You're Not One of Those California Fags...

...but you used to be. Which is why you are so surprised at how bizarrely un-gay your vacation turns out to be. Not only do you miss The Abbey's LA Gay Pride Party by a day (which is hosted by everybody's favorite Dirty Sexy Honey, Candis Cayne), you actually end up getting into a fight with an Abbey bartender over the trials and tribulations of closing your tab. Not to mention the fact that you don't meet anybody! And let's face it, you're the kind of fag that usually winds up meeting everyone! But you're happy because you get to catch up with your WeHo friends. Palm Springs turns out to be more of the same, but you do have a hoot at Wang's, but that probably has more to do with their $2 Happy Hour than with their clientele. The spotty liver-spotted crowd makes of Silver Foxes actually makes you feel like a spring chicken, and you can't help but smile when you pass by a man who says, "Hello, Gorgeous!" as you pass by. When you turn to smile at the adorable senior citizen (who retired long before you were born) you notice that he has one purple hair swirled around his head so many times that you begin to wonder if he got it styled a soft-serve specialist at Carvel? Anyway. San Francisco is more of the same, but that has more to do with the fact that you are there for your best friend's birthday who happens to be *gasp* straight. It's a big one for Blondie so you sacrifice your one gay night in the City by the Bay to celebrate with all of her straight mommy friends and let them have Pity for the Gay. You don't mind though, because the liquor flows and you have an excellent time, or at least that's what Blondie informs you when you wake up the next morning before flying back with a massive vodka-stained hangover.

Luckily with a quick swipe of your Visa, Jet Blue offers you some Hair of the Dog and by the time you land in New York you are more than ready to get your gay on, so you head directly to Fire Guyland from JFK. Before you can say Planter's Punch, you're actually sipping away at one during Low Tea. Which, Dear Reader, is where your story really begins. You become instantly aware that you certainly didn't leave your heart in San Francisco as you feel it drop onto the dance floor and get trampled upon during an Absolutely (Not) predictable Deborah Cox song. After catching your breath, just like Deborah, you decide not to compromise your point of view and race over to the boy who you've had bookmarked on Connexion since April Fools Day, 2007. You're definitely not going to let this opportunity pass, because, honey, you ain't no fool!

Your voice quivers as you ask the Most Masculine Man you've ever seen, "You were at Room and Board about a month or so ago, right? Furniture shopping with your parents?" However, when he laughs and confirms you suspicion with a snake-like "Yesssssss," you are in a bit of shock when his fabulous Fendi Bag practically falls out of his mouth. Although you are initially a bit shocked, you decide to ignore his lingering "s" and decide to give Massssculine Man another chance, because, after all, why the hell shouldn't you? This turns out to be a great decision because the two of you have a great time chugging drinks and chatting away during Low Tea. He's, surprise-surprise, an interior decorator, who grew up in Connecticut just like you. And like any good WASP, this boy likes to drink! His drinks are actually disappearing even faster than yours! You wind up having a lot in common, but most importantly, the Massssculine Man actually makes you crack a smile. Although he's not knee-slappingly funny, he is definitely ass-slappingly good looking enough to dig deeper for a sense of humor. So when he tells you that he has to go to the bathroom, you definitely decide to stay put and wait for the Massssculine Man to return. You wind up running into a few friends while you wait. And wait. And wait. However when the music stops abruptly, signaling that it is time for all Fire Island Fags to funnel their way from Low to High Tea, you suddenly find yourself feeling sssstood-up. The place empties almost instantaneously and there is nary a boy in the bathroom line, so you have no choice but to abandon ship and you follow your friends over to High Tea with your head Hung Low. You can't help but wonder whether your disappointment has more to do with the fact that you really did like this guy, or perhaps you just being a big baby about being rejected by the Massssculine Man?

You head upstairs with Rice Queen and Half-Share and wander through the mess of messy men at High Tea, looking for the rest of your Kinsey 8 housemates to inquire about your dinnertime. However, you instantly lose your appetite when you look up and notice the Massssculine Man taking his last ssssip from a cocktail that he must've ordered long ago while you were busy waiting patiently for him to return from the bathroom. Although you are completely embarrassed when you catch eyes, you decide confront the situation and you walk right up to him and ask (borderline) politely, "What happened to you?" When the Massssculine Man informs you that, "I looked for you..." you hear nothing but his blah-blah-blah about his famous dissssappearing act since you never left the sssspot where the two of you sssstood and yapped for over an hour. The same spot which happened to be less than ten feet from the bathroom. Since you have no interest in wasting more of anybody's time, you tell the Massssculine Man that you've got to find your housemates and quickly move on, albeit only physically, as emotionally you feel rather sssstuck.

