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How can you avoid having a plate of mac and cheese from becoming an argument over…how the other one always leaves the toothpaste cap off! The thorny stems of my thought had pierced through.

Right in their lives, but they miss the sexual highs and adventure of their single life. Your body feels numb and exhausted.

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I have a dangerous trait. It all starts with a thought. Properly nurtured, it gets bigger. I think about it more. I envision this thought. I plan out the scenarios, foresee outcomes, plan for a way to execute it. It never leaves me until it comes into fruition. Because in love, there are times when seeds are planted that turn out to have thorns. The thought came about like a bolt of lighting. There I was sitting across from my friend, listening to him talk about his latest sexual escapade. He had gone out the night before with two distant friends. The type of friends that like to comment more on your wall than actually see you in person. They began drinking at his place. Taking shots of cotton candy vodka chased with more vodka. A nice buzz was reached, their bodies loose and ready to dance. The alcohol had turned the dial on their confidence because apparently they were the belles of the ball. So good-looking and fun that the only suitable conquests were each other. He went into detail about how the two of them shared him. He had fun, it was hot, and this was his norm. In short he was a sexually promiscuous guy. Sitting across from him was me. On the verge of another breakup with the man I had been dating for the past year and a half. I had reached a point were I wanted the suffocation, unhappiness, and indecisiveness to stop. It was the weekend, and typical of our behavior we had fought and broken up. But this time it was different, I wanted to do something that would make him never want me back. At around 10pm I sent a text to my friend asking if he wanted to grab a drink. From the get-go I wanted to feel like I was in control. I was the one taking drink after drink. Buying round after round. And I was to an extent, however, the seed — the anger — the frustration inside me had also taken control. As the night progressed I became more aggressive and determined to go through with my plan. Conquering him was never it but it did play an important role. His history as a sexual deviant worked in my favor. No matter how pathetic it was, no matter how disconnected we could have been — it was sex. The thorny stems of my thought had pierced through. As I drove home, numb from the alcohol, my actions, and the escape of love from my body, I began to cry. What was wrong with me? Is this not what I wanted? I had miscalculated with love. In that moment I thought I was crying because I had betrayed my ex-boyfriend. That morning, in my mind, there was no going back… or so I thought. Last month I ended a serious relationship. One that lasted over a year and at its most surreal state became a pseudo engagement of sorts. The engagement was a desperate attempt to mend something that was lost the moment we began to hurt each other and become men we could no longer love. You see it in movies, listen to it in songs and read about it in books, but you never honestly feel the pain of a break up until it happens to you. Days become uneventful and quiet. Your body feels numb and exhausted. I find myself sleeping more and more. Perhaps it is my body recovering from the trauma of a toxic ending or my heart wanting to catch one last dream of us together. Suddenly, everything he ever gave me or left at my place is hurtful to use or see. Like the wine opener he brought over for our first month anniversary and never took back. A relic that kept on being used on nights-in together, more anniversaries, days were I was mad at him and needed a drink, and nights after making love. A blue bristle brush covered with a plastic top. The first purchase that really marked a long-term relationship. I remember the night we went out to buy it. It was a weekend during our first month of dating. A time when we would spend hours discovering how much we loved each other. How perfect it all seemed. Nights would turn into early mornings after sex, but this time instead of parting ways, an intimate question was asked. One that required courage but never a second thought because it felt right and the trust was there. We rushed to a nearby 24 hour pharmacy and bought an overpriced toothbrush that today is an overvalued sentimental object. It has become a daily reminder that he was in my life. As I get ready for bed every night, his brush stands next to mine. He used it religiously. Always worrying that his breath was never good enough for me. It was always minty fresh. The brush reminds me of his gorgeous smile, his sultry kisses, the sex that lead after those kisses, and the mornings after. And unlike the stuffed animals or CDs he gave me, this has been the last object I have not packed up. Perhaps in my heart I still feel like this breakup is not real. That one gloomy evening he will show up at my door, things will be said, it will all be forgiven, we will laugh, hug, and kiss. He will excuse himself to the restroom and brush his teeth. Only for him to wake up before me in the morning, rush into the restroom, and brush his teeth again — just to kiss me a little more passionately — just to be mine for one more day. My heart wishes this, but my mind tells me to take his brush and throw it away. It is for the best. One night as I get ready for bed and brush away my impurities my heart will catch up with my mind. That night is not tonight. I recently celebrated my eighth month anniversary. Stress has a damning effect. I find myself not sleeping the way I did when I was single. Does having permanent bags underneath my eyes mean I love you? We all have to eat. Eating while being together is what a couple does. A single some-what health conscience guy, would go easy on the carbs after 10pm, workout 3 times a week, and would not consider sharing a banana split acceptable daily fruit intake. Does being chunky mean I love you? Now I find myself crying all the time. As I stated before, the walls around my heart have been torn down. Genetically speaking I can go both ways. My father is a baldy but my grandfathers are not. Or maybe I became involved with someone just when my head decided to ruin my life? Does losing my hair mean I love you? One trick to dominating negativity is to not think about it — not to focus on the bad things in a relationship and how badly they can affect your mind, body and soul. So perhaps the questions I should ask myself are; does the Ah-mazing cuddling make up for the few hours of sleep I lose? Is being a little softer worth sharing a chocolate cake rather than eating it alone? Can we make those tears of pain become tears from laughter? And finally, can I let the joy of love unravel my nerves and anxiety enough to keep me from losing my fabulous locks? Suddenly you hear more than hipsters whining when his stomach beings to growl — like a cough or a sneeze your growl follows. What do you want? I hate that you never have any input. Who the fuck cares where we eat! How can you avoid having a plate of mac and cheese from becoming an argument over…how the other one always leaves the toothpaste cap off! The answer: there has to be one guy who lasers in on the drama a mile away, sees above it, and says everything to avoid it. But what if the man in your life is the type of man who likes to create crisis? Unintentional or intentional, the dude is a drama queen. The answer: run away. It drains you mentally and physically. Post navigation Don't Miss Out Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Spend it with the one you love and create wonderful memories.

His history as a sexual deviant worked in my favor. In short he was a sexually promiscuous guy. Any questions or consent to do so is north by that organization. As I get ready for bed every night, his brush stands next to mine. Many a storyline has been written in porn about the seduction of gay and straight men in various sexual scenarios, and this can certainly be hot from a dramatic and difference standpoint. Our site receives compensation from many of the offers listed on the site. Brian Rzepczynski, The Gay Love Coach www. Part of gay dating blog demise relates to the of gay, lesbian and transgender news.