In India, it seems tops think they are superior to bottoms...at least that is what this article suggests.
“If you read most status updates on gay and bi men’s groups on social media you will find that ‘tops’ present themselves as superior to ‘bottoms,'” Indian blogger Harry Ess writes in an new op-ed titled “Why do Indian tops think they are better than bottoms?” and published on Gay Star News. “This doesn’t seem to be the situation in the West but is a very common prejudice in India.”
You can read the rest here. I'm not surprised. I've heard the same things here in the West, too. The problem is the minute these so-called tops turn out the lights and hit the sheets their legs go up faster than anything you've ever seen.
Neil Patrick Harris and Oscars
The only thing I know about the Oscars this year is what I saw being tweeted while I was watching Downton Abbey. So I can't comment. But here's a statement by Neil Patrick Harris on the Oscars...and that it was probably his last time hosting them.
“I don’t know that my family nor my soul could take it. It’s a beast. It was fun to check off the list, but for the amount of time spent and the understandable opinionated response, I don’t know that it’s a delightful balance to do every year or even again."
There's more here. The comments are what you would expect: not too kind.
Free Gay Excerpt: Meadows Are Not Forever
Here's an excerpt from Meadows Are Not Forever that I don't think has been published anywhere before.
You can find it here, on Amazon, and in most places where e-books are sold these days.
Cade couldn't lie about that either. "Once," he said. "But no one saw my face. The only shots the camera took were rear lower body shots, no head shots. I only filled in for an actor who didn't bother to show up for work that day. My job has always been behind the scenes, not in front of the camera. And I've never used my real name. In other words, if you did a search for me on the internet, you'd come up with nothing."
They started whispering again, sending him quick glances, looking him up and down. Cade sat back and exhaled. He even smiled and extended his right leg. Anderson Randolph hadn't asked him many questions: he seemed to be sitting back and evaluating with his tongue pressed to his cheek. Evidently, Anderson didn't remember Cade or the cupcake incident from the airport. If he had, Cade figured he would have said something right away. For the first time that day, Cade felt so relaxed he fought the urge to yawn. All that worrying about being recognized had been for nothing.
When they stopped whispering and turned to face him, there was a knock on the door. The guy on the right said, "Come in," and a young woman entered the room carrying a small tray of large chocolate cupcakes. There must have been a mound of rich fudge frosting on top about three inches deep, set in perfect ridged swirls to form peaks. And each one had been topped with an expensive truffle.
Unfortunately, the young woman didn't notice that Cade had become so relaxed he'd stretched out his right leg. And when she entered the room with the tray of chocolate cupcakes, she tripped over his right foot. She caught her balance just in time and didn't fall down. But the cupcake tray jerked and a half dozen chocolate cupcakes went sailing across the room toward the three men at the long table.
The guys on the end saw them coming and ducted just in time. But Anderson Randolph had been looking down at a stack of papers on the table he he'd missed the fall. Three cupcakes landed on the floor; two upside down on the table. And one lone cupcake flew across the table and landed right between Anderson Randolph's legs.
The two guys started laughing and point at Anderson’s crotch.
The young woman apologized and bent over to retrieve the ruined cupcakes on the floor.
Cade sat up straight and held his palm to his throat as Anderson reached down between his legs and slowly lifted the upside down cupcake from his crotch.
Anderson held the cupcake up and stopped moving for a second. His eyebrows furrowed as if deep in thought and he tilted his head sideways. A minute later, he flung a glance in Cade's direction. His eyes opened wide; his lips parted. He pointed at Cade and said, "You're the cell phone guy from the airport. I knew I'd seen you before somewhere."
Cade gulped. His heart began to race. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Randolph," he said. "I thought she saw my foot." He stood up and crossed to the table. He looked down at the chocolate frosting smudged between Anderson's legs and reached for a napkin that had fallen off the cupcake tray. "I'll get down on my knees and clean it off myself. No one will ever know it happened. I'm so sorry."
As Cade reached across the table with the napkin, Anderson lifted his arms and said, "That won't be necessary. I'll be fine." He set the cupcake down right side up, took a napkin from the table, and started wiping the chocolate frosting from his crotch. But it only smeared and made the stain look worse.
Cade took a step back. His face grew warmer. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Randolph. You have my name and address and contact information on the form. Please send me the cleaning bill. And if there's a stain that can't be removed, please send me the bill for new pants. I feel just awful about this."
The other two guys were now laughing so hard they were doubled over and leaning sideways. The guy with the beard said, "Let him wipe it off, Anderson." The other said, "I'll pour some water on it and he can get down on his knees right now."
Anderson stood up and smirked at his associates. He looked at Cade and said, "Thank you very much, we'll be in touch." Then he stood up and went to the men's room alone.