That, of course, is when you notice the Endohottie who you met about a month ago on an irritatingly sober coffee date, and although you weren't sure if you were really all that into him, you decide that you might have more fun chatting over a Gay Cocktail. So you make your way over and give the Endohottie a big smile as you ask him what he's been up to. Luckily the Endohottie doesn't waste an hour of your time, because in about 3.2 sentences he informs you that he's got to head home to cook dinner for his house. And you just stand there for a moment of pity, where you suddenly find yourself wishing you were still in California where nobody bothered to talk to you. Anyway...

Greetings From...

...Boston! Desperately seeking this elusive boy with the so-called Massive Pike.

xoxo You!

Greetings From...

...the George Michael concert at Madison Square Garden!

FAG POLE: What do you do when you finally meet the guy of your dreams only to find out he already has a boyfriend?

38% of You said, "I move on because I have no interest in being The Other Woman."

33% of You said, "When I finish sobbing, I immediately consult my shrink about my pattern of only being attracted to unavailable boys."

17% of You said, "I pursue him, of course! All's fair in love and war. Besides I'm much cuter than his fugly old boyfriend!"

10% of You said, "I'll have a three-way with them both but will ignore the boyfriend unless he's good in bed..."

Number of Fags Who Voted: 84

You're Not One of Those Fags Who Juggles Boys...

...but when you wake up the next morning (in your own bed which is actually slightly disconcerting) your iPhone is definitely juggling text messages from both Bald Boy and Baby Daddy. Since you're so terrible with names, you're actually terrified that you'll mix up their names and end up calling one Bald Baby and the other Daddy Boy. But there's little chance of a naming mishap in a text, so you answer Baby Daddy's offer of getting together tomorrow night before he goes to some charity event. You actually chuckle at the offer (perhaps Baby Daddy does have a sense of humor after all?) because it seems a bit lame. If Baby Daddy isn't going to invite you to the actual charity event, then why is he bothering to ask you out at all? If he wants to go out on a real date, then he should choose a night when he's not busy. Right? Perhaps he's juggling even more boys than you are... Anyway. You respond with a less than exuberant, "What time?" and then click send. Of course you instantly regret it when you read Bald Boy's message because Bald Boy wants to know if you'd like to grab dinner, get this, tomorrow night! Ugh. You are so lame at this Dating Game. So you text Bald Boy back and say that you are waiting to hear back from a "friend" about tentative plans, but if they fall through then you'd love to have dinner with him. And the funny thing is that you're not lying. You'd much rather have dinner with Bald Boy than be the recipient of Baby Daddy's charity before his Charity Event.

After six hours of textpectation while waiting for Baby Daddy to respond (the boy is unemployed, how busy could he be?) you decide that you can wait no longer. So you text Bald Boy and say that your "friend" never got back to you so you'd love to grab a bite tomorrow night. Of course, you wind up hearing back from Baby Daddy exactly twenty minutes after you RSVP to Bald Boy. Your nerves are already shot and you haven't even gone out on an actual date with either of these boys yet! Just one extended Three-Night-Stand with Bald Boy and one No-Night-Stand with Baby Daddy. So you write back to Baby Daddy and tell him that you ended up making plans since you never heard back from him, yet suggest getting together next week after you get back from California.

The next night you meet Bald Boy at a church on the corner of Carmine & Bleecker and, although he's on the phone when you arrive, surprisingly on-time, Bald Boy greets you with a big smile and squeezes your knee when you sit down on the steps next to him. He gets off the phone quickly and gives you three cheap n' cheerful choices (at your request) of pizza, pasta or sushi. Since you've been feeling a bit Gay Fat recently, you end up choosing sushi and the two of you end up having a lovely romantic dinner on the back patio of Yama.

