Thursday, 26 February 2015

Help Allout / against northern Ireland's anti gay amendment

Imagine being refused housing because of who you are. Or told you’re too gay to stay in a hotel. Or turned away from a restaurant on a date.
That’s what Northern Ireland would look like if the powerful Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) were to get their way. They want to add an anti-gay clause to equality laws that would allow businesses to refuse service to lesbian, gay and bi an people.
I think that's just not right, so I've joined All Out in speaking out. The DUP has asked for feedback on their anti-gay amendment by February 27. If we can get to 200,000 signatures before tomorrow, this could become one of the biggest consultation submissions a political party in Northern Ireland has ever received.
Can you add your name before tomorrow? Together we are showing that refusing service to gay people isn’t OK. Not in Northern Ireland. Not anywhere.
Souce Allout

Monday, 16 February 2015


It was a very cold November day when I had the feeling that there was something missing in my life. I needed to feel loved. My shift at the restaurant had started for two hours already when I began to feel weak and cold. I told Susan that I felt sick and I asked her if I could leave early. She made the effort to look around, she decided that my leaving early would have meant a reduced profit for the day and she answered: “if you leave early, don’t come tomorrow”. As I could not afford to get fired, I stayed there until the very last minute of my shift. I was sweating and shivering in front of those extremely hot grills, dreaming of a bed and a couple of paracetamol pills.

When I arrived home my temperature was around 39 degrees Celsius. The day after I made the effort to go to work, the weekend would have followed and I would have been off. That Saturday Dan had to drive to Oxford for his university project. He had to take hundreds of pictures and he needed my presence and assistance. My fever was still pretty high, but I decided to drive there with him: I would have done almost anything for him. On that occasion my boyfriend proved to care about my health even less than my manager did, he was only focused on his work and he didn’t even bother to thank me for the help I gave him. 

December came and the situation between Dan and me got worse. Day by day I started realizing how different he was from me, how much affection I was giving to him and how little I was getting in return. Romanticism was an unknown word to him. He was the type of guy who would have never shared the same bedroom with his partner. “I cannot understand how some couples share the same room every night. I need my space, my own bedroom, my own flat”. Was he maybe too tired of sharing the bed with his ex boyfriend? I had no idea. I started caring less and less, in fact there was a big market out there and I was still fresh meat for the older guys. Towards the end of December Dan and I went for a weekend trip to Dublin. It was our very first trip together and I had the hope that we would have had the chance to get to know each other better. In fact we did. That was the reason why I gave up on him, there was absolutely no possibility that he would have become more romantic and caring. I took this chance to make him aware that my ideal man did neither look, nor behave like him and the only guy I knew that could have matched with me was Enrico. My parents had a small studio-flat in Rosas, a small village on the Catalan coast. Two summers before I had met there a guy who looked exactly like my perfect type of man. That was Enrico.

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Friday, 13 February 2015


After my coming out, Luca’s behavior towards me changed radically. He became very friendly, nosey and rather touchy.  He started asking me very personal questions on my sexual life, the size of my boyfriend’s penis and the way we made love. “Is it true that the Chinese guys have a small dick?” He asked me once. He was very chatty, he told me everything about his Swedish girlfriend and what they did in bed. He enjoyed having pillow fights with me and I started having the impression that somehow he was hitting on me. “It can’t be”, I thought, “he is a straight guy”. He was definitely not my type of man, but I cannot deny that he was a great guy with a high sense of humor. One day, he went to the wedding of a Japanese friend of his. She had invited tens of people from Japan over to London to take part at the ceremony.
During the meal at the restaurant, he stood up with his glass, and he said: “I propose a chin chin to the mother of the bride’’. A long moment of silence followed and from then on, no one spoke a single word to him. Luca did not know that the Italian word “cin-cin pronounced chin chin” is translated in English with “toast”. He also ignored that “Chin Chin” ちんちん in Japanese is a way for children to indicate the male’s reproductive organ. To the Japanese guests, his sentence sounded more like “Let’s give a penis to the mother of the bride too’’. The politeness and shyness of the Asian guests had prevented Luca from understanding his little mistake. Eventually one day his friend explained him the meaning of those words.

