Guilty Pleasure: Loah

My rainy day guilty pleasure: "As the World Turns" Luke and Noah
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Electric Dreams

I am not usually one to dwell in fantasies. I try to keep things as real as possible.

However, every now and then the occasional creation from the realm of the fantastic does capture my eye and sends me in fits of delirium.

One of my hobbies is gaming. And in the past decades or so this medium of entertainment has grown considerably. Since this is a stereotypically heterosexual pursuit, most of gamedom's characters are fetching lasses in skimpy outfits. Hence, growing up, it was virtually impossible for me to fixate on any of my gaming heroes for scopophilic ends. I mean, who could develop a crush on those guys from Contra as you saw them on your television?

As gaming became more advanced, it became to portray the finer nuances of the human anatomy. And while I once again call on my tendency to remain prudent, some gaming hunks have tickled my fancy.

Here are my top crushes in gaming.

Solid Snake, Metal Gear Solid

Okay, so this picture really isn't of Solid Snake hhimself, but rather of his "dad", Naked Snaka (a.k.a. Big Boss). Since Solid was cloned from Big Boss, they look the same. Plus one of the hottest aspects of Metal Gear Solid 3 (which is a prequel) is that you could dress up Naked Snake in various camo outfits. I like making run around the jungle without his shirt on. Rowrf!

Gillian Seed, SNATCHER

So this guy isn't really that famous. He's Gillian Seed, an amnesiac who was discovered with his wife in a cryogenic sleep in Siberia. The only thing he remembers is the word Snatcher, which is now a bio-mechanical terror, which impersonates the people it murders. Think Blade Runner and you'll get what Snatcher is about. Gillian is a cop with a mysterious past and undergoing a divorce. I just think he's hunkily drawn and is really a likeable guy. His amnesia in a subtle way makes him a bit of a teenager searching for his identity and this appeals to my paternal insticts.

Link, The Legend of Zelda

It seems quite unlikely that I'd ever have a crush on Link from The Legend of Zelda. The original NES showed him as a squat Elf. Those old Saturday morning cartoons made him look like a leftover of the Eighties and sounded like a imbecilic spawn of suburban America.

So imagine my surprise when in the June 2006 issue of Out Magazine, they awarded Link as the "Hottest Video Game Character." I mean, I do agree to some degree, but with countless shirtless hunks in all those other games flexing muscles, wooing bitches and killing enemies, it was a bit of a surprise. Out Magazine writes:

When darkness enshrouds the land, Nintendo's sexy farm-boy-turned-wolf sets out to save the day in this upcoming game. His weapons: a sword, a bow, arrows and kick-ass grooming skills.

Uhuh. So whatever. I ignored it. However, once I actually got to play the new Zelda game, I was in for a rude awakening (or stirring).

Shirtless Link!

It was just too much for me to take. I couldn't really know if I was scandalized or strangely attracted to my elven alter ego. Is it his lean bod? Those stylized sumo garb? Or the fact that he has never been shirtless before? All those years of secret, unattended yearnings, unleashed by a flash of digital flesh? I swoon.

I don't usually go blonds and this Link is more brownish in hair, so that definitely ups the hotness level. Nor do I usually go for twinks, but heck. I'll do this one.

I don't think this pic does Link justice. A video of the sequence will provide you with a better peek at Link's pecs.

Move the slider to the 1:40 mark for Link's man on man action.

I think Link reminds of those amateur guys who, um, do the deed on those sites that are so prominently featured in sites like QueerClick. I have never been this enamoured with a videogame character before and I don't think I ever will.

I have never felt so guilt-stricken as well. It's like falling in love with your best friend. O such sweet taboo.



I end this featurette with a pic of the hottest Link I could find. I couldn't stop staring at his beautiful face. Never before have I developed a crush... No, dare I say it?... fallen in love with someone who liked to dress up as a fictional character (or any character for that matter).

First of all, I'd like to draw your attention to the perfectly mesmerizing eyes. Then the flawlessly translucent skin. Then to those oddly attractive ears. Finally to the meticulously crafted green tunic.

Rapture!


The only problem.


This Link's a girl.



And once again my closeted heterosexuality tries to make itself known.

Selfish Me.

