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I think Mr. Hat is half-a-cup away from a blowjob from Mr. Smiley Looker.

That is a very impressive chest and a gorgeously handsome face. However ,,, I doubt the photo's authenticity and smell more than a whiff of AI. The face belongs to Alex Sampson, a former contestant on America's Got Talent, and who does indeed have a nice body, and I'd pay good money for an up-close-and-personal look/lick at it. But his chest was not to the level of the one pictured here, not that he couldn't have acquired it in the meantime. However No. 2, Alex's chest tattoo is a traditional Canadian maple leaf with the inscription True North, Strong and Free. So, unless he's had the tat reworked to conceal his pride of place, I doubt the photo is genuine. And the fact I know all this has now made me realize that I may have way too much free time on my hands.

OMG! Took my breath away! Stunning!

Does this mean the new generation is polysyllabically challenged? How inconsolably disconsolate. Or as they might grunt, Sad.

Don't bother to wrap him, Santa. I'll eat him here! OMG! The life this beautiful boy could have, if he wants it! I hope he likes getting stared at.

A criminal complaint against a person, even if the complainant says he witnessed or participated in the criminal act with you, remains only an unsubstantiated allegation. Without corroboration or supporting evidence, it is meaningless. If I knew your real name and location, and even though we've never met, I could claim to have met you last week in that town and that you paid me $1000 cash for a night of sex. Is there proof of you renting the room? Is there proof of a withdrawal large enough to support the claim? Did anyone see us together? Do I have some cash with your fingerprints on it and can I prove I didn't steal it or pick it up after I saw you drop it? Or is this just someone with a grudge against you trying to cause you problems? The law requires proof to support the allegation. Otherwise, it just hot air and a waste of time for the police and prosecutors, and they know it even if they believe the allegation. It's not about what's known, it's about what can be proved. Don't fret over it.

Can't really be sure of course, but I'm suspecting my concerns about what others will learn and think of me will plummet precipitously upon my death. Also, I doubt many would be shocked and even fewer surprised.

At stages of my life the question "Are you gay?" elicited different reactions from me. At first, the very thought of the question somewhat terrified me. Later on, it annoyed me that someone would, as I saw it, be so nosey and invasive. Now I've come to believe that the only people who ask the question are the ones who think they already know the answer, and that my answer doesn't really matter. If I say "Yes," they react with, "Aha! I knew it!" And if I say "No," I hear, "Fine, fine, don't tell me!" So now I just smile and walk away. [Unless he's cute, of course. And is holding nipple clamps. Then it's different.}

Yes! This is why old men wear their pants up to the middle of their chests. Otherwise, the cuffs get stepped on and tattered. We learn nothing so well, nor make it our own, as when we have discovered it for ourselves. - Rene Descartes

I just correct them with, "That's bitch to you, punk."

Inserted?

I blush that someone would think I'd need a "modesty pad," but I'd get one anyway, and deem it aspirational.

I would think attacking a lawyer and causing serious injury thereto must be one of the dumbest acts possible. By the time the lawyer's lawyers are done grilling you on the stand to squeeze all the money possible out of you, you'll wish they'd just give you the chair.

The story behind the photo: The Buddhist asked the hot dog vendor, "Make me one with everything." After he paid, he asked the vendor, "Where's my change?" The vendor replied, "Change comes from within." Click!

Love the pouty-lipped, bare-chested boy on the far left. I'll see him tonight after I fall asleep.

Another of those freakish escorts with no tats or piercings. What a waste. I love him!

Well, after all, men can better appreciate the value of a big tip. Especially when it goes in.

After enlisting in the Navy, I had to take a number of aptitude tests to help determine the programs I should be placed in. I'm pretty sure I failed the mechanical aptitude test since I couldn't tell the difference between a monkey wrench and an actual monkey. It should, then, come as no surprise that I initially thought the car's oil light came on when it was time to change the oil. And, in a way, I was right.