It was the end of December when I realized that my suspicion was not so far from reality. Luca came to me and he decided to make me aware of the size of his penis. “You know, I have got some problems with my girlfriend, she says that my dick is way too big”, he said. That wasn’t all. He went on… “I would be very curious to try to have sex with a guy…” Was he hitting on me? Did he want me to become his first homosexual experience? No one will ever know that, I changed the subject and avoided any further sexual-related talk. Most of the gay guys would give anything to have sex with a straight guy. I guess I did not want to experience anything with any dick that was bigger than Dan’s.

Thursday, 12 February 2015


I started dreaming. And in my dream there was a man holding me tight, kissing my neck and my lips. He was stunning. Just the man I had always wanted. He was romantic, caring, masculine and taller than me. In fact he was the opposite of what my boyfriend was. He was whispering the sweetest words into my ears and he was cuddling me and touching my body everywhere. His hands were going from my neck to my chest. He was petting the upper part of my body and that private part of a man that mostly needs attention. Finally he reached my legs…
Wait a moment, this felt so real! He was really touching my legs! I opened my eyes and there he was. The guy I had seen on the Central Line train, a couple of hours before, was touching my right leg and was calling me by name. “Mattia, Mattia, Mattiaaaaa”. “Shit, what are you doing here? Did you follow me?” I asked him to pinch my face to make sure that I was awake. Everything had an explanation, but the one he gave me, made me wondering on the size of this planet. Massimiliano happened to be one of Elisabetta’s friends. I had absolutely no idea that they knew each other. That night, he had arranged to come over to view our flat, as Azmir was going to move out within a few days and a bed-sit was going to be vacant. Massimiliano had taken the Central Line train and he had got off at Marble Arch, just a stop after Queensway. He had kissed his friend goodbye and had walked one station back. The viewing was fixed at 00.30am, as Massimiliano had had a late shift and that would have been the only convenient time for him. This explained why he had come to our flat, but it still did not explain what he was doing on my bed. My flatmates were very curious about my private life. I was often away, I would leave in the morning and come back late at night. The problem was that I had never mentioned to have a girlfriend. Normally every Italian straight man is proud to display his other-half. For this reason my flatmates had started becoming suspicious. Massimiliano was gay and out to Elisabetta, they were good friends and she had decided to ask him a favour. Basically, he had to talk to me and give her an opinion on what he reckoned my sexual preferences were. After our twenty-minute talk he went back to the living room and he said: “that was easy: he is a sister too!” That was the night of my very first coming out.

Massimiliano moved in a couple of weeks later. From then on, the life quality in the flat started improving. He was a good housewife and a guy full of resources. He invented a role for every single individual of our “family”. He took the part of the wife, married to Gianni, Elisabetta and Francesca were the sisters and Luca and I were the brothers. We all had our own tasks and the household was much better organized.


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Wednesday, 11 February 2015


The East London line train was driving through Canada Water station, that was still under construction, when a man approached me. He had a nasty smell and he looked like a beggar, so I played my usual part: “Sorry, I don’t understand”. “Where are you from?” He asked. “Italy.” I should have never answered that question. “Ah, ma io parlo italiano, sono inglese, ma avevo la ragazza napoletana”. Usual luck, I managed to find the only English homeless that was fluent in Italian! The man told me the story of his life in 20 minutes, as he got off at Surrey Quays station and walked with me all the way to Dan’s. It was 6pm when I arrived in front of my boyfriend’s flat. It was dark already and it was pouring rain. As usual I did not have an umbrella with me, even if I should have thought about it, considering the fact that Dan was always late. It was the same case again, but this time, he showed up only around 9pm. Do you still think I was naïve to wait for him? No, this time I was so furious that I did not wait for him to give him a hug, I just wanted to kick his ass. During these 3 hours under the rain, I had the time to thinkexactly about what to tell him. I was clear and direct, he arrived, I told him that I did not want to see him again and I left. One might be wondering how I do remember that night so well. It was a special night: my coming out to my flatmates was about to happen and in the weirdest way possible. I was finally on a Central Line train, when I heard a guy speaking English with a rather strong Italian accent. I turned my attention to him and I noticed that he looked gorgeous. I started thinking that if he were not so camp, he would have been my perfect man. He was tall, blond, he had blue eyes and an athletic body. He was hysterically talking to another guy, probably British and it looked like they had just had an argument. The sliding doors opened and I realized I was at Queensway station already. I was very interested to follow up these two guys’ conversation, nevertheless I decided to leave the train and go home to get some sleep. The train left and with it, the possibility to get to know this man disappeared. Or did it?
I reached home at around 11pm. I was exhausted and I decided to go straight to bed. Elisabetta and Stefania were watching the television on the sofa, or in other words on Luca’s bed. The latter was in the kitchen washing the dishes. According to the girls, it was the first time that he was actually doing that since they had moved in. You should have seen the arguments that they had during that week. As a result Gianni had taken all the dirty plates, he had stuffed them into a bag and had left it on the floor for a few days. Finally when fungus and bacteria had started growing on the plastic surface, Luca came to reason, decided to give up his butch Latin man attitude and wore apron and gloves. That night I was stressed out as I had just argued with my boyfriend. The only relief was, that it seemed there were no parties planned in the flat for that night. I could peacefully go to sleep without having to hear drunken Australians or Brazilians singing loud. I brushed

