NSFW: طيابك يا صبي

Sitting on the ledge of the roof.
My legs wrapped around your waist.
The wolves are howling.
Beirut is silent.
That’s our now.

Smoke in the sky.
Stars in our eyes.
Beit Mery in our lungs.
Liquid in our courage.
Tomorrow is but an option.

Two dollars in our pockets.
A thousand possibilities.
One shot.
No repeats.
The clock says 12:20 am. And that’s where it stops.

“Can we stay here all night?”.
“Only if you…”.
A whisper in my left ear.
A moan begging for mercy.
There’s no pill involved. But this is ecstasy.

All the years we sinned.
All the shadows we chased.
If I die right now,
I would have lived.


The ex of your ex is your next top


You weren’t supposed to hook up with my ex-man.

That wasn’t the plan.

I’m not saying he’s not hot enough. He is. And I’ve seen what he’s packing. (Congratulations)

But it was supposed to be you and I. And I know we’re not kids here… but “I saw you first”.

Yes, yes, we’re both bottoms, and I can’t fuck you worth a dime. But I’m pretty sure there have been worse plans made in this world, no?

Just one night.

Maybe after a drunken party at Decks.

Maybe after another accidental “Hey.Role?Place?” on Grindr.

Let’s make it happen.

It’s been two years in the making. And you don’t know what you’re missing. I give great head. I have a decent ass. And it helps that he’s always traveling.

If you want to wait till after you break up, that’s cool. But just a heads up… your stock might go down when you’re single again. You know how it is. It’s because I can’t have you now that I can’t help but want you.

Either way, “Grindr” me when you’ve moved on.

We’ll get a drink, or two, and share what we hate, or love, most about him.

You know what they say. The ex of an ex is your friend. And with the right amount of alcohol, your next top.

NSFW: Groundhog Gay


White lines on a stranger’s chest.
Dark circles under his once-hopeful eyes.
The pain from his ass is nothing compared to the pain he feels inside.

It’s all he knows.
Grindr 3al terwee2a. Scruff 3al ghada. Ouw Tinder 3al 3asha.
Grindr bel 7emmem. Grindr 3al taree2. Grindr bel sahra.
And he thought quitting smoking was hard…

He’s at it again.
Searching for love in a dark alley.
Restaurants have lost their charm.
He goes for Starbucks bathrooms instead.

He’s seen it all.
5-floor villas in Adma.
Two-star motels in Hamra.

Done it all.
10-inches. 6-inches. Microscopic.
His memory card can’t handle another dick pic.
Threesomes. Nine-somes. Saunas. Straight porn.
Jockstraps. Role-play. Viagra. Give him more.

“Fast food” is all he knows.
3 am texting. 2-hour stands. Assessing naked torsos.
He came. He saw. He came again.

Elvis has left the continent.
The fat lady is signing autographs.
It’s all been said.
They’ve all been done.

1:30 am.
The crowd is new, but he’s been here before.
His eyes are hazy. So is his judgment.
Jägerbomb. Blow Job.
Let’s give this another shot.

Listen to my interview on “Life in Beirut”

So I recently met with the cool Harry Darkins, journalist and producer at RFI, and chatted with him about gay life in Beirut, as part of the “Life In Beirut” series. Check out the interview below or on the RFI website:


Spoiler alert: I say Lebanese Penal Code 543 instead of 534. Sorry, Helem. “543” just sounded better.


Words I never thought I’d say: “I’m over you”.
Now I’m smiling as you dance with three guys who are all over you.

Remember when I begged you to dump your boyfriend for me?
Now I’m cheering you on while you’re high on Molly.

Your name: four letters.
Four years to get over you.
One year for each letter.
I wasted so much time being bitter.
I put some E in it. Now I’m much better.
Finally quit the game.
Finally quit the player.

You: the hardest thing I ever had to get over.
Fuck nicotine.
My addiction was on another level. Amphetamine.

I never thought we would come to this. Ever.
Guess it gets tiring. Saying “I want you”, then picking your heart up from the gutter.
I never thought it would come to this. Ever.
Seeing you dance with somebody else and call them a lover.
Watching you kiss someone else and not fight a motherfucker.

I got over you.
Don’t ask me how.
Don’t ask me why.
If I said I was upset, it’d be a lie.

Laser lights hit our pretty faces.
I can’t believe we’re here. Out of all the places…
“Do I love you?”, I ask myself as I touch your face.
Now I realize I lost love in a hook-up place.


When There’s a Lesbian…

When there’s a gay guy, there’s drama.

But when there’s a lesbian, just duck, cause it’s a fucking RIOT!

I’ve witnessed two big fights in the past 9 months. Both at gay hangouts, both loud, and both produced by lesbians.

Let’s break it down…

Fight #1: It’s an “ex versus an ex” situation. Lesbian #1 pushes (or touches the face of) lesbian #2. Lesbian dating lesbian #1 (or lesbian #2, I’m not sure, this is total gossip and hearsay at this point) comes to the rescue, and the shit hits the fan. One of the lesbians in the lesbian #1 entourage or lesbian #2 entourage gets so turnt up and takes out a fucking razor blade and goes ape shit crazy. Usually, I see this scene on TV. But I’m seeing this shit happen right in front of me. So I’m like “Yaaaasssss bitch…CUT!” and stand on a bench to get a clearer view, while my scared friend tries to drag me inside the club. Two minutes later… the fight now involves like 12 lesbos and homos, all screaming. “Sharmoutaaaaaaaa”. “Kess emmikkkkk!”. “Ya loutehhhhhhh”. Yes, now it’s more than a lesbian fight; the gays were dragged into this mess too. Even a big muscular tall guy had his shirt ripped in half by one of those nasty lil hoes. Thankfully, the bar manager steps in and the fight gets dissipated. Bass ba3d shu?! Ya di3an…

Fight #2: Picture this. You arrive at a lesbian bar in Beirut. You don’t enter cause “shefna el jaw ouw sara7a there are no cute guys”. So you stay outside, sit on a table, and wait for your lesbian to finish doing her thing. Suddenly, a seemingly straight couple gets out of the club and starts fighting: “Ana eltellik badna nfell ya3ne badna nfell!!!! Eddemeh tashuffff!!!”. Then the club door opens and we see like 15 lesbians screaming at this guy like they’re auditioning for 300. They were smelling blood and almost chopped the guy’s dick off. Even the bouncer’s like “What the fuck do I do”? Fast forward to 10 minutes later and the party’s isn’t just over, there’s a threat of the police coming and doing some late night arrests. Basically, we had to leave our chill spot. Pffff… Total buzzkill.

I guess that’s the difference between us gays and lesbians. With gays, if you really want to hurt someone, you just call them ugly, “tante”, fat, small-dick. You know, the typically offensive clichés. I’ve been called all four. They all hurt like hell. Plus with gays, muscles are for showing off, not for actually putting them to the test.

I don’t know what’s the deal with lesbians taking it to the next level.

However, if I do want to fight a bitch, I know who I’m calling.