Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little “Fucking” Lies

Why are we so careless with each other’s emotions? I gather heterosexuals are not immune from similar disregard, but homosexual men–with an overpowering (and in some cases insatiable) sexual appetite–seem to take it to an extreme. Lusting for “cock, cum, piss, boy hole” (or whatever else floats your boat), it’s alarming what we’re willing to sacrafice for purely physical, erotic encounters: the truth. That is what makes our interactions with each other beyond degrading.

“What a Tangled Web We Weave When First We Practice to Deceive.”

It’s puzzling how a homosexual’s dick can manage to grow a few inches with every passing fib, but he–who we’ll call Pinocchio–managed to get it up even as he found himself tangled in a web of lies.

We met at a party in Brooklyn. After a passing, provocative glance, we struck up conversation. Naturally, it didn’t take too long before he brought up sex.

“You look like a top,” Pinocchio said, somehow amazed that I’m anything but. “You should really try it sometime. You have no idea what you’re missing.”

“That’s rich, coming from the competition,” I initially joked. Up close, I noticed an overall glazed look in his bloodshot eyes. He nervously twitched and repeated himself. “Alright, I think I’m done here.”

“Wait! You mean, you don’t want to fuck me?”

“Not if you were the last homosexual in the world,” I said, attempting to walk away. Then he grabbed me.

“You can do it raw.”

“There again, we’re not compatible. I’m safe only.”

“Ugh! For real? Come on, dude. Forget condoms. Be a man.”

“Oh! Good for you! Now you’re going to school me on what it’s like to be a ‘man’? Tell me, who’s keeping you company right now–beyond Mary Jane? Let me guess, Tina? Molly?”

“I don’t do drugs,” he stuttered and hesitated.

“Now you’ve just lied to me.”

“You’re on PrEP, aren’t you?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“That’s right. Are you on PrEP?”

“Well,” he hesitated again, “yeah. I’m clean. It’s totally safe.”

“Boy you are the worst liar! Strike two!”

“Well,” he corrected himself. “I’m undetectable. So that’s the same as you being on PrEP.”

“Strike three! You’re out. How the <insert choice word here> do you go from being ‘clean’ and on ‘PrEP’ to ‘undetectable’?”

By now, he looked mortified and completely ashamed–as well he should.

“Get the hell out of my face before I rearrange yours!” The anger had set in. “If you have the audacity to look me in the eyes and lie, brace yourself <insert choice word again> because I will make you feel as tall as that three-and-a-half-inch floppy undoubtedly shriveling right now behind your <insert yet another choice word> pants.”

It’s not altogether off-putting to learn that Pinocchio is HIV+. The issue is he lied about it (and so much more).

This most recent example is one of a myriad where I’ve caught some idiot lying through his teeth. Granted, not everyone goes as far, but consider all of those who hold themselves out as single and available only to confess at a later point that they’re involved in an open relationship or better yet, married–to a homosexual or a woman (you can never be sure these days). I’m particularly amused by those who offer an alias to start and share their real name only after the first date, despite several weeks of playing “getting to know you” with a spirited round of 20-questions on some dating app. Suddenly Jake becomes Dave who’s hanging onto his early thirties by staking a claim that he’s thirty-two, when in fact he’s closer to rounding forty. That’s disappointing, yes. But it cuts even deeper.

The foundation of any healthy relationship (be that with a professional acquaintance, close personal friend, casual sex partner, or romantic interest) is trust. When we constantly form first impressions of each other based on false information and inaccurate representations, we rob ourselves of the potential to achieve anything worthwhile. We relegate ourselves to a position far inferior to anything an outside member could dare to attempt with anti-gay slurs, homophobic remarks, or violence. For a community that has overcome so much adversity and achieved so much toward the path to equality, we become our own worst enemies when we choose to lie to each other with little respect for the consequences.

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At the Intersection of Single and on PrEP

Like a moth to a flame, I played with fire and got burned. In my quest to extinguish any lingering romantic feelings I harbor for yet another “unavailable” homosexual, I’m acting out in alarming ways—going to extremes I never dreamed imaginable.

Last night, I let a one night stand go in without protection.

For most homosexuals these days, “raw” or “bareback” sex is no big deal. With the advent of PrEP (or what I call “homosexual birth control“), everyone’s doing it. But I’ve always maintained we should exercise a little more caution when we find ourselves in the company of strangers; that we should refrain from using the little blue pill as a license to have unprotected sex. Condoms offer additional protection against HIV and other STIs. PrEP provides an added peace of mind.

Or so I thought.