my teeth, wore my pyjama, and rushed into bed, under the warm duvet. I fell asleep pretty fast.

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Tuesday, 10 February 2015


Sharing a flat with other people wasn’t easy, especially as those other people had constantly someone over. We shared the rent into five equal parts, so one would expect that there were 5 people living in the flat. That was not the case. Elisabetta and Stefania had one room. I was sharing the bigger room with Azmir, an Iranian guy who had lived most of his life in Stockholm and Luca, a Sicilian guy who was flirting with all the Scandinavian girls he met. Lucahad a huge debt of a few thousand pounds with a guy called Gianni. As Gianni knew exactly that this money were lost for good, he decided to get his credit back by sleeping in Luca’s bed, who was forced to sleep on the sofa. Gianni was allowed to live with us without paying the rent and Luca had to bear with the daily partying that took place at our home, before being able to lay down on the sofa.
As the floor was still totally unoccupied, Luca had the brilliant idea to get someone else to live with us. I never understood why he did that and I still think he had a big heart but an empty brain. He had met Francois at an interview, neither of them had managed to get the job, but they became friends. François was a homeless Parisian who had decided to move to London to find happiness and he happened to be the biggest trouble that we ever had there. He did not like the idea to sleep on the floor, so if one would have arrived home a couple of minutes too late, one would have found Francois sleeping in their bed. Waking him up was never easy, but I always succeeded to get my bed back. The main problem was, that this bloke was not a hygiene lover and he smelled like a wet dog that did not get a proper bath in years. One day Francois got home with 2 large bags full of expensive food and delicatessen. We all started wondering where he could have found the money to afford that. As we figured out that we were before one of the smartest supermarket thieves ever, we decided to kick him out and change the lock.
It was December when Dan decided to introduce me to his friends. His best mate, Roy, was also from Taipei and he had a Swiss boyfriend. Raffaele and him were together for a couple of years. I was very excited to get to know
another European guy who had a Taiwanese boyfriend. Raffaele cooked for us and for the first time, since I had landed in the United Kingdom, I ate real Italian food. That night, Dan proved to be totally anti-social, as he started speaking Mandarin with Roy, with the excuse that I could have taken this chance to speak French with Raffaele. During our conversation, the Swiss guy tried to open my eyes on how Dan really was. Hardly does someone listen to others, when one is in love, or one thinks to be. But was I? My being naïve came out again when that night I lost my virginity. It may sound unbelievable but I did not have a clue that some men practiced anal intercourse. It was painful and I did not feel any pleasure at all, in other words I did not see the sense of it.

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Monday, 9 February 2015


Hey guys today's post is about another chapter of Mattia's diary, plus a cool video Enjoy!

The Internet, that amazing invention that is giving dependence to half of the planet, helped me to get a social life in this new land. I had left Milan with a huge list of guys, complete with their pictures, contact numbers, height, age, weight, eyes and hair colour. I thought about every single detail of my bound-to-be new life before even starting it. How could I only take the courage to call them? I was such a shy guy, with little experience, except for some lousy sex with a classmate when I was 12. I guess the need of friends, the curiosity to meet other gay guys and most important the unbearable need to make love, gave me the strength to dial those numbers. “Hello” “Hi John, this is Mattia speaking, I arrived in London a few days ago and I would like to meet up” “Where are you now?” Asked John. “I am walking around Waterloo station…” I answered. “Why don’t you meet me on the London Bridge in half an hour, I will drive by and pick you up”… John’s voice sounded cold and so professional that made me feel like a prostitute. Did I want a boyfriend like him? “No, sorry, I’d rather do another time, bye”.

