Staring contest

Two days ago, I was standing next to my mother waiting in line at the check-out at a grocery store. I was just loafing about when I noticed that the couple standing before me had a toddler sitting in their shopping trolley. He (or she, I couldn't tell) was staring at me. Right between the eyes. I started thinking about people having eye contact with each other.

In the individualistic society we live in, staring at each other without a reason is strange and awkward. Just like we prefer the invisible bubble of personal space around us only to be entered by people we really like, we feel that it's really uncomfortable to be stared at. Visual molestation, as I like to call it.

Most Hollywood movies portray the crossing of eyes as an indicator of an oncoming relationship. When eyes meet and the staring lasts more than approximately 4 seconds, we know that a passionate kiss is nearby. When someone stares at me, I will soon feel an awkward sensation. I probably won't feel strong enough to keep my gaze focused on the other person's eyes. I guess it's because I'm afraid that the person I'm looking at will get the wrong message. Eye-fucking can be a very dangerous thing to do, especially when your not willing to do the same in a sexual way. Consequently, I avoid it.

Since the toddler in the shopping trolley before me wasn't looking away, I decided to persevere. He didn't stop looking at me. But neither did I. For one second, I was doubtful; should I let him win this staring contest? Then I smiled a little, trying to put the little fellow off, restoring the power balance by showing that I was the one holding the confidence here. Mr. Toddler, clearly unaware of the underlying values, dodged my attempt to win by returning the call. I got one of the purest, teethless smiles I saw in a long, long time. Incredibly cute and disarming as it was, it made my day. I returned the smile. Then, still smiling and seemingly fully amazed, he looked at my mother, initiating a second competition. My mother lost. I don't think she really cared too much about it, though.

My advice for a happy 2010: stare at toddlers!


X!

The Erasmus Experience - Madrid Edition: The Ranking

It all started off as an innocent joke. That's where it always begins, right?

You know how everyone always says that their Erasmus must be an unforgettable experience? How everyone is always determent to have kissed at least one person they met at an Erasmus party? Well, that is where this story began.

It's actually still a pending story, but it's been going on for months now, that I thought I'd finally talk about it. It began in late september, when two friends of mine kissed for the first time at an Erasmus party. I won't be disclosing names of the involved parties, but it concerned a girl and a guy friend. One straight, one gay (to make it more interesting).
It didn't take long before they both were heading for their second victory and soon after the bickering began about who was 'winning' their little contest of victories. So our group of friends decided to create 'the Ranking', a ranking system that keeps track of who has 'scored' most.

After the first person went to - let's say - third base, there was a ranking crisis.
Was this going to be classified on the same level as kissing or maybe we could award extra credits for scoring third base?
Oh, but if you think that that is where it ended, you are wrong. After this incident, problems kept surfacing after every new conquest (by this time other people, including me, started being in the running for the 'championship'). Was twice the same person also worth more credits, or would this count as just one? Would kissing a straight guy be awarded with twice the number of credits? And what if a gay guy kissed a straight girl, is that eligible?

So just to give you an idea of what drunk erasmus people are up to these days.
As a summary, what is the recipe to create a ranking:
At least 5 Erasmus students:
- under the influence of A LOT of alcohol
- not afraid to get dirty
- that are promiscuous enough to embark on this mission
- accompanied by at least 2 prudes (they are necessary to keep the counterbalance in check)
- who are :
A. capable of flirting
B. or extremely hot, therefore not in need of this skill
- if none of both requirements are fulfilled go for option A by giving them a crash course in flirting

There, I think that should do the trick to have a very drunk Erasmus Ranking Experience.
Have fun with it. After all, what happens on Erasmus, stays on Erasmus.

First gay party

Yesterday I experienced my first real gay party. I was kind of excited. Not only because I was going to meet a lot of new people, but also because I expected it to be quite a liberation compared to a regular "straight" party.
Things started of with a pre-party at a friend's place. The people I met are all awesome. The group consisted of a mere twelve or so people, and due to the fact that they already knew each other I was a bit quieter than I normally am. Anyways, after some drinks we left for my big entree in the gay scene.

My first impressions didn't quite exactly live up to the expectations I cherished. I expected a room full of guys, some hot, some not. All dancing of course, since nobody would care if their dancing moves were feminine. People had warned me that the party wasn't going to be good, so I had to be drunk on arrival. But I wasn't. And chances are high that I never will be completely wasted.
What a letdown. Upon arrival, the music was bad. From that point on, the musical taste plummeted and hit rock bottom during half an hour of ballad songs, on which is was impossible to dance. Consequently, the room (which wasn't crowded at all) was mainly static, with people just standing about. Around 2 AM most of the party people started to leave, so a lot of smoke was blown into the room to cover up the fact that the room was half empty. Feeble attempt.
As if this was not enough, I happened to be part of a group that mainly consisted of couples. Don't get me wrong: I totally think love is a great thing, and I'm very happy for these awesome people to have boyfriends, but when your single, and you don't have any other friends to talk to when the rest is snogging, things can get quite awkward.
To top this all of, there were virtually no hot guys present. And I'm not even going to start talking about all the old men standing by the side checking out every twenty-something ass that passed by.

Someone please defrost the party meter! This might just have been the worst party I ever attended. This poor excuse for a party seemed like a meeting that guys attended to kiss with each other without having to be frowned upon. There's just one silver lining: the next time I go, it's bound to better than yesterday. I'm very happy about that.

Peace out!

The urban safari

It's been so long! I hereby officially apologize for being absent too long! I'm sorry you had to miss me!

Last Friday, I took the plane and visited B. in Madrid. It was my first time flying alone, but everything went pretty smoothly, I expected the airport to be more complicated. Madrid is cool, lot's of things to see there, the food is cheap but great, and Spanish people should definitely learn how to speak English without a horrible accent. So far for the boring stuff. Let's skip to the interesting business: guys.
Madrid is perhaps the gayest city I have ever visited. Homosexuality is pretty visible, even outside Chueca. To be honest, Spanish guys own Belgian guys when concerning looks. It's a personal opinion, I know, but seriously: there was eye candy EVERYWHERE.
We thought it would have been a waste not to capture this beauty, so we invented a new variation on the well known African safari. Just replace the savanna with the city, and try to spot hot guys instead of wildlife. The urban safari is born! Locating the hottie is pretty easy, but the hard part lies in the discrete handling of the camera, so nobody notices what you are doing. I present you a quick round-up of our (soon to be patented) urban safari.

This guy we encountered in Chueca, and was also one of the first captures of the day. He crossed our path two times. The first time I discovered myself to be a headturner, the second time I could not stop staring at him, so I decided to quickly take a shot. If I had seen him for a third time, I would have jumped him. The fact that he was taller than me kinda did the trick. Not sure if this specimen was gay. He was walking around in Chueca, so that's a step in the right direction.

God. I can't stop watching at this photo.
If this is you, contact me. This is not a question.

This guy is B.'s finest shot. I never actually saw the guy in real life, I discovered him on the memory of my Panasonic Lumix. Apparently, this hottie was present in the Mercado de San Miguel. Since I never saw him in real life, I cannot tell if he is gay or not, but looking at the picture I'm guessing that he is straight. But who cares, really.

Ironically, this one we DID spot in a jungle. The train station of Madrid is basically a greenhouse where trains pass by. There's even a pond with turtles in it. Through the banana- and palmtrees we spotted this George of the jungle. The backpack looks a little wrong, but at least he's literate. Phew.





The subway is the ideal place to take a picture without having to be discrete. It's not like the guy on the other side of the rails is going to come and bash you. I was actually a bit disappointed that the picture was a bit blurry. I tried to take a second picture, but the sad lady with the red jacket obstructed the view only seconds after I took this picture. Thank you very much for that, Spanish woman. Oh well, he even looks fine in a blurry picture.

