So tonight, I watched the Kardashians on Hulu. I don’t care what you bitches say, I love them. I think Ru Paul, the Kardashians, and Drag Me to Dinner, allow me just enough imagination to let the heavy dust of reality to be wiped away, even if it resettles moments later. I think those of us with childhood adversities can tend to have more of a vivid imagination. I know I let mine roam free and watching shiny beautiful things on TV help me forget about the “I don’t have a honey so I have to do it my damn self-list.” I promise the worries will still be there tomorrow, they never quite leave. Sometimes, you just have put it aside and relax a bit. It’s part of our life’s journey. Part of mine is learning to relax a bit more.
Oh bitch, don’t get me wrong. My life has ups, downs, dull moments and shiny ones just like the rest of you. Life has the capacity to be everything all at once and other times it can be a little drab. Sometimes we need a little sparkle to brighten up our lives, or a shiny cock ring to say, “HEEEEEY BITCH, I’m here, queer and horny as fuck”, “Look at me- LOOK AT ME!” or “I’m still here, hunty.” A homo’s cock ring is like the equivalent to a woman getting a new push up bra for an outing on the town. The push up bra screams, I’m still here bitches”, “Look at me- LOOK AT ME!” or, “I’m on a cock hunt!”
Both are designed to catch the eye and hopefully some cock. Get DAT PEE PEE ladies! These added helpers are perfectly normal, can be fun to use and draw a hunter’s eye to the target. Yo’ dick is the target (or boobs if it’s a cock ring for the boobs). Warning, don’t leave the cock ring on for too long. I hear it can lead to a little chafing. What? I sort of forgot about it last night, I mean my friend was wearing it and forgot about it. Yea, I heard about it from a friend. 😊
Speaking of friends, did you know that old gay men cannot live on booze and porn alone? They are just like house plants; they also need water. And just like plants, some of them wilt with too much sun. I found out the hard way. More to come on that in a moment.
Old men, 80-year-old men have tricks. I suppose it takes some good tricks to get some GOOD dicks. I say this because Ron (Rhonda Rae) is hilarious. That bitch always does something or says something that is so terrible, borderline racist or elitist, naughty, but funny as fuck. He leaves me seriously laughing out loud (how dare I write it out!). Terrible but funny.
Really, he’s just from a different generation. Shit was different back then and that’s when that bitch was developing his core memories; so, there is going to be some hit and misses. That shit is ingrained in him. I realize we speak the same English, but his is Old English… Old Man English and mine is Valley Girl from Layton, Utah English. But we communicate well and often times we both just make each other laugh.
Recently Ron and I’ve had a lot of conversations about his death. I notice there are good days, bad days, and drunk and laughing days. Watching, befriending, and hanging out with an 80-year-old reminds me that life has similar ebbs and flows at my age as it does at his. We’re not so different. Part of all of our lives is having good days with the bad ones. Granted Ron is getting over a few bad days himself, and you can tell it’s been weighing heavy on his mind. So, I listen. But you can only listen for so long.
I had to say, “Stop your damn boobing you old grumpy bitch. You’re still here. You’re not dying today. I hope.” Now go get dressed and lets get you out of the house. Ya know, he has a real fear of hospitals, but I think many of us do. For so many years they haven’t been the safest places for us or members of our queer community to be. For goodness’ sake, it wasn’t all that long ago that your husband’s parents could deny you access to your loved one while they lay sick and dying in a hospital bed. When said parents hadn’t spoken to their estranged queer child in years. These were real issues Ron and people his age dealt with. This wasn’t so long ago that family could take your shared property and kick you out of the hospital if your husband was dying. This was was in my lifetime too. It sounds like prehistoric treatment, but this is real life shit. The fears are real, and the idea of unfair treatment becomes ingrained in us with life experiences. It’s our job to fight against that fear and continue to vote for people who are supportive of our queer needs and issues. Our community seems to always be one of the first targeted each election cycle. We have to vote to move forward and not backwards.
Ronda fears that if he goes into the hospital, he may end up in a SNF or something worse. “I’ll sign myself out if I have too.” He’s a stubborn ol’ bird and totes would sign himself out of a hospital given the chance. And guess what bitch? I’ll be there to pick you up when you need a ride home from the ER. Why? Because HE’S 80 YEARS OLD- that’s why. He should have as much autonomy as possible, why he still can.
It must be a frightening thing to think of losing your independence at his age, especially after losing his husband. Especially when he had to live in the closet for such a long ass time. I wonder if the thought of losing this independence makes him feel like he has to put one of his old crusty man feet back in the closet? I love stories and Ron has shared what a long process it was to fully be himself, his authentic self. A marriage, kids, a divorce, and then finding his life partner, Saugatuck, and moving to mother fuckin’ Palm Springs. I imagine that it’s scary as fuck to just pick up and leave everything you know, family, kids, and drive across states to find a safe place to live the rest of your gay days in peace and in love.
It is scary for me too. I took the same drive. See we’re not all that different. I am also in search of peace and love. I’m pretty sure we all have some sort of fear of losing our independence, our mobility, or our abilities. It’s legitimate. You (we) should talk about it, your fears, and wants. Make them known.
