Kareem (part 6 of 10)

Continued from Part 5

kareem 6


I’m shocked. I don’t know what else to say.

He doesn’t say anything back. He looks at the floor for a while.

Then he looks up at me. “Hey”.

“Come in.”

“I…I don’t know if I should”.

“Just come in. We’ll talk inside”.

“We’ve done this a million times. I don’t know”.

“Then why are you here?”, I ask.


“Get inside. Please”.

He enters. Reluctantly. Slowly. Dead man walking. He sits on the sofa.

“I’ll get you something to drink. One sec.”

I go into the kitchen, lean against the wall and breathe a sigh of relief.

He’s here. He’s here! I thought he didn’t want anything to do with me but… he’s here.

That means something. I better not fuck this up.

I go back inside.

“Here’s some ice tea. Your favorite”.

“Fun day, wasn’t it?”

I look at him. He’s holding one of the frames I’ve put on the table.

A picture of us acting goofy during a trip to the snow.

“I didn’t know you had this”, he continues.

“I do”. I nod.

“Why?”, he puts it back on the table.

“What do you mean why?”.

He answers: “You know in the year and a half that we’ve been together, I’ve only been to your place four times? This included. I’ve never met your mom or dad. So yeah… why? Why do you have that picture? Why do you do this to me? I feel like I know you but not really.”

I go sit next to him. “You do know me.”

He looks away. I put my hand on his shoulders which he’s trying to move away.

“You know me better than anyone I know”, I continue.

“How? You never let me in. I feel like you’re hiding a part of your life from me. I’ve waited so long for you to open up. I’m sick of trying.”

“Babe, if this is about me not seeing you enough, I’m sorry. I have my…”

“Studies”, he interrupts me.

“Yes, studies. University is very important to me”.

“Right… Don’t lie to me. Remember last time when I asked you where you were… you told me you were studying for a “big ass” exam. Ten minutes later I see you on the fucking street. Why would you lie to me. Why would you do that?”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, I don’t wanna hear your sorries, Kareem. Seriously… I hate that I give you second chances and third chances. And still, you keep doing the same shit.”

“Listen. I know… I know how you feel. You just have to understand… I fucking swear… I never meant to hurt you. You’ll probably never understand but you have to believe me… there are some things you shouldn’t know.”

“Why? What are you hiding? I wanna know. I’m your fucking boyfriend!”. He tears up. So immediately I start tearing up. I hate seeing him cry.

“Joe…You’ll know what I mean someday. Please. Just believe in me. When I keep stuff away from you and when I lie, and I know it’s bad and it’s unfair… but I do it for your own sake. You just have to believe me”.

I start crying. He comes closer and hugs me. We’re both sobbing.

“I’m sorry… I really wanna change… I do…You have to believe me”, I beg him.

I can feel his tears dropping on my back as we hug. I move back and hold his face with my hands and say “I love you”.

“Of course you do”.

We both smile with tears glimmering on our faces. I wipe his tears away.

“So…what now?”, I ask.

“Just try harder this time, okay?”, he says.

“I will”.

I hope this time, I can keep my promise.

“Listen… you should sleep here tonight. You’ve never slept over before…”

“No…it’s fine.”

“No… you should. I want you to”.


That night, Joe takes a shower at my house for the first time. We cuddle in my bed for the first time. We make love on my sheets for the first time. And he sleeps in my bed for the first time. And for the first time in months… I sleep like a baby.

I’m woken up by an alarm at 7 am.

A phone reminder that reads: “Charbel Sodeco 3 pm”.

I have 8 hours to decide if I wanna do this.

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Read Part 7 here.

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

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Kareem (part 4 of 10)

Continued from Part 3

kareem 4

I hop into a cab at 8 in the morning and go back to my house.

I open the door and there’s Bisi. I bend down to the floor and carry her. Missed her smell.

“How was your night?”

No reply.

“Missed me?”. I give her a kiss.

No reply.