A-'men' to that.

Whaaaaat a long time ago! I am very sorry for not posting any blog entries the past month, but I have been busy like a crazy person.

As I mentioned in my last entry, I currently reside in the beautiful city of Madrid. The past two months have been off the hook, seriously, I am reconsidering my future over this.
What else happened is that my boyfriend and I recently -well, about a month ago- broke up. It seems so crazy that it's already been more than a month, but time just really doesn't stand still in the vibrant capital of Spain. But, on the other hand.. I guess this gives me the opportunity to have more input in this blog. Because you can say whatever you want.. Listening to the stories of a person in a relationship aren't néarly as interesting as the ones he can tell you when he is single.

The story continues as follows.. I am in Madrid, you can also hear people call it 'Gay Paradise', because everywhere you look and everywhere you go you find gay people.. It is even getting to a point of being ridiculous. On my university I can easily swing my net around and trap 10 gays within a 20 feet radius.. -Yes, it is THAT crazy-.
Of course for a person that recently updated his facebook status to 'single' this is absolute valhalla.. so I am absolutely not complaining, even if I wasn't interested, it is much more interesting to be surrounded by people that actually check out your ass, than to be around people that feel insulted when you check out theirs.

Now, to get to the point of this post.. - I wouldn't want to bore the hell out of you - . Yesterday night I went out with my Belgian friends.. And a lifelong (or at least since I have been gay) dream finally came through!
I actually kissed a straight boy.. and no it wasn't as part of a bet..
He came partying with us another night before yesterday and he gave me the strangest vibes ever. I could definitely notice he wasn't gay.. but it wasn't perfectly clear if he was straight either. He just dealt too.. loosely with the gays ( well.. me actually).. I could so easily just hit on him.. of course without crossing the line between gay and straight guys.. but I actually felt attracted to him, because I knéw he was straight, but I could still enjoy attention from him, in a weird, twisted kind of way.
So yesterday it was the same story as that other night and I had been talking to him about - of course - 'the gay experimenting for straights' and he was being all coy about it and saying he wouldn't be scared of kissing guys, but it just wouldn't "do" anything for him.. blahblahblah.. guess you all know the drill.. But well, I guess he was wrong.. it only took him a small business transaction to go for it.

Let me explain:
At this club you received a plastic cup at the entrance.. that cup was only valuable during happy hour, to obtain free drinks. Afterwards the cup is of no use whatsoever. It was an hour after happy hour, so evidently the cup was no longer of any value and I stole it from him. Then he came up to me and was like : "Hey, give me back my cup".. I have to remind you at all times that the cup was no longer needed.. "Well, what do I get in return?".. "I don't know, what do you have in mind?" .. well, I have to disappoint you now, because I don't réally remember what exactly made it happen, but after that, he allowed me to kiss him.. I myself didn't even expect that something that easy was going to push him over the edge, but I guess it did.

So long story short, maybe it wasn't super exciting, but hey.. I was drunk, I got my way.. I am happy!


Until my next story..


X

I wish I were Trinny or Susannah.

This afternoon I was waiting at the check out of the local super market. It's always the same old story: I never manage to pick the right queue. It's something I simply suck at, because for some reason or another I always go standing in the line where it takes over 15 minutes for the old and mostly cripple grandmothers to find the right change. Yesterday an Asian couple was standing before me with at least thirty boxes of Jules Destrooper biscuits (these cookies are tha bomb yo, for real). No kidding. I'm bad at picking the right queue.
While I stand in the line waiting, I always notice the rather hideous employees sitting behind the check out.
Today was no different. Before me sat a woman, somewhere begin thirties. I later learned from the receipt that her name is Sara. Sara looked like she had just cleaned a frying pan with her hair, and her eyebrows were so bushy that I bet at least two squirrels were living there. Her moustache gave the finishing touch to what I like to call the "Neanderthal look". Maybe, if she keeps up with it, it'll become a trend. But I reckon she will be dead and buried before that happens. I seriously felt like grabbing her a pack of Gillette Fusion razorblades. Even Mario would be ashamed of his moustache if he were standing next to Neanderthal girl.
In the hope to spot something better, I turned around to check out the other personnel. Things didn't exactly start to look up.
A woman with bright red spiky hair was sitting behind her desk. Let's call her Linda. She was wearing goggles, which, to my big surprise, were quite fashionable. But even a blind guy with no cane could tell that Linda didn't know shit about how to apply make-up. From what I could see, this is how I think her morning goes. Linda gets out of bed, and stumbles into the bathroom. She applies the gel in her hair while sitting on the toilet, whereafter she faces the mirror. Then she wakes up. Linda then pulls open the drawer, takes two inkpots with blue ink in them and pushes the pots against her eyes. Linda tilts her head back, and now she is ready to go.
I don't get that nobody ever told Linda to use less make-up. Seriously girl, you look like your husband has beaten you up badly after a night of boozing with the pals in the local strip club.
At times like these, I wish I could be like Trinny or Susannah and just tell them what is wrong with the way they look, and improve the way they treat themselves and how others will treat them after a much-needed make-over. To be honest, I am not surprised that they work at the department store. There's very few employers who want to hire a woman who looks like she goes hunting for mammoths with a spear in her spare time. And who would hire a Tina Turner who looks like she has just been rolled down the river? I'm just sayin', I'm just sayin'.

x, L.

F*cking priceless

(click to enlarge)

Basket et maths

I don't exactly know where I found this. I guess it found me. This short, called "Basket et maths" is part of a campaign against homophobia, which was featured on the Canal+ website and consisted of five short films. You can find the other four shorts below. I couldn't find any versions with English subtitles (except the first), so French it is. I reckon you can still get what's going on. They're all pretty nice, but I consider Basket et maths the best. Enjoy (and comment which one you like best)!

Happy anniversary to myself!

Exactly 365 days ago, around this time of the day, I was sitting in the car and did the most difficult thing I have ever done in my entire life. I came out to my mom. So today I celebrate my coming-out's first anniversary (YAY!), and I figured it would be the excellent time to tell you that story.
I actually had no particular intention to come out, that 26th of September. It just happened upon me. I had been thinking about it a lot, but as I already said before, these thoughts didn't exactly help me. I tried to imagine what would be the perfect setting. This setting basically included my mom and me, together in a situation where we didn't have to make direct eye-contact (looking into her eyes when telling her gave me the shivers). This description boiled down to two options: us doing the dishes together, or us sitting in the car (with me behind the steering wheel, I didn't want her to crash into a tree due to the shock).
Without me fully knowing it at the time, option two became reality. My mom and I were in the car, and I was driving. We were headed for a clothing store. Halfway there, my mom started to talk about someone she knew that was gay. "It must be so hard to be gay, to struggle with it, you know."
From the moment she started talking, I could feel the direction she was heading. From that point on, my heartbeat started going up. Nerves and time have caused me to not remember exactly what my mom was talking about. All I could think was "OMG SHE'S GOING TO FIND OUT" and "OMG SHE'S GOING TO FIND OUT". The conversation went on, and all of a sudden the urge came up to tell her. I could not resist, it was time, finally time.

"Erm, mom? I'm like that."

I didn't dare to watch anywhere else than the road. My breath stopped for a moment, and a hot rush of heat pulsed out from my heart to every single tip of my fingers. Goosebumps. My hands clenched to the steer. My palms started to sweat. I was shaking.

