The year's almost over, so this entry might seem outdated. But it ain't. We should all know our bodies this intimately, even when we're not trying to get-off. You can protect yourself, as well as others. And if you don't find nothing wrong, go do something nasty. (but safe)
I used to think I had the Power of Prevention. While my friends were out there getting STDs, fagbashed, pregnant, or arrested, I would somehow avoid trouble, by being cautious. Following my gut. Knowing all the good hiding places. Lifting with my legs, not my back. Making it a habit to look both ways, before leaving the scene of a crime. And liberal amounts of Clearasil & sunscreen.
Sometimes I'd spend hours getting ready for the klub, but when everybody was jumping into the carpool, I'd refuse to leave the house. As if some invisible entity was guiding my way, warning me to stay outta Waikiki. A guardian angel? Menehune? Lonely ghost? Then my roomie forgot something, so when he got back, I was caught sitting backwards on the toilet, magazine & ashtray on the tank, smoking pot & jerking off. It was then I realized/admitted: I'm just a paranoid pothead addicted to porn.
Well, I've seen each movie in my collection about 10 times each, and they just don't do it for me no more. So I'm stepping out into the World. Taking chances. All the quotebots on Twitter say if you're not making mistakes, then you're not risking anything. or doing much. or gittin' her done. Sumpin' like that. I shoulda favourited them tweets. Whatever. I'm coming outta my room, into the light, ready to take back the night.
But safety first...
I'm not a hypochondriac, though I'm very OCD when it comes to washing my hands & wiping my ass ...like I do it all the time. That's why the end of the year is my favourite. I love to re-gift all the candy, gifts and food; get to fake it with my family. But most of all, I love the last few months of each year, because they're all about Prevention & Awareness. Stopping something bad from happening (or at least catching it before it's too late).
October was Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Everybody should be squeezing tits all year, but October is the only time you could say it in public. Good thing no one reads my blog, 'cause I'm gonna suggest we all do it. NOW! You know you wanna. Next October is about 10 months away, and if we wait, we might realize that them bumps in our bras ain't the ones we asked Santa for.
Reminds me of High School. I think it was apartment 315 of Century West, in Salt Lake. I was feeling myself upp for whatever reason, and noticed my left boobie was a little sensitive, and kinda harder than the right one. Maybe even bigger? Good thing I'd had sex-education in school before Reagan took office, or else I might played with my titty hard-on until it exploded with discharge.
But I'd already learned to jerk-off, so I screamed for my mom. It was so shame, as I showed her my tit and said it hurt. I fought back tears & giggles, while her middle & pointer fingers were dancing on my nipple, poking & prodding, promenade & dosey-doe. When our eyes locked in fear, it wasn't long before we were at the Military Free Clinic. I don't remember much. I was just happy to have a male doctor fondling my boy-boobs, and telling me it's normal and that everything will be alright. He just didn't mention "this'll be our secret", so I feel like it's okay to tell you: I didn't have Breast Cancer when I was 14, and after frequent (often involuntary) checks, I still haven't found anything suspect.
Nowadays, November becomes Movember, where guys & girls grow a mo' (short for moustache) to remind everyone about all the cancers men are prone to, including the number one killer Prostate Cancer, and it's close friend Testicular Cancer. I don't do anal, so I forgot it was about my prostate, but everytime people would comment about my 'stache, if I wasn't already, I'd immediately start juggling my balls, and encourage whomever I was with to check their own. If they didn't have no balls, I'd assure them, mine were just fine, but they could check if they wanna be sure. Over the years, I've earned the people of Hawaii's trust; therefore they instinctively took my word for it, and turned down the offer to feel my sac to see if I was lying.
Brandon Reid (uber-duper cutie from the Manifest) musta really wanted his friends to manhandle themselves as much as I think about it, 'cause he spearheaded the "Manifest Man Challenge". For a promise not to shave for the month of November, and a pledge of $15, he got 62 of his friends to raise almost $1000 for the American Cancer Society. I had to do drags 3 times last month, plus beards absorb & counteract Clearasil, so I broke Brandon's rules, by only growing a moustache, and shaving my cheeks & chin. I still looked ugly, but at least it was in honour of balls.
Finally, December kicks off with World HIV/AIDS Awareness Day, and continues all month.
I grew upp in the 1980's when AIDS was the latest craze. All the cool people were getting it, but no one was talking about it. It was like an exclusive club that a lot of people were honourary members of, but they didn't want to join. My uncle Carlos died from AIDS, but us kids weren't told that he was sick. I just always wondered how come he was so lazy all the time, and never helped with the groceries or stuff? Soon he was dead. Then we had to wonder & worry if his wife & daughter (my auntie & cousin) had it. They don't, but shit is scary, yo!
I guess the rumour is that an HIV-positive man mighta been cured of his infection, recently. But that don't mean you wanna get it. He had to get purty sick to even qualify for treatment, and as much as it's made him a star, it's never as glamourous as it sounds. Sure he'll get his face on the tabloids & maybe a book deal or reality show. But I doubt he'd trade his health for fame & fortune, if given the choice again. I just hope he's cute, likes chubby queens, and is very generous.
I took the Ora-Quick 20 minute HIV test on Shaka Talk #6, with Jaimie from the Life Foundation. She had just returned to work from her honeymoon, and had barely met Edna & I just a few minutes before the show. So we forgot to swab my mouth in time to get the results before the episode was over. From the discussion we had, I'm sure a lotta viewers assumed I had it.
That's all the test is: You swab between your cheek & gums, stick it in this solution, and 20 minutes later, there will be a pattern on the handle, to show whether you've been exposed to HIV or not. No needles, no waiting, no shit. And if you do need help after that, the counselors are ready & willing to refer you to it. Boom! So easy! But still shmall kine scary.
When my mom seen the show, and heard me answer all the sex questions, she kinda freaked out when it pau'd and my results weren't revealed. She called me right away. At first I assumed it was one of the tranny-chasers trying to get my co-hostess Edna's phone number. But hanging onto hope that it might be someone wanting to do unspeakable things to me, I licked my lips and answered in my sexiest phone bone tones....with a semi-...just in case.
"Is there anything you need to tell me?" she begged. My dick shrank as if I'd jumped into an Arctic fishing hole. "No mom" I assured her. "I'm OK" I tested negative when I got my results at the end of the show FYI. But that was over a year ago the last time I got tested, and I been gettin' down with some hot hooker action since then, so I guess I need to stop preachin' & start practicin'. I been safe, but living with the fear of death & disease is part of what makes me proud to be gay, and I'm not gonna deny my true identity.
In fact I seen my friend Mono who works at Life Foundation the other day, and he reminded me, they will come to you if you like. They'll bring all the test stuff, aks you all the questions, then take off when it's done. No need leave your house. Or just bust one out during your lunch brake. ...while cruising the park...working the streets....beating your kids. Call 'em. It's totally anonymous: (808) 521-2437. You could even lie when they ask you the questions.
Just don't lie to yourself.
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