of course, my delusions of grandeur have attained a level almost approaching that of my sad repression and general misery.

wrestling with several dicks tied behind my back,

captain america

i’d say, do something about it, but then you’re not gay like me. so what coulld you do?

you are damn talented and entertaining writers though, for what it’s worth.

It’s just that adolescent sexuality is all there is for us. Extended families are dead.

it’s horrible how the dregs most oppressed by life defend its cruelty with their last, rancid, boring breath

I think the main thrust of Anonymous’s point was that there is more to life than sex. You may well know that, but one could be forgiven for thinking that you don’t based on your posts in this thread.

It is also worth noting that not all of us have the privelege of being highly attractive in the manner most of society favors (yes, this would include yours truly). On that same note, even if you do take care of yourself and age well (and good on you for not being seduced by the cult of substance abuse in which too much of the gay community is trapped), you do lose something as you get older. So I really hope for your sake (not to mention the people who have to personally deal with you every working day) that your sense of self-worth is not solely on your exterior person.

in fact, i was going to suggest hitting the gym hard four or five times a week as one thing that might help the exile guys get over their misery and self pity. that, and ditching the drugs.

but then i realized that i’d probably be in for more kneejerk, middle-school homophobia if i did that…

Feeling blissful yourself, are you?

If you believe what you wrote, you’re an ignorant douchebag with all the depth of an angry ‘cynical’ teen.

If your chocolate box aphorism was true, the majority of the world (and 98% of the US) would be blissfully happy. They ain’t.

Cap’n, you’ll eventually be 50 or 60, and few tops will want you. Sometime before then, you may decide you’ve had enough wild sex for a lifetime, or that it’s time to die. But as long as you live, art, knowledge, and time spent with good friends should all still hold their allure, and they are the traditional pastimes of old queens everywhere. Politics and charity too, if you can accept how hard they are and how much they can’t do.

As for me, I learn things all the time that make me happier and less depressed. Mostly from history about artists and builders and rebels and fighters who tried to make the world better and managed to score some hits here and there. And about fascinating and glorious wonders in biology and astronomy and geology.

Rucker’s right that teenage lust, and righteous wrath, and ignorant fearlessness all fade over time, and it’s a shame. Even food stops tasting as good, and hot tubs and massages and fine fabrics don’t feel as good. So you have to seize what you can while you can, and then let go.

But I expect my love of knowledge, art, and the company of good friends to last as long as my life does, and that I’ll get to enjoy a lot of those things.