Bitch, this is your life, and you get to live it your way until the very last breath or your very last cock ring. I’m tired of downplaying my gayness as to not offend others. I can’t do it anymore. *snap-snap* (Puts on cock ring).
I was trying to talk about old man tricks but got sidetracked. So, Rhonda Rae (Ron) was telling me to delete some pictures from his phone when he dies, “I don’t want L***e to find them.” L***e is his adult daughter (who is older than me- I’ll add). He opened up his phone and started scrolling through pictures.
And guess what? I am totally that bitch! I will delete your nasty hooka pictures for you or discard your dildos in the event of your death-that’s just me. That’s what friends do, don’t they? My friend Toni has her instructions to delete my browser history, pictures and clean out a dresser drawer or two if I die before her. It’s important to have friends you can trust with your dark, naughty, and shiny secrets. We’ve all got a need for shiny secrets or not so secret shiny things at all ages, that doesn’t go away.
As he fingered me through each picture, I mean he jumped from pic to pic by swiping with his finger you slutty whore. As he swiped through each picture I looked, listened and acknowledged it and what he had to say about it. A picture of him and his husband in Saugatuck. (He loves his memories from Saugatuck. He tells me I have to go sometime.) A picture of some grandkids, a picture of his friend Jim. Then with his next finger swipe, my eyes did a double take.
I snatched the phone out of his hand and said, “Oh my gosh whose big white dick is that?” Yup, there on the screen was a big ol’ pretty white extremely hard dick pic. “Wow, that’s pretty. Who sent that to you?” To add, it was decorated with a shiny metal cock ring tinted with a pretty purple hue. It lifted and restricted in all the right areas, just like a cock ring for boobs does (aka push up bra).
I looked from the phone to his face intrigued. “Well, whose is it?” He had an extra glisten in his eye and a half-cracked grin as he answered, “Mine.” I replied, “You dirty fucking dog. I love it. You old perv. And Wow. Pretty. You old slut.” Well played old man, well played.
I think it’s the point of the story where I also tell you that I’ve seen Ron’s penis a bunch of times. Not because were boning, but because he’s a nudist. That motha fucka is always naked and so are so many of you here in Palm Springs. But I have to admit, that was the first time I’ve seen his dick hard was in that picture. I say good for you senorita, GOOD for you! I could almost hear his thoughts, “HEEEEEY BITCH, I’m here, queer and horny as fuck.”, “Look at me- LOOK AT ME!” or “I’m still here, hunty.”, and a new one, “Look what I can do!” The need to be desired and loved doesn’t stop because you get older. That big ol’ dick pic is proof that you shouldn’t discount an 80-year-old gay man with a cock ring and strong will.
As for me and my Utah deficits, it has been an adjustment to see nakedness all around Palm Springs all the time, but I don’t mind it. In fact, I love it and obvi so does Ron. I seem to get more comfortable with my own nakedness, with a drink or two, but Catholic guilt and shame are alive and well in the Castillo home. And for the most part, if I’m naked it’s usually to get some pee pee and not lounge around the house with my dog licking things they shouldn’t lick. I have lap dogs and that would just be weird. However, I am working on my own cognitive reframe about my own nakedness, being a former to fluctuating fatty, thus my own insecurities. Yes, social workers can have insecurities too. I’m a fucking human being, just like my 80-year-old friend is a human being. We all have feelings and deserve happiness, no matter our age. I use social work skills on myself all the time, it works. Mental health is a life journey, it’s not just an appointment or two. We all have the capacity to be brave and step out of our comfort zone.
Last night we went out last night to the Barracks. I forgot to water and feed Ron. Remember old bitches are just like temperamental house plants, they need water, shade and food. I didn’t make sure he had those things before I picked him up. Towards the end of our night, he got a little faint, a little dehydrated and I asked for security to help me get him to the car. He wasn’t feeling so great and he didn’t have his cane with him. I told that old bitch to speak up when he first starts to not feel well and not when its too late. I think he tried to hold on as long as he could so he didn’t ruin my night, because there was so much for me to see and do.
As the hot bar tender or security guard helped Ron into the car I said from the driver’s seat, “Old man you are supposed to tell me if you’re not feeling good.” The security guard replied, “Old man? Ahh, respect your elders we may get there one day.” My response was, “Yea, I totally do. I love that old bitch. That’s why he’s here. I hope that if I make it to 80 that some cute thing gets me out of the house too.”
And believe me, Ron was having fun up until that point. Having an 80-year-old with you at a bar, you realize you have to find a spot for him to sit. He can’t stand for long periods of time. Nor should he- HE’S FUCKING 80! We happened to sit next to a stool that said, “Free nipple play- sit here.” (or something like that). Boy-oh-boy did he light up reading that. So, not only did he not have enough water to drink he also happily sat in the nipple playing chair (as fast as his old ass would let him). Yes, he had his nipples played with. Yes, he looked blissful. Yes, he was smiling from ear to ear. They, being his nipples, were pulled on so hard that it bled a little bit through his shirt. He was so excited, happy, and beaming. He said it had been a while since he had some good nipple play and Mr. Leather Daddy hit both of Ron’s spots real good. Take care of those older homos bitches. Just like you and me both want love, they also want love or their nipples pulled on a little from time to time.
