Her name is Jax, and while she was in Toronto playing the The Dreamer Day Fest earlier this week, I got a chance to sit down and talk with her about the kinds of body image issues she’s faced – ones many queer people also understand all too well. (Show me another photoshopped, oiled-up, gym bod and tell me that’s the ideal gay man and I’ll throw something.)

Here’s my conversation with her. Dog alert: my new pup Léo does make an appearance:

Have a blessed day!

• Shaun Proulx
• GGN

The post GGN POP CULTURE: Jax Knows Victoria’s Secret appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

Been on any sex-hookup apps or sites during this time of social distancing? If you haven’t, hop on and see for yourself: even now, some boys are still being boys.

We don’t judge, and in fact, we understand. So do the fine people at The Gay Men’s Sexual Health Alliance – the information hub for gay and bisexual men’s sexual health in Ontario – who, on their Facebook page for guys who PnP, have two great graphics – one for sexual activity during these pandemic times; the second loaded with great advice if you PnP (party and play.) Both are worth a look, no matter where you live. The graphics and content were created by: COVID-for-PWUD.

We’re re-sharing with you here, so you may take the best care of yourself if the need arises, or re-share to show you care.

• GGN Staff

The post GGN EMPOWERMENT :: Sex + PnP In Pandemic Times appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

Sincerely,

Shaun Proulx
Publisher / Founder 

Our whole lives have been turned upside down.

A haggard Prime Minister Justin Trudeau addressed Canada this afternoon with his stringent, far-reaching Covid-19 announcements. We’re closing our borders. Canadians ought to social distance.

The downtown streets in my ‘hood are empty. My winter getaway was cancelled. Such measures are unprecedented in modern times. It is an unsettling adjustment, this social distancing. It feels like a bad movie, or, as a gal pal puts it: “we’re living in a Margaret Atwood novel.”

Easy, therefore, for many to feel panic, stress and anxiety.

And there’s no toilet paper.

But you can relieve the negative emotions you might be feeling. Take a broader perspective, curate your focus, and be the one who writes the narrative of your experience within this experience.

Start with what an experience is, which is a moving happening that has an end date. This is temporary.

And let’s call the shutdowns and closures and cancellations what they really are: acts of deep love for others, and deep self-love. We are protecting those at risk; we are protecting ourselves. This is beautiful.

It’s also a long-awaited switch in global energy; many of us have worried and complained that it feels like our world has gone haywire with rising hate, liars for leaders, wars, fires, misery.

There has been a long list of evidence to justify growing concerns, but now we are taking care of each other, all around the world.

And for me, there is something healing about a planet now going quiet. Literally, the atmosphere above Italy, where citizens have been in lock down, has actually been clearing. The air over China is also better.

There is also something peaceful and relaxing about having legit reason to not be over-scheduled, over-committed, rushing here and there – never being in the now. Take your watch off, put your phone down. Engage. Read. Binge on good podcasts (here are some of my recent faves) and television is these days is a treasure trove (try The Loudest Voice and I loved The Affair.) Go to bed early, or bring a back-burnered project to life. Let’s not forget, when Shakespeare was quarantined because of the plague, he wrote King Lear. We can meditate (I love Marianne Williamson’s corona virus healing meditation) and we can journal; diarize this profound experience. We can do fun things like my great friend, the vocalist Simone Denny, has done with her “Superstar” social media spin to encourage hand-washing. As I write this, a yogi friend in quarantine texted me to invite me to do restorative yoga via Skype tonight. We can use our imaginations. We can play Madonna’s “Holiday.”

There is an opportunity now to do things for ourselves we don’t normally have time or energy to do. It feels extended snow-day-ish, one of winter’s soothing gifts.

So, while not taking away from the seriousness of this situation, you can find beauty, and possibility in it, if you look:

Facebook groups are popping up – people wishing to help people – every hour. And did you see the exquisite musical moment between residents on balconies at an apartment complex in Sicily? I posted it on my Facebook page.

Add to this; how can you help? Perhaps it is something simple, like thanking the front of line workers. We can take time to ask how they are doing if we know any personally. We can be kinder on purpose to each other, too. We can be kinder on purpose to ourselves; stop what-iffing about all of this, for example.

Thoughts and acts such as these have vibration to them, measurable by science in something called hertz. We can literally inject more love into a world that has been thirsty for it for too long. Universe knows what it is doing. Our planet knows what it is doing.

We humans forget what we’re doing. We forget we are powerful focusing mechanisms, and we can and must curate our focus, daily and especially in times like now. Many of us have been glued obsessively or addict-like to virus news non-stop. This creates emotional imbalance and isn’t healthy. You can go to your favourite news source to stay informed, but you don’t have to marinate in it. Control this shit, and especially stay away from American fear-mongering.

