May the Fastest (and Dirtiest) Readers Win

ATTENTION ALL GUTTER FANS:

So the first GUTTER party was definitely worth the dirt.

Now… two good news.

The first is that there is a second installment happening tomorrow (Saturday, December 21) at Old Raidy Printing Press in Gemmayze! 🙂 It’s called “The Movie Wrap-Up”.

Second piece of “good news”?

I’m giving away a 50% discount on every ticket purchased online…. to the quickest (and hopefully dirtiest) THREE readers. So instead of $30, you’ll be paying $15.

Step #1: Go to Ihjoz: https://www.ihjoz.com/events/251-gutter-the-movie-wrap

Step #2: Place your order. (You can order 10 tickets max)

Step #3: Use the Discount Code: beirutboy

Step #4: Press “Checkout”

Step #5: Go to GUTTER and find out why it’s “a party worth the dirt”.

This time around, GUTTER is not just a party, it’s a “platform for artistic expression”, with artists of different fields adding their flavor to this spectacle.

RSVP here: https://www.facebook.com/events/678946082136048/

GUTTER POSTER

My Grindr Fails

Ah, the price you have to pay to get laid in Gay Lebanon.

The attitudes you have to put up with.

The meanness you have to face.

The idiocy. The stupidity.

I’ve compiled some screenshots of some of the worst chats I’ve had. Just some…

What are your worst? Please do share… and let’s laugh/cry/light a candle for GayLeb together.

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And GUTTER Was Born

Gay scene, rejoice. You have a new party concept.

It’s called GUTTER, a party worth the dirt.

That’s where you’ll find me this Friday.

A night of unconventional art, loud music, sexy dancing, and impressive live shows. Never mind the dirt.

FB COVER

Date: Friday, November 8
Venue: Artheum – Art Lounge (Karantina)
Time: 9PM

Check out GUTTER on Facebook:

Page Link: https://www.facebook.com/gutter
Event Link: https://www.facebook.com/events/561095360627574/

Faking It

Let me pretend you’re not Syrian and travelin to Europe in a week. Pretend I’m not Lebanese and wishing I was back in Europe.

Pretend this isn’t a one night thing. A one afternoon thing. A two hour thing.

Pretend I don’t know I’m cute. That you’re the first guy to tell me I have a nice smile.

Pretend I don’t have gym after this. The only thing I wanna be lifting is you.

Pretend I’m not tired. I promise you I’m into this. No, I’m not drop dead exhausted after work.

Pretend I’m not sleeping. I’m just laying my head on the pillow seductively.

Pretend I’m ripped. Suck in my stomach a bit as I take off my shirt.

Pretend yours is the first dick I see. I haven’t had one taste so good before.

Pretend I don’t know where this is headed. This is not a one nighter. See the way I kiss you? It’s forever.

Pretend like I’m the first guy who touches you like that. Like I’m the only one who can make you cum like that.

Pretend that I’m into cuddling. I see it in the movies. See? I’m a total romantic.

Pretend that when I lay my head on your chest, I’m in love.

Pretend that I’m your boyfriend. If only for a minute.

Pretend that I’ve finally found the one.

Pretend that we’re in our own little heaven. Sleeping together in a room overlooking the Pacific. Not in an apartment you share with flatmates.

Pretend that after this, we’ll go out for a walk holding hands.

Pretend that I’m totally comfortable sleeping like that on your hand. Can’t you hear me breathing hard?

Pretend that I don’t have a runny nose. I don’t need a tissue. I sniff back the snot.

Pretend that this is intimacy. What I’ve always been looking for.

Pretend that when you kiss my hand, I get butterflies in my stomach.

Pretend that as I spoon you and sniff your hair, I’m surrendering. Breakin down the walls so many before you have built.

Pretend that I’m gonna see you again after this. It’ll be a dinner. Made by me. Candles and everything.

Pretend that the last kiss we share at the door isn’t our last. It’s only the beginning.