"Yes?" my mom said, after a brief pause.
"Yes."
"Yes..." she replied hesistantly, still putting every mental jigsaw in place, adjusting the image she had in her mind. She said "yes" for another two or three times (until the last piece of the puzzle fell in place, and probably also because she was speechless). My tight grip loosened. The steering wheel could breath once again.
It was out in the open. I was out in the open. To be honest, I felt like a deer on an open plain during the open season. My biggest secret was not a secret anymore. I could no longer hide behind my mask of straight. This vulnerability soon made place for euphoria though.
As the conversation went on, the inevitable question appeared: "When are you going to tell dad?"
We both knew that my dad wasn't going to react positively. I didn't feel like telling him. Luckily, my mom was there to support me. She informed him as soon as I was back in Leuven. I didn't want to be at home. I wasn't up for it.
My dad actually cried. He called me as soon as he could, surprised that I sounded just the same as I did before, as if nothing had happened. He visited me in Leuven that week. I can still vividly picture him breaking down again, when we started talking. Being very stereotypically influenced by various factors throughout his life, he was very scared and worried. But I remember that day as the day on which I had a very grown-up conversation with my father. It was the first time we ever did that, and it felt excellent.

It has been one year. A lot has happened. I have basically come out to everyone around me, and most importantly: I am happier than ever before.

I love you!
L.

The self-acclaimed gaydar

Okay, I admit it. I like Project Runway. I like the clothes, I like the contestants (I totally fell in love with Daniel Vosovic during season two), I like Heidi Klum, I like Tim Gunn. Because of the rather odd airing time, my dad is sometimes forced to watch the show with me. He doesn't like Project Runway. I bet he likes Heidi Klum alright, but he expressively dislikes the show on itself ("Do we have to watch this shit again?"). I believe the show on itself isn't really the issue. It's the openly gay and eccentric males on the show that he finds rather appalling.
My father is the proud owner of what I like to call the "self-acclaimed gaydar". I don't think he has a gaydar. He, on the other hand, is absolutely convinced that he can distinguish the fruit from the so to speak vegetables.
Project Runway proved to me that I am right, but unfortunately my father is the only one I need to convince, and he happens to be resistant to my constatations. We had been watching the show together for around twenty minutes. In this timespan, he regurarly outed his disapproval.
First, he made his comments rather general.
"This designer kind, it's like, always special people." he said sighing, emphasizing the word 'special' as if it were some kind of illness that was inherent to a fashion designer.

I immediately picked up that his comments were pointing at Christian Siriano (I know, season four, damn you Belgian broadcasters, I want season five!). I think I don't need to explain why.

"Especially the one with the glasses." he continued.
-"What's wrong with him?" I asked, trying to lure his anti-gay side out of its den.
"He's just over the top. And his hair, what's up with that, you don't like that, do you?"
-"Don't be so dissapproving. You don't know him, and besides, I think he's a very funny guy. And his hair, well, I know, it's eccentric. Then again, so is he, and I don't see why his hair should not be the way it is. He wants it fierce like that."

Then it went silent. To my surprise, no word was spoken about the fact that Christian was gay. Then, five minutes before the show ended, Christian's made some stereotypical gay hand movements.
"Oh my God" my dad started, "this guy is gay, isn't it?" he said, still desperately seeking confirmation. I laughed, and then said that Christians homosexuality was something to be smelled from fifty kilometres away. I wonder what had happened if I told him that he wasn't gay. Seriously, dad, you ain't got no gaydar, a'ight?

The Erasmus Experience - Madrid Edition: Orange Club

Yesterday, A. and I went to a club in Madrid. We could get it for a lot less money because we were member of a special facebook group. They told us to get there in time because there would be a long queue.. Didn't really think it would be that long, but hey.. It kind of was. So there we were, in our queue when suddenly two persons before us a girl turned around and faced the boys ahead of us and said: 'Hi, I'm from New York, where are you guys from??'

-my eyes started sparkling-

"I hàve to meet that girl!"

So after eavesdropping for a while we got into the club and headed straight to the bar because they promised us there would be an open bar van 23.30-00.30! But since we arrived around 00.15 we didn't really have a lot of time left for us to get free drinks.. Anyhow.. we managed to get to the front of the bar through the pressing crowd of eager students wishing to get a free drink or a refill.. Only to realize that we were at the part of the bar where the bartender wasn't in favor of guy.. He even said at one moment: 'No chicos, no'.. It really p* me off! So anyhow, while we were standing there a guy came to stand next to me and he asked me what we could do with the piece of paper they gave us at the entrance.. I explained and we got to talking.. I think he was gay, and he was there all alone.. Suddenly he left the bar and headed to the dance floor.. alone. After 30 minutes we still saw him walking around alone so I tapped his shoulder and thought I could make some smalltalk.. -him being gay and all-.. but he actually wanted to give us the impression that he was there with friends and pointed in some direction where they were 'supposed' to be, but we never saw them.. After that conversation he headed in that direction and u-turned towards the exit.. Never saw of him again..

Anyhow, that wasn't the most interesting part of the story.. Later that night, A. and I where at the bar -again- when the girl from NY (who definitely noticed we were checking here out) started talking to us.. *aaaah*
"Hii, where are you guys from?"
and the conversation started.. she also brought friends there from Washington and Tennessee.. They were all very nice and we got to the point where we invited them to the mall, because they hadn't seen it yet! In my opinion the girl from Tennessee was the nicest one of them.. the other once gave me a very superficial friendly impression but always seemed to try to get out of the conversation.. So right now, I don't really know what to think.. the girl from Washington practically invited herself to come shopping with us, but later that night she kinda dodged us for one moment..

Heyy, I guess will have to wait and see what happens,

See you next time,

x

B.

The Erasmus Experience - Madrid Edition: Chueca

Chueca, or.. another word for 'gay'.. is a hip and trendy district of Madrid.. today I went apartment hunting in Madrid and ended up in the vicinity of this district.. And you almost immediately noticed its presence.. The streets up to it were all very trendy.. nice shops, nice bars too, I think, and of course.. nice gays! You could immediately smell the rising level of gay guys.. It was a very weird sensation.. The apartment was okay, but we ended up renting another one, that was located closer to our bus station.. But still, being around the district sure did get me curious to know and mostly séé more..

I'll keep you posted!

x,

B.

The Erasmus Experience - Madrid Edition

Hey there you guys,

I know it's been a long time since I've posted something up here on my part, but I just never got to it.. and the inspiration was also a lost cause at the time. But now I have opened a new chapter of my life and it is called "The Erasmus Experience".. I'm gonna be in Madrid for the following 5 months and today is my first they in the beautiful Spanish city! It's absolutely incredible over here.. I was really afraid that I would feel lost and not at home, but it just gave me chills.. However, I thought it would be interesting to share my experiences at this blog.. I can only imagine there are going to be a handful of gay experiences that might be incredibly interesting for you guys!

So be sure to check this blog for more soon!

Hasta luego mis amigos!

x,

B.

Dantonn is a dancer

One week ago, I discovered this guy. His name is Daniel, and he's fabulous. I can't explain what I love about him. He's just magically in love with the world around him, and he likes to rant about it. And I happen to love ranting people who are crazy and sense-making at the same time! <3

(I tried embedding the video, but because of the new HD formats on YouTube, the video fucks up the layout. So sorry.)

