Gay Bloggies

It's me again, your favorite Gay Bloggies-loving pooch! The votes have been tallied and here are the bloggers who got the lowest votes for the last challenge, in no particular order:

Chris, About a Boy and His Briefs
Arjan, Arjan Writes
Richard, Proceed at Your Own Risk

The blogger with the lowest votes, and therefore eliminated from the competition is: Arjan Writes.

Arjan, we're sad to see you go, and will miss you. Thanks for your participation. We look forward to seeing more great music news and writing from your blog.

This is a topic we have all thought about and discussed with our friends. Are we born gay or are we turned gay by our environment?

Discuss...

Voting for this challenge ends at the end of the day on November 19th, 2007.

When I was a very young lad of three, bathing costumes hadn't yet been invented. This suited me just fine, but it also gave me much to ponder. As we would frolic in the North Atlantic undertow, I quickly came to realize that wee wees came in many different sizes, colors and shapes. I also came to realize that those creatures called girls didn't have wee wees and that seemed unfair and sad. Touching your wee wee was great fun. Girls had nothing to touch.

But one boy in particular, twice my age, not only had a wee wee, but one that was twice the size of my own and black. His name was Duane and he was black. I became attached to Duane and would deliberately allow the undertow to knock me off my feet so that I could reach for Duane's big black lifeline; and Duane never seemed to mind. In fact, he would smile and his lifeline would even get a little larger. Fascinating. Instinctively, I understood that Duane's dark wee wee was far superior to my own and not just because of the size. I remembered how the men in my family would fight over the dark meat at Thanksgiving. Dark meat, I understood, was far more tasty and desirable than white meat. I envied Duane but was very happy to be in his company. And then there was that other difference.

As my mother was drying me off one day, I asked the question that would change my life forever. "Mommy, my wee wee is missing a piece and is smaller than Duane's." My mother explained that I'm Jewish and when I was eight days old my family had a big party and cut off half of my penis.

I was horrified. "Can I get it back? Can it be glued back on? Where is the missing half?" My mother laughed and delivered the bad news. But having noticed that a few tugs would make Duane's wee wee grow, I started tugging furiously on my own wee wee. My mother slapped my hand, but I protested and went back to work explaining to my disapproving mother that as I was playing in the surf I had discovered the stroking and tugging makes a wee wee grow.

My mother turned to my father and they exchanged one of those knowing adult looks. "Ricky," she said. "You're may only be three but it's time to choose."

"Choose what?" I screamed. "I choose to get the rest of my penis back."

"No," she said, "It's time to choose if you want to be heterosexual or homosexual."

I decided to listen carefully for fear that my parents would make another really stupid choice for me and cut off the rest of my wee wee as they had done when I was a helpless baby.

"We've seen you comparing boys and girls," my father intoned. "And it's time for you to choose.

"I'd like to make an informed choice," I responded. "Please provide the pros and cons, the options and then I'll take this all under consideration and make a choice; something I wish I had been able to do on the eighth day after my birth."

"Well," my mother began, "if you choose homosexual you can look forward to a life of marginalization, persecution, second class civil rights, a lower salary in your chosen career, no spousal benefits, an AIDS epidemic in the 80s, serious flatulence after sex--assuming you choose bottom, an increased threat of violence, being bullied in school, labeled an abomination by most of your fellow citizens and an increased risk of teen suicide, depression and substance abuse."

"And if I choose heterosexual?"

My father smile broadly and explained, "As a wealthy white American male? The keys to the kingdom and dominion over the world."

"What about Duane's dark meat?" I asked.

"No, no more dark meat, no more meat at all," Daddy said. "But you can have all the pussy you want."

By the age of three I already hated cats and was much more of a dog man, so the pussy thing was not a plus for heterosexuality.

And then I asked the most important question of all. "Mommy, Daddy, are you heterosexuals?"

"Of course," they simultaneously declared.

"And it was your decision to cut my penis in half?" They laughed as if this was a joke.

I grabbed my mutilated penis, looked across the beach to Duane's magnificent drumstick, drooled and made my decision. "Homosexual, absolutely and completely homosexual." And I haven't regretted the decision for even one second in all of my 59 years. And neither did Duane.

I was three, Duane was six. Nature vs nurture? It may be the stupidest question ever posed.

Hello again! Craig from Puntabulous here! Something you may not know is that DEBATES are my specialty! (Insert lame Master-Debater joke here.) Today we are trying to determine what is the cause of gayness: Nature? Or Nurture?