“Wli Kess emmik”.

She meows.

I give her another kiss and put her back down and make her breakfast.

Gotta take a long shower. He wasn’t that awful. But I just want his smell off of me. Smelling him reminds me of what I’ve done.

After I’m done showering, I hop in bed. I didn’t even have a proper breakfast. Not if you call the protein shake breakfast. Just want to sleep so I can fully focus when I study in the afternoon.

An hour into it, I hear my phone ring. But why would it? It’s on Silent. It’s a reminder: “Test at Skoun 2 pm”.

Fuckkkk, I totally forgot. Has it been a month already?

40 minutes later, I’m at Skoun, a Lebanese addiction center which also does free HIV tests.

I don’t have to wait a lot in the reception area. The guy who does the test knows I show up on time.

At exactly 2 pm, he enters the reception area and looks around for me.

“I’m here”. I get up and shake his hand.

“Kifak? Come inside”, he says.

I’ve done these tests so much I’ve memorized them. If you’re a beginner, he sits you down, explains about the HIV test, its accuracy, asks you questions about yourself and your sex life, does the test, then gives you the result. Well, I just want the last part, but still… he has to do all of the above.

He gets to the questions part.

“How old are you?”


“What’s your field of study?”


“When was your last sexual encounter?”.

He’s gonna love this.

“Ummm… 5 hours ago”.

He looks at me. Smiles.

“Don’t worry… I washed my hands”.

He laughs. “It’s all good. In the past year, how many sexual partners have you had?”.

I know the real number. I have a black book. With the names, addresses and other important info if you know what I mean. So whatever the real number is, I divide it by four.

“Twenty five”, I reply.

“Okay”, he says. Poker face.

Wait, there’s also Joe.

“Six. Twenty six.”


“Why do you want to do the test?”

Because I suck so many cocks and if I pass something on to my boyfriend, who hasn’t talked to me in over 72 hours, I might just die?

Instead I say: “Because if I’m positive, I’d wanna know.”

“Okay. Let’s do the test.”

I stand up.

He grabs my finger, pricks it with a needle, and drops my blood into the sample well.

We wait for 5 minutes… the longest 5 minutes of my life.

It never gets easier. You can always be safe. Put 5 condoms on the dick before sitting on it. You can be a virgin. A girl who’s never even kissed a guy before and still…they’d be the longest 5 minutes of your life.

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Read Part 5 here.

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

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Kareem (part 3 of 10)

Continued from Part 2

kareem 3

He grabs me by my hair and pushes my head on his face. A passionate kiss. As close as you can get to passionate anyway.

His dick is so hard I can feel it throbbing between my legs. Fuck, this is gonna hurt like hell tomorrow.

He comes up for air. “Let’s go inside”, he says.

“Sure… let’s”.

We leave Marylin and the other queens and go to his bedroom. Clean. Neat. Unlike my boyfriend’s room. But let’s face it, he is 45 and he has two maids.

He lights up a joint. “You smoke up?”, he asks.

“What do you think?”.

He hands me the joint and with one puff, I get even more loosened up. Now, if only my ass can loosen up.

He kisses my neck.

“Mmm…yeah…I like that”, I tell him while caressing his hair.

He touches my hand that’s on his head. Then he grabs it and looks at it.

“You wore it?”, he asks with such delight.

“Of course I did. You told me gym gloves are your fetish. I take your pleasures very seriously”.

He kisses me.

“Go over there”, he says.

“Go where?”, I ask.

“There. The wall”.

I know what he wants. A show.

I move slowly and take off my shirt and my jeans…revealing my black Calvins.

“Yeah…like that”, he says as he pulls out his dick and strokes it. “Now turn around. Show me that ass”.

I slowly turn around and pull my boxer shorts down.

“Fuckkk yeah”. Guess he’s lovin it.

Then I hear him get off the bed and take off his clothes. His jeans. He gets closer and grabs me from behind.

“Put your hands on the wall”.

