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April 20, 2017

gay blog


  I saw this young punk wearing a sports shirt with the word “Supreme” scrawled across his scrawny chest and a number 10 on his back.  It looked like a P.E. t-shirt of sorts, but of course, I immediately thought of American Horror Story: Coven, and how being a Supreme completely twisted the word to


I was going through it.  My ass was completely spun out after THE very worst breakup I’ve ever experienced in my entire gay career–actually the breakup wasn’t so bad (that relationship was sooo over); I would’ve been fine, until the morning after when I found out the new ex had himself a new boyfriend 24-hours


I could not help but notice a silly strain of a trend that’s latching itself into the sporty fashion sense of my fellow fagged ones and trying to spread itself throughout West Hollywood muscle queens and beyond.   Numerous times, I have spied with my good eye a small bunch of guys promenading aloofly up

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