If you think about it, there are many ways to say goodbye. Farewell. Au revoir. Adios. Ciao. One of my personal favorites: Fuck off. Cheers. Though, just because there are so many ways to say goodbye, it doesn’t always—or ever—make saying goodbye any easier. For starters, the word goodbye is so definitive, so final. It signals that the end of something, often the end of a relationship, has arrived. That small, double-syllable word packs a pretty mighty punch, too, implying that the two individuals saying goodbye plan on never seeing or speaking to each other again. And, in that sense, I can’t . . .
I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong! This isn't another jaded blog article spewing how awful gay men are in this community. I mean, do we really need more content on that topic? Anyone with a pulse is well aware of the fact that gay men suck. And yes, that double entendre was used on purpose. You're welcome. I stand by what I previously wrote in "Bye, Bitter Bitch." I don't want to be angry or sad or pessimistic anymore, specifically when it comes to men and dating. Keeping a positive mindset has definitely been challenging, to say the least, but I'm someone who tried to rock . . .
New year. New month. New goals. Perhaps new relationships, too. This blog article would have been more fitting last month, but a bitch has been busy-ish. And, let’s not mince words: nothing fits great these days—not even sweatpants. Is it still appropriate to blame the holidays for all the extra weight? Regardless, most of the above sounds nice, doesn’t it? However, we can’t forget that with new, well, with new anything, comes new questions. Lots of new questions. Questions like, how do you set—and keep—healthy boundaries? Come to think of it, boundary just may be the word of 2023. Or maybe . . .
I recently had coffee with someone special to me, and it was during this visit that he kindly alluded to the idea that my recent writings, while good and accurate (thank you very much), could be a little off-putting to other readers. My mother wasn’t so kind or subtle when she texted me, stating I’d become bitter and wanted to know what was going on with me. Life, Mom. That’s what’s going on with me. Life, and it can be really fucking hard to navigate at times. I immediately reached out to my best friend, asking if she, too, thought I was bitter. I knew she wouldn't lie to me. Further, she'd . . .
A couple of months ago, I had a thought. Looking back now, I think it was more of a moment of weakness, but the idea formed in my brain, and I took action. I decided to download Tinder, the dating app. Actually, in my opinion, Tinder is more of a dressed-up hook-up app (i.e. a fancy Grindr). That old expression, “putting lipstick on a pig,” feels like an accurate way to not only describe Tinder but the bulk of dating apps today. Maybe even dating in general, whether you use an app or not. (And if you don't use an app to date, what's your secret?) Still, I gave in and started swiping . . . . . .