Although your phone almost vibrates itself out of your cargo shorts during dinner, you luckily have the good sense not to check it until you excuse yourself for the bathroom. Apparently when it rains, it whores. Not only has Baby Daddy finally gotten back to you about setting a date, but the Portuguese Brazilian From London is also in town and wants to get together before commuting back across the pond! And if that isn't enough, there is also an email from the Columbia Colombian photographer you met a few weeks ago, but you decide right then and there to let that one slip through the cracks and delete the email without giving it a second thought.

The conversation is anything but light, and, needless to say, there ain't a lot of laughs. You talk about Murdered Mothers and Dead Dads and since you're about to burst into tears you somehow resist the urge to burst into song and sing about how it's a Hard Knock Life. Although you know this is completely tasteless, you also have faith that there is a boy out there who would laugh at your twisted joke because his sense of humor will be just as fucked up as yours. But Bald Boy is not that boy.

After dinner you go back to Bald Boy's balmy studio and you're about to let him have his way with you when he mentions that he has dated not one, but two of your Connexion friends! Once again, you start humming "It's a Small World After All," but this time you're not being a nasty size queen. Eventually the two of you get down to some dirty gay business, however it's not as good as it was at the beach. Now that you're back in the city and not playing Beach House, everything seems a little more real. A little too real. Even though the sex has been pretty great, as soon as you know a relationship isn't going anywhere you always wind up emotionally divesting, which inevitably has a direct effect on the chemistry, and ultimately turns your great sex into some merely mediocre man-mashing.

Afterwards you hop in the shower to freshen up and when you emerge squeaky clean, Bald Boy informs you that he has to wake up at 6:40 for a breakfast meeting. Since it's already midnight, you decide that you'd rather have your beauty sleep than cuddle for a few hours before being kicked to the curb. Bald Boy doesn't seem particularly distraught over your departure as he walks you to the door and gives you a peck before letting you out. Suddenly it feels like you have one less pair of testicles in the air to worry about. Anyway...

You're Not One of Those Fags Who Has a Laundry List of Boyfriend Qualifications...

...but you do have five things on a very short list that you absolutely must have. At first glance they seem rather simple, however, when taking into account your dismally unsuccessful dating history over the past four years, they actually seem rather elusive:

1. Must make you laugh.
2. Must have great sex.
3. Must like to cuddle.
4. Must like the beach.
5. Must like to drink. (Okay perhaps this qualification should hold a more coveted position on your list...)

But nothing else is negotiable! This, of course, is your first thought when you wake up in Bald Boy's arms (#3) with a bit of a hangover (#5) after a night of great sex (#2) at Bald Boy's beach house (#4). Bald Boy is a very rare species. He's a four out of five. Unfortunately (for you), Bald Boy is missing your number one requirement and, after a romantic weekend of no laughs, this is something that even you can't deny. Although you've had a magical beach weekend in Ocean Grove, you can't help but wonder if today will actually be the end of your Three-Night-Stand?

You and Bald Boy explore Asbury Park and the day flies by. Later on you have a pleasant, yet humorless drive back to the city so you can meet the Boy Luck Club for dinner and, surprise-surprise, drinks. You and Bald Boy say your goodbyes on a West Village sidewalk and Bald Boy asks you about your plans this week before you head to California. Since you don't really have any plans (Loser, party of one!), Bald Boy tells you that he'll call to make a date which seems perfect. You're actually curious to have some alone time so you can sort out how exactly how you feel about Bald Boy. Either you'll keep thinking about him or it'll be yet another case of "Out of Sight, Out of Hind..." Only time will tell.

You race home to drop off your stuff and shower, and then meet the Boy Luck Club at Elmo where you order the world's weakest, yet most expensive mocktail masquerading as a Mandarin and Soda. In fact, the drink is so weak that the taste of lime actually over-powers the non-existent hint of mandarin (even though you haven't even squeezed the lime!) But you and the boys have lots of laughs during a nice, sober dinner sitting outside on Seventh Avenue before deciding to swing by G for some drinks that actually contain liquor. You wait at the bar for your your favorite Red Headed Bartender who makes drinks the way they were supposed to be made (strong!) while a very hot muscle boy (stronger!) standing next to you crushes a wet napkin and throws it over the bar into a trash can. Without a moment of hesitation, you actually forfeit your turn to order from the Red Headed Bartender in order to say, "Two points," to the cute muscle boy who chuckles, but walks away.