The F-word (8)

My mind could only think of one thing that day. It needs no further explanation that I was pretty nervous. Some way or another, I started to ask myself silly questions about the still fragile relationship I was developing with F. What if he didn't like me? What if he was not going to show up tonight? Of course he already knew me, but not in a profound way. Sitting together for lunch along with friends isn't exactly the same as going to a movie together. That night would be my chance to really show him who I was. I fantasized about me doing my coming-out to him. I fantasized about him doing to same. And this coincidence would of course climax with me putting my hand against the -so to speak- damp window of the car we were going to sleep in.
So far for my reckless fantasy which I would never have the balls for to carry out in real life.
F. didn't stay in the city. He didn't rent a room, so he was forced to leave Leuven every day, and come back the following. Sometimes, when he didn't have a train back home, he crashed at someone's place. I was very aware that he wouldn't be able to make for the last train home, leaving him with only one solution: staying over for the night. Did I object? Let me answer that question with another question. Is the pope a woman?
For all it's worth, he didn't seem to care. During the week before the movie, he asked me if it was okay if he stayed over, to which I eagerly answered yes. Then he asked me if he needed to bring a sleeping bag, to which I said no, because I had one laying about in my room. One thing I didn't tell him, and I have to admit that I mischievously kept my mouth shut on purpose, was that I only had one bed. I don't know if he thought about it, but I did. And every time I thought about it, it pretty much ended like the dream scenario described above.
Around 21h30 PM I started to feel unsettled. He hadn't texted me anymore since noon, and a dark fear of him not showing up slowly crept inside my happy mind. The movie started at ten o'clock, and we still had to cycle down there. The fact that "casually late" was his second name had slipped my mind. Around 21h45 he rang my doorbell, and some sort of relief and happiness quickly filled me, as the fears I had scurried away.
Going up the stairs, he asked me: "So it's no problem that I stay over?"
"No" I said, starting to feel giggly inside.
"But there's one thing" I continued, "I only have one bed... I hope that's not a problem?"
"Not at all" he chuckled while looking me in the eyes, laughing away the apparently ridiculous insinuation.
We jumped on our bikes, and didn't stop talking until we reached the theatre. Entering, he offered his member card to get a discount at the box office, telling me that they never checked the photo that was on the card. I got the discount, as he foretold, and we sat down in the comfortable red seats of the theatre a few minutes later. Sicko started. Not the most romantical tale, I know, but to be honest, I didn't really care. For as long as I could watch together with the awesomely gorgeous guy next to me, they could even make me watch the most dreadful pictures ever created. F. slipped off his shoes, and put his cute red-socked feet on his seat so he could sit more comfortable. I smiled.
The movie itself was okay. Not that it really mattered. I was longing more for what was going to happen after the credits had rolled down the screen... What would the night bring? What revelations would surface? I pictured myself dozing of in bed.

"I welcome you to my bed, you gorgeous brown-eyed creature..."

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prologue - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Love is a lottery

One week and two days ago, my parents and sister left for Italy. They got up at 4 AM in the morning, drank a cup of coffee, stepped into the car and left. I was still vast asleep. I don't join my parents anymore on their holidays. That ship seems to have sailed. Instead, I stay at home and enjoy my summer job.
Today, I went to my grandmother for lunch, so I wouldn't have to cook myself. She's 74 years old, very catholic, and likes to nag about her health. In fact, she likes to nag about almost everything. When it's sunny it's too hot, but it's too wet when it rains. There seems to be no state of balance in which she is happy. But, today was different. When one of her grandchildren come over for lunch, she's a happy woman. She doesn't say it, but she shows it by cooking quantities of food that could easily nourish a military troop of twelve that has just been on a 40-day mission to the desert.
Today's menu: tomato soup, followed by steak, potatoes and beans in a yellowish sauce. She was reluctant to tell me the recipe of the delicious sauce. "It's a secret." she said, smiling wittily across the table. There was ice cream for dessert. Every now and then, she would glance at my plate and ask if I wanted some more. I had to disappoint her, for I could not eat another bite.
I haven't outed myself to my grandmother yet. She's a very catholic person, and to be honest, I don't believe that being honest about my sexuality will be beneficial to the already fragile relationship we both cherish. I know that she has come to a state of mind that doesn't allow any "anomalies" such as homosexuality. Though she loves me, she will never understand, let alone accept it. So I decided it was best to keep my mouth shut.
Because she has no clue that I like boys over girls, girls are often brought up. Today was no different.
My aunt called. My aunt doesn't know that I'm gay either (same side of the family). At the end of the conversation, my aunt gave her regards to me, and my girlfriend as well. I had to laugh. Of course there's no girlfriend. They were just tricking me into telling them that I had one. I said there was nobody, still smiling. "But", my grandma continued, "there must be a lot of fine girls at university, right?" "Yes, there are a lot of fine girls, grandma" I said, thinking that there are a lot of fine guys as well.
"Well, make sure you pick the right one. But, then again, you might never know if she is the right one. Love is a lottery, isn't it?" She turned around, and walked back into the kitchen. Little did she know I was going to write about it.

x, L.

So my boss is queer too (2)

Don't worry, this is not going to be a second soap like the F-word. I just thought I should give an update, since I already posted about the issue last week.

My boss, some colleagues and I were having lunch during our break when one of the female coworkers was telling a story. She was talking about a barbeque she went to, together with her husband. At this event, there was a dog. For some reason, this dog enjoyed leg humping. Victim of choice: the husband of my female colleague. She was vividly telling about the dog, the movements, and critizing the owner of the dog (who was also the host of the party) for not learning the dog to stay of other people's legs.
The way she was not amused about the lack of proper dog training, so felt her husband about the dog that could not stop humping his right leg. Instead of addressing the dog training, he claimed that the dog was gay. "The dog is gay, the dog is gay" my colleague said, quoting her husband.

My boss, who was listening to the story, interrupted. In a funny and not neccesarily serious way he said: "Well, I'm gay, but I'm not going to hump your husband's leg, am I?" Everyone laughed. And, for a split second, everyone realised that this was the coming out of my boss towards me. They all looked at me, trying to interpret my reaction to this newly disclosed information (at least they thought it was news for me). For a moment I felt threatened. Maybe because they exptected that I would react in a weird way, thereby affirming my heterosexuality. Of course, I lack the latter. So I was afraid they would find out about me as well. But then, exactly two seconds later, I realised that it wouldn't matter if they knew. "Right, I'm out of the closet already".

XOXO

Metaphor of life

Three weeks ago, for various reasons, I started running. My initial goal was to run 30 minutes straight, and right now I have reached that goal, and am very happy that I can still sing along with Esmée Denters and Beyoncé on my MP3-player when I get back home after those 30 minutes.

I always leave after sunset. I don't want people to see me with my running hair and red running face. And, to be honest, everything is more beautiful at night. So, around 10 PM, I put on my running shoes and reset my stopwatch.
200 meters from my house, I turn right, into the forest. I love the sweet, chilly breath of exhaling night combined with the perfect scent of the forest at sunset. It's lovely and soothing.
Yesterday, the road I had to take was dusty dry. The sun's blistering rays had made all the water evaporate from the soil. There's a lot of holes in the sandy road, eroded by water and wind. Normally, I find it very easy to dodge those holes, but yesterday was different. Although I knew where the hole in the road was, I still stepped into it, and tripped over. It was not the hole that made me trip over. It was me, not paying attention. I had not foreseen the agony that very soon followed. I got back up, on my own, and continued, however hurt.
Today, the same dusty road was not the same. Rain had filled the holes, creating little lakes that now reflected the evening sky. I managed to dodge all of them, but I realised that, one day, I will fall again. And again. And I will be thankful for it. For every time I fall, I will learn. And this knowledge will help me to elegantly dodge the holes the next time.

Life is like a road, perforated with obvious and tricky holes. Some can be dodged, others have to be tackled. There's no life without hardships. But, if you look closely, you can see friends standing next to every hardship. They reach out their hands, making it easier to cross the road that we call life.

