I've spent so much time cleaning out the basement that I am late with my submission for "Father Tony's Confessional" at Bilerico, but it has been sent, and once it has been approved, you'll be able to see my response to the following letter:
Dear Father Tony:
Every other problem I had with my lover I could solve but this one. We were a good looking couple. We are together for 7 years. After two years I began to put on weight. Not him. He is still gorgeous. Sometimes to add some spice we would have a threeway. He still wants it but I am too ashamed of the way I look so I say no and make up excuses. I feel so bad about this weight that I can’t have sex with even just him anymore. This is all my fault and I am fucking up a good thing. Every night in bed I swear I won’t eat but I do and I am miserable. Now I think he’s cheating on me. This is making me crazy and it is messing up everything.
Boston cream pie.
Here's my response.
"Perge modo et qua te ducit via dirige gressum," said Venus to Aeneas.
4 comments:
We homos are so hard on ourselves. It's hard to hear sometimes.
I'll say that the money I've spent on a personal trainer once a week has been the best money I've ever spent. Ever. He'll feel so much better when he starts to take control of the situation... not to conform to some standard of beauty that's unattainable, but to feel comfortable in your own skin. For me, that meant working out. For him, that may mean something else.
And the unspoken, I suppose -- what happens if that support isn't there?
Well, Michael, if he discovers that he does not have the support of his partner, he's got more to deal with. Better to know.
I was bracing myself for an "if doesn't love you just the way you are, he's a shit" response, but you nailed it. Bravo. Pre-Cana's loss is LGBT's gain.
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