But then he walks back. So you say in a snarky, yet somewhat confused tone, "You're back." To which he responds, "I realized that I should've stayed." And the two of you begin to sip your drinks (#5 -- Check!) while chatting about how jealous he is about your beach weekend (#4 -- Check!). Before you can get through the rest of your check list, the muscle boy throws you for a loop and tells you that he has two kids? He used to be married (to a girl no less!) and has a five and ten year old. You, of course, start imagining yourself making his children's lives a living hell as their Evil Stepmonster, ordering them to polish your Pradas as you yell "Make them shine like the top of the Chrysler Building!" and, of course, beating them with wire hangers if they fail to deliver. Your fantasy of free slave labor gets you kind of hot and it isn't long before you and your Baby Daddy are making out in the back of the bar. It gets pretty intense, so when Baby Daddy asks you to come back to his place you begin to have a moral dilemma. Actually it's more of a whore-al dilemma. For someone who recently proclaimed to be too old and mature to have one night stands anymore, you ironically find yourself in the precarious and slightly slutty position of not having slept in your own bed for the past three nights. But the big question is: Will you try for four, Whore?

Of course you will! As you are hailing a taxi you decide to check out the Guinness Book of World Records first thing when you wake up tomorrow just to see if you've actually broken some Homeless Hooker's record. For now, however, you settle for another Guinness when Baby Daddy offers you a drink. Although Baby Daddy's apartment is a bit messy and dirty laundry is scattered about the floor, you, my friend, are much more interested in seeing how many more qualifications you can check off your laundry list. It doesn't take long before you are both naked in bed and you're a bit shocked because Baby Daddy's upper body is so big and bulky that you begin to wonder if he's on steroids? However, the balls never lie and there ain't no shrunken junk downstairs. In fact, everything seems to be extra-large which is actually somewhat shocking after spending your wee-weekend with Bald Boy (and no, you are not st-st-stuttering).

The sex is pretty fucking amazing (#2 -- Check!), and afterwards you are so exhausted that you actually fall asleep in Baby Daddy's arms for god knows how long (#3 -- Check!), but when you wake up you decide that you have to go back to your Home-Sweet-Hovel, partly because you feel like you are somehow desecrating Bald Boy who you haven't actually thought about until right now because, just like Bald Boy, Baby Daddy has yet to make you laugh (#1). Anyway...

You're Not One of Those Fags Who Blows Off His Friends For a Boy...

...however, if a blow job is involved, then you can't be held responsible for any selfish actions. Luckily your friends understand this. Well, your gay friends. Anyway. So there you are. At the Jersey Shore. In bed with a recently debriefed Bald Boy. And you're kind of in shock. Although you definitely don't consider yourself to be a size queen (actually you're a big fan of average), you are definitely a bit surprised by his small, err, stature. And honey, you've seen quite a few statures in your day. Even though this particular stature is hard and ready to rumble, it's actually the same exact size as you are, when you're ready to fumble and completely flaccid. Seriously.

Luckily you are extremely attracted to Bald Boy and his amazing swimmers build, so you quickly move from flaccid to placid and, once you get over the initial visual shock, the whole experience actually turns out to be pretty damn hot. Bald Boy is a little dirty and he starts to push you around in the bed, telling you things like, "You like that." He has no questions. Just authoritative statements. The best part is that he's always right. You do like that. In fact you like everything that Bald Boy is doing.

In the morning you make some delicious eggs, but while you're cooking you suddenly have this feeling that you're playing house. This is something that you are vaguely familiar with since you lived with your Ex for over a decade. But oddly enough you're only on day three of your Two Night Stand and, although you know you'll be leaving this afternoon, you are perfectly content playing Martha Stewart and making eggs while you both plan a day of wandering through Ocean Grove's annual flea market. Although it's an odd feeling, you are thoroughly enjoying it because this is definitely what you want. You want to play House. You especially want to play Beach House! Even though you're quite aware that something a bit intangible is missing, you are definitely enjoying your fantasy weekend way too much to spend much time analyzing it. After all, there are fleas to be marketed!