So my boss is queer too

Last week I started working again, a summer job. I work at a grocery store, now for the third year in a row. Despite the fact that I sometimes need to get up at six o'clock in the morning, I love working there. There's great variation in the tasks I need to do, and the colleagues are fabulous.
Speaking of fabulous, my boss is a very funny guy. He only recently became store manager, because the one I worked for for the past two years got relocated to run his own store.
My boss is around 30 years old, pretty thin, with short brown hair. When looking closely, you can see that he is slightly balding, desperately trying to camouflage it by having very short hair. But, I need to say, he's still a good-looking guy.
From the moment I saw him, my gaydar went off. I wasn't sure of course, it was a bet with a confidence interval of 95%. I think his hand gestures gave him away. When he is telling a story, his hands exuberantely start moving, just like he is playing charades.
Yesterday I searched his name on Facebook, and I found his profile. My gut was right. I noticed that he was member of groups such as "Gay men... unite!!!", a coming out group, and this group.
His photos showed the stereotypical gay life. Lots of parties, lots of gay guys, with almost 50 % of the pictures containing at least one drag queen or transvestite. It was obvious that my boss is out and proud, not only due to the pictures, but because a lot of the colleagues were in his friend list as well.
I wonder if he knows about me too. I wonder if his gaydar goes off as well when I enter his line of sight. And I am curious if there is going to be gay talk, because chances are high that we'll have to work together in the store. I am now hesitant about whether or not I am going to bring it up. Would that be something I would regret afterwards? Or would it strengthen the bond? I guess we'll have to wait and see. Talking about it basically equals my coming out at work, and I'm not entirely sure about the whole work/private life separation.

x, L.

The advantages of being gay

Only recently, I was talking to a friend about the advantages of being gay. Very often people focus on the disadvantages, rather than the benefits. It's only natural I guess. Allow me to point out the advantages we came up with. Most of them apply to both girl-girl and boy-boy, some of them are exclusive benefits for boys. So, if you're a gay guy and are currently a little down because you don't see the advantages of being gay: here is my list o' advantages!

1. There's no hidden "sex secrets". When you are attracted to a boy, you know exactly what you're up to. You know how he thinks, you know what boys like. All this because you are a boy as well. Your own body is like an inherent guru that has taught you almost everything there is to know about yourself, and thus about your boyfriend too.
   
2. Starting a relationship with the same sex is extra sexy. Not only because you are able to admit to each other that you love each other and are therefore gay, but also because you got to have the guts to reveal the relationship to the environment. Having the feeling that you need to defend your love because it seems 'forbidden', makes it extra special.
3. Being gay makes you stronger as a person. I'm not sure if this applies to everyone, but it certainly does for me. Being gay means that you will be confronted with a lot of things that straight people will very likely never come across. You know what it feels like to be discriminated, both personally and as a minority group. This may seem a disadvantage, but you will get stronger because of it.
4. Combined financial incomes are higher. Although there has changed a lot in the bussiness world concerning sex equality, we still can't get around the fact that men still make more money than women. All personal/educational influences aside, men still get better jobs, and almost never encounter the 'glass ceiling' in a corporation.
5. Your wardrobe doubles if you have a boyfriend. If you have the same size, that is.
6. No 'monthly thingy'. This because boys are not blessed with a menstruation cycle. But let's not be unhappy about it. Another related advantage: you can have sex every day of the month.
   
7. No teenage pregnancies. There's no better preservative than being gay. Really. No need to remember when to take the Pill, no need to apply sperm-killing jelly, and you will never have to tell your parents that you accidentally have a bun in the oven.
   
8. Boys are just more gorgeous. (It's a subjective advantage, I know)

XOXO, L.

The F-word (7)

In the mean time, my high school friends had also noticed I had befriended F. Since he had been a topic of interest since the beginning of the semester, things did seem to get a lot more interesting now that he was my friend. The critical question about his sexuality quickly reappeared. We had been discussing it for months, and now the answer to the question seemed closer than ever.
I was curious too. I still wasn't sure. And since we were going to grab a movie together, maybe we would get a little more personal.
But first, I had to go ask him about the movie, since he had told me to remind him. So the week after he had asked me, when our class was done, I decided I would just go and 'pop the question'.
It sounded easier than it was, for I was still pretty insecure. I don't know why, but I felt like a little, shy schoolboy who was about to hand over a very personal love letter to the most beautiful girl (or boy, in this case) at school. Basically, I was just asking a friend to join me to the movies, but I guess the fact that I was really attracted to him, made it feel a little different. I took a deep breath and walked towards him.
He was talking to one of his friends, a girl. She seemed a nice person, a little overweight, desperately trying to cover that up with fancy clothing. I later learned that she had very rich parents, which explains the expensive clothes part.

"Hey" I said to F.
"Hey. Just hold on for a moment" he said, while turning his head in the direction of the girl again, trying to wrap up the conversation. After 20 seconds or something (it really seemed more like a decade, and felt really awkward) the girl took off, and I got F.'s unconditional attention.

"So, hey, L." he grinned.
"Hi, I was wondering if you feel like grabbing a movie this week? You know, like you proposed?" As soon as I asked him, I felt a lot more at ease.
"Oh, yeah, that's right." he said, while thinking if he had still room for me in his dense schedule.
"You know, I've been wanting to watch Sicko for a while now, so I'd really like it if we went to see that movie together."
"That sounds fine with me." I said, totally not caring about what movie we were going to watch.
"What about next Tuesday? I'll come over to your place around 9:30 PM, so we can cycle down there together."

From the moment he pronounced the word "next", I was like say what, brotha? Next week? Another seven f*cking days? I already felt like someone who had been edging his way through ten hours of the finest porn collection in the world, and was then suddenly told he had suspend his climax for another week. Nevertheless, I had no other choice but to agree. The date was pinned. Tuesday 11th of December F. would come to my place, and we would go to the movies together. Finally.
Until then, we texted each other, which felt really great. I talked to my mum about what great friends I had become with F. too, mainly because I found it excruciatingly difficult not to talk about him. He really was a great guy.

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prologue - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

The F-word (6)

There I was. Sitting with the hottest guy I had ever met. At the same table. Having lunch together.
I was very excited to finally meet him, after checking him out for three months, but it was important to stay cool. This was not an easy task. He looked dropdead gorgeous.
I must say, I was quite surprised that he looked even better from up close, because for most people it works the other way round. Beautiful brown eyes, a great smile... I was dying. His hair and five o'clock shadow looked like he had just gotten out of bed, yet he had this fresh, vibrant look on his face. I also noticed that he was wearing the same outfit as on the day I first glanced him, which happened to be quite a coincidence, because my observational skills had already learned me that he had a wardrobe the size of Russia. To top it of, he liked to talk about everything. I had no other choice than to be into him. The other guy (who wasn't getting my attention) on the other hand, was left with no other choice than to stay silent.
It was hard to pretend that I didn't know who he was, because I was already past the getting-to-know-you-knowledge. Everthing went smoothly, until the end. I figuratively tripped. He decided to give me and my friend a flyer (the very same that led me to his name). Of course I already knew what the organisation was about. And of course I was stupid enough to tell F. that.

"Here, take this flyer. It's about this youth+art+music thing I am a member of."
"Oh", I said, "I know this. Doesn't this thing have a MySpace too?"

Great work L. From the moment the words left my mouth and flew out in the open air, I knew that I was going to have to find a valuable explanation for already knowing about the totally non-famous MySpace of a totally unknown art organisation.

"Hey, that's right! How did you end up on the MySpace?"
"Erm.. I don't know? I guess I got redirected from another website."

Then I named a website, one I remembered seeing as an affiliate on the MySpace. He bought it. In my thoughts, I swept the drops of sweat of my forehead with the back of my hand. Crisis averted. We stood up, and made our way to the exit. On the way, F. saw someone he knew, so he got behind. My friend and I waited for him outside.

"Awww. You waited for me?" he said when he saw us. "That's so sweet of you!"