WARNING:
Today's blog entry is an angry, self-loathing, self-serving rant against all civilized society.
If you do not want to spoil your day, I suggest you wait until I'm in a better mood for a perkier blog entry. You have been warned.
Proceed at your own risk.
I need a hug.

And I don't expect it to come from anyone anymore.

In my feeble attempts to sort and sieve through my life, I have just come to realize that maybe I don't need anyone. Or I don't need just anyone.

I believe I've been a good friend to my friends. Well, maybe not where money is concerned, but I try to be there whenever I can.

However, it has come to the point where I don't really want to worry about their problems. I need to get it together.

So I got problems, great. I suppose it's the unattractive me or I think I'm unattractive. Gay culture ruins people like me - pushing me further into the closet.

All this bullshit of people complaining about how it sucks to be single really gets on my nerves. Boo-hoo, my life sucks. Boo-hoo, I'm single. Fucking shit! I've been single for four years. I'm practically in a convent or a monastery or something like fucking that. Sure, I complain about, but not as much as some people. The worst part of it is that it's not just a couple of people but a handful of them, coming up to me.

I'm not Oprah. I'm not Dr. Phil. Fuck off!

So maybe I asked for it. Nice guys finish last. For people like that, my heart bleeds for them. Really, I do.

It's just that I'm such a frickin' bleeding heart that I've grown numb. Gimme space. I'll fix my own life first. Then, maybe, we can fix yours.

I try not to dwell too much on my own status. However, when people who have only been single for less than half a year begin to rant about how much it sucks. I get so fucking offended. What am I chopped liver?

I chose to be single for four years (long story made short, it's my personal therapy for the end of a four year relationship). Now that I'm back in the market. My sealegs are woobly. I have no idea what I'm doing.

So I end up staying away. I need to love myself. Not someone else.

Then again, here I am. Mr. Tough Guy is spent from ranting.





And I still need a hug.



"Nothing lasts forever." "All good things must end." I've memorized that phrase by heart. So tell me, I need to know it. When do the good things start? -Charlie Brown, "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown"

Good stuff

Here's a nifty blog I stumbled upon yesterday.

Actually, I've seen his blog before, but I only took time to go through it yesterday. And woof! woof! What a blog it is!

This is a personal blog by a guy named Jeff (aka Amateurhunk) in the same way as mine, except that I'm not as bold as he is.

So at first glance one will go nuts over this hot guy and maybe uh relieve oneself with one of his video clips, but that was interesting for only a few minutes (or after the rush of orgasm has subsided). What really drew me in is that it is a very well-written blog.

I really go for brains and this guy has got his fair share of functional noodles in his cranium. While he doesn't really pepper his blog with politics (thank goodness for that), but little flourishes of style really adds a lot of class.

Add the fact that he doesn't really show his face and you've got a mystery. You can infer what he looks like (and according to my deductions, he's got a great smile, a strong nose and seems to be quite adorable), which is enough for me. At least he's not just a torso.

He's got the muscles and the words. Go read him.

http://www.amateurhunk.blogspot.com/

Love in the Time of Influenza

I do not get Folk'ed.

There is a thick soup in the air.

A yellow nausea that tiptoes into my space and drips all over my head, coating me in its contagious goo.

Yes, it's love in the gay world and it's cheap, free for all.

As a man who loves men, it is difficult to pigeonhole myself into a comfortable cubby that will satisfy everyone.

I do not join Pride Parades. I am not out, to a good degree and some argue that I send gaydom into the Dark Ages.


Well, Hallelujah!

Just because I don't wear my rainbow armband, doesn't mean I don't care about gay rights and all that; I do. However, just like my friend said of her religion, spirituality is not something to be displayed, it's private like dirty underwear.

While I wouldn't go as far as alluding to my spirituality as dirty underwear, but my sexuality is definitely dirty underwear.

I dare not display it, but I am aware of its existence. I acknowledge its importance and role in my life. I choose not to "display" it for various reason which I will not necessarily discuss today.

I do feel that any need I feel to ascribe to a gay lifestyle is quickly quashed by my own person. I never feel truly comfortable with other gay men. To certain degree, I do, but another not quite. This is a bizarre turn of events because I fancied myself a trailblazer in my age group.

I was quite young when I had come to terms with my sexuality and had gotten involved with someone seriously. I came out to my folks (and we all know what kind of drama that entails) and have done my little evangelization of gay rights.

