Dear Friends:
For the last six weeks I’ve been attending a salsa dance class. I love it! Dancing has enriched my life a great deal. It’s like cardio therapy or something. Whenever I’m having a bad week chile I leave all my cares on the dance floor! In addition my dance instructor, Ricardo, is extremely H-O-T (Don’t tell him but sometimes I intentionally flub my moves just so he will take me by the hands and show me how it’s done. Chile, when Mr. Ricardo twirls me around it’s everything I can do to keep from fainting)!
Anyway…
This week in class was quite interesting to say the least. Mr. Ricardo started us off, as usual, on some dance
drills. During this lesson we had some new students in class, particularly this new guy (I’ll just call him Justin Timberfake; because he looks exactly like JT, except his head is shaved) and his mother (Brenda).
Alright, so myself, Ricardo, and Justin Timberfake were the only guys in the class (depending on the week the gender ratio can swing) this weekend. I didn’t mind at all seeing as Mr. Ricardo had on a white T-shirt that hugged him tighter than Aretha Franklin’s arms around a 24 piece bucket of KFC. Needless to say while we were practicing I stayed behind him the entire time.
Anyway…
Me and Justin Timberfake were rotating around the room so that we could be dance partners with the single ladies. Well, after an hour (the class is two hours long), I went to have a seat and some water. That’s when Justin Timberfake approached me, seemingly out of nowhere, and said, “Hey whassup playboi! How you doin!” Then he proceeded to give me some dap. At first I was just going to give him five, but he went into this elaborate hand shake (lol) that confused the hell out of me. Initially I thought, “Oh lordt…Someone is trying to get some street credibility.” So I sat there in mortal dread awaiting a review about the latest 50 cent album ::groan:: However, to my pleasant surprise, the conversation did not go as expected…
Justin proceeded to compliment me on my t-shirt (I was wearing a Super Mario Brothers t-shirt. I’m not a gamer. I just love all the pretty colors). “Yo dude I love that shirt. You a gamer?”
To which I replied, “Naw, I just love this shirt.”
Then he asks, “So what high school do you go to?”
”I’m not in High school. I just graduated from college.”
“Oh, so you legal? That’s whassup then! At first I thought you was some jail bait…” he laughed. Then he paused momentarily. Justin looked at me and asked, “So, you party?”
Insert blank stare here. “Party?”
“Yeah, have you ever been to a house party?” he asked.
Alright, I’ve been to parties before at someone’s house but, for some odd reason, I thought Justin Timberfake was talking about something totally different. “No, I’ve never been to one of those…” I said. I was sorta scared it would be like a crystal meth party or something. Chile, prison stripes is NOT the LOOK.
“Seriously dude?” he said, “See, you need to come with me. We do WHATEVER we want to there. You gotta be 18 to get in though…that’s why I was askin you how old you were.”
“What do ya’ll do in there?” I said.
Justin Timberfake cracked a sly grin and said, “Don’t act brand new playa…”
Chile, my jaw hit the dance floor and bounced! I simultaneously erupted into nervous laughter. “Uhm, do you know your mother is like five feet away from us?” (lol)
Justin Timberfake continued, “So you wanna go?” He smiled again. Had to admit it. Justin Timberfake was hella cute. plus he had some swag appeal (lol).
“I don’t know…That’s not my kinda thing, y’know?”
To which he responded, “That’s cool. I’m not tryin to make you feel uncomfortable or anything…”
Anyway, I suggested we practice dancing. With that I proceeded to the dance floor. Well, Justin Timberfake followed me. “Yo, how about you show me your suzie Q.” Suzie Q is the name of a new dance we were practicing in class. The Suzie Q was sorta difficult for me because it takes a ton of fancy foot work. So, while I’m practicing Justin puts his hand on the small of my back and says, “Yeah you got it. See, you can do that for me at the party.”
“You just don’t quit!” I laughed. I will give him points for serious persistence. That was VERY appealing.
“Next week I’ll wear my Halo shirt and we’ll be in here matchin…”
To make a long story short Justin and his moms had to leave a bit early. So, I decided next time I’d get his digits. He’s sooo not boyfriend material, but I don’t gotta be in love to hang out and have fun. Besides, he krute!
Toddy English
@$$ Is Not The New Vagina
Rumpalicious!
Dear Friends:
I’m having a huge problem lately. I’m still trying to figure out why so many gay men (well those of the bottom persuasion that is) refer to their rectal orfices (okay @$$holes) by such endearing nicknames like: Boi pussy, kitty cat, boogina, mangina, and etc al? Since when did ass become the new vagina?
Moving right along…
Okay, so whenever my good acquaintance and I delve into raunchy sex conversations (well, it’s mainly him. I am so demure when it comes to frank sex talk in public, lol) he’ll jokingly say, “Gwarl, when is the last time you had yo pussy cat stroked?” Of course that particular inquiry is always good for a chuckle; however, I’m often left standing with the metaphorical glaring neon question mark floating above head. It makes no sense why anyone would compare their ass to actual genitalia. Moreover, why would a grown man relate his ass to lady parts?
To me the mere idea makes me feel like I’m totally emasculating myself. I already know that being more “bottomly inclined” comes with a tremendous amount of stigma (even in gay society). However, I take no shame in it. It is how pleasure is derived for me. I simply refuse to compare my body, a man’s body, to that of a woman’s. I think women are beautiful. I’m just not one of them. Which is why I don’t understand the need to nickname your ass with a colorful descriptor generally used to describe the pleasure zones of a woman.
One guy I know refers to his rump as ”booty candy.” Are you kidding me? Booty candy? Uhm, no honey. The last thing that’s coming out of your ass, after you done knocked back those chili nachos, is candy (unless you consider your excrement to be fudge pops or something). In addition I hate, hate, HATE, it when a dude says, “Chile, I saw a man so fine he made me moist!” Can you say EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWW? Uhm, look, if you’re moist back there–sans working up a sweat–then you need to seek immediate medical attention (or invest in depends undergarments). Sweetie, that is NOT the LOOK.
Furthermore, I could see calling your asshole something akin to a “pussy” or “kitty cat” if no one else, but gay men who
assume the bottom position, had an asshole. However, EVERYONE–including women–have assholes. Hell, I think cock roaches have assholes too. That region of your body is not distinctive. So, why steal “pussy” from the ladies? Chile, you ain’t Beyonce. Your asshole is not a Kitty Cat, end of story.
Granted, I’m not up here preaching. If you are convinced your ass is a pussy then do you boo boo. I just don’t get it.
Anyway, I apologize for sounding crass (oh my god I’ve never sworn that much in my life, haha)but this was on my mind(lol).
With L-O-V-E…
Sincerely,
Toddy English.