Speaking on behalf of Nature we have Treebeard who comes to us all the way from the forests of Fanghorn. And speaking on behalf of Nurture comes Wonder Woman, who was kind enough to take some time away from Paradise Island to join us for this debate. Welcome!

Treebeard: We have come here to discuss the great debate between Nature vs. Nurture and the development of homosexuality. This debate has raged on since the days of the early Eldar when I was not yet a young sapling; before Iluvatar created us Ents at the behest of Yavanna.

Wonder Woman: Oh my goddess! What the hell is wrong with you? You said like 80 words, and I understood, like, 5 of them! Let's face it, nurture is totally the cause of gayness. You think Paradise Island would be the sapphic lesbo-fest it is today if we didn't nurture them to be that way?

Treebeard: Well now, young lady! Does the name Steven Trevor mean nothing to you? How about a Mr. Superman? Both names of men you've been connected with romantically! If you ask me, that suggests that despite the lesbionic environment you grew up in, the nature of your DNA prevented you from being truly gay.

Wonder Woman: Listen Woodcock, or whatever the fuck your name is. It's because of nurture that would-be heterosexual men dress up as me and parade down main street U.S.A. Speaking of, every time I see a pair of hairy man-legs coming out of my star spangled panties, I just want to puke my brains out! Not to mention that not a single one of those cocksuckers ever bothers sending me a royalties check!

Treebeard: My, my, my, Wonder Woman! For someone who wraps themselves in the American flag and claims to fight for truth and justice, you sure have some animosity towards the gays! You're starting to sound like a member of Focus on the Family! Am I to believe that you feel that nurture is the true root (Treebeard made a pun!) of gayness in an attempt to make it appear unnatural and therefore a crime against nature and humanity itself?

Wonder Woman: Don't try and spin this and make me look like a bigot! This is a no-spin zone! Pretty soon you'll be using buzz works like "homophobia" and "acceptance". Ugh! Besides, I love gay people! Lesbians are hot! It's the fruitcakes I don't like! They're always parading their sex-lives around for everyone to see! I see them out having dinner and I'm forced to imagine them having hot sweaty butt sex for hours upon hours. It's unnatural!

Treebeard: You know what else is unnatural? 2,000-year-old invincible crime fighters! Boo-ya!

Craig: Excuse me, time for closing statements please. Wonder Woman, you're up first.

Wonder Woman: Show me the evidence that proves that being gay is predetermined by a person's DNA, and I'll gladly accept it as fact. Don't expect me to support funding these scientific studies, but be sure to show me the results once it's complete! But as of now there is no such evidence! It is my experience that gayness is caused by one of three things: 1) sexual abuse as a child, 2) growing up on a tropical island full of hot scantily-clad women without any men present, and 3) college.

Treebeard: Let's say you're right. How do you explain all the gay people who weren't sexually abused as a child? Or the people who were sexually abused as a child and turned out to be straight? Or the lesbians who didn't go to college or grow up on tropical islands full of hot scantily clad women? How do you explain people knowingly making a choice to be gay when their lives would seemingly be so much easier if they conformed to society's norms? Or the millions of gay people from around the world who have come from every walk of life imaginable, who don't share a common life experience (or even one of several life experiences) that triggered their gayness? But what do I know? I'm just a talking tree. I'm unnatural.

Craig: Well folks, that's the end of this debate. I declare Treebeard the winner! But let's face it, I was predetermined to declare Treebeard the winner. It's in my DNA.

im of 2 minds. there are many more minds in this brain of mine. but they decided to stay the fuck out to this particular discussion. actually. i don’t think im of 2 minds. that somewhere along the ‘kinsey’ scale of it might not be 2 minds. but more that somewhere along the ‘kinsey’ scale of nature. vs. nuture. im just to the left of the vs.

nature. vs. nurture? you ask.

i believe its nature. but i think nurture is a big factor in our developing homosexuality. and in eventually coming out. and believe a majority. if not all. homosexuals are born gay. we. and by we. i mean ‘the gays’. don’t come out waving rainbow flags. and singing ‘its raining men’. but i think the womb is where it all whappens. when the sperm hits that egg. wham. and bam. and its all downhill from there. to the wonderful world of gay.

oh. i wish it were that easy. i didn’t ‘officially’ come out of the closet until i was 20 years old. and after preparing for the worst. my mother simply stared me in the eyes. and said. ‘yes dear i know.’ but i know those who came out earlier. in their teens. or even younger. and know others who didn’t come out until much later in life. and sadly. those that still haven’t come out. and most of us come out when its ready for us. its not a rocket launch. all conditions don’t have to be right. but it packs about the same punch. at least to us. but eventually you realize you cant fit your square peg. in the circle hole.