And PS, there’s lots of good news to be reported. Just focus. Look for it. Here is a piece on how Canadian scientists have isolated the virus. Here is a wonderfully hopeful piece on how a Nobel Laureate number cruncher has correctly predicted the timing of the virus’ impact in China and nearby regions. Contrary to bandied gloom, he says this will come to a halt. Here is a good news piece for those worried about financial catastrophe. Be a breaking good news reporter. Share the good news you find out into the world. Share the funny, too. Lots of quippy clever memes are circulating. When you can laugh at something that once caused you negative emotion, you have mastered control over its power over you. I like the one with the guy who has a white paper coffee filter over his nose and mouth. On it he has written: “Coughy filter.” Ba-dum-bump.

This is a global re-set (which is what another pal called it the other day.) It is a time that is ripe with positive possibility and filled with beauty. And, it’s a choice we each make about how we will be in this unfolding experience; it’s action we take when we choose deliberately where to place our focus.

Panic comes from feeling ignorant and powerlessness. You and I are neither.

Love,

The post GGN Self-Care :: Beauty Inside The Pandemic appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

SKIN IS IN :: With winter in full swing, it’s not just moods, footwear, and hair that take a beating. Skin suffers, no matter how much water you drink, how many humidifiers you run, or how much sun – real or fake – you manage to acquire.

GGN recently shared our favourite DIY skin saver for your body from the neck down, but when it comes to the neck up, we let the pros take over. From cleansers to moisturizers to serums, the products on the following pages are the gold standards to save your skin as winter creeps on. We’re no Martha Stewart at the mirror, but we do believe in only the best.

The post GROOMING :: Save Your Winter Skin appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

By Tommy Vē. 
If you missed the first part of this story, click here to read it.

Then it happened again.

The soft voice came through telling me something. I clenched my eyes closed to focus:

“You’re ok, Thomas. And everything is going to be ok. Don’t be afraid. You’re ok.”

I hadn’t heard the voice so long. It came when I needed it most. A sense of calmness washed away the thoughts of death. The darkness I was plummeting deep into shifted to light. With my attention caught, I understood this experience was my body’s response to the choices I had made. I was in withdrawal and the voice became my guide. “What does your body need in order to get through this, Thomas?” I let it take the lead and a list of priorities came to mind effortlessly:

Get food – It doesn’t matter what, just get something in your body that can get you through this drive home.

Get Sleep – After you eat, go to the closest rest area and sleep. You must be awake for the hour and thirty minutes to get home safely.

Go to the hospital – You over did it. This withdrawal is not to be messed with on your own. Get professional help and get yourself back in good health.

After a buffet of Burger King and 30 minutes of half-sleep at a thruway rest stop, I called my roommate to tell him what was happening. I then went to the hospital closest to my home. The withdrawal symptoms were beating me down to a pulp and the only thing I could do was ask for help.

I checked in at the hospital and found a seat. “Now what?” I asked of the voice. “What do I do next?” I realized I had been asking these questions out loud when I noticed people staring at me, so I went to the bathroom. Shivering and restless, paranoia coming through, I splashed water on my face. I returned to the waiting room, choosing a seat behind a half wall to mask my hysteria.

“What do I do now? I want to get better. I want to be whole again. I want to be happy. Tell me what to do, please.” I reached into my pocket for my phone, opened the notepad app and began vigorously writing.

My affinity for writing has been the only thing to ever consistently bring me peace. I’d convey my feelings in this manner so they could be somewhere outside myself. It always ended up being poetry too. I’d structure my writing as if they were songs with verses, choruses, hooks, and bridges. I wasn’t formally trained in music, but I’ve always adored the way my favorite musicians communicated feelings through lyrics. The half wall I was hiding behind became my own little sanctuary. My words began to flow with ease:

Why can’t I see you’re no good for me?

You don’t need to be the air I breathe

Why can’t I be completely incomplete?

Finally, won’t you let me be free?

I wanna be free from your reign over me

I wanna be free, shed the skin I don’t need

I wanna be free even if I can’t leave

I wanna be free from what you do to me.

It was a desperate cry for help. I had nothing left and nothing more to live for other than the love inside me. I sat there, scared and alone, and realized what was happening. I was embodying MY inner voice. I couldn’t hear it because I was living it. It was me all along. Even as I waited in the examination room, I continued to write. I lived out what might’ve been the most miraculous moment I’ve ever experienced, or so I thought.

After being evaluated and treated by several doctors, I went home to curl up in bed and reconfigure my life. It was the most peaceful night’s sleep I’ve ever had. I rose from a twelve-hour slumber feeling refreshed, but still lethargic. I was exhausted from what my body had endured. There was so much that needed to change. It was time to quit my jobs. It was time to move out of this dump. It was time recreate my goals. It was time to take back my life and also time for food.

My roommate and I ventured out because “the new me” still loved Mexican food. I needed all the love a quesadilla had to offer, with a side of nachos, guacamole, and whatever dessert available. It was literally, figuratively, and spiritually calling my name. I expressed my disgust for the shape our house was in and demanded we go somewhere clean to eat.