Not Like the Porn Movies

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Admit it.

Porn has tremendously helped your sex life .

A lot of the moves you do in bed are taken straight out of a porn movie.

The way you slap his dick on your face while you blow him. The way you scream “yeah… you like that?” while you fuck him. The way you cum on his face like that guy from Sean Cody.

Yes, we have those moments when we’re so thankful for porn stars.

But we forget that they’re not people.

Porn stars are robots. Fucking machines. Actors. They have big tools. They never lose their erection. They take hours to cum. They have clean hairless asses. They’re not us. They’re not real.

What I’m trying to tell you lovely gay boys is that it’s OKAY if there’s a malfunction sometimes.

Everyone loses their hard on. Happens with me and with the guys topping me. Happens more often than you think. It’s horrible, embarrassing, and you feel bad about yourself for days following the incident. But there’s nothing wrong with you. Performance anxiety is very common. Don’t be disappointed in yourself. You’re not a porn star. Porn stars pop Viagra like M&M’s (FYI… baby V is a miracle drug).

And everyone ejaculates prematurely at one point or another. It’s FINE. Congrats, you fit right in. You’re normal.

I swear, we’ve watched too many porn movies. We’re disappointed when the sex isn’t as amazing as the porn movie we watched last night.

Stop having high expectations when it comes to sex.

And remember… porn movies are just like romantic movies. The happy endings they paint are seldom found in real life.

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pic source

Traditional

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1) I would never have a threesome.
2) I would never be promiscuous.
3) I would never date someone who’s in a relationship.

Things I used to tell myself all the time. It’s weird, frightening even, how who you think you are changes right in front of you. How you would do stuff you never thought you’d do. How you break the rules you set for yourself.

I’m a very traditional person. At least, I thought I was. I still dream of settling down with a guy, being committed. I still believe in love. I still don’t accept the thought of sharing a lover with others.

I’m still very traditional. But I’m breaking all the rules I set for myself when I came out of the closet 6 years ago:
1) Had a threesome.
2) Slept with 3 guys last week.
3) Didn’t just date. Boned.

What I’ve learned from now on is to stop saying these sentences that start with “I would NEVER…”. Because I probably will. Who knows what tomorrow brings.

Rules change. So do people.

Nothing’s set in stone. Neither are people. Especially not gay people.

Whoever you turn out to be… it’s alright babe. It’s ALL right.

Kareem (part 10 of 10)

Continued from Part 9

kareem 10

Joe holds my hand.

“But Kareem… you have to quit it because I wanna be with you. And I can’t be with you and share you with other men”.

“I don’t know what to do. I wanna stop but I feel like I’m stuck”.

“We’ll figure it out. We’ll find another way for you to make money. There are other ways. You don’t have to live this life. Let me take care of you. No more lying”.

“I’m sorry for all the times I lied. I was just protecting you. I didn’t want you to know”.

“I know… It’s okay. I know everything now”, he says.

“We’ll figure it out, right?”, I ask him.

I really don’t know the answer. I want to believe we can.

He takes my hand. “We’ll figure it out. You have me”.

“I know I do”, I say.

We sit on the sofa with my head on his lap. We don’t talk. We sit silently through the night.

I’m so relieved that he wants to give us another shot. I feel safe, even if just for a night. Tonight, I don’t worry about the bills. About how I’m gonna manage. When I’m with him, I’m free from all that.

We slept on the sofa that night. Took off our shoes and got comfy. With a weird mix of love and doubt in the air. That feeling when you wanna believe something is possible… but you’re not sure how to get there.

Three weeks later, I think I have it all figured out.

I arrive to my apartment with a great smell coming from the kitchen. I walk in there and see Joe lookin so cute in the apron.

“Babyyy. What’re you doing?”, I ask.

“What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m devirginizing your oven! I know you’re stressed out cause of the exams. Just giving you a little treat”.

“Well, it smells great. I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go feed Bisi”.

“Don’t I get a kiss and a hug?”, he asks.