its when nature. meets nurture. it’s the chemistry between nature. and nuture. and that meeting is different for each of us. the closet door opens at different times for every. single. 1. of us.

and while i believe certain environmental. and societal factors help. guide. or drag us into the world of gay. i don’t think playing with barbies. taking home economic classes. or watching reruns of ‘ellen’. will make you gay. but if you are doing those things. waving a rainbow flag. and singing ‘its raining men’. might be in your future.

but im no magic 8 ball.

its nature baby. i was born gay. so mother you can finally put to rest your guilt about making me gay. you can take credit for my obsessive compulsive. and attention deficit disorders. but you cant take credit for my homosexuality. im here. im queer. and you cant take that away from me.

i want to go back to bed.

In the question of "nature vs. nurture," I am firmly on the side of nature, as illustrated by these adorable videos of male animals humping and doing other gay things together.

Cats (on top of the fridge. Kinky):

Dogs (large and small, different positions):

Bunnies (Aww):

Moose (just gettin' some head):

Gorillas (dad/son play):

You can't fight the evidence. The only thing more natural than gay animals doing it is giving me the thumbs up so I can continue in this gay (from birth) contest! xoxo Frank

Lesly: This is how you raised them?

Mrs. Pascal: People “raise” cattle. Children just happen. This one has blue eyes, and that one is insane.

--The House Of Yes

This is me.

It's a small picture because it was taken by a paparazzi, but I couldn't afford to buy the whole thing so I had to steal the thumbnail image off the internet. I’m quite sure the photographer never made any money off of it anyway, no one ever buys these paparazzi pictures if I’m in them.

I remember this picture, I was at a party. I had just straightened my hair and I felt very fancy.

When I was a kid I wasn’t attracted to women, so I thought I wasn’t attracted to anybody. I never knew there were other options. Instead, I considered becoming a priest. I thought I had the celibacy thing under control.

Never mind the fact that I held tap dancing recitals in my driveway. Why would a parent question such behavior? Granted, there was never anyone in the audience, unless you count the neighbors who would stare from a distance. No matter, the voices in my head always have always kept me company anyway. And the garage was smooth cement, perfect for the shoes to go clickety-clack.

The other boys in my neighborhood wanted to grow up and be baseball players; I wanted to be Darcel Wynne from Solid Gold.

I watched Solid Gold like it was my own little church service, showing me the way to salvation. I imagined heaven was filled with angels dressed in sequins and lamé. They'd stand around the pearly gates and spin and make jazz-hands, all punctuated with seriously pouty faces, and Darcel would be there with her fog machine, doing her signature move: she'd swing her head down in a loop, swoosh her long black hair around, and then flip it back when she stood up again. To make hair just like hers, I'd wear pajama bottoms with the elastic waistband around my head, so the legs fell down my back, and I would swoosh them around just like Darcel. I loved Darcel. I wanted to be Darcel.

On the weekends my frustrated parents would use my time away from school as an opportunity to de-nelly me, and force me into becoming a little more "normal;" part of this involved being kicked out the house and told I had to stay outside until it was dark. But with no interest in playing baseball in the middle of the street like the rest of the mouth-breathing heathens on our street, I would walk a few houses down and watch the neighbor kid mow his lawn. I’d pretend I was talking to him, but really I was watching him…just watching him, mow his lawn. He walked around his yard without wearing a shirt and I thought it was fascinating.

I proceeded to sitting in my living room and watching him through my binoculars, as he worked up a sweat. My father gave me those binoculars as a gift, they belonged to his dad; they were part of a wilderness package, also including an utterly-lethal Buck knife, and a canteen. He told my mother he thought it would toughen me up. Meanwhile, I used the knife to cut my jeans into cut-off shorts and the binoculars came in handy when spying on the shirtless boy down the street. I would have brought him my canteen filled with icy beverages to quench his thirst, but I figured that might have made him suspicious. So instead I just sat inside, watching him and resisting the temptation to run up to him and pick off all the little blades of grass that were stuck to him, one-by-one. At the time I had no idea why I spent my time doing this; I didn’t see anyone else watching him. Then again, I was hiding behind the couch, so I presumed no one could see me either.

I have always been loud. I have always been dramatic. I have always been flamboyant, even before I knew what being "gay" meant. I have tried to butch it up, but it lasts for about 15 minutes before I let something slip. This really is as socially-acceptable as I can get. And you learn, from a very early age, that just because no one is sitting in the chairs you set up it doesn’t mean you can’t open the garage door and perform your recital anyway. These are the choices we must make in life. You’re born with the homosexuality; it’s your choice what you do with it.

