My Big Fat Gay Life

MY BIG FAT GAY LIFE

by

Brett Kiellerop

http://mybigfatgaylife.com

http://brettkiellerop.com

Copyright @ Brett Kiellerop 2011. All Rights Reserved.

Published 2011 by Brevid Books.

All depictions of people, events, and situations in this publication are fictional. Any similarities to actual people, events, or situations are purely co-incidental.

Brevid Books

http://brevid.com

For David – for everything

Day 1 – Day 7

“Expectations and disappointment are intertwined,” Donovan said, settling down into his chair. This was going to be a long statement. “The only time we suffer disappointment is when an expectation isn’t met. If you don’t expect him to tell you every little detail of every session with every client, then you won’t be disappointed when he doesn’t. You also have the option of striking up a conversation with him, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be about work. If you change your expectations, then you won’t suffer disappointment.”

Quentin, Day 2

Narratives from:

My name is Sebastian Parker. I’m thirty-one years old, and I have a good life. Born into money, I have everything I could possibly need to be comfortable. I have the most accepting, loving, and open parents a person could wish for. Sometimes too open - I often have to ask my mother to refrain from being so open about her sex life. Eventually I gave in to their demands and now call them by their first names, Patricia and Donovan, as they both feel they look too young to have a son in his early 30’s.

I have a good job, great friends, and a close relationship with my fag hag, Ruth. I like to laugh and chat with my friends, smoke socially, travel regularly, and have the occasional drink. I’ve been a bourbon drinker ever since my 16th birthday: the day I came out to Patricia and Donovan. After that traumatic experience I’d lowered myself shakily into a chair and Patricia had given me a shot of bourbon to calm my nerves. Bourbon has been my drink of choice ever since.

An outsider viewing my life may think it’s perfect, however an outsider cannot feel the ache in my heart. Something is missing: some indefinable quality that’s lacking in order to fill a hole in my soul. I used to think it was just a relationship with another man however, after some disastrous attempts, I now realise that what’s missing is a relationship with the ‘right’ man.

As I walked through the door of my apartment - after my morning game of squash with Justin - I could smell cleaning solutions, indicating that Patricia had been here and cleaned while I was out. I’d learned years earlier not to prevent her doing this, despite the fact that it was totally unnecessary. As my chihuahua, Cujo, bound up to me I realised I’d forgotten to put away my sex aids from the previous night’s tryst, and Cujo proudly wore my leather metal-studded cockring as a collar. I laughed as I took it off him, and wondered if Patricia had tried to take him for a walk and been confounded by the lack of a loop to attach his leash to.

Like any male, I have my needs. I have my share of one-night stands, but they’re not fulfilling. I find that making love is far more rewarding and gratifying than having sex, but having sex is fine for the occasional physical release when I’m not in a relationship. Unlike a lot of gay men, I’m unable to separate my emotions from my physical needs and, as a result, sex leaves me unfulfilled on an emotional level. I used to think I was strange or unusual, but over the years I’ve come to realise that I actually
am
unusual, and it’s not a bad thing to be.

I picked up Cujo and headed to my bedroom to shower and prepare for work. I tended to avoid the showers at the gym: they’re full of oversexed men intent on getting some form of physical release, even at the so-called ‘straight’ gyms. On the way I checked the voicemail on my mobile phone and was surprised to find I had one new message.

“Hi Bastard!” Ruth’s bubbly voice came from my phone. ‘Bastard’ was her pet name for me. “Make sure you’re free tonight. I met a great guy for you! He’s tall, blonde, and looks like he has a great body, so wear something tight and revealing and meet him at Cube at 8pm! Love you heaps.”

In my bedroom, I stripped and stepped into a hot shower. As I soaped and rinsed, I pondered over why Ruth always insists on giving me physical descriptions of men, when all I really want to know is what they’re like on the inside. After finishing my shower I grabbed a towel and dried off, and then examined my face in the mirror to see if I needed to shave.

As I looked in the mirror, I was struck once again by how lucky I am to have come from such a good gene pool. I’d inherited Donovan’s classic good looks and Patricia’s propensity to being lean, with a slight musculature enhanced by regular gym workouts. I firmly believe that gym muscles are useless - merely for show - so I complement my workouts with regular games of squash, road jogging, and swimming. I’ve found these activities are invaluable for genuine muscles and aerobic stamina.