“I just dissected a frog. You sure you want that?”, I reply.

“No”.

“Okay then”. I blow him a kiss.

I go inside, feed Bisi then brush my teeth.

When I come back to the kitchen, I see Joe with a concerned look on his face.

“Babe what’s wrong?”, I ask.

Then I see what he’s holding in his hands. I come close to grab the book.

“Babe, don’t look through that”, I scream.

“All of these men? Four years worth of men”, he says.

He flips through the pages.

“December 1? On my birthday? How could you?”

I don’t know what to say.

“We talked about this. I’m done with all that”, I say.

He keeps flipping through the pages and lands on today’s date.

“Elie 12:30 pm Rawche. Is that where you were today?”.

“Baby, no! I wrote that a long time ago. Joe… it’s all in the past. You can’t be paranoid about this anymore. I’m done with it. I swear”.

I finally get a hold of that book and close it. I hug him as he cries.

“You have to believe me. You made a wonderful lunch. Let’s not ruin it”, I say.

He wipes his tears away.

“Okay”, he says.

I give him a kiss. “Okay”.

I take the book and throw it in the trash.

“There. Done”, I tell him. “I’ll pour us some wine”.

“Okay”, he says.

As I walk inside, I feel bad for making him feel the way he is now. For not trusting me. For always being paranoid. And I don’t blame him for it. I just wish he never thinks of that again. Never thinks of me that way again.

I go to my room to undress and get into something more comfortable.

I open the closet door and hang the jeans I just took off.

As I close the closet, I heard a weird sound. Like something falling. I open the closet and see them lying there.

A couple hundred dollar bills.

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Thank you for reading this story. You’ve been amazing.

Follow me on Twitter or Facebook for new stories in the future.

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Special thanks to my amazing friend for taking the above pic of me. You being a ‘top’ and an ‘ass man’ came in very handy.

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Kareem (part 9 of 10)

Continued from Part 8

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She instantly recognizes my voice.

“Kareem… Kareem…”, she turns around and sees me.

I walk towards her and hug her. I missed her smell.

“Happy birthday, mama”.

“Today’s my birthday?”, she asks.

“Yes. Didn’t you know? That’s why it’s such a nice weather outside. Because you hate the rain so much, don’t you?”

“Kifak? I missed you”, she tells me.

“I missed you too. Ana mnee7 mama. Meshta2lik ktir ktir”.

“How’s university? Kif AUB? You’re number one in the class, eh?”.

The nurse laughs. “Typical mother, isn’t she?”, she says.

“Sure is…”, I reply.

“It’s all great mama. Bisi misses you.”

“Bisi…”.

It takes her a second to remember her.

“Bisi…Bisi…habibti. Are you taking care of her?”.

“Yes, mama. Don’t worry about her”, I assure her.

I love how she’s remembering stuff. How she’s lucid.

Then she asks: “How’s your dad?”.

I look at the nurse. We’re both thinking the same thing. We lost her.

“Mama… dad’s gone. He’s been gone for ten years. Remember?”

She looks away… at the window. Confused. Then she remembers what she did when he died. To herself. To us.

“He’s gone. You’re right. I shot myself…but I didn’t die…”.

She looks at me. It all came back to her.

“I’m sorry”, she holds my hand.

“It’s okay. I’m alright”. I wipe the tears off her face and smile at her. “Now let’s eat some cake”.

On my way back home, I think of how my life would have been different.

What if my dad didn’t die when I was so young? What if my mother had coped with his death? What if I wasn’t forced to look after myself since I was a teenager? Would things have been different? But isn’t it such a waste of time wondering “what if”?

I feel empowered after the visit to my mother. People might not like my choices but they’re my choices. I did what I have to do to survive and I have no shame about it. I owe Joe the truth. But if he can’t understand why I am who I am… it’s not on me.

I call him for the 15th time. No reply.

I send him a message. “Please answer your phone. We need to talk. I’ll tell you everything”.