It's all just...there. From the beginning.

Do you have kids? Tell them they are exactly the way they're supposed to be.

Children just happen.

Thanks for reading. Hugs.

Alright. Now that I've referenced Aretha Franklin... I can get this blog started!

The problem with a topic like "Being Gay: Nature Vs. Nurture" is that honestly... I don't care. citizendangerx does NOT do science. I have given as little thought into why I'm gay as why am I right-handed, blue-eyed, good at checkers and a huge fan of cheese. Is my love of sitting home on a rainy day listening to Joni Mitchell albums while hiding under a giant blanket, cruising Dude Tube and eating ice cream nature or nurture? Solve THAT puzzle, science!

So... in an effort to do my duty to the blog battle and bring some sort of light to this topic, I enlisted a group of friends (gay, straight and otherwise) to tell you what THEY think.

These are their own words...

DEANNA, 35
Hair Stylist
"I totally believe it's nature. I'll give you a short example...I have 2 clients. One has an identical twin and they are both gay. One with a long term partner, the other has been in a committed relationship for over a year. I also have another client who is one of 5 siblings and out of 5, 4 are gay. There's no way it's a choice. I don't believe that people would purposely want to live a harder life knowing that they will be discriminated against, fearful for their safety, etc. It's not a conscious choice it's in their make up when they're forming in the womb."

JESUS, 60
Military (Retired)
"Most definitely nature. I was always attracted to men... from very early on. However, due to upbringing never got to resolve my issues until I got quite older. I was 25 before I had my first experience sexually and was well hidden. A lot of obsessive but hidden wants were met by reading and visits to sex shops. I had a few more encounters... but did not accept myself as being gay until I was 40 and had real mutual sex with a man that also met my desire in a man."

EVELIN, 27
Baker
"According to some research done a little while back the brain chemistry of a gay man is more similar to the brain chemistry of a woman. This was not so for homosexual women, however. The fetus is "washed" with hormones in the third trimester of pregnancy and maybe this would explain why some girls are "butch" and some are not. A lot of homosexual women seem to have a traumatic experience early in their childhood that will "turn them off" to men. So...what I'm saying is that homosexuality is different for everyone."

GARY, 37
Sr. Project Manager
"Having been raised in South Africa in the 70's, my nurturing was far from anything tender. Life was rugged with a lot of outdoors, hunting, and harsh conditions. Childhood was limited to affection with a stern proper British up bringing. Hugs and Kisses where not on the daily agenda... I believe nature had dealt me a card that I really did not want. Is this card nature's way of population control or just a genetic anomaly – I don't know. Either way, this did not fit into my plan to blend in. My parents are still happily married. My brother was dating and happy, and now she is his gorgeous wife. Every social action growing up, parents and my brother all were role models for the straight path and the picture perfect society norm, but then there was this feeling I did not want. It became more and more clear as I could not deny it further and as I tried to live the social norm and blend in. I found myself emotionally feeling and wanting what is far from blending in and hiding in the shadows. A result of nurture, I don't think so, a result of choice, hardly so. Nature has dealt me what I am and through the friends I have had, in the end, whether it be nurture, nature, or choice, I find myself surrounded by good people and can look deep inside me and say, I am happy being out of the shadows."

DAX, 27
Education
"Homosexuality is nature. When I went celibate to determine if I was actually gay or not (basically dealing internally with this topic), I thought back to things I did as a child. Most of my thoughts of what I wanted when I got older was my "best friend" and me living together for years. There were no women, but we had children."

NATHAN, 26
Website Designer
"I've always known I am gay, even before I knew what "being gay" was. I remember liking boys as early as grade school. It's because of this that I'm even hesitant to use the word "homosexual". The key word there is "sexual", and I think it's a lot more complex than that. On a much larger, broader spectrum, I think we just know which gender we're attracted to. It isn't specifically sexual, although sexuality does play a big part in it as we get older. I've heard people say that you "become gay" because of your environment. In fact, I have a friend who is dealing with coming out right now, and he tried to play the card of "Oh, I didn't play sports, I didn't do many masculine things when I was a kid, so now I'm gay." That's just laughable. If that were the case, you have to look at the other side of it. There are many gay men who DID play sports when they were kids, and they did "masculine" things. Does that make them straight? Of course not. Often times, I think that people just need things to fit into a nice box that makes sense to them. It's easy to believe that we are molded into being gay, because that insinuates that something was done wrong when we were being raised. If something was wrong, then we can blame someone for all the things that are "different" about us. Life seems so much easier when we have someone or something to blame. The truth is that being gay is part of a very complex and wide spectrum. There are masculine gay people and feminine gay people, and all kinds in between. The end result is the same: we like what we like, and deep down, we all know what we like. The way we are raised and our environment does affect many parts of our character, and our lives as adults. But it can't make us gay. There are also gay parents who raise their children, and their children turn out to be straight. This only further proves that our parents and our environment does not change our preference. "