Dan was a Taiwanese guy 6 years older than me, shorter than me, with dark brown eyes, black hair and a perfect body. Some people say that the first boyfriend is the most important one, the one that you will always try to find again in future relationships. That was not my case. I fell in love with him very fast, but it’s impressive how now I would never start a relationship, with a guy that looks totally different from my ideal man. Lambeth was not an area with many Chinese residents, still on that day, the 25th of September 1998, lots of young men from the Far East, decided to walk by the place, where I had arranged to meet with my bound-to-be first boyfriend. It was dark already and Francisco had just left for his shift. I was standing at the corner between the Westminster Bridge Road and the King Edward Walk. Dan was late, as he always will have proved to be and I was killing the time shifting my attention from his picture to my watch and back to the picture. Most of the Asian guys that were walking by looked, to my eyes, just like his photo. It took me a while to get accustomed on how different Chinese people can look, between one another. I guess westerns do look all the same to them. Finally he arrived, he recognized me and came to talk to me. We walked together to my place, we entered my room I laid the mattresses of the bunk bed on the floor, so that we could sit there and no one would have been able to open the door. I don’t remember when Dan became my partner. We never talked about it, as I guess at that time, there was no need. I was so naïve that I believed that when one sleeps with a man, he will be the one to share the life with. Dan wasn’t mine only, but I was his, at least for half a year. He helped me to improve my English, he taught me the word “Toilet-roll” and nouns of other items that I needed to find in the local “Costcutter” shop.


The first two weeks were almost over and suddenly I remembered that I had given notice and I only had 3 days left to find myself a new home. I bought “Loot” and started reading through the letting section. I was neither too fussy about the condition of the flat, nor was I about the people that lived in it. When one works for a fast-food restaurant in London, one cannot afford to be too picky on accommodations. “Leicester Gardens, 200 meters from Queensway tube station, bed-sit in a 2-bedroom flat, spacious kitchen, furnished, bathroom with bathtub. 65Ppw” It sounded good to me, however the advert did not mention that the flat was overcrowded, that one had to conquer their bed by fighting for it every now and then and that there were other creatures living in it, cute little mice. 3 days later I moved into my new home in Bayswater and the very same day I started having troubles. Veronica, an Italian girl that was supposed to move out, did not have anywhere to sleep that night. As any gentleman would do, I gave up my bed for the first night and spent it on the most uncomfortable sofa that mankind ever produced. You would probably wonder why, I did not choose to sleep at my boyfriend’s. Dan lived in a one-bedroom flat, with a spacious kitchen, a massive living room, a dumb old red cat and his ex-boyfriend. Sometimes I had the feeling that something was not right. Was I too suspicious? It might be, the fact is that Dan, lived at Albert’s place for free and they slept together on a rather small bed.

Since my move to the Leicester Gardens flat, Dan had to change his timetable, in order to fulfill our intimacy needs. Furthermore I had decided to avoid coming out to my flatmates, in fact, I was straight-acting enough that no one ever bothered to ask. From then on, I started getting a usual routine, getting up at 6am, starting my shift at 7am, going back home at 3pm, having a shower to get rid of the nasty fried oil smell and traveling all the way to Surrey Quays, where Dan’s flat was located. The only two exceptions were Tuesday and Friday, as on those days I had my English evening lessons at a college by Tottenham Court Road. Weeks went by without me having the chance to meet Dan’s ex-partner, until one day…

The door opened making the usual creaky noise and Albert walked in. We rushed to put our clothes back on, but I guess it was clear to him that we were not playing monopoly there. Dan was always very good at interpreting the rules. His flatmate, who also happened to be the flat owner, had asked him to avoid having sex on their bed. I am pretty sure he did mean, “don’t fuck with anyone in my flat!” Dan had interpreted with “sex on our bed is not allowed, but there is still a large sofa in the living room”. Albert hated me: Our conversations were limited to “hi” and “bye”, which made me feel pretty uncomfortable. Even when he wasn’t there, I felt his presence and his huge red cat did not seem to enjoy my visits either. 


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