The two of you roam the flea market like an old married couple, wondering if you can make use of other people's useless things, but the only purchase is an old mirror that Bald Boy buys for the landing at the top of his staircase. Even though you can't really picture the spot he's describing, like a good wife you agree that it will look absolutely fabulous. Afterwards you both race home in order to beat the rain clouds that are storming toward the little town. Luckily you win the race and wind up having thunderous sex during an extremely violent electrical storm.

Afterward, Bald Boy gets a call about a dinner invitation and he looks over at you, lying naked on the bed and asks pointedly if you'd like to come along, even though he knows you have to leave in a few hours. Only now you don't want to leave. You're enjoying yourself, or rather, you're enjoying escaping yourself. You love playing Beach House and the two of you are having a really pleasant time. The idea of schlepping to Billyburg for a wine tasting party is becoming less and less appealing. But you remind Bald Boy that, indeed, you have to leave, but he looks deep into your eyes as he tells his friend, "He's not sure yet." And, one thing's for sure, Bald Boy is absolutely right.

Ultimately, surprise-surprise, you wind up texting your Wine Tasting friend to cancel. Although you know texting her is totally lame, you decide not to call because you don't want to be talked out out of your selfish decision to keep playing Beach House. Later on at the dinner party, which is wall-to-wall gay couples, you finally realize exactly why you it is that your game of Beach House is purely fictional. Although there are four other couples, there is only one boy at the table that you're enjoying talking to. And it's not Bald Boy. The friend is absolutely hysterical and the two of you wind up laughing and giggling like a gaggle of girls about the silliest little things. When you ultimately find yourself wishing that this particular boy didn't have a boyfriend, that's when it suddenly becomes crystal clear that, although you've had a picture perfect weekend playing Beach House, you have yet to share a hearty laugh with Bald Boy. The last time you remember belly laughing was back in the city when you got a glimpse of your BFF's horrendous free S & M haircut he got at The Eagle. Just before you left the city to play Beach House with Bald Boy. Anyway...

You're Not One of Those Size Queen Fags...

...but when you leave Bald Boy's studio apartment, you find yourself wondering if you could live in place that was so small? His bed, toilet, and refrigerator are all within a five-foot radius. However, if it meant that you could afford a beach house, then you would probably choose to shit where you slept also. You kiss Bald Boy goodbye while pondering his bold invitation to spend the weekend at his beach house on the Jersey Shore. When you hit the street to make your Walk of Shame after a One-Night-Cuddlefuck-Stand, you instantly realize that you left your laptop & backpack at your BFF's house last night. So you and your unbrushed teeth call your BFF and head up to his place before he leaves for work, and when you arrive he is absolutely miserable. You can't help but laugh as he shows you the hatchet job that the crackhead barber at The Eagle gave him last night beneath the four watt bulb. It definitely looked better in the dark. Although you definitely feel bad for his harried dilemma, you can't help but remind him that you did try to talk him out of it...

When you finally get home you notice a text from Bald Boy that says, "I was serious about the offer to visit this weekend." So you respond, “And I am seriously considering it! What if I went down with you tonight and took the train back tomorrow so I wouldn’t miss my friend’s party?" Bald Boy writes back immediately, "That would be fantastic! Whatever works best for you. I was hoping to be on the way out of town around 1 or 1:30.”

Although you're still a bit foggy from the combined effects of booze and lack of sleep, you end up doing a bit of work before packing your bag and heading back over to Bald Boy's house to begin he second day of what has now become a Two Night Stand. Bald Boy buzzes you in and tells you to make yourself comfortable while he goes upstairs to get his Ex's dog. You share an kiss before he leaves and then you suddenly feel a bit awkward, mostly because you are now wondering if you are making a tragic mistake. But, you tell yourself, if you wind up having a terrible time you will just hop on a train and come home. It's a bit weird sitting alone in Bald Boy's apartment. You don't know this boy at all and yet you are about to take a vacation with him! Hell, you haven't even had sex yet! However, you can't help but be touched by his confident move of inviting a relative stranger to his beach house for the weekend. You love how he's just thrown caution to the wind, which, honestly, is why you accepted the impressively bold offer in the first place. That's when he returns with the dog who races over to greet you with a salutatory sniff of your balls, just like the boys greeting each other last night at The Eagle.