So started our Tuesday lunch tradition. He joined us every week. One day, while eating rice with an eggroll, he was telling about how much he liked to see movies. But not mainstream cinema. He liked the smaller productions, not the Hollywood ones, which basically illustrates how sophisticated he was. He was different, and confident about it. I think 60% of his sexiness came from the confidence, really.
I continued the conversation by telling that I liked movies too. "That's so awesome!" he said enthousiastically, "We should go grab a movie together then! But not this week, I don't have the time. Remind me of it next week."

We swapped phone numbers, and went to class. I couldn't wait for the next week to come...

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prologue - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

How it feels to have a stroke

Woops! It's been five days already since we last posted! We're both studying our brains out right now, so I hope that's a valuable excuse. Expect a new F-word episode the day after tomorrow!
In the meantime, make sure to check out this video. I know it'll take 20 minutes of your time, but it'll be worth it. The next 20 minutes may even change your life.

I love you!

The F-word (5)

Around the time I found out what F.'s name was, my social life became a little more active. Since I had entered university, I pretty much stuck to my old high school friends. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that, but after two months, some new friends were added.
One of those new friends was someone who became a key contact into my quest to get closer to F. Don't get me wrong, I didn't become friends with him just because of F.
One day, I seem to recall it was a wednesday, we had class at 9 AM. I met up with some friends in front of the auditorium, before going in. When we went inside, one of the girls from my essay group, with whom I was standing outside, adressed the guy that would become one of my friends. I sat next to him that day, and from then on, he always joined our group.
The guy was tall, had curly hair, and was just a bit out of shape. Every time I saw him, he kinda reminded me of the lead singer of The Kooks. He played the guitar. I actually noticed this because he had long fingernails. He was a great guy to say the least, but then again, he wasn't very talkative. And once the general getting-to-know-you talk was behind us, it became considerably harder to keep the conversation going between us.
One thing I did notice though, was that he was much more talkative toward girls. And I also noticed he had occasional contact with F. He was in the same essay group as him. An advantage to say the least, for common friends are the best head start you can have in the race to get to meet one another.
The friendship between Mr. Kooks and I quickly flourished. Sometimes, when we had the time, we would even go have lunch together.
One day, it finally happened. We had both agreed to grab lunch together. We met up before the auditorium, when all of a sudden he said:

"Someone else is going to join us for lunch as well. I hope you don't mind?"

My heart skipped a beat. I didn't answer the question. But hell, I didn't mind at all.


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prologue - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Wake

If there's one thing that we all have in common, then it is that we are mortal beings. Death is connected to life as is shadow to light. Death is a burden we all have to carry. And when someone dies in our entourage, we all deal with it in our own ways.
Two days ago, I came to know that the father of a high school friend had died. The man was riding his bike when all of a sudden he got a heart attack. He was hospitalized, but took his last breath of oxygen only a few moments after he had arrived there. After hearing the news, I could not imagine what it would be like if I lost my dad. For the last few days, my thoughts were with my friend. I felt a little bad. Mainly because she had lost her dad, but also because I kind of neglected the relationship I had with her. After I had sent her a text message in which I told that I was thinking of her, I decided I would go to the wake. Together with some friends. Just to be of some support.

Meet myself at a funeral.

Whenever I'm at a wake or a funeral, I undergo an emotional feeling that I cannot describe. I don't feel uncomfortable, yet not comfortable. I don't feel sad (unless it's someone I know well), but obviously I don't feel happy. My emotions stay somewhere in-between, as if I am not completely capable of understanding what exactly is happening. I'm in an emotional state I don't have a facial expression for.
Whenever there's a silence, especially long silences, I have the very annoying yet irresistible tendency to start entertaining myself. Instead of reflecting on something that matters, I start thinking about something funny. An inside joke. A hilarious image. Of course, I start smiling. And of course, it is totally inappropriate. After I killed my smile, I anxiously glance round the church, hoping that nobody saw.
I find funerals hard. Not only do you need to cope with a loss of a loved one, but you have to behave according to the rules. With so many rules about what is/isn't appropriate, spontaneous grief seems to be pushed away into a corner, it seems. Almost two years ago, my grandfather passed away. After the funeral service, the family and I made our way to the mortuary, where the coffin was at, so we could pay our last respects. Apparently (I wasn't aware of it at the time) I was standing with my hands in my pockets. But not at all in a relaxed kind of way. It was my way of expressing I didn't know where to stay with myself, a way of expressing that I felt highly uncomfortable. About a week later, someone who saw me said:

"You shouldn't put your hands in your pockets when you're standing next to a coffin. It's disrespectful, you know."

And so I learned another onspoken rule of going to funerals.

Whenever there is a funeral, people speak about going to heaven. I don't really believe in heaven. Nor do I believe in hell. It like some guru in Indonesia once said:

"There's no such thing as heaven or hell. When we die, our souls leave our bodies, and we all go to the same place. Heaven or hell takes place in-between birth and death. It's all about the journey, not the destination"

I like that thought. And I think of it, every time someone dies. We don't get a chance at a second life. So we better enjoy it while we're in it. Right now, right here.

Sudden Desperation.

Independence.. something every high school teenager strives for... I have always been a very independent person. I never really experienced a bad case of 'homesick' and I always seemed to land on my feet whenever I had a difficult obstruction to pass.
A couple of months ago we had the chance to register for an Erasmus Exchange program. Although I had always wanted to go study abroad when the opportunity would be provided, I slightly hesitated at first. It didn't séém to be 'my time' to do such a thing. I mean, dreaming about it is one thing, but actually doing it, going away for six months to a place you've never been before.. is another!

Today that feeling really sunk in. A sudden fear of failing overwhelmed me. I just wasn't sure anymore whether I was ready for it. It's not just making your own dinner and doing your own groceries. I have grown used to doing that in the passed two years of college, but it's doing your own laundry and ironing and the entire clutter of doing a household.. holy cow
Yeah, that really is another thing.

I can absolutely take care of myself.. and it's been a life long dream to one day leave everything behind and go job hunting in New York, but now that my exchange program to Madrid is approaching I all of a sudden feel so tiny. Just one person to 6,750,000,000 other people out there.
Damn.. when you really see the digits.. that's a LOT of people.
Maybe I'm just stressed because of the upcoming finals. Anyway.. I've climbed out of my hole of desperation and got back to my feet.

I'm going to be alright out there.

x,

B.

Straight guys

With so many beautiful guys walking this earth, and only 20% of them liking guys, it can sometimes be frustrating to be gay. And that 20% is only an estimate. It could be more (and let's hope it is!), but very likely, it's going to be less. Good thing most of us are equipped with a gaydar.
Straight guys are a forbidden fruit. Almost all of us have fallen in love with a straight guy at some point in life. Or at least been infatuated. As for me, I have been infatuated by a straight guy for the last two weeks. The fact that he can never be yours, makes him even more attractive. It's like a child sitting in front of two cookie jars. One of the jars is locked. Of course you want the cookies out of the locked jar. It's only human. The objective is to keep control over your emotions and physical attraction.

So this video I dedicate to every reader who will lose control when staring into the eyes of a irresistible hunk. You might want to consider these tips. And if you've tried them out, be sure to report back to me. I'd like to know if they really work.

It's Eurovision time!

The telephone rang around 11 AM in the morning last Saturday. My mom picked up the phone. It was my godmother. She asked if it was okay for her daughter, a.k.a. my cousin, to stay over the night, because they would be going out that evening. My mother agreed. My cousin would arrive around 5 PM.

