Charlie

Well, I actually did come out to my parents more than 60 years ago. My point is that you should not feel like you are confessing to a sin when you come out, but are simply explaining to them a situation about which they are confused. If you or they feel that it is a sin that you have revealed, that is a separate problem to be dealt with.

I think that most parents would rather that their child have a stable relationship with one person they like, of whichever gender, than promiscuous sex with multiple persons they don't know, of whichever gender. I think of "coming out" to family as simply explaining which gender one is sexually attracted to, rather than explaining all about whatever kind of sexual activity one actually engages in. I certainly would never have told my parents about gay bath-houses or sex parties, or the kinds of experiences that are usually discussed on this site, any more than I would have told them if I patronized female prostitutes. Remember: "coming out" is explanation, not confession.

I just had my annual physical, and my doctor performed the regular old prostate exam two days ago. There hasn't been anything up that chute since my last physical, and I had almost forgotten what it feels like. Luckily, my doctor is gay, so he knows how to do it professionally. (He said everything felt fine to his experienced fingers.)

I still have rolls of toilet paper and paper towels that I bought at the beginning of the COVID pandemic.🙄

I mentioned in an earlier post here that when I told my parents that I was gay, they were "bemused." I actually expected that kind of calm reaction from my father. One of his closest friends as he was growing up was his cousin Fred, who turned out to be quietly gay. Fred continued to live with his widowed mother as an adult, but he had a "special friend" who lived elsewhere. As a child, I noticed that this "special friend" was always invited to family get-togethers, and was usually the only non-family-member present, but none of the adults ever seemed to notice or comment on this anomaly. It wasn't until I was an adult myself that I put two and two together and I realized that the "special friend" was actually Cousin Fred's partner, even though they didn't live together. I don't know if Fred actually "came out" or discussed his sexuality with other family members, but obviously they were aware and accepted the situation. Whether they thought about the sexual aspect of the relationship or only the emotional aspect I can't tell. When I came out, my mother only asked, "How do you know?" and I couldn't help laughing.

I just got home from my annual physical, during which my doctor recommended getting the COVID shot again.

Like anything else about someone's physical appearance, sometimes they are attractive and sometimes they are not--it depends on whether they are done by a pro or are self-inflicted, all the same color or multi-colored, small or huge, placed in an appropriate location on the body (any kind of facial tat is a turn-off for me, for example). However, observers often read other kinds of messages about a person from his tattoos. Lots of them make me think: what is he trying to hide or distract the observer from? Is he ashamed of his arms, or his legs? Some tattoos seem to be intended as visual messages about the person (why did he get THAT tat?). Tattoos per se neither turn me on nor turn me off, but they do make me think twice about why the person has them.

I realized that I was sexually attracted to other males when I was an adolescent, but I was aware that I wasn't supposed to be, so I wasn't open about it, since it was assumed that boys who were attracted to other boys were rather obviously effeminate, and I wasn't. Yet the male friend whom I was most closely drawn to in high school turned out to be not only gay but already sexually active, though he didn't announce it either. It wasn't until after I had my first sexual experience at 17 with an older male, and told him about it, that he revealed to me that he had been having sex with older males for years, but also was not open about it. We were not sexually attracted to one another, so coming out to one another didn't affect our relationship, although I think some of our classmates suspected that we might both be gay, since we spent so much time together. I think I have told the story on this site before about my having a nervous breakdown at 19 because I was involved in a non-sexual romantic relationship with a girl, and the psychotherapist my parents sent me to told me that I would get relief by being honest about my sexuality with my family and my girlfriend. So I came out to my parents, who were bemused, and to the girlfriend, who was confused. I didn't announce my orientation to the world, but if anyone was interested enough to ask me, I didn't deny that I was gay. By my mid-20s, however, I was starting to become radicalized by gay friends who were active in the gay rights movement (this was the 1960s), and from then on I was openly out. Amazingly, I don't think I ever suffered in any way from my openness, because I didn't flaunt my sexual orientation--I just didn't hide it. I lived with a male partner for 56 years (legally married for the last dozen years), and family, neighbors and employers all seemed to accept the situation without comment. Maybe I was just lucky (that's with a small L).

But what model? "Explorer"? "Edge"? "Maverick"? "Bronco"? "Ranger"?

I have had the opportunity to see an enormous range of cock sizes up close in my lifetime, and I have concluded that mine is basically average size for someone my height. No one has ever complained to me that it is too small or too big.

The only pope in history who went to one of the same schools that I went to (but we were not classmates).

When I scanned the title of this thread quickly, I thought it read "A cash cow" 😬

I wonder if there could be some photo-shopping here: the head looks almost too small for the rest of the body.

As I mentioned in another thread, as soon as Trump started talking about tariffs before he was inaugurated, I decided to buy a new car immediately, even though I didn't really need one yet. I understood what the tariffs would do to the prices of all cars, because even cars assembled in America by American manufacturers usually contain parts from some other country. I even bought a leftover unsold 2024 model on a dealer's lot, so there would be no question about whether or not it was pre-tariff-imposition. A friend's elderly mother wrecked her old car a couple of weeks ago. She is trying to buy a cheap used car to replace it, but guess what?--now there is a shortage of available used cars, because owners are hesitating about trading them in for new cars that are suddenly more expensive than they expected, so of course the used cars are also more expensive than they normally would be.

