That time when I threw a book at the Irish...

Everyone who knows me well would know that I'm quite the temperamental guy in every way possible.

While most times, I'm more of a verbal person (which means I yell, scream and shout to vent out my angst), there are times where physical actions are involved.

Again, if you know me well enough, you'd know that when I get physical (hah! I always do *wink*), it gets ugly.

For over two decades of my life, I've hardly shown that side of me with the exception of my parents and siblings because I find it quite ugly (post-angst ventilation).

But you (The Irish) are one of the other few outside of my family who'd seen it.

I still remember it as clear as day. It was a mere two days before our first holiday together and we were headed out to Mornington Peninsula for a three-day getaway.

It was supposed to be amazing and we were counting down the days and crossing our calendars with plenty of excitement.

Just think about it. Hot springs, wine tasting (that was mainly you. I don't drink), the sunny beaches and comfy bed and breakfast. In one word: BLISS.

Then it happened. Two days before we hop into your red Holden Cruze and drive off on sunrise, you blurted it out.

It was one of those nights, where we just sat at the couch mindlessly watching TV with me lying on your lap.

"Erm... sweetie, I think we have to postpone the trip. I have a last minute project to complete by the week. So, I have to stay back," you said, quite nervously I might add.

Perhaps you had a premonition that I would go ballistic? I don't know.

All I remember was jolting up and backed up from you with eyes wide opened. "WHAT!?" I snapped.

Okay, before I continue this, I have to admit one thing. On hindsight, I might have been a tad too dramatic, but anyway... back to the story.

Right, so I snapped out and you just looked at me painfully and try to comfort me.

I didn't know what went in my head (still don't, by the way), but I yapped on and complained. You tried to explain and I was having none of it.

Even if you said, we could go again another time. My argument was our schedule hardly match up. See, I was a barista, freelance writer and part-time photographer, while you were on the white collar, finance side.

It went on for a good half hour and finally, you gave up. You probably thought I was hysterical and such a drama queen (I agree too, but hey, you signed up for this).

You said with a sigh, "You're probably not going to like what I'm saying now but I'm gonna leave you alone for a while to cool down and then we'll talk. You can take the living room and I'll take the bedroom."

You started walking off. See, you were always the one who fumes quietly. You hardly ever yelled. Always with that calm, soothing voice that tries to reason with me and obviously, I was the spoilt little brat who wants things going my way.

I knew you were actually angry but you kept it in. You know that it wouldn't do us any good if the fight goes on.

But again, I was not having any of it. I stared with disbelief at the fact you want to walk out of this. I grabbed whatever that came to my hand. A hardcover novel.

I threw it and it slammed to your back. A loud smack and it fell to the floor. A small patch on your back turned red (Yes, he wasn't wearing a top. We're at home and yes, I packed quite a throw when I'm mad).

You turned with your eyes widening, nose flaring and mouthing a "F...". I was prepared for a throw down and then you did the unexpected.

You stopped mid-word. The "F" never continued. You clenched and released your fist a few times and sighed again. You said, "Talk to me when you're calmed down."

And then you walked into your room.

I sat there shocked at my actions. Even in my state of frenzy, I know the book was a tad too much. Okay, fine. It was way too much.

I continued sitting down and staring at the ceiling, while voices in my head argued. Yes, I talk to myself occasionally to rationalise things.

I realised I was wrong. I was an ass who got too unreasonable just because you always let me have my way. If it was a reversed situation, you'd give me a sad look and say "It's okay. Next time."

I calmed down and timidly walked into your room. Your eyes were at the door even though you had an opened book at hand.

I was about to apologise and somehow, you knew and motioned me forward before I could mouth out the words.

I crawled into bed, snuggled in your arms and whispered "Sorry".

You laughed and gave me a kiss. You said, "Mate, that was quite the fit you threw. My back is still tingling and burning."

I snaked my hands to your back to feel it and true enough, your skin was slightly tough and a small bump (probably swollen) was there.

I was flushing red with embarrassment and said meekly"I wasn't thinking."

And you just said, "Yeah. You really weren't. You owe me a swollen back and I owe you a trip. Don't worry, it'll come sooner than you think."

Then I rushed my lips over and kissed him again...


So... yeah. That's it. Sorry if it bored you to death. Anyhow, weekend is here and Raya is following up. Have a great festive week ahead!

Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo

When memories of you flood back into my mind

I still remember all the times when I lie down on your lap reading my books and you casually comb your hands through my hair absently, all while you're reading your own book.

Or that time when you gave me a back rub and say "I love you" while I was cooking in the kitchen.

And I still remember those mornings when I woke up with you by my side and I just can't stop smiling. You'll open your eyes, all drowsy from your deep sleep, and  say "Good morning, love."

Yes, I am getting all emotional with all of you reading this right now.

"What happened?" you ask. First was that one post someone shared on my Facebook talking about how you know that the person you are dating is the one.

Then there was that new web series from China that my friend recommended. It is a glorious 15-episode web drama series (go watch it. It's so sweet and cheesy that it made me feel lonely and depressed, all while giggling about it.)

The series is called "Addicted", a gay romance drama set in a high school in Beijing. You can watch it on YouTube (here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkMVtBVoXzE)

Watching it made me all giddy with love and brought back so many memories about my ex-boyfriend.

So I've decided to write about the first time we met and how we got into our first date.

Now, back to my emotionally charged post.

His name is... let's just call him the Irish. No, he's not from Ireland but he is Australian and of Irish descendant.

He is a pure-born-and-bred Australian who lived his whole life in Melbourne (can I hear a "Oy, Oy, Oy" from you?).

I met you one fine autumn day on my way back from shopping. I spotted you walking around the mall by himself. He was a sight to behold.

Casually dressed in a cotton shirt and chinos paired with a black pair of glasses, you were walking towards the bus stop.

I was too and decided to follow you from behind (yes, I was stalking him). In my defense, I was walking in the same direction.

As if some higher gay being heard my prayer, you boarded on the same bus as me. We made brief eye contact and you smiled.

I was pretty sure I made some sort of face when I tried to smile, but you weren't bothered by it. You continued reading your book.

I sat opposite of you and kept stealing glances at you. You just kept on reading – clearly transported elsewhere.

When we reached the train station, I got down the bus thinking that I probably won't see you again, but you were right behind me.

Our roads forked as you walked into the university campus next to the station and I walked towards the train platform.

I kept thinking, "Damn, he was hot! I wonder if he studies at that TAFE. Maybe I should drop by this area more often."

As I was daydreaming all about you, you appeared in the corner of my eye. I turned and you smiled again. I returned the smile and am pretty sure I was flushing in red.

When the train arrived, you walk into the carriage in front of you, while I got into mine, which was a few down yours.

And I thought to myself, "Well, it's not like he's going to come sit in your carriage. Damn it! I should've sneaked to the spot near his side, so that I get into his carriage and stare at him more."

(Stop judging. When you see a hot guy, you'd do that too. No. Don't try and say otherwise. I know.)

Then it happened. By the graces of god (or whoever that did it. Cher, was that you?), you walked into my carriage and boldly sat a few seats opposite of me.

You caught me gawking (possibly with my mouth opened), but I took the initiative and smiled at you first.

I didn't expect you to say anything but you said, "Nice weather today huh? Cool but with just enough amount of sun."

Then the conversation continued, you were funny and so charming. I was in heavens as I try to make more conversation with you.

Looking back, any guy would've thought I'm a little crazy. I was yapping on and on about everything, but you didn't.

You thought I was incredibly cheerful and rather 'cute'. I still didn't believe you when you told me that on our second date (but that's for later).

The train ride was 40 minutes long but it felt like 5 instead. When we reached the city, I was sure that this would be where we part ways. I thought you kept on to my flow of conversation because you're being nice.

When we tagged out of the gates and I walked off. You asked, "You don't have anything on now right? Wanna grab a coffee while you wait for your friend?"

I said "yes!" immediately and we headed off together. That became our first unofficial date and till now, I still remember it.

You'll always be the love of my life and even though we are in different continents and we never kept in touch anymore, nothing will change that.

I Love You Irish.


So... that's how I met him. More to come soon I hope. I'll try and update more.

Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo

Threading Between The Friend And Love Zone

Once again, I have disappeared again from you all and now decided to reappear with some stories to share.

I realised every single time I am writing here, it is to complain about some and it will not be any different this time around. I guess this has become a space for me to relieve myself from my misery.