My cousin is a girl of twelve years old. She has long brown hair, and she is quite 'developed' already, which makes her seem older than she really is. She's a very energetic girl, and let's just say that manifests itself in her being very talkative. She talks all the time. When she's not talking, she's singing. I know that it is normal for girls to talk a lot at that age, but I bet my cousin owns them all. Thank heavens for inventing sleep.
Apart from being a total blabbermouth, she's very fun to hang out with. Coincidentally, the night she came over was also the night the Eurovision Song Contest was. I really like the Eurovision Song Contest. I don't exactly know why. Somehow it became a tradition to watch.
When I was younger, me and my sister would go to my grandmother's to watch the singing competition. We would dice some cheese, cut some carrots and selery into sticks and arrange all the homemade snacks onto a large plate. Then, and only then, we were good to go. During the contest itself, we would sit in front of the television, armed with pen and paper, assigning points to the songs. Then, after having seen every single song, we would constitute our own 'top' and 'flop top'.
Needless to say, I've grown a little old to go to my grandparents to watch Europe's favorite contest. But I still eat cheese and carrot sticks. And I still assign points. So at 9 o'clock, I stuffed a notepad and pen into the hands of my cousin. She was happy to participate.
When you're watching a show full of glitter, glamour and gay dancers/singers together with a girl that virtually never shuts up, blatant remarks about gays on stage are always around the corner.
My cousin does not know that I'm gay. I didn't out myself yet to my dad's side of the family.

"Oh my God, he's a gay"

she said confidently, after seeing that the guy on stage was wearing very tight glitter pants. I felt slightly uncomfortable after her remark. Because of the way she pronounced it, I could sense that 'gay' was a word she also would use as an insult. I know that she thinks about gay people in a very stereotypical way. But I don't blame her. Hell, she's only twelve. It's not her fault. Lots of factors contribute to the image every day. But I soothed myself with the thought that once I come out, I will distort that image. And she'll come to terms for sure.

Peace out!
x

Boys and their toys

Boys and gadgets. It seems to be a perfect match. Yesterday, during my french exam, that theory got affirmed.
The exam started at 6 PM. I was there in time, along with the rest of my fellow classmates.

My french teacher was accompagnied by three assistents. From what I've learned over the past two years, I know that assistents are supposed to be resistively ugly, with only very few exceptions to the rule. They're supposed to have crooked teeth, a bad taste of fashion, all combined into a never-appealing physique. They're perfect to be watching over you when you're filling out your exam, as they provide no more distraction than the clouds smoothly sliding up high in the sky through the window.
Yet, yesterday's assistents defied the aspects of being an assistent. There were three of them.
The first one was ugly. Nothing noteworthy here. He acted slightly gay, but because he was already over 40 years old, it could be very possible that he felt he could act a bit more feminine, just because he had already proven himself straight in the past. All in all, I didn't pay much attention to him.
The second guy was the most attractive one for me. This twenty-something guy wore a vest with a green T-shirt underneath. He was tall, lean, had shaggy hair and sideburns. To top it all of, he had this boyish grin on his face. All the time. He distracted me every time I looked up while thinking.
The third one, on the other hand, was rather cute. Dressed in a navy blue sweater with white horizontal stripes, this guy was a bit beefier than number two, but in a good way.
At a random moment during the exam, the third assistant pulled an Apple iPod (or iPhone, I'm not sure) out of his pants.

Almost instantaneously, the other two assistants flocked together to look over the shoulder of Mr. Apple. I'm not sure what exactly he was showing them, but let's just assume it was something cool, something the other two hadn't seen before, and the owner was very proud of showing. The boyish grin that the most attractive assistant had on his face all the time, now had appeared on all of the faces. They were giggling. Like a bunch of fourteen year-olds.
My french teacher, a women, was sitting a few meters away in a chair. She was holding a red pen, correcting tests from a pile she brought. While she was doing something 'useful', Mr. Apple was still showing off his gadget, making the other two laugh. Then my teacher looked up, and looked at them. Her face was priceless. I could literally see her thinking: "Tsk, just look at them. Boys will be boys". And she continued her work.

XOXO
L.

The F-word (4)

Thinking back, the essay groups opened up a new world of information. Since everyone was being divided into groups, that consequently meant that his name had to be on the list as well. There was only one large disadvantage. The list was quite extensive. And by quite, I mean around 500 names long. Of course, girls could be deleted instantaneously, which left around 200 names up for consideration. My group consisted of three girls and one boy. But it wasn't him.
To be honest, I wasn't infatuated enough to check every single name on the list. I think I tried the first 50 names by entering them in Google, but I very soon found out that Google almost never provided me with enough information to actually identify him. At this moment, finding him would be fairly easy. I'd just have to check Facebook. If I didn't know his name, I would just browse through some pictures until I eventually found him. But Facebook wasn't that widespread back then as it is today, so the list was pretty much everything I got.
At our campus, we have a library that only holds books about our study domain. It's a feature that comes in handy, especially when you have to write an entire scientific essay about a subject you're not familiar with.
I still remember the day the other group members and I were expected at the library for a little tour. Because the librarians obviously didn't feel like playing tourguide for every single group, they bundled some of the groups.
We met up with the other students at the entrance of the library. I was pretty nervous, and I don't remember why. I guess the idea of meeting him was too much for me to handle. The tour started, and the nervosity ebbed just as fast as it had appeared earlier. I was caught off guard when all of a sudden he showed up. I initially thought he was late again (casually late had become his second name), but it turned out he wasn't supposed to be part of the tour group. He had probably just been studying there.
For a few weeks, there wasn't a lot of progress in my quest to find his name. In the meantime, my friends mostly positioned ourselves just behind B. and his friends in the auditorium. I didn't know B. at the time, but he was a good source for gossip, since his friends were socially very active. And of course, since he was already out, I loved the gay talk.
But let's stay focused. One day, I had a crystal clear view of mystery boy. It seemed he had some flyers laying on his seatback tray, indicating that he was very likely a member of the organisation he was flyering for. Of course, the name of this youth organisation was entered properly into Google as soon as I got back home.

There it was. His name. Both his first and last name, under a picture that didn't even come close to his gorgeousness in real life. Now I officially knew his name. Please welcome F.

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prologue - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

Sinfully Virtuous.

People often engage in deadly sins.
We've all heard of them.

Lust
Gluttony
Greed
Sloth
Wrath
Envy
Pride

There they are. All seven of 'em.
Recognize some? Recognize ALL of them?

Well, today I was thinking of sin. What makes ones' actions sinful. Today I'm kind of in a difficult place. Whereas I should be studying for my finals, I am just pondering around. So consequently, and the following is rather an attachment to my personality, I feel guilty.

But then again, what? Does one have to feel guilty when one has an off-day?

That's what got me thinking about sin. Is it sinful to do nothing? To just enjoy a day off. Oh... yeah... it is. Sloth. Or put rather easy: being lazy as hell. Ohh mannn..
Now that we've established the fact that a simple thing such as this one is even a sin, you can all imagine we all actually live very sinful lives.

When you think about it, however, life would be extremely upsetting and tedious if we would engage in only the seven 'delicious' virtues, the seven sins' counterparts. Things like kindness, humility, patience, charity... you can complete the list.

No, that would be boring. Isn't it human after all to have some kind of balance between the two? Sometimes the balance is just outweighed by the greedy part and you forget to be charitable for a minute. You just think of yourself and yourself only for a couple of minutes. As soon as you're satisfied you can return to the charity side of the balance.

No problem, it seems. As long as the balance is right in the middle or at least not on the sin side all of the time, I think you're doing a great job.

Food for thought, isn't it?

x,
B.

Weirdo

Tonight I'm going to do something I have never done before in my life. I'm going to watch X-men Origins at the movie theatre. And I don't have a date. I'm going alone. Just me, myself and I. Shocking, right?
Initially, I was going to go with B., but since he has a pretty dense schedule and was booked for this week, I decided to go by myself.
Apparently, going to the movies alone is a taboo. It seems to be not done, I noticed, while I was telling my friends what I just told you.