I call after 5 minutes. He picks up.

“Hi…”, I say.

He doesn’t answer.

“Kifak?”.

No answer. But I know he’s listening.

“Can you meet me at my place in an hour?”, I ask him.

I can hear him breathing on the phone.

He hangs up. I take his silence as a sign of confirmation.

I go and get ready for him to come.

I wait for three hours. He’s not showing up. Was I a fool to expect him to come?

Then I hear knocking on the door.

My heart drops… I run to the door and open it.

“Thank you for coming”, I say.

“I’ve been walking around the block for two hours. Trying to decide whether to go up or not”, he says.

“I’m glad you did”.

He enters and sits on the chair. The chair means I’m not off the hook yet.

I grab a chair and sit next to him.

I start off by saying: “There’s a reason why you haven’t met my mom and dad. When my dad died when I was a kid, my mom couldn’t take it. She tried to commit suicide. She didn’t die but in many ways she did”.

Joe leans closer to me.

I continue: “She wasn’t able to take care of me so I lived with my aunt for a couple of years. I was left with nothing. I was all I got. Well, I had Bisi, but she couldn’t exactly pay for med school”.

I point at things around the house. “This… my house… AUB… my bed… what I’m wearing… it was all possible because I do what I do. This is how I survive”.

“But…”, he says. “You lied to me this entire time”.

“I couldn’t let you in. Because if I let you in, I might have to change. And Joe… I can’t change. I’m working hard to be a doctor. That’s my dream”.

“But we can’t be together if you don’t quit this”, he asks.

“I can’t quit it now.”

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Read The Finale here.

Follow me on Twitter or Facebook to get updated on the latest parts.

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Kareem (part 8 of 10)

Continued from Part 7

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“What?”, Joe is in disbelief.

“He… He paid me for sex”, I repeat. And I start crying.

“I don’t understand… When did that happen?”.

“I don’t remember. Maybe two or three years ago”.

“Well, is he the only one you’ve fucked for money?”, he asks.

My crying intensifies.

“Kareem, are you still fucking guys for money?”, he screams.

I don’t reply.

“Oh my God…”, he says. “Oh my God… Kareem, you’re a fucking whore?”.

“I didn’t want you to know… I’m sorry I kept this from you for so long”, I tell him.

I come closer to him and try to touch him but he walks away.

“Please don’t go. Please. Lemme explain”, I beg him.

“You’ve been cheating on me this whole time. Fucking guys and getting paid for it. How can you explain yourself? You heartless son of a fucking bitch. Leave me alone”.

He whistles to a taxi and it pulls over. He grabs his wallet, takes out a $20 bill, and throws it in my face. “Here’s for tonight”, he says with tears in his eyes.

There it was. The truth was out there. The truth I’ve been trying for four years to hide. And this is why I’ve been hiding it for so long. I know people won’t understand. They don’t get that you have to do what you have to do. That it’s just sex. That it’s a means for survival.

I walk home and as soon as I open the door, Bisi runs into my lap. I cry all over that furry little thing.

“I still have you, don’t I?”.

I grab Bisi and lay on the bed with her.

He definitely won’t be calling me ever. The only guy I’ve ever loved. I fucked it up.

He’s right. Why would he want to be with someone who allows other men to fuck him for cash. It’s my prerogative to do what I have to do, but it’s also his not to want anything to do with me. I just feel bad I dragged him into this mess to begin with.

I look at the pic he held in his hand yesterday. That day on the snow. I wish we can have that back.

Right next to the pic is a calendar. Yep, March 2013. Officially one of the worst months of my life.

Then it hits me.

“Wait… March 16? Bisi…It’s her birthday tomorrow”.

I totally forgot!

“I have to see her”.

It’s always a hassle to do so. I have to wake up really early if I wanna make it on time with all the traffic. But it’s worth it. I feel better when I see her. And the nurses always tell me she lights up for at least a week after I’m gone.

I arrive there and the people who work there recognize me.