As I write this, I can't help but think, "Is this what my life is going to be like? Will I be one of those old farts living alone and have a dozen of cats lying around my house? Will I be knitting some weird ass sweater for no apparent reason?"

Anyhow, let's go back to the story of the day! This is pretty much what the title says: Me threading on a fine line between being friends and love zone with this guy I met a few weeks ago.



It's a pretty dangerous zone and I'm sure more than one of you out there have had experiences like this.

Here's the lowdown on what has happened so far.

'Twas a fine day during lunch hour at work. I was out with my work hags for a round of coffee and sandwiches at Starbucks (Coffee snobs, don't judge. That's the only thing available. Either that or Gloria Jeans. Take your pick.)

So one of my loyal hags spotted a cute guy and literally shouted it out (Ah, I've train them well with their hot men radars). So I turned and look – cute!

He looks Eurasian, but just a hint of it. Rather exotic and I like it. He is on the lean side with a good height (maybe 3 inch taller than me?). Though he has a boyish look, I found him rather intriguing, to say the very least.

And he look familiar. I pointed that out to my hags and they rolled their eyes. Pretty much because when I saw a guy looks familiar, it means either I've slept with him before and forgot or I've seen them on the prowl on Grindr or the local gay clubs.

I was spot on. Switched on Grindr and there he was. So long story short, we texted for a while and agreed to meet. That's where things take a turn.

Let me ask you this, have you had that immediate feeling where you meet a guy for the first time and you immediately know that it is not going to work. It was like an immediate friend zone.

That was what I had. Why? Well, mainly because when we met, we just couldn't stop talking. That's the thing about me, when I like a guy, the first meet up is always rather quiet and mellow.

I usually just too mesmerised by the guy and my vocabulary becomes the standard of a two year old, which revolves around smiling and nodding with occasional sounds made.

Thing is, when I was with him, we could talk a lot and we click. There was minimal flirting and we're like old friends.

Fast forward till now, we are on good terms. There was occasional flirting and hints of him wanting to get it on but nothing was ever concrete. Plus, I liked him as a friend. Though I can say I don't mind sleeping with him if he offers.

I found him very interesting and I am completely enamoured but I know nothing good will come out of it, if I pursue the romance route.

So I guess it's best to stay as friends. My best hag said, "You do know that you always sleep with the guys you like and try to be friends with, right?"

Agreed but I rather not. He is a nice guy and I enjoy the company. Better have a good friend than a good lay, right?

So just now, he just text me and said he got attached to a guy he met a couple of times. I was both happy and sad at the same time.

Sad because I wanted it to be me but happy because now I can firm myself up and just take him as a friend. Secretly though, I know that he wouldn't last with this new guy.

Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but by the time they actually break up, I am well and secure in the friend zone and no complains to that.

Then I'll probably make fun of him like best fag friends do.

What's your take on this? Am I right? Does anything I said make sense at all?


Love you fags and hags out there. Have a good weekend.
Yours Queerly xoxo

PS: I am back home visiting family and prowling on Grindr. Maybe I'll get lucky and get laid for once. It's been two weeks!

Where Are My Gaybies?

Just the other day, I was talking to my fag hag #2, whom from now on will be called Roozilla. We were talking about my second cousins (my cousin’s kids). MY cousin has two kids now – a boy and a girl.

While the boy is a spoilt brat, the girl is plain adorable. I love that little pink bundle of joy so much!

Then came the topic of having our own. Oh, how I wish I would have my little gayby soon. 

Well before that, I’ll have to hunt down the father first. My first choice is, of course, MATT BOMER!

Dear Matt Bomer, can you be my baby's daddy?

I’ve always had the dream of starting my own family and have kids of my own. I am like the typical girl who thinks about how many kids I want and their ideal names.

If it is a boy, he shall be named Callum, Caleb, Lukas or Aleksandr. 

As for a girl, the princess shall be named Alessandra, Olivia, Cara or Anna (French and not English - pronounced as Ah-Na).

Yeah, I am crazy like that. Ideally, I want two boys and a girl. The eldest should be the boy followed by a middle sister and youngest boy. That way there would be competition with the boys and middle child syndrome can be avoided since she is the only girl in the family.

I want a family like his!

Then comes the question, “How am I getting my hands on the bundle of joy?”. As far as I know there are a few options:

• Surrogacy with a stranger - That is the most popular option to us now - many thanks to the shows like New Normal. (Oh how I wish my husband to be would be as hot as David played by Justin Bartha!)
  
