My name is Lee and I hate change.

As a 44-year-old gay man, I am saddened by the demise of our gay brotherhood. As a young gay guy growing up in Edinburgh in the 90's, I couldn’t have been more blessed. There wasn’t the perceived acceptance there is now but as a collective, we looked out for our own and the GBLT community was a unit. I remember older gay guys escorting us from one bar to another to make sure we were safe and could enjoy ourselves. I remember having as many lesbian friends as I did gay men as there was much less of a divide them within our community. That's sadly all lost now, we have diversified to the extent that we have lost focus. I have never been a fan of all male or female bars feeling that the inevitable result of such exclusion would drive a wedge into an increasingly divided minority. The ...
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Over 40 and relevant.

Being in your prime is subjective. Oscar Wilde penned it best saying “Youth is wasted on the young”. The striking truth of this goes unnoticed until you reach a certain maturity with which comes the ability to reflect. At 44 I am more confident, happier with my looks and more independent that I have ever been. I have lost my father, faced some serious problems with alcohol and had a partner of three years deceive me about his HIV status. Although challenging these experiences don´t define me. I´m better able to reflect, and this leaves me better placed than before going forward. As a 40 something single gay man, we fall into one of the following three categories. The bitter club. Some characteristics being, berating Grinder users whose profiles have an upper age limit for example 25 - 39. Retaliating by sending messages to said users for dismissing us for ...
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Sober in the Lions Den.

For me, a consequence of sharing my thoughts is that at the edit (often which is endless) they are still evolving. My perceptions as a sober person are new to me; though the experience may have been had many times many of them feel alien and leave me with feeling naive, awkward which clearly is something that alcohol masked. A few weeks ago I found myself in the beautiful town of Sitges in the North of Spain. As a 44-year-old gay man, you would think I would be in my element. It turns out that despite being the gayest place in the world for me, it was in many ways a lonely experience. Of course, a controlled few drinks can help make a good night a great one, and this is something alcoholism robs from me. I will never again be able to enjoy the upside of those few drinks ...
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A ‘Dear John’ letter to self.

My Dearest Ego, I know if you’re reading this we are broken, beyond repair. Your second chances run out many years ago but like a gullible teenager, I was all in at my own expense with my only out card being the miracle card for which I held my breath and prayed. Turns out it was never on the deck. You held this in your own hands and denied it me whilst being witness to my turmoil and despair. I am unable now or in my foresight to contemplate forgiveness. I was cannon fodder for your impending self-destruction. I love you deeply and know you love me unconditionally. Unfortunately, for fear of my own demise,  I can no longer reciprocate the unconditional part. There is greatness in you. You act selflessly in so many ways. You bring joy and wonderful insight to helping others but as the old saying goes ...
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Diets and Metrosexuals.

It’s tough being a man these days, never mind being one in his early forties. It’s incredible how many people freely offer you advice once noticing you are slightly portly and probably not in the best shape of your life. Coming to live in Spain was a shell-shock for me to say the least. The younger men are what I believe you call metro-sexual. It was difficult for me to tell the ‘heterosexual metrosexual’ from the more standard ‘homosexual. To me, they were all fair game. Ironically the former are deeply offended that you thought they looked like a fag. Ironic really, but sport for me. The old saying “if you look like a duck, smell like a duck........ is no longer infallible. Though from personal experience and preservation I can say that this once again becomes the case if you ply your prey with sufficiently strong cider (sweet being ...
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