He kisses my shoulders and licks my back. When his tongue reaches my ass, he pulls my underwear down. He moves my thighs further apart so he could rim me.

For about 5 minutes, he rims my asshole…moaning while he does it.

Then he stops and goes away for a second. I know what he’s getting.

He comes back, stands up behind me and I feel this wet thing touch my ass.

He forces it in me.

“Ahh yeah… take that dick”, he says.

“Ahhh fuck…”, I play along.

I’ve become quite good at overcoming the pain. Getting past the sex. As he fucks me, I close my eyes and think about Joe. About that time when we were in bed staring at each other in the morning.

“Do I have morning breath?”, he asked.

“Haha…yeah you do. And it’s so bad”, I laughed at him.

“Oh yeah? Well so do you”, he said while he tickled my stomach.

Tickling! I can’t take it.

“Stop…stop…”, I told him while I laughed hysterically.

Then it happened.

“Oh my God. Did you just”, he started laughing.

I was so embarrassed. He was laughing so hard.

“Shut up…shut up!”, I panicked. I stood up on the bed, removed the sheets off of him and started jumping on the bed like a crazy person trying to make the smell go away. Then I gave up and fell laughing next to him.

“You like that, huh?”, Hussein says as he fucks me.

I occasionally have to come back to reality. “Fuck yeah…I do…keep doing that…fuck…”, I scream.

Time for a good memory.

“You know when I knew that I loved you?”, Joe asked me.

I shake my head.

“That morning in bed. I knew it. I loved you”.

I’m not used to love confessions. So I had to say something stupid.

“If I wasn’t dark-skinned, I would be blushing right now”, I joked.

Then he hit my arm with his hand.

I looked at him for a second. “I love you too”, I told him.

“I’m close”, Hussein screams. “Ahhh I’m gonna cum”.

I open my eyes, stare at the wall in front of me as he grabs me by the shoulders, then close them again.

I feel something warm on my right cheek.

“Fuck…Fuck…”, he says, trying to catch his breath.

I put a smile on my face and turn around.

I kiss him, grab him by the hand and take him to bed.

We’re cuddling.

“That was good”, I say while stroking his hair. He looks up at me.

“You’re just sayin that because you have to”.

“What? No. I really enjoyed that”, I reply.

He stares into my eyes for two seconds, smiles, then goes back to laying his head on my chest. I continue playing with his hair.

“Sleep Hussein. It’s 4 in the morning. You have work tomorrow”

“And you?”, he asks. “What do you do?”

I hate it when they go there.

“Tonight? You”.

He doesn’t seem bothered that I didn’t answer his question. He’s sleepy anyway.

My mind is running. Like it always does when I’m in bed with someone other than my boyfriend.

Will I be like him when I’m 45? Will I do those kinds of hook ups? Will I be in a relationship by then?

I can’t sleep. I think about Joe. About what I’m doing to us. He would never understand it.

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Read Part 4 here.

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

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Kareem (part 2 of 10)

Continued from Part 1

kareem part 2

While I’m stuck in traffic for two hours, I fight the urge not to check Joe’s “last seen today” on Whatsapp. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for two days now. Guess when Salim asked me about my “boyfriend” today, I should have just answered: “Oh, he thinks I’m the worst person on earth and threw a drink on my face last Saturday”.

I used to be so honest. When did I stop? Funny… used to hate people who lie. I mean, I still do. But I guess I understand it now that I’m older. It’s just easier to lie. Pain-free.

I crack under pressure. I send him yet another Whatsapp: “Please reply”. It’s fine, I’ve already sent 7 of those. I can’t get lower than this, really.

His “last seen today” changes to “online”. Good. He’s reading the message. Then his status goes back to “last seen today”.

Fuck. He’s not replying. I don’t blame him. If I was in his shoes, my instinct would tell me to run away too. But I just want him to talk to me. I wish he could give me another chance.

