If you’re a legal adult where you live, you don’t need your mother’s permission to travel, either across the street or across the ocean.

I have an idea. Why not start the evening out and get his motor runnin’ first with a snazzy pair of undies. But, not something goofy and frilly that might embarrass you if you choked on a smoked oyster and suddenly had to go to the hospital.

To jump-start this week, let’s just say you get to have your choice of one of these three burly hunks – for one long night of unbridled, bring-it-on-home-to-Jesus, lip-smackin’, belly-bumpin’ monkey sex.

When, after the third date, somebody says, “You know, it’s just not working for me.” Go ahead and ask him, “Why not? Is it me?” Assuming, of course, that it IS something about you; you deserve to know. You can’t change what you don’t know. And you won’t know unless you ask. He might think you’re a weirdo for pressing him on details (for which you need to prepare yourself, by the way), but, hell… he’s not dating you anymore anyway, so who cares what he thinks, right?

I love this man with every fiber of my being, and he loves me. I hope he moves in with me by summer. But, if he can’t make the move by summer, how long should I wait for the man of my dreams? As it is, we are in a monogamous relationship, so I really miss sex, his sex particularly. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.

When I see an online profile that uses the expression “straight-acting”, my knee-jerk response is to write to the guy and ask him how “straight” he acts with another man’s tongue (or whatever) in his mouth (or wherever).

Denial is a quick defensive maneuver. “No, you’re not gay. Your Uncle Rick likes Madonna, too. That doesn’t mean you’re gay.”

Okay so for season two, how about Leo gets it on with one of the New York Football Giants? Heck, even a NY Jet will do. I’ll definitely help with casting. Here’s the finale, guys. Enjoy!

When I go to bear clubs, I often get comments like, “Who let the twink in?” and similar negative statements to that effect, and this club was no exception.
A few muscle bears suggested that I was “ruining the appearance and the ‘scene’” of their club…

Driving a car is more fun, more exciting, and more comfortable without without restrictions like speed limits, stop lights or safety belts, right?
Climbing the side of a mountain would be easier without all of that heavy gear; those ropes, safety lines and clips attached to you.
And, how great would it feel to jump out of a plane and just fly through the sky, without that clumsy parachute strapped to your back?
Pretty great, I’ll bet.
Yeah… until you splat like a big human tomato in the middle of a Wal-Mart parking lot.

Now Leo is getting on my nerves. Really? Run to the old boyfriend? Oy! I was never that immature… oh, wait… Hmmmm, okay perhaps I was.

PSAs of this sort tend generally to go in one ear and out the other, for me; this one definitely got my… err… attention.