

“The thing I love about Vegas is there’s something for any type of mood you’re in and something for any kind of adventure you seek out”

– Christina Tosi –

Oh, Las Vegas. Words can’t begin to describe my conflicting feelings for this concrete oasis. On one hand, some of my most cherished memories with my closest friends happened during our sinful adventures on The Strip. From the blinding lights to the various forms of escapism, Vegas has it all. However, it’s relatively easy to lose any sense of self-control in Vegas once you overindulge in said entertainments. Most people describe going to Vegas as taking a dangerously addictive drug. The moment you taste your first win on the poker table or step into one of those grandiose nightclubs, you’ll feel the sudden rush of dopamine. But just like every drug-related euphoria, you’ll spend the next hours doing whatever it takes to chase the same high. And sometimes, things do not end well

But don’t worry, I’m saving those messy Vegas stories for later chapters. Instead, here’s a story about how I lied to my family to hook up with a stranger!

LII. The Guys Who Eye Fucked Me In A Korean Spa

“I think my personality is my best asset, but the eyes go to the boobs. But, like, my face isn’t too bad, I don’t think so.”

– Francesca Farago –

The eyes are the window to the soul. For homosexuals all over the world (myself included), the saying above resonates deeply with us. Our eyes are our primary arsenal to communicate our interest in the masc daddies standing across the bar. We spent years training ourselves to master the art of rapid room-scanning to identify our fellow homosexuals. Yes, this can also hold true for you heterosexual beings out there. However, for us homosexuals, there’s an extra layer of precaution we need to take, especially for us living in an extremely conservative place. For us, one flirtatious glance at the wrong person can lead to a face full of bruises or, worse, a few years in prison. So, the next time you notice a quirky-looking guy staring at you non-stop from across the room, please don’t be offended. He might just be a blogger who wants to write about doing the nasty with you.