Traffic is terrible and it takes you an hour just to get to the Holland Tunnel from the West Village. But it's all good because you both seem to have lots of questions for each other so time seems to fly by. The beach house turns out to be amazingly beautiful and you feel instantly comfortable in a way that you know you've made the right decision to come. After you get situated, Bald Boy takes you on a tour of Ocean Grove which turns out to be the cutest little town ever, and you certainly enjoy his passion for his Home Away from Homo. You wander down Main Avenue looking at all the little Methodist's tented cottages and all beautiful Victorians, painstakingly restored by the Gays. You enjoy the ocean while taking a romantic walk along the boardwalk before heading over to Nagles for a very late lunch. But as you are walking into the restaurant you're a bit freaked out when Bald Boy asks you, "So what are your hobbies?" Suddenly you feel like you are on a Match.com job interview and your mind quickly goes blank. Do you even have any hobbies? Drinking doesn't count, does it? Bald Boy fills in your silence by asking you if you like to read. You say, "Of course," and then begin to discuss various books that you have both read recently. Although the conversation is interesting, you begin to notice that there isn't a lot of laughing going on. In fact, it's actually rather dry. Bald Boy is not really funny. At all. But he's so nice and extremely smart and unbelievably sweet that you begin to wonder if you could see yourself having a relationship with a boy who doesn't make you laugh?

That evening you are both so exhausted from your First-Night-Stand that you decide to stay in and watch Being Julia on DVD as you lay in each other's arms. Although the cuddling is very nice, you begin to wonder whether you're ever going to have sex with this boy? But, luckily, the kissing begins just as the movie ends and soon you find yourself being yanked toward Bald Boy's bedroom. And this time the underwear finally comes off. Only suddenly you find yourself in the precarious position of wishing it hadn't. You can't help but picture yourself suffering on an insufferable Disneyland boat ride while an endlessly repetitive soundtrack reminds you that, "It's a Small World After All!" Anyway...

Greetings From...

...the Yaz reunion concert!

You're Not One of Those Impulsive Fags...

...although you are definitely compulsive. But impulsive? Well, maybe just a wee bit, however when it comes to dating? Not so much. Okay, okay! So you're more impulsive than most. Perhaps even a hell of a lot more. Only you like to think you're getting better. Right? You giggle to yourself as you and Bald Boy hop in a cab outside of The Eagle and head toward the West Village. When Bald Boy asks you awkwardly, "What's so funny?" you tell him about the conversation you had with your Gal Pal, mere hours ago, about how you thought you were over having one night stands. Bald Boy gives you a hearty laugh which quickly turns into a lengthy kiss after you stare into his piercing blue eyes for a moment too long.

Although you're the first to pull away from the embrace, you continue to hold Bald Boy's hand as the yellow cab races down Ninth Avenue. That's when Bald Boy asks, "Who says it's going to be a one night stand?" You smile at his optimistic confidence, but since this is not your first time around this particular tree-lined Chelsea block, you can't help but wonder where this 2am testosterone fueled union will lead? And when Bald Boy tells you in the form of a question, "Let's just sleep together, okay?" you respond by squeezing his large palm. Honestly, that's all you are craving at this particular moment. Kisses and intimacy from a complete stranger, with a healthy dose of possibility, of course.

Bald Boy's studio apartment is on one of those old fashioned West Village blocks with new fashioned prices. When you walk into the apartment you can instantly tell that it's not a rental. Nothing is cheap enough for a New York landlord: cardboard doors outfitted with fist-sized holes, windows that don't properly close and refrigerators that are so old they should be called ice-boxes. You should know since you are actually describing your own Home-Sweet-Hovel! But Bald Boy's apartment actually has walls that make right angles! Complete with appliances that have fancy features like ice-makers and self-cleaning ovens! Best of all, Bald Boy's confident yet soothing personality is easily perceptible from the way he has decorated the place. As usual, you immediately ask to use the bathroom, partly because you have to go, but mostly because you want to see how dirty it is. Bathrooms never lie. Although you don't inspect his medicine cabinet (that kind of intimacy is best saved for a second date), you are happy to find an immaculately clean salle de bains that smells like fresh fluffy towels instead of mildew. You also like that the bathroom isn't overflowing with product. You've found that boys who spend too much time worrying about how good they look, never seem to have time left over to worry about how good you feel.