I reach this guy’s place. Very fancy high-rise building, actually. I have to call him up so he meets me at the entrance, which is gated. Instead, he sends his maid. Such a gentleman, I know. But I get it. He doesn’t want to be seen walking into his building with another guy.

15th floor. Penthouse suite. The maid escorting me opens the door and makes me sit in the living room. Marilyn Monroe portrait. Audrey Hepburn painting. Can you get gayer? This guy must be a queen; an ugly-ass 45 year old balding gay guy who’s not my type.

Then suddenly I hear…

“Sorry, I’m late”.

I look over my shoulder and he’s standing there, wearing a jeans and a flannel, drying his hair (yes, a full set of black and grey hair) with a towel. A bit hairy. Has a beer belly. Just what you expect from a… 45 year old.

“No, it’s alright”, I say. “Love what you’ve done with the place”.

“Really? You don’t think it’s too gay?”, he says while smiling.

Gorgeous smile. White teeth. Didn’t see that one coming. How is this guy single? Well, I don’t really know if he’s single. Everyone fucks around these days.

I stand up and approach him. “Well, it would be if there was a picture of another queen somewhere”.

He points at the table behind me; a framed picture of Madonna.

“Ooookayyy…yeah you’re really gay”, I say. He laughs.

“So anyway, Hussein”, I come closer to him. “Are your maids filming this?”

He cracks an awkward giggle. “Are they?”, I ask.

I put my hand on his crotch. Semi-hard. Must have forgotten to wear underwear.

“Always. I have a whole collection”, he says.

“Wow, you said that with such a straight face”, I reply.

I bring my head closer and whisper in his ear: “But I hope it’s true”.

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Read Part 3 here.

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

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Kareem (part 1 of 10)

Wanted to write 1 blog post about 2 guys meeting at a party. Ended up with an 8-part story.

Thought it would be interesting to write a story from a homophobe’s perspective. Ended up adding more layers to him than I expected, eventually feeling sympathy for his tortured soul.

Two weeks ago, I started writing a story about Kareem. Ended up with 10 parts.

Truth is… I can’t shut the fuck up.

Enjoy this one.


“You think he’ll call?”, I ask.

No answer.

“I think he will. He always does. He loves me, doesn’t he?”, I try again.

No answer.

“You’re just a stupid little cat with no answers, aren’t you?”. I give up.

Finally… a “meow”.

I grab her.

“But you’re my stupid little cat. Come here”.

Bisi’s the only thing that’s not judging me right now, unlike my boyfriend. Oh and that nosy neighbor on the 5th. And even if it is judging me, there’s no way of knowing it is. That’s something to be grateful for.

It’s 7:55 am and I have a Forensic Medicine exam in exactly five minutes. But I know I won’t be late. I’m never late for anything. Ever. Learned it the hard way. Time is money. Plus it helps that my university’s right across the street.

I walk out the door. A hop, skip and a jump away from a homeless man on the street and I’m in AUB.

Needless to say, I ace that exam. I always do.

Luckily, my bladder didn’t explode after holding it in for two hours during the exam so I head straight to the bathroom.

I do my thing and walk out.


I turn around. He’d been waiting for me to get out.

“Kareem, kifak? Long time!”, he says.

“Heyyyy Salim”, I say.

“Where you been? It’s been ages!”.

“It’s been two weeks”, I respond.

“Well, yeah that’s AUB for ya. Fuckin hell. How’s your boyfriend?”

“Joe? He’s doin well, man”, I reply.

“Gosh, I haven’t seen him in…”

“Ages. Me too. With all the studying… I’m not being able to see anyone”.

“Well, let’s be honest you’ve never been the outgoing type anyway. We’ve known you for 3 years and we’ve hung out for what… three times?”

I smile. “You’re right. I’m just always busy”.

“Well, anyway. We should do something soon. I’ll hit you up. Say hi to Joe.”

“Sure, wosil”.