So why am I in the closet? The funny thing is is that I'm not really in the closet. I act the way that I do because that's just who I am. Geeky and not quite fabulous. Friendships with other gay men don't really last. Backbiting can get even the best of them and many are quite fleeting.

Hence, I begin to think about the feasibility of the possiblity of finding love again. Frankly, things are looking bleak.

Gay love is a seasonal infectious disease, it can have terrible symptoms, but at the end of the day, most cases of it are shallow and simply disappear over time.

There is virtually no permanence. How can there be permanence when the entire dating game is plagued with superficial demands?

What is the currency of love nowadays?

1. gym buff. so much for average schmoes like me. why is it that every gay man on fashionable tv looks like the cast of Queer as Folk? the obsession with looks is frankly scary. maybe i'm just insecure. yeah, i'm insecure. what chance do i have?

2. location. are you strategically located to be loved? what happened to crossing the ends of the earth for love? chivalry is dead? not if it never existed. chivalry in gay relationships is merely a fantasy played out in bed as foreplay.

3. the right cellular phone. shallow, but people actually do care about this. quick, right on the money, easily accessible.

4. my humps - my lumps. well-hung we all need to be. sexually-gratifying. of course this is important, but to be rejected.

5. numbers - the right numbers, the right stats, the right height, the right salary.


Should I submit my resume the next time I court someone? I'll have a biopsy as well while I'm at it.

After all this is making me sick.

Love these days hits hard, leaves many empty handed, like we've never been loved at all.

Me Likey...

I like sexually explicit indie movies. Maybe that speaks volumes of my repressed state or secretly liberated state of mind, but a crappy film cannot hide behind oodles and oodles of sex. The sex might make the unwatchable servicable, but it will bring about more than a passing fancy.

I've seen so many "gay" movies that try to mean more but just end up piling on one cliche after another. One film that transcends this is "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" by John Cameron Mitchell. It is quite difficult to swallow (or follow) at times because of its very surreal...everything, but a worthy watch nonetheless.

John Cameron Mitchell's new film, Shortbus, takes on a similar challenge of exploring sexuality but this time it's heralded by the hype of it's real sex scenes. As with anything that is similarly promoted, there will always be two kinds of viewers, those who just want to see the sex and those who think they're above the sex aspect.

The truth is that it is difficult, if not impossible, to dissociate the two. Given that the topic, wait not the topic but rather the treatment, is so taboo the curiousity of one person is what will usually entice a viewer, no matter what his or her values are, to give this film a try. What remains to be seen is if the film itself will take the viewer away from the erections and cumshots to find the very real and very ordinary struggles with sexuality.

If you anyone hears of this movie playing locally, give me a ring.



If you somehow felt shortchanged by that, another trailer exists, but it's not good for public consumption. However, if you're brave enough and are in a safe place, click here for the uncensored trailer.

OGTs

"Well, here's to your first OGT. Obviously Gay Trait. Mine are: love of The Carpenters, culinary interests, and intense fear of blood sports."

For those who saw this old movie about this group of gay friends, "The Broken Hearts Club" or something like that, one of the terms they used was the OGT or "Obviously Gay Trait." I don't know if this term has been widely used before it, but undoubtedly it has been used more ever since.

OGTs are deceiving. Taken individually, they're not a guarantee to produce a homosexual man. Together though, it's like magic. Goes to show that men who are gay are truly more than the sum of their parts.

Some of mine are
1. Love for theatre
2. Love for cats
3. Appreciation for Shakespeare

So with that I present to you a surprisingly pleasant mix of my three OGTs. I love the one who plays Rosencrantz, cute eyes, full of personality. Although I think he also played Guildenstern, so yeah, whatever. Come to think of it, I have that cardboard cutout Elizabethan theatre used in this clip. I bought on an impulse at this tiny, tiny museum of music in Oxford.

Who is this guy?

This is one of the hottest guys I've seen online as of the late.



From the looks of it, he's Asian-American, possible of mixed races (as demonstrated by his, er, assets) and wears glasses. Extra points for guys with glasses, which I find particularly cute. He's been featured in Queer Click before, but they never got around to revealing him until now, which is over a year later. The only thing we knew last week is that his name's Jason Chen and that he's possibly cute. Now we know that he's got, er, blessings, which certainly got my attention. I don't usually go for guys whose faces are hidden, but this guy is just - WOW.