The morning after, I’m finding little comfort in the knowledge that “PrEP reduces your risk of HIV infection by over 90-percent.” That’s because it does little to stave off this overwhelming sense of disappointment that I put myself in a vulnerable position and allowed someone to violate me physically (putting aside the obvious impact on my emotional and mental well-being).

I made a mistake.

As someone who insists on protection, I find myself feeling largely marginalized (dare I say, ostracized) from the seemingly vast majority of homosexual society who’ve pledged allegiance to condomless sex. The pool of available candidates becomes exceptionally shallow when (at the very least) half the swimmers on homosexual dating apps explicitly state that they’re seeking “raw” or “bareback” sex because they’re on PrEP.

It leaves yours truly feeling stranded.

But if any good is to come of this situation, it strengthens my resolve: I’m not so lonely and desperate for affection that I’m ever willing to compromise my virtue again, certainly not for for some fleeting moment. If that means remaining isolated because I refuse to engage in what the popular “in crowd” is doing, so be it.

 

 

 

Let’s Talk About PrEP: A Video EVERY Homosexual Should Watch

Earlier this month, The New York City Department of Health and Mental Hygiene released a video that every homosexual should watch.  That’s particularly true for those who take Truvada as PrEP and use it as a license to have unprotected sex.

The video defines Prep as “an easy to take daily pill that reduces your risk of HIV infection by over 90-percent.  If you’re positive, HIV treatment can keep viral loads undetectable and your partner safe.”

“Condoms,” the narrator adds, “provide additional protection against HIV and other STIs.”

This is an important distinction at a time when 44.5-percent of men who have sex with men in New York have apparently abandoned condoms and STIs are gaining ground.  Syphilis is trending among gay men.  Homosexuals make up 83-percent of all such cases in the city.  Gonorrhea is also on the rise, with a 50-percent increase in cases among men between 2000 and 2013.

If you are what you eat and you’ve swallowed some random dude’s “manhood” lately, take a look at this (you might want to stick your finger down your throat and call your doctor):

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Yours truly previously joked that PrEP seemed like “homosexual birth control,” but the statistics are no laughing matter.

“Play sure,” The New York City Health Department says.  “That means finding the right protection combination that works for you.”

That combination might look something like this:  1. Taking medicines to treat or prevent HIV; 2. Using condoms as often as possible; and 3. Using plenty of water-based or silicon-based lube.

Finally, get tested.  Homosexuals should get their blood drawn every three to six months.

GIVEAWAY *CLOSED*-Holiday Gift Idea: David’s ‘Dopp Kit’ Will Make Homosexuals Go Weak at the Knees

Good things come in small packages.  The David Dopp Kit is proof.  Not only is it a grower; it’s also a shower.  That makes it a perfect holiday gift for the homosexual on-the-go.

The skincare set features four MENAJI products in a clear-front zippered pouch.  Another zipper pulls back and allows the bag to expand to almost three times its original size.

“‘David’ has plenty of room for more products and essentials while traveling,” the company pointed out in a September 2015 press release.  The dopp kit is apparently part of a “fleet” (one of our favorite weeks) of sleek and sturdy travel kits designed for a man’s active lifestyle (and homosexuals are among the most active).  Each bag is made with water and stain-resistant (we all know that’s important) ballistic nylon… in black (this is TOO perfect).

It’s what’s on the inside that really matters though.  That’s where David’s got you covered with a full line of products well-suited for the beauty queen in all of us:

  • 911 Eye Gel – rejuvenates and restores tired eye skin area (perfect after a rough [one-night] stand)
  • Power Hydrator Aftershave – natural hydrating formula addresses fine lines and wrinkles
  • Deep Cleansing Masque – removes impurities so skin looks renewed and feels revived
  • ClearShave 3-in-1 Formula – delivers maximum comfort pre-shave, shave and post-shave; no water needed

Suggested retail value for the David Dopp Kit is $135.95.  For a limited time though, you can get your hands on it for $95.00.  Order here.

MENAJI has also offered to give away a David Dopp Kit to one lucky Bobbing for Apples reader!  Tell me how you would take advantage of the expandable pouch this holiday season. Enter here for your chance to win.

Slim Pickings in the Homo Dating Scene

Just because you’re a homosexual, that doesn’t mean your OkCupid profile has to produce a gag reflex. Lately, I’ve come across a few pics on Hinge that are so “gay,” and I could just barf from what I come across on Tinder.

See for yourself. Take a look at what’s popped up in my feeds recently. You’ll understand what I mean when I say there seems to be slim pickings in the homosexual dating scene. (Click on a picture to open up the gallery and scroll through the comments):

A Heart Without Love

Love is like a foreign language. If you don’t pick it up while you’re younger, good luck getting a hold of it later on in life. Take it from someone who’s getting rather well acquainted with that reality with each passing day.