It’s always the same story. People telling me I’m never around. And it’s the truth. I’m not. But how could I? I look at Salim as he walks away. He’s actually a great guy. Too nice. Under different circumstances, we could have been great friends.

Suddenly, my pocket vibrates and wakes me up from my daze; a reminder on my phone titled “Hussein Jnah 10 pm”. Ah, phone reminders. How did we get through life before you? With all the shit goin on, I don’t know how I would function without my alarms.

I rush home and get ready for the meeting.

The usual. The trimming. The shaving. The waxing. The grooming. The gel. The clothes. It’s hard to be gay. The hard part is trying to make it look easy. But I guess with each meeting, it gets easier and easier.

I look in the mirror. He’s gonna like this.

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Read Part 2 here.

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

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Best & Worst Gay Tweets from TwitterWorld

You’re allowed to say anything on Twitter and offend anyone you want. But once in a while, I type in “Beirut gay” or “Arab gay” in the search box on Twitter and come across some ignorant-ass folks. It’s not all bad though… I also see some great Lebanese tweeps who support the gay community.

Let’s start with the good.

There’s @Im_Lebanese with her funny tweet about gay marriage in Lebanon:


Also saw this old tweet by Lebanese poet and journalist Joumana Haddad (@Joumana333).


I agree with Joumana. If 5% of closeted public figures in Lebanon were to come out, my grandmother would have a heart attack on the spot.

And now for the bad. The REALLY bad. Tweets that make you go “I’m too sober for this intolerance”. Never ceases to amaze me how, for so many ignorant people, “gay” is synonymous with “bad”.

Congrats @ThatOneHippy, @boulaVB3, @SafiiMostafa and @Mrs_Fitzz for making it on the worst list! Hope you do better.

adderallcharbel safi


On another note, why is Arab Idol so hated? Oh cruel cruel world, what has sexy Hassan El Shafei and his mini mohawk done to deserve so much hate?!?!


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pic source

Gays Win Big at the Social Media Awards

So…awesome news:

Yours truly is nominated for Blog of the Year and Best Personal Blog at this year’s Social Media Awards. If you wanna vote for me, that would be so cool of you.

I’m also very happy that my gay buddies have received nominations as well:

Homos Libnani for Best Personal Blog and Best Lifestyle Blog
Lebanese LGBT Monitor for Best News Blog
“I LUV U BUT” Series for Most Engaging Youtube Channel

The LGBTQ community IS an integral part of the Lebanese community. The homos ARE active on social media channels. The gays DESERVE to be represented at the Social Media Awards. And this is what the Awards are giving: recognition. That’s why I named this blog post “Gays Win Big at the Social Media Awards”. It’s not a prophecy. We’ve already won.

Big thank you goes out to the judges who rooted for us and made these nominations possible.

Now vote for your fucking gays and help us represent.

Vote here: http://www.smabeirut.com


I Love PC

pc 2

Going to PC has become a ritual.

Each month…or every 3 weeks…there’s a new PC party with a new theme. Now I could give less shits about the theme (some recent ones were: Wonderland, Paparazzi and Celebrities, Phantoms of Comics, Pacific Cay), but what’s cool is that each time there’s a new location! From the Estral Theater (Hamra) and the Roger Mourkarzel Studio (Karantina) to the open-air Solea V in Sin El Fil, these locations keep things fresh!

The music is awesome. Mostly pop and commercial dance music. Unlike CUNXTSAT‘s monotonous house music that makes you wanna shoot yourself after the first 15 minutes, the music at PC Party allows you to get in the mood when you’re paying for your ticket. Yep, it’s kind of expensive if you think about it (50,000 Liras or $33) but for a party that’s well-organized, fun, wild, and with an open-bar, it’s worth paying that much every month.