You wash your hands and head into the bedroom where, in your absence, several candles have miraculously been lit. However you barely even notice them because you are magnetically drawn toward those piercing blue eyes. You and your kisses are quickly yanked into Bald Boy's bed and, although your clothes are just as quickly removed, Bald Boy whispers into your ear, "Let's keep our underwear on, okay?" And nobody is happier than you, except for maybe your Whiskey Dick. But you're thrilled to just lie in the candle-lit bed, soaking up Bald Boy's affectionate kisses while exploring everything not covered by his Calvin Klein briefs on his amazingly smooth swimmer's build.

Eventually your kisses turn into spooning and as you are falling asleep in Bald Boy's arms you have an overwhelming feeling of safety. Somehow in your last conscious thought before you doze off, you realize that tomorrow, when you wake up with a sobering hangover, somehow you know you won't regret your decision to spend the night. Perhaps that's how you've matured? Maybe it's not the one night stand that you have a problem with anymore? Possibly it's just the idea of having one with someone you'll regret waking up with?

And when Bald Boy's alarm goes off seemingly five minutes after he set it, you instantly realize that you were right. Instead of slumping off to his bathroom, Bald Boy hits his snooze button and pulls your arms around him into a tight hug. You kiss the back of his neck as you bathe in the warmth of his torso. The snooze button is pushed repeatedly, and the lack of sleep somehow acts as a double-negative as your combined exhaustion is somehow replaced with warm kisses. With tongue! In the morning! Without having ever brushed your teeth! You are in shock at all the rules you are breaking, but find yourself helpless to fight your morning hormones as you continue to grope each other until the last possible second when Bald Boy has to leave for work. Although the underwear never comes off, the poor guy doesn't even get a chance to take a shower before going to work. You inspect your bed-head as you gather up last night's outfit from the floor for your impending walk of shame while your follicularly challenged friend brushes his teeth. Although Bald Boy is the one spitting toothpaste from his mouth, you are the one who practically does the spit-take when he sticks his head out of the bathroom and asks you, "Would you like to come to the beach with me this weekend?" Although you find yourself to be completely and utterly stunned, even though you want to scream, "Yes!" you somehow find yourself yapping about some wine tasting party that you've been invited to on Saturday night. And that's when Bald Boy confidently tells you to "Blow it off." Anyway...

Are You One of Those Fags Who's Into Three-Ways?

34% of You said, "Not really. One boy is inevitably way cuter than the other and I'm not a big fan of the pity fuck."

32% of You said, "Yes! But only when I'm the Guest Star."

30% of You said, "Never! I'm strictly a One-on-One kind of boy."

2% of You said, "Of course! The only time my boyfriend and I have sex is when some other boy is sandwiched between us!"

Number of Fags Who Voted: 82

Greetings from...

...the Fire Island Pines Invasion!

You're Not the Type of Fag Who Has One Night Stands...

...anymore. Or at least this is the bullshit that actually comes out of your mouth during your daily boy update with your Gal Pal. For some reason you just feel like you're over one night stands. Perhaps you've gotten *gasp* too old, or perhaps you've learned that these hook-ups never seem to turn into anything worthwhile. Lately you've been pretty clear headed about finding someone substantial, and you decide that this elusive species of gay boys are probably looking for someone substantial themselves. Although you like to believe that, deep down beneath your shallowness, you, too, are substantial, you can't help but wonder whether you've been hiding this lesser known trait to the world? Or instead of being substantial, have you just been acting a bit substandard? It's not like you have anything against a one night stand. Hell, some of your best friends have come out of these situations. Well, best acquaintances. Whose names you never seem to remember. But you digress. It's not a moral issue, more like a whore-al issue. How do you expect to find the man of your dreams if you keep acting like a hooker? Let's face it honey, you're not Julia Roberts and this ain't no Pretty Woman.

Later that afternoon, during Happy Hour if you must be exact, you get a text from your BFF telling you to meet him at XES for a Gay Cocktail, and although his misspellings don't initially cause any misgivings, when you arrive at Happy Hour you quickly realize that your BFF is already quite Happy. This is audibly evident thanks to his tongue ring which seems to get heavier with each drink, and ultimately works like a breathalyzer for discerning how many cocktails he's had. Considering that he can no longer produce the letter R without chipping a tooth, you can quickly surmise that your BFF is on his fourth Tanqueray and Tonic. This, of course, means only one thing to you. You better catch up. And quick!