For the more -ahem- detailed pictures, go on over to Queer Click. A word of warning though, these pictures are highly graphic in nature and are NOT SAFE for viewing IN PUBLIC PLACES or AT WORK. If you have no qualms about it, click here.

Pseudo Date Number Wha?

Crap, just when I thought it was time to move on.

Yesterday as I was typing in my blog entry, I received a message on Friendster. Actually, it was a reply to a message I sent this guy I sorta liked before. The thing was we never really got to meet. I tried sending him a couple of messages last June and he didn't reply. So I thought, all right, time to move on. Call in the next guy!

Turns out he lost his phone. Or so he says in his message. I'm inclined to believe him, so yeah, he wants to reestablish communication. That made my day. However one cannot look too eager or too excited.

So as with anything that is bound to fuck up your head, the unexpected happens.

I was getting ready to go out for the day. Maybe go to work for some extra overtime paperwork (I do this for fun) or hit the mall with some friends. I also had plans to have dinner with a friend, the one who introduced me to Kakkoii.

Then Kakkoii texts. Crap.

He's sort of asking me out in a very non-committal sort of way.

Didjaget that? No? Lemme rephrase.

He said something like this.

Are you in the area?

Not yet, but I'm on my way. What did you have in mind?

Nothing. I just might want company for dinner.

Ladies and gentlemen, I haved just presented to you the non-committal dinner invite.

To rearrange my schedule or not? That is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageously ambigious pseudo-dates or by taking arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them?

So I did.

After a series of misunderstandings, we finally met. He was with two guys whom he introduced to me as the friends of our other common friend, James. The two immediately left and after a week and a half, I was with Kakkoii again.

No we weren't on a date. He pretty much made that clear when he told me that those two asked if he was on one. His reply? Yeah, not really.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?

Gee, that made me feel reeeeeaaal special.

He then added that the two guys said, "Aaah, yeah we know you two are going out. James told us."

Gah.

So pseudo-date number who knows what proceeds well enough. We always enjoy our time together. It's the time away that brings about problems.

However I did encounter one critical flaw in his definition of a date. When he found out that I was with James that afternoon, he remarked,

You should have told me that you were with James, that way I wouldn't have interrupted your date.

Where the fuck did that come from? He knows very well that James and I are friends and just that. And if James and I are "dating" then I'm frickin' engaged to Kakkoii already by that definition of his. Of course, using his other definition of dating (which he applied to the time we're together), relatively James and I are merely aquaintances.

Mixed signals as usual.

When I told him I went to work in the afternoon. He asked me why I had to report to work since it was a Saturday.

I said it was because I didn't have anything better to do, so I decided to work. It's what I always do.

He then opened his mouth to say something, only to take it back. He said it was because it sounded like he was fishing for a compliment.

I twisted his arm for him to say it and after a bit of hesitation, he said:

I meant to say, you'd rather to go work than hang out with me.

Uh, he doesn't text me for days and he expects me to hang out with him? Like I always say, I'm a straightforward guy. Reject me, I'll go away.

So I throw back to him this statement:

You didn't ask me out.

He didn't look at me.

Satisfied with my answer?, I smiled.

No, not really.

I leave this story at this point. What did he mean by that? Discuss the answer amongst yourselves children.

The Dating Fool

Major update for myself, not that anyone's actually reading this shit.

The day after my first date, I was in a daze. That's putting it mildly. I think I was sort of on a natural high.

Most of the dates I go on are absurdly awkward. I remember one wherein I liked the guy, a college brat, but he didn't like me back, so it was just a numbingly tense experience. I didn't help that our date movie was "Ringu." Bad, bad idea. The other one I recall, was with this widowed hippie and the guy was all over me. While I really didn't do anything to encourage him, he kept grabbing my hand in the cinema and being all fresh and stuff. The movie was "Scary Movie 3." I don't know which was scarier, my date, the horrible movie or that fact that after the movie he insisted on treating me to a hot oil treatment at the salon. WHAT THE FRICKIN' FUCK? Oh yeah, another was with this Joe Schmoe guy who was new to the city and could barely sustain a conversation with me, but boy was the sex good.

