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Okay, so you have a cock. And you love cock….other cock, and not just your own. Does this mean you’re gay?

The short answer? Maybe.

You didn’t want to hear that, did you? I know. To some men, being gay is a fate worse than death. I kind of get it, but then again, I don’t.

Yeah, yeah, the whole “gay” thing is loaded for men. Your dad would have a fit, and your friends would be all, “Ooh icky! You saw me naked one time!” They’d make a movie of the week about how misunderstood you are….Oh! The drama!

Here’s the thing: Exactly whose business is it in whom or where you stick your weiner?

Let me answer that one: nobody but yours.

So let’s go back to our original quandary.

You love cock. You’re considering maybe acting on your affection. You’re thinking about meeting a man, maybe even letting him seeing you naked (ooh icky!) for the purposes of sexual pleasure. You may even like it. You just might even want to do it again (oh! the horror!).

I know it sounds like I’m having a little fun at your expense, but I promise you that I’m not. Look….I’m willing to bet at one time you had a crazy girlfriend or wife who fed you a meal that didn’t have meat in it. You may have even liked that Eggplant Parmesan. Did that make you a vegetarian? Did you stay up nights worried that NOW you have to tell your mom you’ll never again eat her delicious Italian meatloaf*?

No.

Why is that? Because what you eat isn’t that big of a deal, and it’s really no one’s business what you had for dinner last night.

You see where we’re going with this, right? It’s really no one’s business what you do in the privacy of your own bedroom. Forget what you see in the media, where everybody’s talking about what everyone else is doing. As a good friend of mine would say, everyone needs to keep their damn mouths shut.

Dear heart, keep your mouth shut. If you need to talk to someone, find a friend you can trust, talk to the boys you get naked with, call me (ha ha, you knew that was coming, didn’t you?). Bottom line: don’t tell your dad, don’t tell your nosy coworker, and, for goodness sake, keep eating your mom’s Italian meatloaf!

Who cares what people might call you? Are you any less of a kind person because you *gasp* did something you wanted to do? Do you still hold the door for little old ladies, do you still call your mom on her birthday, do you still pay your taxes? (If the answer to those three questions is no, please let me know and I’ll help you arrange an attitude adjustment with our resident pain mistresses).

Who you touch, who you taste, the kinds of things you enjoy in the privacy of your own home with your front door closed, have nothing to do with who you are as a person, as a man, as a citizen. You are just as valuable today as you were the day before you did the deeds.

Give yourself a break. And yes, that is a direct order. Don’t make me put on my thigh-high mistress boots, young man! Just be. Even if you have to put a time limit on it, just allow yourself some time to decide what you want to do without any judgement whatsoever. At the end of that time you can always re-evaluate and then you can kick your own ass once again if you want. No harm, no foul. Pick right up where you left off.

But you just might have a shift in your perspective. You might not develop that stress-induced bleeding ulcer.  You may even *gasp* decide that self-flagellation isn’t exactly as seductive as it once seemed.

Maybe, just maybe, you might decide that you are a worthy human being no matter who you love and who you desire. Now, isn’t that a revolutionary idea? Try it, you’ll like it!

*BTW, I actually do have a great recipe for Italian meatloaf from my ex-mother-in-law; hit me up and I’ll send it to you. 😉