Cade thought about following him, but didn't want to make things worse. He turned and left the room, while the two guys continued to laugh and the young woman scrambled to clean up the mess. Cade went back to the banquet room and plopped down on a chair so he could phone Meadow.
When she answered, he said, "You're never going to believe this."
"Did you get the job?"
He sighed and explained everything that had happened.
"Was he mad?" Meadow asked. "That idiot girl should have been watching where she was going. It's not like you did it on purpose."
Cade frowned. "It was hard to tell. I mean he didn't scream and shout. He's very professional and very dignified that way. But he had to be mad. How would you feel if some idiot smashed you with chocolate cupcakes twice in the same week?"
"I see your point," She said, adding a sigh.
Then he told her about all the questions they'd asked about his job with straightguycondo.com. "I had to tell the truth. I couldn't lie. For all I know that did me in before I slammed him with frosting again."
"Did they tell you they weren't interested in you?" She asked.
"That's a good sign. They aren't shy about that. Maybe they want to use that angle for publicity. You never know. I've seen it before. On the Internet they call it click-bait…something that gets attention fast. And what's more click-bait than a gay porn star on TV? The women alone will love it."
"Who knows," Cade said. "All I do know is that it was a nightmare. I guess some things just aren't meant to be."
"Well, at least you didn't back out," she said. "That says something about your character. You're a fighter. You'll be okay. There will be tons of other auditions and jobs and this will be forgotten by next month." Meadow didn't sound very positive now. In fact, it sounded as if she were trying to let him down easy.
"I'm not going home right away," Cade said. "I saw a nice little coffee shop near the parking garage and I'm going there to just sit and unwind for a while. I can't take being this depressed and being in New Jersey at the same time. I'll call you later tonight." The coffee shop he'd passed reminded him of his favorite bodega in LA.
"Don't start obsessing about the negatives," Meadow said. "It was an accident. These things happen."
"I'll call you later tonight." He couldn't wait to get off the phone. They'd just called another name, which meant Anderson was back in the audition room. Cade wanted to get out of the hotel before anything else happened.
When he was on the street, he dialed his mother and said, "I ran into a few old friends, so don't wait for me. I'm going to have coffee with them, and I might have dinner with them, too. I'll be home before midnight, though." It was easier to lie.
"Are you sure you don't want me to keep something warm on the stove," Daisy asked. "It's no trouble, dear."
"Thanks, mother," Cade said. "I'll be fine. If I don't see you tonight, I'll see you in the morning. But I will be home before midnight." He wasn't sure if he'd have dinner in the city, but he figured he'd tell her that just in case he decided to. He didn't want to go back to the house right away but he couldn't tell her that. He'd wind up sitting in his bedroom, alone and depressed, replaying the entire nightmare of a day in his head. And he remembered the rules from high school. As long as he was home by midnight, his parents were fine.
"Be careful, dear," Daisy said. "And please drive safely. They drive like maniacs in Philadelphia and you're not used to the roads anymore."
"I will, mother." She obviously had no idea what serious traffic was like in Los Angeles.
He put his phone away and crossed the street. The parking garage sat only a block away, and the coffee shop was right next door. He went in and ordered a large latte. He really wanted a good stiff drink…vodka…but he couldn't do that because he had to drive back to New Jersey. For Cade, caffeine had always been the next best thing to booze. It picked him up and lifted his spirits; it gave him energy when he didn't want to walk another step.
At that hour, the coffee shop was empty. People were either going to dinner or going out for drinks before dinner. He sat on a large red leather sofa with scuffed arms gazing at a flat screen TV for almost an hour and a half. He didn't even pay attention to what was on TV, not even Judge Judy whom he adored. He just kept replaying what had happened during the audition and cringing inside.
When a cute guy wearing glasses sent him an inviting glance from the other side of the coffee shop, he smiled and looked down at his lap fast. He could have made eye contact with the guy and had him that night if he'd wanted him. He was Cade's type, too, with athletic, rugged looks, heavy five o'clock shadow, and big strong hands. But Cade decided to ignore the guy on purpose. The last thing he needed was another big jock type getting into his pants and telling him a pack of lies. They always lied, or at the very least exaggerated the truth. Cade thought about Harold and his wife again and clenched his fists.
After his third latte, Cade glanced at his watch and decided it was time to go home. It was after seven and his mother and father had already eaten their dinner. By the time he returned home, they'd be getting ready for bed. Cade still hadn't eaten anything that day, but he wasn't hungry. The thought of the chocolate cupcakes flying across the room kept turning his stomach, and the caffeine from the lattes had killed his appetite.
But when he flung the coffee shop door open to step onto the street, he heard thump and a man shouted, "Shit. What the fuck?"
Cade walked outside and found Anderson Randolph standing next to the coffee shop entrance hunched over, rubbing his shoulder. Passersby stopped and gaped. Cade reached for Anderson's shoulder and said, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Randolph. I didn't see anyone coming. I had no idea."