This topic made me think: if I were to try to set up a "Golden Boys" household, how would I do it? Well, my obvious gay roommates would be Bar and Lo. We three have been friends for more than half a century, and have stayed in regular contact all that time. Although we now live thousands of miles apart from one another (west coast, east coast, and Europe), in the 1970s we all lived in the same European city. Bar and I both lost our longtime spouses to similar deaths last year, while Lo has never had a lasting partnership. We are all healthy enough--physically, mentally and financially--to live alone at this time. We know one another's backgrounds and have many similar interests and tastes. What could be more fun than living together!? Well, the first problem would be finding a place to live. Lo has lived in the same European city for his entire adult life, and probably would not be willing to move across the ocean, even though he has a brother with family who has lived for years in California, so he is well-acquainted with the west coast. Although he was born in Europe and grew up in South America, it would probably be difficult to persuade him to uproot himself to yet another continent in order to live with us. Although Bar and I have both lived in Europe, it was many years ago, and we no longer have any close connections there other than Lo, so we would both consider it a big sacrifice to move to Europe just because Lo was more comfortable there. Bar has also never even visited the west coast, so it is terra incognita for him. I am probably the one who would have to move to somewhere that the other two could agree on. The Golden Girls did a classic American seniors thing and assembled in Florida, but that does not appeal to me (my mother did that after my father died, and I visited her and her sisters, all of whom lived in the same retirement community, often enough to not want to do that myself). It is probable that at least one of us would be somewhat disgruntled about the choice of a place to live to begin with. Then there is the inevitable problem that all of us are beginning to experience the physical problems of advancing age. Ten years ago we were all healthy and athletic seniors in our 70s, enjoying our recreational activities (tennis, swimming, biking). Now we are all starting to have problems with backs, legs, knees, ankles, eyesight, etc. I am a few years younger than the other two: am I going to end up being a caregiver for one or both? If we are all managing our own finances, how do I know that they are doing a good job of it? None of us has children, and no matter where we end up, there won't be any family members of a younger generation nearby to help out with anything. Depending on where we end up, there may not even be any trusted old friends nearby. (The danger of three old friends living together is that they may not take the trouble of developing new friends.) Although the new living arrangement may be exciting and fun at first, how long will that last.? It is worth remembering that the Golden Girls were actually not all that old--after all, Dorothy's mother Sophia lived with them! My own mother lived with my spouse and me until she was 94, and then she was smart enough to say, "I am ready to live somewhere that I can socialize with people closer to my own age," and she chose to move into a three-tier retirement community, where she did make new friends her own age, and lived comfortably till she died in the nursing care section at 102. I think the idea of living communally with some gay friends is not bad during early retirement, but one needs to understand when it is time for the series to end.

I recently received a questionnaire from UCLA for a "California Health Survey," and one of the questions was whether the respondent considered himself straight, gay or bisexual.

"Golden Boys" sounds like a great premise for a sitcom, but in reality, when Rose develops advanced Alzheimer's, Blanche has breast cancer, and Dorothy can no longer drive, the fun is over. Eventually the individuals will age out of being responsible for themselves, much less for one another, and someone else will have to move in to take care of them, or they will have to move on to some other housing arrangement. When Stonewall Gardens first opened, we went to visit, but my spouse and I could still take care of ourselves, so we decided it wasn't for us. Now that I am alone, I am starting to reconsider. I have been told by someone whose job is finding housing for seniors that it really is a good place for older gay men, with all the services--dining, transportation, socializing, etc.--that gay men look for. However, it still lacks the final stage service that a traditional "three tier" retirement complex offers: independent living, assisted living, and nursing care. We may not like to think about the third tier, but many of us will need that at the end of our lives, and we probably won't be able to arrange for it on our own. A "Golden Boys" housing arrangement with gay male friends might be an enjoyable situation for a few years, but unless you all remain healthy to the end of your lives (and all die at about the same time), it is bound to be a temporary arrangement.

As he ages, he will learn to regret what he has done to his face.

If I knew that, I would be on my way to interview them.

Having just finished making a new will, I would like to emphasize one of the above recommendations that at first surprised me, because I had never seen it when preparing previous wills: my lawyer asked if there were specific persons who should be mentioned in the will as those who were NOT to be included as beneficiaries. Luckily, I had no family members who I thought might have any standing to contest the will, but I'm sure that other gay men might have such relations, especially if everything were left to someone who was not legally related to the deceased.

I was the shy only child of older than normal parents, who never talked about sex (at least, not in front of me), so I never heard anything about masturbation--not even the term--when I was growing up. I noticed around puberty that my cock would get hard when I heard about certain things or saw certain pictures of men, and I found that when I held it, it felt even better, and then one day while I was holding it and slightly stroking it, I suddenly ejaculated. From then on I held it and stroked it to climax often, but never when there was anyone else around, because I knew that anything involving my genitals was something that for some reason wasn't polite to even talk about, even with male friends my age. It wasn't until I had my first sexual experience with a guy when I was 17--he was in his early 20s and had picked me up in a public men's room--that I discussed masturbation with anyone, and realized that it was OK to jerk off, but only if there was no one to jerk me off or blow me; in a half century of sex with other males, I don't remember ever jerking off in front of someone else. Since I wanted to cum much more often than when I was engaging in sex with someone else, my hand became my secret best friend for life.

I don't think that there are many "young" cardinals, and I don't think that experience as a cardinal has much to do (theoretically at least) with qualification to choose a pope. Certainly when the rule was made, there were probably very few cardinals over the age of 80, and those there were may very well have been considered too mentally and physically challenged to participate. I have recent experience being summoned for jury duty, and the form allows me to choose to be excused if I am over 70, without having to get verification from a doctor that I am unable to participate.

In case you don't recognize him, that's Mickey Mantle on the right.

I knew the tariffs would be coming right after inauguration day, so in early January I bought a new car, even though I really didn't need one yet. It will probably last longer than my driver's license.

OMG! Look at all those Packards.