It’s an uncontrollable urge, a reflex action. No matter how hard you try, you can’t help yourself. Like a tantalising ‘Do Not Touch’ sign at an exhibition or a ‘Keep Off The Grass’ warning on a beautiful lawn, if you see a link to a picture on Twitter, you’ve just got to click it.
What will it be? Another cooked breakfast? Perhaps a cordon bleu luncheon in a fancy restaurant? Maybe a heavily filtered Instagram rendition of a darling chimney pot at a vintage fair?
Check the calendar before you click. If it’s a Sunday, the chances are your click is going to lead you to some eager naked flesh. Welcome to yet another sleazy reinvention of Twitter. It’s Naked Sunday.
Naked Sunday is pretty much what you’d imagine, but if you really need me to draw you a diagram, here’s how it works. Somebody with severe self-esteem issues or a colossal superiority complex takes a picture of a part of their body – usually a ‘sexy’ one, such as toned torso, pimpled ass cheeks or, more unfortunately, huge throbbing sex rod – and posts this picture to Twitter using the hashtag #nakedsunday. That’s the first part of the process over and done with. So far, so ‘good’.
Continue reading Naked Sunday – where the sleazy selfie is king
Social networking always starts off with the best of intentions. The aim to encourage people to share information and stories and feel ‘part of something’ is all well and good, but when you throw a load of gay men into the mix, it isn’t very long before the talk turns from poaching eggs and what’s on TV to exchanging those infamous ‘headless torso shots in the mirror’.
While some of us are intent on telling everyone about how nice our morning porridge was, the other half of Twitter has their pants round their ankles and something in their hand that you could probably stir your oats with, should you wish to.
Whether bored, idly horny or the sort of person who could do with a bromide enema or two daily, the Twitter flirter will think nothing of plunging even the most innocent of conversations into a seemingly bottomless pit of clumsy innuendo, and it doesn’t matter who’s on hand to see. In fact, the bigger the audience, the more inappropriate the flirting will be.
Continue reading Say no to the evils of Twitter flirting
I’ve been on more than a few dates in the two years or so I’ve been single. Some have been disastrous, many have been delightful, but they have all had one common denominator. Each of them, without exception, has involved alcohol. Even the dates with the best of intentions, which start with walks in the park or a visit to a gallery, end in the boozer, with first impressions being made quicker than a pint of beer can go flat.
Of course, any situation which makes you nervous can be helped along by a little Dutch courage, but I wonder whether my dating life might be improved if I gave my liver a night off from indecent assault in the name of making me more courageous. And yet, every time I arrange another assignation, I know that before long we’ll be making eyes at each other over a large glass of something wet and inebriating. Continue reading Get me drunk and enjoy the show
It’s that time of the year when everything turns pink. Shop windows are festooned with flowers and love hearts become ubiquitous. Railing against Valentine’s Day has become as much of a cliché as queuing up to buy a bunch of half-dead flowers and booking a table in a crowded restaurant, but I’m no ordinary “bah humbug” Valentine refusenik. I don’t care about the commercialisation of love, the tackiness of the helium-filled balloons or dog-eared cards that tunelessly play the theme music from Love Story when opened. I don’t care that just about every pub with a microwave oven suddenly turns into a venue for potential romance, offering a special Valentine menu and badly mixed cocktails with bawdy names. No.
What bothers me about Valentine’s Day the universally accepted pretension it’s a day for lovers to show their appreciation for each other, for couples – though usually one half of the couple is the subject of the romancing, while the other gamely woos – to celebrate their relationship. I say bollocks it is. It’s an opportunity to show off, to demonstrate to everybody else just how happy and in love and downright amazing your togetherness is. If nobody else were watching, you’d just be on the sofa scratching your arse and arguing over the remote control just like any other normal day. Continue reading Say no to Valentine’s Day exhibitionism