Outside My Type

So, I've decided I'm gonna alternate posts - one post will be merely text (whether fiction or random musings) and one will contain something that is not text - whether this be audio, visual, audio-visual... you get the gist, right?

First of all I'd just like to point out that this is NOT (though appearances may fool you) a gay blog. It's just a blog written by a gay man and that is it. Any photos I put up of people are not representative of their sexuality, lifestyle, religion, political leanings and all that stuff. Glad we got that straightened out - pardon the pun. Yeah, occasionally I'll write something about being gay, or gay stuff, or whatever but I'm not gonna bombard people with "Look how gay I am with my gayness" or any of that. In fact most of the blokes I like are straight. This is a problem.

See, I'm what is known in the gay world as a "twink". For those of you not in the know, that means I'm thin, pretty young-looking, I put hair products on my hair etc etc. I may be gay but I'm no queen and I like manly stuff just as much (well alright, perhaps not quite as much) as the next guy. I mean I like rugby players (you may appreciate this already) but the only place I'm liable to be rolling around with them is a bedroom rather than a muddy field with 50,000 spectators. This is what's known as "liking outside my type". People seem to be under this ridiculous impression that because I dress how I dress (that is, fashionably) and am thin/skinny and have no facial hair etc that this is what I'm looking for in a bloke.

This is so far from the truth it's unbelievable.

I mean yeah, someone who dresses well would be nice but aside from that I represent the antithesis of what I'm looking for in a partner. Ultimately I like rugby players, bears (you know, guys with beards, chest hair, the lot), strongmen, stocky blokes...
MEN, in other words. I mean basically, if you religiously wax your eyebrows and shave your chest before cracking open a WKD on a Friday night and then running up and down your city's gay district with your top off, only to reveal what is essentially the body of an overdeveloped twelve-year-old as you mince down the street with an overexaggerated lisp, then I don't wanna know. Not to put too fine a point on it.

Look, perhaps a visual explanation will help you out. Avert your eyes if offended by actual masculinity.

























































































I think you probably get what I'm trying to say right? The only problem is that because I'm small, skinny and look about 17 I have a VERY hard time getting blokes who aren't small, skinny and looking about 17.

So what to do? I mean I guess I could just put a load of weight on (tried it), join a gym (er, no way - I hate my body enough without 60 buff guys in short shorts confirming my worst fears - i mean this is the weird thing with gyms right, everyone expects you to already be ripped when you go in there. But it's like, if you were, why would you need a gym?) or just accept my fate and marry a skinny, hairless boygirl.

Right now I'm aiming firmly at the latter, much to my distaste.