It's a gorgeous night, and after the XES Happy Hour ends, you both decide to go to a place with an outdoor space. Although it is typically not your scene, now that you are sporting a bushy new beard, you uncharacteristically suggest going to The Eagle. Your BFF thinks this is a grand idea, mostly because he lives a block away from the bar, but partly so you can drop off your backpacks at his place, and, of course, mix yourselves a free cocktail. You ask if you can trade in your bright red preppy-ass Lacoste for something a bit more butch, and you are pleased as punch with a form fitting Graphic Tee sporting a '60s muscle car. Unfortunately, the bouncer at The Eagle is less than pleased with your new outfit and tells you that you aren't allowed inside with the T-shirt. Apparently, the Fashion Dicktator, who is donning nothing more than Leather Chaps and Nipple Rings, thinks your cute T-Shirt is too, get this, busy. So you stand there, dumbfounded, until he says you can come in if you take it off. Now, it's not like you don't go to the gym four or five times a week, but it's also not like you feel comfortable being half naked in public. But your BFF (who's wearing a much more acceptable stained Wife-Beater) says, "Just take it off" as he pushes past you and Anna Winwhore on the way to the bar.

Although you worry about what a brown shirt hanging out of your back pocket might mean amongst the Leather Crowd, you put it there anyway. You hesitantly make your way up the stairs, however, once you set foot on the massive deck, your confidence goes through the non-existent roof! Between the Flat Ass wearing nothing but a jock strap, and the hairy Chia-Pet wearing nothing but sneakers, you've never felt so good about your body before! You briefly consider donating your entire ensemble to the worthy cause of clothing these Gents, but, unfortunately, your Cub-Sized clothing wouldn't cover too much of these Bare Bears. This is when your BFF turns to you and says, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore." And you ask, "Don't you mean Ken's Ass?"

You're instantly struck by a cowering boy who is sitting down beneath a four watt light bulb, in the middle of the roof deck bar, getting his, get this, haircut by a man whose pupils are so dilated that you begin to be convinced that the dim bulb might actually be giving off enough light for a decent cut. But when a Crooked Mohawk is shaved onto the twenty-two year old, you wonder whether you should help out by flashing your cell phone upon the poor boy's head. That's when, out of nowhere, an extremely sexy, in shape, surprisingly hairless boy walks up to you and practically penetrates you with his piercing blue eyes as he asks, "Do you have a profile on Connexion?" to which you happily answer, "Yes." And when he begins to rattle off your stats and details from memory, "You're a writer, right?" The two of you fall quickly into a conversation so your BFF disappears and returns with beers for everyone as he informs you that he has decided to get a free haircut.

You are torn. Although you would really enjoy the freudenschade entertainment of watching your BFF make a terrible decision, you decide that you must be a good friend and beg him not to. But you're practically Talking To The Hand as he sits down in the moon-lit chair and attempts to tell the Cracked Out Barber about the type of free make-over he'd like to receive. You and Bald Boy wind up giggling and flirting your way through your BFF's entire denigrating hair-removal process. At one point you worry whether the Cracked Out Barber might have actually scalded off some hair with his dangling cigar, but you are having too much fun watching your BFF getting his free haircut. That's when Bald Boy begins giving you some free kisses. And the delicious kisses tend to be more successful under such low-lighting. Bald Boy's fantastic kisses quickly pull your attention away from all things hairy. The next thing you know, your BFF interrupts you with a tap on the shoulder and informs you, "I'm going home. Everybody's ugly." You attempt not to laugh at the yarmulke that has been recently shaved onto the top of his head as you say your goodbyes. And then, after a beer or two, you find yourself hailing a cab back to Bald Boy's apartment, for what you expect to turn out to be a substantial one night stand. Anyway...

FAG POLE: Are You One of Those Fags Who Checks Out Other Boys Junk in the Locker Room?

59% of You said, "Sometimes. But I'm more classy than trashy, so never at the urinal!"

27% of You said, "Of course! When it comes to sampling my meats, I like to try before I buy."

13% of You said, "No! Some things are best left to the imagination. Besides I'm afraid I'll get caught and be bludgeoned to death by a dumbbell."

Number of Fags Who Voted: 74