I’ve a reputation for being a slut, and I’ve earned it. But even sluts have feelings. If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? And if you wrong us, do we not seek revenge?

Vengeance is sweet, particularly when some pint-sized homosexual who’s knee high to a piss-ant pisses us off:

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Payback’s a bitch!” As the Chinese philosopher Confucius once said, “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” So often, you wind up hurting yourself just as much as the person you seek to destroy.

I’ve written before that “every time my blood boils, I somehow manage to grow a little colder on the inside.” Why can’t I be a nicer personality? Admittedly, I have my moments. But I can never seem to manage it for very long.

As luck would have it, some psychotherapist died and named as his replacement a twenty-something homo who offered this diagnosis:

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Coming to terms with the harsh reality that I’ve lost the will to love is better that drifting as aimlessly as a broken arrow with false hope.

An Acquired Taste for a Man-Made Ingredient

Fellatio is the homosexual’s handshake. Moments after coming across some of the best produce in one of the finer sections of New York’s “gayborhood,” I found myself on my knees. After about half-an-hour of churning, I came up for air with a mouthful of apple butter. I swallowed.

Caviar is a homosexual’s delicacy, but until recently I never sampled the goods. Perhaps the “homosexual birth control” has put my mind at ease.  I digress.  Point being:  He enjoyed the warm, moist cave of my throat with the occasional coil of my naughty tongue, and I couldn’t get enough of his “home brew.”

PAUL “FOTIE” PHOTENHAUER WILL DRINK TO THAT.  

As I mentioned in 10 Things You Didn’t Know About Penises, Fotie Photenhauer imagines semen as a gourmet ingredient. He is the author of “Natural Harvest: A Collection of Semen Based Recipes,” and “Semenology: The Semen Bartender’s Handbook.” Take a look at how he went “beyond exotic fruits and rare spirits” and added a “personal touch” with this baby: The Macho Mojito.

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In an interview with SF Weekly, the Bay Area homosexual rationalized “cooking with cum.”  He said, “People eat all kinds of weird stuff.  Eggs are the menstruation of chickens.  Milk is the mammary excretion from cows.  Semen is…at least it’s fresh and you know who the producer is.”

Now Photenhauer has agreed to engage Bobbing for Apples in a round of 20-Questions via e-mail.  So, what would you like to ask?  Send your questions to BobbingForApplesInTheBigApple@gmail.com.

New Flock of Geese Migrate to New York for Winter

Anyone who’s taken a stroll through Manhattan’s Midtown West knows birds of a feather will flock together. How else could you explain all the queens who call that neighborhood home? You’ll find more “royal highnies” in Hell’s Kitchen than you will in Buckingham Palace for Pete’s sake!

I digress.

Not even subzero temperatures could keep all the single ladies from making their appointed rounds at the usual homosexual establishments.  All together now:  “Before we bed hop, we must bar hop!”

Again… I digress.

The bitter cold that turned the Bryant Park fountain into a frozen sculpture and scabbed over the Hudson River with ice has ushered in the Canada Goose. The coat is apparently so warm it allows scantily clad homosexuals to waltz into a gay bar wearing little more than their kinky boots and a jock strap. Filled with down, lined with coyote fur along the hood, and—of course—let’s not forget the “polar cap” badge, people flaunt around in them like they’ve earned a Girl Scout achievement patch for selling cookies.

Homosexuals in their twenties and early thirties will jump at any opportunity to brand themselves, eh? If you want to dress to impress, nothing says “cool and prestigious” like the Canada Goose.

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One of the world’s leading manufacturers of extreme weather outwear, the company says it has experienced tremendous growth, “including more than 1,500-percent growth in over the last five years in the U.S. alone.” On a local level, Bobbing for Apples counted fifteen “Canadian Geese” in a New York minute. That’s one every four seconds.  The obviously unscientific experiment took place on a weekday afternoon in another neighborhood home to a large percentage of the city’s homosexual population – the West Village. To meet demand, Canada Goose—as recently as May 2013— established U.S. headquarters in Denver, Colorado.

If you want to strut your stuff with only a Canada Goose between your warm, moist flesh and the dry, frigid air, be prepared to spend north of $800. Depending on when and where you buy, you might snag one for $500.

So, it will cost you a pretty penny, but perhaps that’s a small price to pay when you’re just “looking” for a way to keep warm on yet another cold winter’s night. So go on, ladies! Charge yourself a little happy. Run out, shake your tail feathers, and then find some hot guy to ruffle them for you!