Crap, so my dating record hasn't been very good. That's why I'm extremely nervous about this guy. I haven't dated in two years! Okay, maybe a year, but that one was just vague. This guy, whom I shall refer to as Kakkoii, is on so many levels just like me and at the same time, so different from me as well. So maybe he's has some baggage, I can live with that. Who doesn't have baggage anyway?

So where was I? Ah yes, that post-great-date-high....

I texted him the following day (this was last, last Monday) with the usual "how are yous" and "I really enjoyed last night" messages. Then I felt impulsive and asked him if he wanted to have dinner that night.

I became very nervous. Was I being too aggressive? A great date doesn't always mean it gets a follow up.

I'd love to, but I don't have enough money to eat somewhere nice and I left my ATM at home

Great, he doesn't want me. I decided I'd try one more time.

Don't worry, my treat.

A beat.

That might be too embarassing.

Crap. I couldn't really think of anything else to say. Nothing was clearer at that moment than I wanting to go out with him again. One last shot.

Hey, don't worry, it's pretty simple actually. Do you want to have dinner with me tonight? If no, then fine, no questions asked. If yes, then we'll have dinner. My treat. Won't be a problem.

Fuck, the cyncical closeted guy actually becoming agressive? I had butterflies in my stomach and I felt like I had to leave my desk to go to the toilet to throw up. My friend, amused, looked at me pace around the office like an idiot.

My phone rumbles and rings. A message from Kakkoii.


Sure, I wanna have dinner wija.

w00t!!!

I flew as soon as the clock struck five and an hour later I was in front of his gym, picking him up. We went a Japanese coffee shop (didn't we just eat Japanese food the day before?) and has some really good spicy Japanese pasta and Japanese seafood curry.

We both acknowledged the idea that this might go somewhere, but agreed that we won't tell our common friend who introduced us...yet. Who knows where this will lead? I'll be a prude for now.


I drove him to his house and we hung out in his room. I helped him solve some PC-to-mobile phone issue that he's having and played some Playstation 2.

No kiss that night...


but happy nonetheless.

First Date

So it started off as one of those flirty messages on the cellphone.

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I'm lonely. I guess there's no sex for me tonight.

Haha, I thought for a moment there that you were going suck off someone.

Me? Nah, I could only hope.

Need a volunteer? Haha.

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At this point the conversation had turned a little bit...you know, raunchy and I wasn't sure what to make of it. I really, really like this guy and the prospect of bedding him was all too tempting, but I ultimately decided that what I really wanted is if I could be friends with the guy. So I go:

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Tempting, but I'd really rather ask you out for dinner or a movie.

Prude! Haha.

Hey, what can I do? I'm just an innocent boy, unfamiliar with the ways of the flesh. Fine, sex first and then dinner after.

Boy? Now I'm having second thoughts. How old are you anyway?

Haha, just teasing! I'm in my mid-twenties. Hardly what you'd call a boy.

Whew. Still lonely? Want to come over?

What do you have in mind?

Nothing much, dinner or a stroll.

Sounds good.

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The date itself was delayed by an hour because of the heavy traffic I had to endure (on a Sunday afternoon of all days). When we finally met up at the mall, it was all a blur. I babbled non-stop, not sure if this was a good thing. He did however babble on as well. It didn't feel mighty awkward, not at all even. Of course there was this slight tension as this was only the second time we met each other, but the lingering thought in my head was that I couldn't believe I was just flirting with this guy over the phone a couple of hours ago. It seemed hardly imaginable that the hot, goofy guy I was with was capable of being well...raunchy.

Dinner itself was forgettable. The food was a bit bland; he ordered the better stuff. I hated what I ordered. Good thing that the conversation kept flowing and flowing. It was good to be able to talk freely about nearly everything about my life.

When he steered the conversation into the territory of the ideal mate, as we traversed through the mall, I nearly choked on the hard candy I had in my mouth.

I stammered for an answer.

"Uh, brains?"

You see my ex hadn't been particularly smart. So that was something I sorely missed. I'd love a guy who'd be physically and sexually stimulating, but I need my spiritual and intellectual stimulation as well.


"Great," he said, "I can introduce you to my friend, Krang."