MARK, 38
Training and Development
"I absolutely believe it's nature. I knew I was "different" before I knew what "different" meant. When I was 10 years old I developed "special" feelings for Gil Gerard from Buck Rogers in the 25th Century. While my mom was a fag hag, and had many gay friends while I was growing up, I never felt that I was "groomed" into being gay. I still don't get how the right wing bigots can say that someone would actually "choose" to be gay - given the fact that persecution is almost guaranteed and in fact encouraged in many parts of the world."

So there you have it... a preponderance of peeps who think that being gay is caused by nature. Now... I'm gonna get back to the important stuff (my ice cream is melting.)

(Word of warning: this will not be a ha-ha funny post.)

Nature versus nurture. It's something I had questioned myself, practically every day, for years on end. It's the type of shit that kept me up at night, and I would be lying if I said there wasn't a little bit of me that still wonders to this day.

But I'm not talking about being gay. Let me explain.

I briefly mentioned it a week or two ago, but my sister was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and Schizophrenia when she was fourteen. I was four years old at the time. As of the time this post is published, it'll be my thirty first birthday, which means my family and I, as fucked up and dysfunctional as it is, has somehow coped dealt with a family member with a severe mental illness for over 27 years. In that time, I have become the older sibling even though I'm ten years younger, my relatively private parents have had no other choice to deal with people they don't necessarily trust: social workers, psychiatrists, psychologist, policemen. With a steady stream of anti-psychotics and anti-depressants and sedatives my sister is manageable on a day-to-day basis, although my parents have written her off as a lost cause - a piece of evidence for blame on other peoples actions but never their own.

When you ask my parents individually what happened - what was the trigger point that caused my sister to start yelling at the voices of her head in the middle of her ninth grade French class - they would give you a laundry list of possible things that went wrong, usually due to the fault of the other: Handymen that were brought in without my sisters knowledge that started banging on roof with their hammers. My maternal grandmother, a woman who I never met but "had issues." My father's military-based discipline which involved a lot of yelling. A lot of yelling. And because of this - because my sister and I grew up under similar conditions, I had always assumed that there was something inside of me - a mental illness time bomb, if you will - where one fateful day it would go off and I too would be instructed to dump Thanksgiving dinner in the trash because Jesus told me the devil poisoned it. My sister's final dramatic mental breakdown happened in her mid-twenties, and a couple of years ago if anything overtly stressful were to happen to me, I would say something like, "technically, I still have two more years before I go crazy." Later, it became "Hmm, I should have gone crazy two years ago." I'm in my early thirties now, and while I don't want to say I'm 100% "in the clear," well, I think I'm in the clear.

As to whether my sister's mental illness was nature versus nurture: I don't know. If some relatives assessments of my grandmother are correct, then yes, there is evidence of mental illness in my direct family. But do I think my sister's episodes could have been avoided, if my sister and I were in a better family situation? Yes, I do. So I think it's nature and nurture.

And I can see the evangelical Christians having a field day with this one, but I'll say it anyway - I think that applies to being gay as well. The classic Exodus International excuse of "if you have a overbearing father and a mollifying mother, you'll be gay?" I have one. But I've never been sexually attracted to girls, either. So, nature or nurture? I think it's a bit of both. I'd like to think it's nature, but if I die and some Deity taps my on the shoulder and said told me I turned gay on August 18, 1982, I'd be all, "Oh, snap! Figures." And that would be that, because honestly, I'd be dead to you guys anyway, and I'm not sure if they have straight sex in the afterlife, much less gay sex.

The point is this, though: what's done is done. My sister is mentally ill. I am gay. Is it nature or nurture? It just is, and everyone has to deal with it, for better or for worse. We do as much as we can to make my sister's life safe and comfortable, and I'd like to hope that people are doing what they can to make my life safe and comfortable as well. Everyone's lives, really. That's just the human condition.

There are two things one must keep in mind when hearing my views on nature versus nurture:

1. I have a queer older sister, two queer uncles, and I assume a handful of extended relatives are of the same persuasion.