"What?"
"You're going all by yourself?"
"I don't think I would enjoy going alone."
"It's so... weird."

I am weird, that much is clear. But why is it so hard to go to the movies alone? Why can't we survive on our own?
A lot of the things we do, we do alone. Reasons are often very obvious. We study alone because we want to avoid disturbance, because we need to concentrate. We don't like people watching over our shoulder when we're sitting in front of the computer, because we're in need of privacy. I can write a book twice the size of J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, solely summing up things we do alone (but don't dare me, I'm not going to).
When you look at it rationally, going to a film would be something you'd like to do on your own. First of all, there's no need for a discussion in front of the box office about what movie to go to. Since you're going on your own, you can pick the movie you want. Secondly, the movie theatre isn't the best place to socialize with friends. Who came up with the ridiculous idea to socialize in an entirely dark room with blasting sound anyway? Since talking is socially prohibited and you're not even seated face to face, why bother bringing anyone?
I guess going to a movie with friends is a cultural thing. Celebrating the independence you gain as a teenager, away from the staring gaze of mother and father. It provides topics to talk about with friends. It's a bonding thing, it seems.

Before every reader/friend never wants to take me to a film again, let me just say that I don't detest going with friends. I even prefer it. Nothing more fun than going together with friends. But I don't think it's weird to go alone. If you have the self-confidence to face a room full of friends and couples, then go ahead. Just enjoy the film. Because that's what you came to the theatre for in the first place.

Ily!
L.

The F-word (3)

Since I didn't know this guy's name, and I wanted to talk about him really badly, the group and I thought of the perfect nickname for our auditorium hottie. The nickname was based on an actor, because we all thought he (obviously) resembled him a lot.
During the next few days my friends and I had classes together, I would always manage to bring him up again. I had to be careful, though. Since I hadn't come out yet (I would only start coming out a year later), I couldn't make it too obvious that I liked this guy in that kind of way. I guess I pulled it off flawlessly. Nobody had a clue (or at least they didn't tell me they suspected something).
His sexual orientation, on the other hand, was brought up fairly soon. While one girl thought he was gay, and the other thought he was not, I rested in the middle; conflicted about what to think. Sure, he sent out some gay vibes. Then again, wasn't that just wishful thinking? Didn't I just see what I wanted to see? As if I was looking at his behaviour through a microscope, overestimating every single hint? I wasn't sure at all. I guess my gaydar wasn't well adjusted at the time.
And so, finding out if he liked boys or girls became part of my quest.
Very soon, we found out we had to write an essay as a group. I kept my fingers crossed. Since the group members were assigned to a certain topic based on their last names, there was a very small chance that he would be in my group...

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prologue - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

The F-word (2)

It was (and still is) great fun to talk about the people we saw entering the room. I remember us making up names for people that were clearly distinctive from the rest (because we didn't really know their names, and we needed a name to address them in our gossip). A garish haircut, weird clothing, it didn't matter. As long as they stood out, they would receive a nickname. A girl with Chinese roots became our very own Lucy Liu, whereas a guy with long blonde hair would be crowned 'the blonde God'. A stubby girl with blonde hair who looked like she had been repeatedly molested while spraying too much hairspray on her locks was instantly named 'the one with the exploded hair'.

Then he entered, casually late. My pupils dilated. Endorphines were released into my bloodstream. For a second, paralysis struck my body.

"..."

My god. This guy was intrinsically gorgeous. As for me, definitely an inhabitant of red-tip village.
Around 1,75m tall, this guy had amazingly beautiful out-of-bed (brown) hair, brown eyes, sideburns combined with a perfectly nonchalant five o'clock shadow. He was lean and wore clothes that only he could pull off. And perhaps the most attractive aspect: his confidence skyrocketed through the roof. He demanded to be looked at, but not in a cocky kind of way. From the very moment he entered the auditorium, I (and very likely along with at least 10% of other people in a 50 meter radius) fell in love. I fell in love in a shallow kind of way. I fell in love with his looks. After consuming him visually, I couldn't help but thinking:

"I must know his name."

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prologue - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

A Storm is Gathering.

Last week, I saw a video on another blog.

I take a moment to pauze...inhale...exhale. Okay, now I think I'm ready to write something about it.

I have been terribly busy, these last few weeks. With school, with friends, with everything. That's why I didn't take the time to write about this -for me and I think al lot of other people in the world- special topic.

Perhaps some of you have already seen the clip, or at least heard about it. In case you did, you must absolutely feel the same way about it as I do. The clip is made by 'The National Organisation for Marriage' and is titled 'A Gathering Storm'.. or something like that. If you enter it on YouTube you'll definitely find it (and some spoofs as well. Duhh it's absolutely spoof worthy)
This organisation made the clip to gather as much people as possible who are against same-sex marriage. THAT'S JUST A LOAD OF CRAP. Excuse me for my language. Not.
In this video the 'witnesses', who are actual people that feel threatened by gay marriage
-oh come on-
talk about how their freedom is in some way taken away by extending the right to gay people to get married, they talk about a storm, something bad. I was absolutely caught off guard by this message. I just can't believe how an organisation can spend so much money on a message like this when there are millions of people that live in poverty and dispair.

I just had to get that off my chest. Feel so much better now. I seriously hope that one day, the people who participated in this video message, will regret their actions and realize that it's them taking away the rights and freedom of other people and not the other way around.

x,

B.

The F-word (1)

It's the end of September 2007. I just graduated from high school three months ago, had a great time doing my summer job, and now I was pushing the enter-button on my life's keyboard; Leuven would (hopefully) be my home for the four years to come. Exit sweet high school life. Now I was running with the big dogs.
A chilly wind was heralding the onset of autumn as I walked down the street, headed towards the auditorium I was going to have my first class at. I met up with some high school friends on the way. There were three of them: two girls, one boy. Up till now, only one of them sticked to their original choice of bachelor.
The boy was the first to realise he wasn't fit for the job. He initially started of really well, attending all classes. Quickly, however, the number of skipped classes started augmenting. He eventually ended up skipping almost all of the classes. I guess he just enjoyed the freedom of standing on his own feet too much, and was cleary not prepared to sacrifice this freedom to studying. The other girl seemed more persistent at first. She attended all classes, and didn't even had grades too bad to say out loud. But she didn't really like Communication and Media Sciences. So, after a first semester, she changed course. Japanese Studies it was. Then Journalism. As of this moment, I don't know too much about her whereabouts.
We entered the auditorium. The hall was pretty crowded with students already, despite the fact that we were twenty minutes early. We took places somewhere in the middle of the room.
The seats were comfortable, made of a gray fabric, and automatically folded out when you stood up.
We very soon discovered that this was going to be the setting for our new hobby: spotting people. We sat back, stretched out our legs and just watched and labeled. Little did I know who was about to enter the stage...

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prologue - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8

The F-word (prologue)

I always thought guys were easy when it came to being friends. Guys almost never have any problems being around each other. No bitchy gossip behind another guy's back, no pretending, no secret vendetta's, no conspiracies, nothing. To a certain extent, I still stick to my theory. But of course, there are exceptions to the rule.
From the moment I went to my first class at university almost two years ago, there has been that one guy that defied all laws of being a man. He turned my life into a soap that even eclipses The Bold and the Beautiful.
At this very moment, I think it is finally time to write the drama out of my system. The disequilibrium ends today. Since it has been a soap, I find it most appropriate to tell you all about it in -yes that's right- episodes. Cliffhangers included.

Will there be a happy ending? Or a dramatic climax? Stay tuned!

x

PS: I'm sure that someday the guy in person will hear about the posts about to follow. I secretly hope he does. So, in case you read this: I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, haha!

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prologue - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8