  But the key here is finding a good EGG and a good surrogate for my baby. And who's seed shall we use? Mine or hubby-to-be's? Shall we mix in a cup and hope for the best or take turns. The first is mine and second will be his vice versa.
  
• Adoption - Another obvious choice thanks to celebrities like Madonna and Angelina Jolie. It is the common option since both of us can be pregnant. this way we can help some poor kid left behind by their parents. A great philanthropic effort but alas, one would always want their own flesh and blood.
  
• Find a lesbian friend - Similar to surrogacy but  we collaborate with the lesbian friend we know and get her pregnant. The hard part is will we be the parents or share custody with the lesbian? And worse, who's gonna be the one doing the lesbian? Me or hubby-to-be? Or we inject with a syringe?

This is the few options I can think of (for now). I think I'd prefer option 1 (Surrogacy with a stranger). This way, we can avoid the question of custody as everything is pretty much a transaction. It's like baking but the oven have no rights to the cupcake. We as the customers have the full right to it.

I know it sounds like we are buying a baby but that is the truth we have to face as gays.

So what's your take? Surrogacy, a lesbian or adopt a baby?  
And there is also financial to think about when doing surrogacy. Let's hope my future prince is a loaded one with mountains of lucrative shares and successful business. Think Wall Street men but a loving and caring partner.

While all is uncertain for now, I know one thing for sure. I would be the doting parent that would pamper the children. I will also be the stylish dad that can dress up their baby well but none of those dramatic ones like the ones your see in Modern Family. Though I am sure as hell the artsy and creative fun dad!

Hence, I need a more serious partner to be the bad guy and discipline them. 

So who wants to be my baby's daddy?

Love you fags and hags out there. Have a jolly holiday!
Yours Queerly xoxo

One-sided phone sex with a celebrity on Grindr

So I had recently talked about the art of texting and calling, and a few nights after, I actually had a phone sex session.

This was with a certain celebrity/model who visited from Taiwan - think 6 feet over, toned and with scruffy facial hair - totally hot!

He was a gentleman and we had been texting each other for a while on Grindr. It was all innocent talk at first. The sweetest ever. 

Something about western educated Asian men that makes them such sweethearts who actually cares about you and have proper conversations. Yours Queerly had a little crush on him now and so I started stalking his social media accounts and watched his Youtube videos.
When I messaged him initially on Grindr, I had no idea he was someone famous.  The profile photo taken a few years back before he toned up - he was on the skinny side in the photo.

After texting for awhile, the Model (that's his nickname) told me that he has "been in modeling here and there" around Canada and US but he is based in Taiwan now.

For a while, I thought he was one of those struggling models around L.A but on the week after, I shared his photo with my colleague, and she told me who he actually is.

Now, at first I thought he was a catfish - using some fake photo and profile but I had called him beforehand and when I match the voice with the videos I found of his interview on Youtube, it matches almost 90%.

Well, despite the suspicion, I decided to believe that he is indeed said celebrity. After all, even though it might be fake, it turns out to be a good fantasy for this queer here.

So one night when I was bored, I called him for a chat (mainly because he has such a sexy accent), and like usual, it was normal talk until he mentioned he is kind of horny lying in bed naked.

 Soon after, I hear a little moaning and with little teasing, he was breathing heavily and started muttering words like damn and fuck.

I, myself, am not a phone sex kind of guy but I went ahead and dirty talk with him as he wanked off like he's going to war. While he is going to Happy Happy land, I was just there fully clothed and not actually doing much.

He, on the other hand, was in full blown horny mood and after 20 minutes of sex talk involving how I should blow him and what he wants to do to me, he blew his wad. Towards the end,  I find phone sex not as awkward as it could be. It was interesting and I did get stirred up a little but not to a point of wanking.

So after the hot session, he said good night and according to him, "is leaving his cum on his body and only cleaning up tomorrow as he was tired".

So there we have it. My first phone sex experience.

And happy to say, after that call, I have plenty of imagination material in my head and let's just say it was a good night sleep for Yours Queerly.

Oh and he sent me a photo of post wanking of his body, which I am not sharing. He is my fantasy and not for you.

Love you fags and hags out there.
Yours Queerly xoxo