The last PC-s have been epic for me and my friends. I’ve been taking my straight best friend with me and she’s getting lucky more than I am, even though I’m the one getting half-naked 30 minutes into the party! So that tells you something about the crowd: it’s not totally gay and it’s not totally straight. Straight girls can get lucky, and 17 year old hormonal straight guys can get the over-the-jeans action they dream of. And gay guys…oh those gay guys…can kiss three…four…five?…guys in one night. Blame it on the alcohol. Blame it on the music. Blame it on the sweat. It’s a sexy free-for-all.

People take their dressing up so seriously at PC…which I LOVE. It’s something that’s missing from the rest of the parties and clubs in Lebanon. It’s not about showing off the latest Aishti shirt you bought, the latest iPhone, or the latest nose job. It’s about putting on a show. Dressing up for the occasion. Having an outlet to express yourself. It’s not about showing off (when you wanna show off, you go to Bardo). PC is about showing your true colors and losing yourself in the music. A good party is about not remembering what you did the next day and have your friends remind you who you kissed. It’s about looking at your clothes and shoes the next day and think “How the FUCK did I get so dirty?”. In that sense, PC is a great party

Say what you want. It’s dirty. It’s sweaty. It’s animalistic. And it’s REAL.

Check out PC’s page here and meet me at their next event :).

pc 1

Simple Truth, Pathetic Lies

Below is a guest piece written by Zeus DreamCaster. Thanks for sharing your thoughts man. =)

What do you think about what Zeus is saying? Have you ever lied to yourself and tried to justify your homosexuality or sexual identity?

This time I have an opinion about as issue that I am sure very few had talked about it before. But I found out the best way to say it is through a short story.

Once, I had a gay friend of mine who was telling me how much he cried in the church during the mass. According to him, the way he felt when he was inside made him realize that he should change his life (Pathetic Lie # 1), stop having gay relationships (Pathetic Lie #2), deactivate his Manjam and Grindr (Pathetic Lie # 3), and last but not least, silence his gay instinct (Pathetic Lie # 4). As a close friend, I supported him, approved the decisions he had made, and helped him reach his target.

For my surprise, and only few weeks after this happened, he was telling me about how desperate he is to have sex with a guy (Truth # 1), and that he is seriously thinking about having a sex partner (Truth # 2). Again, as a close friend, I told him to think about it very well before taking any serious decision that he might regret later on.

When I think about this story now, I do not feel but sadness and pity for that friend.

Some people wonder why Lebanese gays are “mafsoumin”, but they do not know how much pathetic they are. The pathetic lies they tell to themselves after listening to lectures done by their priest, or cheikh, or teacher. Besides, the way they try to analyze their personalities and project their decisions is much more pathetic.

What they need and what we all need is to come to terms with our true selves. Just look in the mirror and tell the person you see that you accept him as he is. No one is a saint, and no one is a devil. How do you want people to stop judging you, if you judge yourself first? God will never judge you! According to all religions, God has chosen human beings, among all other species, to be blessed with his love and care. Thus, why do you want to complicate your life? You are the ultimate creation of this world, act like it!

You want to have sex? Just do it. You don’t like Lebanese gays? Stop dating them. People just be true to yourselves before wasting people’s time with your pathetic lies and facts. Stop hiding behind your fingers thinking that you can deceive the sun.

Humans, by nature, have physical needs. So satisfy them, and act normal about it. Don’t dramatize and make a huge fuss out of it. Discover the source of your needs, so that you can overcome them.

Years ago, I had sexual relationships with several guys, and I used to come back home, cry and shower for hours thinking this will cleanse my sins. However, with time I realized that my sins are present only in my mind. I was afraid to see my truth. I was afraid to discover that I was weak and afraid. That I need anything, which was sex at that time, to bring me closer to a man. Interestingly, when I came to terms with myself, I understood my fears and overcame them. I did not have sex for like four years after this.

To cut a long story short, I want to conclude with a quote for Budda. He said, “Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.”

Search for your inner peace by yourself. Believe me, no one cares whether you find it or not. Do it and save yourself from the rotten apocalypse awaiting us.

Written by Zeus DreamCaster

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