2. I saw a lot of boobs when I was little because my dad had a lot of Internet porn. That said, my first moment of sexual arousal came at a period where I had barely started puberty, with no physical indications. It involved a fake picture of Mel Gibson reclining in a waterfall. His fake penis was very large, and I wanted very much to touch it. (Yes, this image above is the one in question! I Googled it.)

--

So, nature? Nurture? I'm incredibly inclined to lean towards the former, with related aspects corresponding strongly to the latter. I mean, I don't view sexuality as cut and dry. There are a lot of aspects to my sexuality that are related to problems in my upbringing. Visual-physical disconnects (I love straight porn), fetishes, roles, drives--to me, at least, these things aren't just aspects that are determined at birth.

I absolutely believe a lot of my parental--specifically paternal--issues shaped a lot of my emotional and sexual development. There's no defining factor or moment; it's more of this amorphous blob of events that led me to where I am. Sexuality is so wrapped up in a larger emotional realm, and my emotions were shaped by a lack of a father, a mother who was always at work to compensate, an outcast status throughout school, and other things, large and small. That said, I had queer feelings before I knew I had father issues, so it's far from the end-all and be-all.

So, as Hillary might say: Diamonds, pearls, nature, nurture...Can't I have it all?

WHAT MAKES ME GAY?
I take just one look at a photo of Jake Gyllenhall and I forget about anything else. I'm gay. If you're reading this, you're probably gay too. It's easy to take this identity for granted because of all the fun, juicy things that come along with the glorious rainbow flag.

But back when we came out of the closet to ourselves and the world around us, we wondered "what makes me gay?" Is it something genetically hard-wired in me, something fabulous that happened in my formative years or some sort of magical combination of both?

The neuroscientist Simon LeVay got a lot of press in 1991 when he wrote about his studies involving gay men's sexuality and brain structure. He studied slices of deceased gay men who had died from HIV/AIDS complications to find out if there was any difference between their brain structure and the presumably heterosexual male brains he could find elsewhere.

He concluded that gay men had smaller hypothalamus compared to their straight counterparts. What a size queen!

The problem with this study is that Dr. LeVay only examined a handful of subjects and he never took into consideration that the differences in the size of the hypothalamus may have been caused by diseases they had suffered or from the medication they may have taken to combat AIDS.

People from all sides of the ideological fence were furious over the study. Gays were mad because they were being sliced apart and dissected in what many thought might lead to a cure for homosexuality and "conversion to heterosexuality" therapists were upset because they feared a biological rather than moral cause of homosexuality and end up having to look for new work. Despite this controversy, I think queers everywhere should embrace the question: "What Makes Us Gay?"

Knowledge is power and understanding the mechanics of human sexuality means we all stand to gain a greater understanding of ourselves and the world around us. Heaven forbid the technology should arise to "cure" homosexuality in the future, because that's a binary that can be turned both ways. If you can STOP gayness from happening you can also START it in others. Think of all the sexy gay terrorism that will happen in the future. Oooo La La!

I know there are a couple of hunky guys at the gym I'd like to test my hypothesis on.

WHY DO GAYS EXIST AT ALL?
Here's a question I'd like to pose to researchers out there: what is the biological function of same-sex-sexualities. Through archaeological evidence we've seen that gay sex has existed everywhere through time. There are some really sexy statues of Hercules getting his cock grabbed by Diomedes.

Many zoologists like Bruce Bagemihl document the same-sex experience in the animal kingdom. In his book "Biological Exuberance: Animal Homosexuality and Natural Diversity" he documents and writes extensively about how widespread gay sex is in the animal kingdom.

Your average acre of tropical rain forest has more gay sex happening in it than Senator Larry Craig's favorite men's bathroom at the International Minneapolis airport.

"Biological Exuberance" is a great read, with stories about gay penguins in long-term relationships, flaming flamingos and queer bats. Really, Bat man is gay in more ways that you can even imagine. Gays and gay sex is critical to the patchwork of life.

Obviously it's here for a reason and it's not just for the hot sex. Or is it? Maybe we are just here to have fun and do someone's hair.

What purpose do gays or gay serve in order to further our own species?

I'd like to offer my hunch. It may have something to do with bees. Most of the worker bees in a hive never get to reproduce. They are all essentially sexless slaves, working for their master queen bee, happily bringing in nectar to the hive until the day they die. They don't get to pass on their genes, but they still enjoy the work. Gays in many ways are like those bees. We sometimes participate as breeders but for the most part we don't. We're mother natures helping hand.

