Come Out Already!

I’m a cute, professional gay man in my late 20s, suddenly single after a two year long relationship. The problem was my boyfriend refused to come out, claiming that he wasn’t gay: that he was straight but just into me. That was fine enough for a long time because I loved him and wanted to be with him, but it became a big problem eventually because I already came out a decade ago and have no interest in hanging around the closet door waiting forever for him to come join me on the outside. I also let it slide because he’s Arab and wanted to respect the cultural differences but it wore on me and eventually I had to give him an ultimatum: be real about our relationship or split. We know how that conversation turned out. Was I wrong? Should I have been more understanding? I miss him and am horny as all get out but the random hook up scene is not making me feel any better.

Regeneration

Brought to you by the charmingly off-hinge imaginations of some of Philly’s Dumpsta Players and featuring work by local artists, Regeneration presents re-imaginings and re-purposed inventions from illustrative typography to ornate wig art.

When the hubby gets a little chubby?

“I can’t do it anymore: have sex with my partner, that is. When we first got together 8 years ago he wasn’t a health nut or anything, but he was normal weight and very attractive to me. A few years into dating, he started to let himself go: eating too much and never getting any exercise. Three years ago when it became legal here in New Jersey, we had a civil union and since we’ve been married he’s gained probably another 50 pounds. Not only am I not attracted to him anymore but the sex has gone downhill too. He can’t get erections as easily, they don’t stay hard and he’s lazy about how we do it. It’s just not worth it to me anymore. I refuse to fake interest. If he doesn’t care about his appearance, what else can I do?”

Philadelphia Liberty Gay Tennis Association

I love tennis. It has long been the only sport I can endure to watch on television. Growing up, quite out of character, I welcomed NBC’s mid-summer preemption of “Days of our Lives” in lieu of Wimbledon – an exchange of one sweaty drama for another. In 1993, I was 16, Pete Sampras and Steffi Graf won Wimbledon, and I was going to marry Steffi while having an affair with Pete.