I didn’t sit in the free nipple play chair. I sure did watch though. Everyone who did sit seemed to make some intense faces and many of them got up bruised, bleeding and happy. Ron was a happy homo. When the Leather Daddy looked at me and pointed to the chair, I thought, Oh no, kind sir, please don’t pull my little nipples off my body. I only have two of them. I replied with a scared smile, “No thank you.”
I see there is a huge nipple play community here and as much as I would like to participate, I don’t want to go through the remaining years of my 40s and then my 50s with long gorilla nipples. Long gorilla nipples would look so weird on me. It just doesn’t fit my frame or any outfit I’m going to wear on that day. I’ll sit in the chair when I’m 60, but hey maybe I’ll suck on your big gorilla nipples now. Who knows? Given the chance and enough booze what I’d be sucking on. I’m not trying to kink shame anyone, I just have little baby nipples and I want them to stay cute and little.
Oh, and yes, I’ve been a little busy lately opening up my own little office. I’m now entering the “wait while we process your paperwork phase” in the insurance credentialing process. I think this means I can let loose a wee bit, hence being out late at the Barracks with Rhonda Rae.
I think I’m going to love my new office. I have lightly decorated it and am excited that I have a freakin window. Yay, a window! ““Tear down that bitch of a bearing wall and put a window where it ought to be”. Sorry, I totally gay’d all over it and everything I touch. 😊
My business license is active, my insurance is active, I’ve got a cute little office, cute little business cards, I have a new little website and I’m ready to write my next chapter. A chapter where this homo finds happiness, lives, loves, and flourishes in it. I hope this chapter has less evil bitches in it and more hard dicks with cock rings on them (pointed right at my face), than I know what to do with. And send good vibes not just for the dick but that I don’t have to wait too long for the insurance contracts to go through. I have a mortgage to take care of, I have to work.
Yes, I decided to just stick with my brand and call my adventure, “Happy Homo Therapy.” I already started down that road with this naughty and probably too truthful blog, so I’m just going to lean into it. We all deserve to be happy.
With Love and Shiny Shimmering Cock Rings,
The Happy Homo
PS An interesting article. We should all be paying attention to what our politicians are doing. Those oppressive republicans are trying to sneak in ways to discriminate against us at hospitals too. Vote- like the homo that was just born matters and that their future matters. We aren’t done fighting yet. They are still trying to come for us, that’s why we need to show love to one another.
https://www.americanprogress.org/article/discrimination-prevents-lgbtq-people-accessing-health-care/
Among lesbian, gay, bisexual, and queer (LGBQ) respondents who had visited a doctor or health care provider in the year before the survey:
- 8 percent said that a doctor or other health care provider refused to see them because of their actual or perceived sexual orientation.
- 6 percent said that a doctor or other health care provider refused to give them health care related to their actual or perceived sexual orientation.
- 7 percent said that a doctor or other health care provider refused to recognize their family, including a child or a same-sex spouse or partner.
- 9 percent said that a doctor or other health care provider used harsh or abusive language when treating them.
- 7 percent said that they experienced unwanted physical contact from a doctor or other health care provider (such as fondling, sexual assault, or rape).
Among transgender people who had visited a doctor or health care providers’ office in the past year:
- 29 percent said a doctor or other health care provider refused to see them because of their actual or perceived gender identity.
- 12 percent said a doctor or other health care provider refused to give them health care related to gender transition.
- 23 percent said a doctor or other health care provider intentionally misgendered them or used the wrong name.
- 21 percent said a doctor or other health care provider used harsh or abusive language when treating them.
- 29 percent said that they experienced unwanted physical contact from a doctor or other health care provider (such as fondling, sexual assault, or rape).
PSS 60-90 days for contracts to go through. I’m scared! That’s a long time.
PSSS Ron has been fed and watered and is ready to go back out there for more nipple play.
PSSSS I just love going to the bar and being surrounded by a whole bunch of sweaty gay men with hardly any clothes on. I just fucking love it.
PSx5 I can’t believe I get to live in a place that has Palm Trees.
PSx6 I can’t believe I get to live in a place where the queer community matters.
PSx7 Sometimes I forget that Ron is 80. We talked about that a while ago and he says he prefers it that way.
PSx8 If you are gay, planning on moving to the desert AND you are democrat, I hope you move here before the next election cycle. Right now PS has a Republican Congressman who is being challenged by a great candidate Will Rollins. Mr. Rollins ran against him last election and only lost by 11,000 votes. So if there are 11,000 of you planning on moving here make sure you are registered to vote!!!! (And Will Rollins is a hottie too)
PSx9 11,000 votes is a race that is totally winnable. Make sure all your gay neighbors (dems) are registered to vote.
PSx10 If no one else has told you today, I love you. I give you a virtual hug.
PSx11 Make sure you water and feed your old homos! They cannot live on whisky and porn alone. (As much as they would like to)