Gay people exist today as an identity because it's possible. In other non-western nations, the concept of "gay" isn't as concrete and visible as it is in our own culture. Same-sex relationships between men is expected in some areas of the world but always kept on the "down low."

Our ability to be visible, to create our own mythology and culture and to develop relationships is so vital to the world of today.

What is this fight for gay rights really about? It's for everyone everywhere to be able to shape their lives by desire, it's for us to be able to express love where our hearts take us.

Don't let looks deceive you though.

CHICKS GROW UP TO BE ROOSTERS
Growing up in Puerto Rico, at Easter there were many little markets in the centers of small towns that sold all sorts of goodies. One tradition that still happens to this day is selling brightly colored, dyed baby chicks for children to play with until they die. It's sort of a Puerto Rican version of the death and resurrection of Jesus but in this case the chicks rarely, if ever resurrect, but sometimes they do in fact survive.

When we spotted these cute and freaky birds as kids we begged our parents to buy them. My mom must have thought they couldn't possibly survive the coloring process and she must have thought we needed a lesson in death, so she bought us each one.

I got a green chick, my older sister a blue one and my little sister a pink one. All the chicks except the flaming gay pink one died in a matter of days. The gayest little pink chick named "Flower" grew up to be a glorious, large and ferocious rooster that would attack anyone it could. Now that was a cock to reckon with!

In the rural areas of Puerto Rico it's normal for people to let chickens runs wild in their back yard. Well, we lived in the city so my dad took our rusty geodesic dome jungle gym and covered it with chicken wire to make a makeshift home for the "de-pinked" wild rooster. Every morning at dawn and sometimes in the middle of the night when he was spooked, Flower would wake up everyone on the street with his "Ki kiri kee!" This, of course, drove our neighbors nuts.

One summer we traveled up to Texas to visit my mom's family and my mom left our family rooster in care of my Uncle Cuqui. Cuqui, who's name sounds like "cookie" was a diabetic who kept tanks of guppies, chickens and all sorts of animals in his suburban home. He was kind of eccentric but really he was just Puerto Rican through and through. He was as we say a jibarito- the wily hillbilly. When we got back home from the trip, my mother asked Uncle Cuqui about the rooster.

Cuqui told my mom: "Doña Patricia, the rooster made a lovely soup. Thank you." There's your battle of nature vs. nurture. Nature will always win, because she's one fierce bitch!

Just for fun, here is a sexy photo montage of actor Jake Gyllenhaal:

Are gays born homosexual or are they made gay? Is homosexuality a lifestyle choice or is it something we are born with? Who -- or what -- are we supposed to blame? Someone's upbringing or someone's DNA?

My answer: I don't know. Perhaps both? I'm staying right in the middle with my gin tonic until the powers that be figures it out. I honestly can't decide whether it's nature or nurture. Some were just born that way while some, chose to be gay. Every single one of us were raised a certain way it's virtually impossible to single out the reason why people are gay. We're all exposed to so many people, things and experiences from the day we were born.

Proof that it's a little bit of both? Well, for the sake of discussion, let's assume that I was born gay. As long as I can remember (and I have pictures to prove it), I have always been effeminate... in touch with the soft, fluffy, chewy side since day 1 and no matter how hard I try to be all manly, it's just not "me".

But then again, just because someone is effeminate it doesn't necessarily mean someone is gay, right? Society associates effeminate behaviour with homosexuality because the majority of the male population are more... let's just say butch. However, if you look at all the gays now, testosterone and butchness and 'straight-acting' is so fucking glorified, fairies like me are a dying breed.

Perhaps it has something to do with my upbringing and my personal inner circle? I'm fortunate enough to have a family who are extremely supportive and they have always accepting. I also got almost everything I wanted as a child -- my Supertrump card collection, my Matchbox toy cars, my G.I. Joe action figures, my Barbie doll collection, my Lego sets, my Sanrio stationery, Lisa Frank stickers, everything. As for my own Maybach, that's a different story and I probably won't get one in this lifetime. To the manor born I am not. Hah!

Gender and sexuality has never been an issue in my family and neither one of my parents tried to "correct" me. There was no pressure whatsoever. It's funny because when you think about it, I'm the eldest child and my father's first son. And my dad is my grandparents' only son. You'd think they would be strict at me but they weren't. They were strict on other things, like how they want me to excel academically or strict when it comes to curfews and such. And to this date, I (still) have excellent relationships with both of my parents (and aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, you name it) and we've gone through a lot over the years.