Gah, Ninja Turtle reference. God, I think I can really like this guy. In fact, I think I already do. Thumpty-thump. It didn't help that the bookstore we were in at the moment was playing "Mine" from Pocahontas. Gah, so fruity and it climaxed with a play of "Out There" from the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

As I drove him home, I threw the question back at him. I wanted to know what he was looking for and if I fit the bill.

Same interests. Check. So far, so good.

Non-smoker. -crap-

Gym buff. -shit-

He mentioned a couple of other things, but the last two just sort of stuck with me and really left me defeated. Although I did hear him say something like the one he's really looking for is similar interests. He then proceeded to enumerate things about his ex that wasn't like him. Ouch, it seems that his ex and I share a couple of traits as well. Maybe this guy might want to jump ship from me. Maybe he doesn't like me that much.

All this of course while I was driving him home. I couldn't really concentrate on the road. Would there be a second date? Should I ask about a second date? Maybe that would be a bit too desperate or maybe a little too forward. Crap, I don't know.

Before I knew it, I had brought him home. No way I was going to be invited in at this point. He doesn't drink coffee, so that's not an option. He had to work. I had a party on the other side of the city to get to. Sex wasn't an option after all things he wanted that wasn't me.

And then he kissed me. Not on the lips, but to the side. Not quite cheeks, but close enough for his stubbles to graze my lips as I returned the favor right there beside his lips. How I wanted to draw him in for more, but the moment was over in a flash. We smiled and I was on my way - giddy.

Goodbye, until tomorrow then.

Staples of Gay Fantasy

Almost every person who's gay has had at least one of the following fantasies.

1. My Best Friend

Having a best friend is almost synonymous with growing up. If growing up includes with wrestling with one's own sexuality, then most likely nearly everyone has had a best friend they've fallen for. To make matters even more complicated, the best friend is most likely straight (or supposedly straight) and with a girlfriend.

This is falling for the familiar. Who else is more qualified to understand you than that one you grew up with? Sex is supposedly better with the familiar and the personal.


2. My Roommate

Continuing the theme of growing up, many go on to a college or university and they're forced to live with someone. This someone is usually a stranger and the promise of an encounter (or a relationship) with a person who doesn't really know you that well is definitely exciting. However the ultimate clincher for this is the intrusion of the unknown into your private life. Having to share your personal space with someone you barely know is so much easier with hot eyecandy.


3. My Hot Co-Worker

Once a guy's out of college and he's faced with the trials of life, the carefree days of experimenting are usually relegated to fond memories (or unspeakable horrors) of the past. The hot co-worker (or boss or subordinate) brings in the dynamic of ruffling up the feathers of monotony at work or finding someone who shares your slot in the rat race. This usually comes in the form of a new hire who shakes up the world of everyone in the office.


Fantasies in my case are synonyms with frustration. Many of us have that great love whom we cannot have. Mine falls in the first and third categories.


Which one is yours?

The Queer Debate

When I told one of my closest friends that I'd be starting a blog called Closet Queer, he had to stifle a giggle.

"Why," he asked, "did you ever choose such a name?"

This guy wasn't gay, but he did have a point. The LGBT community is split on the use of this word.

Its history shows that it was used as a slur against homosexuals of both genders. The denotative meaning of "strange", connotes a movement that is against the norm or worse: abnormal. Thus some activists would denounce the use of such a word and regard it as a step backward for gay rights.

Other activists would however claim that the genderless term "queer" is an appropriate word to unite all homosexuals of varying degrees under a single banner.

I am not an activitst. I am a gay man in the closet. I do not fancy myself a queen, not that I doubt that maybe I could be one, but at the moment, I'm just a guy who likes guys.

I do not really belong to the mainstream of society. While I function, day in and day out, as a regular guy I still constantly find myself struggling with my sexuality. Struggling because I can't seem to meet the right guy.

It should be as simple as going out to a bar, but the situation is far more complicated than that. With my job, I can't be caught visiting a gay bar or something like that.

On the other hand, I do not belong to gay subculturem, not really at least. Let me clarify my statement, I do not belong to the popular gay subculture.

I'm a true anomaly. A true queer in that sense.

Hence, I'm Closet Queer.

Life Inside the Closet

Welcome to the inside of my closet.

It's tough being a gay man even in today's world- even tougher to be closeted gay man. So much uncertainty abounds, but somehow I have a feeling we'll get through.