“I’m here to see Youmna”.

“Come with me”.

“Is it okay if I bring those with me? It’s her birthday.”

The nurse at the psychiatric facility looks at the cake and the balloon and smiles.

“Akid, no problem”.

I enter the room and she’s looking out the window.

“Mama… habibte”.

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Read Part 9 here.

Follow me on Twitter or Facebook to get updated on the latest parts.

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Kareem (part 7 of 10)

Continued from Part 6

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“Babe, where do you put the sugar?”, Joe yells from inside.

“In the cabinet next to the fridge”.

I’m sitting on my bed wondering what to do. Should I go meet Charbel at 3 pm…or shouldn’t I?

I promised Joe to stop acting shady. I don’t know what to do.

Joe enters the room. “Hey. come inside, I made you cornflakes”.

There we are. Eating cornflakes like a real couple living together. I just hope it lasts this time.

“Kareem, we should do something tonight. Let’s go out to Bardo”, he says.

“Umm… I don’t know…”.

I hate that place. All the gays gathered under one roof. I, especially, should not go there.

“Come on, we never go out together. Me and you. Bardo. 10 pm. We have some wine. It’ll be a nice change”.

“Babe, you know I’m not comfortable with places like these”.

“You told me you used to go to gay places a long time ago. What changed?”

“Okay, you know what? Let’s”.

“Fuck yeahhh!”. He gives me a kiss, then stands up and says: “I gotta go. I’m late for uni”.

We walk over to the door and kiss.

“See you tonight!”, he says.

“See you habibi”.

After I shut the door, I realize this is the guy I love. I have to stop what I’ve been doing…at least for now.

I send ‘3pm Charbel’ a text message: “I’m sorry, I can’t make it today. Maybe some other time. Take Care”.

What a relief. I’ll just spend the afternoon catching up on my studies.

When the clock hits 10 pm, I head to Bardo.

Joe’s already inside. My taxi drops me off and I start to panic.

What if someone sees me? Someone who knows me. But I have to try to get over it and move on with my life.

I’m already getting weird looks and whispers from people outside of the pub. I don’t know if they recognize me, if I’ve fucked them, or if I’m just being paranoid.

I see Joe sitting on a table. I come up from behind him and kiss the top of his head.

He turns around: “Habibi…”. He stands up and kisses me.

“You okay? It’s not that bad, is it?”, he asks.

“I’m okay. Don’t worry”, I assure him.

We spend around an hour drinking wine, talking about us, laughing. It felt good. For a second I thought I could leave it all behind me.

As he smiled and laughed, I was thinking…should I confess to him what I’ve been doing behind his back? Will it hurt him? Will he appreciate me being honest? Or should I just shut up and let it go?

Then someone bumps into me. A 40-something year old blond man.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, he says.

“It’s alright”, I smile back.

Then it seems like he remembers me.

“Hey! Omar.”

“Shit”, I think to myself. I don’t remember this guy. But he clearly remembers me.

“No… I’m not Omar”, I reply.

He looks at Joe, then looks back at me.

“Oh, sorry. My bad”, he says, and goes and sits at a nearby table.

I am embarrassed. I can’t believe I thought this night would go without a hitch. He’s probably talking to his friends about me . About what we’ve done together.

I get up out of my seat.

“Babe, I’m not feeling well…I gotta go”, I tell Joe.

“Wait, what? But…”, he says.

I just head straight out. I can’t take it anymore. I need to breathe. I walk as fast as I can to grab a taxi.

Joe runs after me yelling: “Babe, come here. What happened? Was it that guy? It’s okay. He thought you were someone else”.

“I do know him”, I reply.

“What do you mean?”, he asks.

I don’t say anything.

“Kareem, did you fuck that guy?”, he asks.

“Yes… a long time ago”, I reply.

“Then why does he think your name is Omar?”, he asks.

“Because he paid for it”.

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Read Part 8 here.

Follow me on Twitter or Facebook to get updated on the latest parts.

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