Before someone says that there's an extreme lack of a "boy" influence on me, I also did a lot of things that are socially-accepted for boys. I loved the Simpsons. I chose the Bart doll over the Lisa doll. I preferred Lego over Polly Pocket. During summer time, I would pray to god that my parents send me to karate classes instead of taking up piano and music lessons (like our neighbours) and off to karate class I went. I played sport... until the 6th grade when I decided it's boring as hell.

It was only until during my teenage years that I became more and more aggressive with my feminine interests. I discovered Sailor Moon. I became obsessed with Clueless. I accidentally stumbled upon on my cousin's diaries and learned about crushes and love etc. I discovered Sweet Valley Kids, Twins, High and University. While my schoolmates obsessed about Archie comic books, I spent my allowance money buying the latest Sweet Valley books, Teen Beat, Tiger Beat, etc. Team Jessica Wakefield! Team Jonathan Taylor Thomas! (UGH I loved him back then I loathe him right now haha!) Whenever my mom went to the bookstore to buy the latest issue of Architectural Digest, Family Circle and Better Homes & Gardens (how peasant), I would flip through the pages of Vogue and Elle... until I bought my own.

Again, just because a child has feminine interests it doesn't necessarily mean homosexual.

As a young person, I've had crushes on both boys and girls. Since most of my school friends back then were girls, I felt I was one of the gang and when they gossiped about the guys they like, off I talked about the guys I, too, like. One of of our school christmas parties, my schoolmates made me kiss this guy on the cheek and I did! I honestly didn't thought of it as weird until a few people at school said IT WAS WEIRD. I got taunted here and there but what the heck, I also did the same when it come to other people. One of my seat mates in class, this butt ugly girl named Mylene, made it a mission to call me FAGGOT on a daily basis and in return, me and the other girl beside me called her CLIFFHANGER, as in she always have this nasty huge piece of boogey hanging from one of her nostrils.

It really is the outside world... the other kids... who made me feel I'm different, made me feel I'm not "normal", whatever normal is. I personally thought I was no different and not once I questioned myself (or anyone I know) why the kids were calling me all these names and labels. In my mind, so what if I find guys attractive? A few kids taunted and teased alright but every day is just another day and under no circumstances I changed myself to change the way they think of me. Did I make myself that way? Not really, no.

With all of that being said, one could easily assume I was made gay because of my upbringing but I really don't think that was the case. Would it make a difference had my parents been a little more strict when it comes to raising me? Had my parents forced me to take up things against my will or changed my interests, would I become a vajayjay worshipper? Besides, do children, who don't know any better, have control on what they find attractive?

I think not. If anything, my family allowed me to fully evolved to the person I want to be. They provided foundation and support at all times but they left me to grow on my own. If that involves sucking a big fat cock and getting fucked in the ass then so be it. That's how life is. Our past and our upbringing doesn't necessarily (and accurately) reflect the future.

Whether someone is born gay or made gay, it's all about acceptance. People should just let other people be. We should accept that we cannot control EVERYTHING in life, like acts of god, or stock markets crashing or the prices of luxury goods skyrocketing. We should also try (I said TRY) respect how people were born, how people were raised and also be more accepting of the choices people make in life, provided it doesn't bother us. There is no 'set' road map for anyone and we're all entitled to evolve in our own accord. Some people have more tendencies to be gay more than others, heck, I even think anyone, everyone CAN BE GAY... with the right person. If someone chooses to be gay after years of living straight then so be it. I know lots of people who THOUGHT they were straight but they end up batting for the other side one way or another. I even know lots of "straight" guys who go gay when they're drunked or drugged as a kite. I also know people who are absolutely straight until they fall in love, with, say, their best friend, who coincidentally is the same sex as them. What about notoriously straight adults who had (and presumable enjoyed) homosexual experiences when they were children?

At the end of the day, we're all unique in our own little ways and our lives, personal experiences, stories, opinions and choices are different from one another. It's pointless to categorize ourselves to just another label.
Email me and tell me you love me. My email address is bryanboy@gmail.com.

I love you all, as always!

Just remember what they all say: it's not gay until the balls touch.

Nature vs. Nurture.
Is this still worth a debate?
Among gays?
I find this surprising.

I was lucky enough to grow up
in Europe.
Not much controversy.
Not much wondering
about why, how, because.

A single-parent home.
Playing with Star Wars toys
Dancing to "Open Your Heart"
Singing "The Reflex"
Watching He-Man on the tube
Acting classes.
Skating rinks.
Tennis matches.
Soccer practice.
Did that make me gay?
I doubt it.

I was born this way.
I walk this way.
I feel this way.
I love this way.

I wouldn't have it any other way.