A urinary what?

It's the most commonly performed surgical procedure in the country. I know that's of little comfort if you're about to have it for the first time, but there's really very little to worry about. I've had it done on both eyes -about two years apart- and the only issue I had was a little scratchiness from the second surgery which went away when I saw the surgeon the next morning for a 24-hour follow-up. After that, no issues at all. Except for ... the eye drops! I hate doing eye drops. Before the procedure, they put about seven to ten sets of three to five drops of various things in the eye to be worked on - thought they'd never stop! After the surgery, you have to use drops in the affected eye for an extended time (maybe 30 days? - don't really remember.) But the doses are tapered during the treatment period so you use fewer and fewer drops as the course goes on. A minor inconvenience. Oh, you might experience "specks" floating in the eye's aqueous fluid; looks like gnats zipping around you. I went to lunch at a white tablecloth place a few days after one of my surgeries and kept trying to swat things away from my food. Went away after a week or so. Best of luck to you. I'm sure you'll be fine.

The skin tone and complexion are amazing!

Well, it seems safe to say you didn't use this list when you first picked New Jersey. I think the place you're looking for was described in a book by Thomas More, called Utopia. I'm not trying to be snarky, but only to point that the things on your list are things everybody might want in a locale, making the demand high, and driving the prices up. If your RN work is in a hospital environment, you might consider cities smaller than Metro NY. Baltimore with Johns Hopkins might work, although a number of your listed items would be hard to find there. Heading farther down the coast, Charleston, South Carolina or Savannah, Georgia are great options to get you closer to your goal, as would any number of locations in Florida. Norfolk and Charlottesville, Virginia might also be considered. Also, don't just focus on living in or near city centers, but expand out to close-in suburbs with good public transit, or good highways with good traffic management and/or affordable ride services to and from the fun gay places usually found in the downtowns. Good look in your quest and keep us advised of your progress.

The first time I drove to DC I stayed at the Sheraton Carlton (now the St. Regis) at 16th and K streets. When I checked out and was waiting for my car to be brought from the garage, I asked the doorman for directions to get to I-95 South and back to Virginia. I didn't understand his directions very well as he was making reference to street names and places I wasn't then familiar with. Too embarrassed, perhaps, I didn't ask for clarification. The result was: I circled the White House three times, each time from a different direction. I went the wrong way for block on a street I couldn't find again with a compass and a boy scout. I managed to cross the Anacostia river into SE DC and received very odd looks from the native inhabitants ("What does that Cracker think he's doing?"). While there, I passed a police station with a parking lot holding at least 30 marked police cars and surrounded by a 10-foot chain link fence topped with barbed wire. I thought that either this was only half of their allotment and the rest were out patrolling, or this was their complete allotment and they didn't bother to patrol because it was too dangerous. Either way, I took no comfort from what I'd seen. And I was at 1/8 of a tank of gas. I retain only dim and indecipherable impressions of how I got home but still remember the feeling of trauma I experienced.

My avatar is said to have said, "We make a living by what we get. We make a life by what we give." I, too, have been on the short end of the stick in some transactional relations with younger men. They're sometimes just irresistible, almost like puppies. And though I was out some sums of money, it was never more than I could afford, but apparently enough to make a positive difference in the younger man's circumstances for a time. And I have never regretted it. When they became scarce or even vanished completely, I missed their company more than I missed the cash, and I always wished them well. And now, as an older and more mature dog myself, I have less energy for the frisky puppies I occasional meet and am more cautious and circumspect in the complications I allow to enter my life. I applaud you for your charitable impulse in helping the young man when he needed help and hope the warm feeling you get by helping overcomes the chill of feeling used. You are a good man. (And now, maybe a little wiser?) Be happy.

Images vs action. Interesting combination. Somewhat cute yet largely repulsive. And generally self-destructive unless he seeks jobs in porn or low-class comic tragedy.