When we got our food, my roommate said a friend could host. I knew how he operated and  “host” could be an anonymous trick or a best friend. He said we were going to see a cute boy he met at a summer party. We made our way to the guy’s house and my impatience transitioned to frustration. I wanted to eat the food I was carrying NOW. My roommate knocked at the front door. My jaw dropped when the door opened. It was Sam!

We said hello, but we knew we had met before. Time completely stopped. What kind of sick fucking joke was this? Was it planned? Was I supposed to be here?

I B-lined to the dining room table and got down to business with my food. They packed a bowl to smoke some weed, but I wasn’t interested. I needed clarity because something was happening again. Something placed me here, at Sam’s house. They engaged in conversation while I appeared to be having the most beautiful love affair with my Mexican dinner. I only wanted to be there for the clean space to enjoy my food. I didn’t care to join them and they didn’t mind. Just me, my food, and a glaringly obvious sign from the universe who was sitting opposite me at the dining room table.

This was the second half of Tommy Vē’s I Saw the Sign – The Intervention. Click here to read part 1. 

Tommy Vē is a Buffalo-based pop singer/songwriter whose EP “My Lucid Nightmare” can be found on all major music streaming platforms today. Watch for his new single coming later this month and catch him on June 1st performing for Buffalo Pride Week’s EXIST, an Allentown First Friday Artwalk experience.

My Lucid Nightmare – EP by Tommy Vē on Spotify

The post I Saw the Sign – The Intervention (Part 2 of 2) appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

By Tommy Vē

I SAW THE SIGN :: Another ordinary night at work; I started my opening bartending shift by messaging people to come in during the initial quiet. A group of university friends stopped in, and one of them brought along someone new.

He was a dashing young man, but he seemed generally disinterested and my friends weren’t including him in their conversation. I decided to engage him with introductory pleasantries because I really wanted to put a name to his beautiful face.

Sam* didn’t like the bar scene, I learned, but his mood shifted from “get me the fuck out of here” to “this isn’t so bad” when I suggested we smoke some weed before it became busy. His sweet and genuine laugh in agreement to join me was rudely cut off when the friend he came with called him away.

As the bar filled up, the mindlessness of slinging drinks to a steady crowd took over my thoughts – until Sam reappeared, waving me down. He said he was going to leave so I reached to shake his hand. Instead of a handshake, he held my hand with both of his, saying how much he enjoyed our conversation. As he did this an overwhelming sensation came over me. Something I had never experienced in my life. A voice that spoke a simple thought:

“He’s going to be in your life someday.”

It sounded like my voice, but sweeter and far more nurturing than I’ve ever been towards myself. Sam let go of my hand leaving a large nugget of marijuana in my grip. I was grateful for his generosity, but confused about where that voice came from. How did it know this person would get involved with me?

This was the first of many soon-to-follow experiences of what I call simply “a sign from the universe.” I just wasn’t aware of it yet.

Some months passed and another weekend began at the bar with the completion of my opening duties. A group of six walked through the front door. I was on a first-name basis with three of them and the rest were faces of frequent customers I recognized from a distance. We bonded over shots and talking music, and I managed to learn everyone else’s name.

Eventually the group decided to move down the street until the bar grew busier. Saying goodbye, I embraced each person and felt a sense of gratitude for having such a good time. One of the group, Adam, didn’t make an initial impression but when we hugged – BAM! That voice, that little serene sound saying the same damn thing again:

 “He’s going to be in your life someday.”

We lingered a moment until we let go and our eyes locked. Did he feel that? Did he hear it? Was I making this up? The same voice and message about another person? I was confused by my own awareness of what was going on. Clearly, I needed to pay attention, but to what?

At that time in my life I didn’t trust my judgment or my senses, so those moments were quickly buried under the wreckage from years of habitual anger and distaste for life. Goals I had set for myself were not my own, they belonged to my family, yet I pursued them, seeking validation as an adult.

In fact despised almost every facet of my existence. I despised working multiple jobs. I had little passion for what I was studying at university. The house I was living in had been a construction zone for three quarters of the time I inhabited it. Romantic relationships? No one would date a gay bartender.

Along the way I turned to pills, and crystal meth. And I was ashamed of everything about me. I wouldn’t even go home to visit family because I anticipated their negative judgments and couldn’t bear being on the receiving end. They saw me slowly spiralling down, when I couldn’t see it for myself. I was numb to everything.

One day, with all this anguish bottled up inside, I hit a breaking point and contacted my dealer for a PNP session. I went over to his place and he hooked me up with an unnecessary amount of meth in exchange for using my body at his disposal. I didn’t care about anything in that moment. I felt useless and alone and I needed to escape from the misery that had swallowed me.

I loaded up a few syringes and slammed them over the course of two days. No eating, no sleeping, just non-stop fucking until I’d had enough. I didn’t want to stop, but I knew I had completely overdone it. My dealer didn’t want to let me go home because I was clearly unfit to drive. I probably should have listened because I was tweaking out. I swore I could hear someone in the closet and I thought they both were going to tie me up and rape me. I had to leave immediately so I gathered bottles of water, along with my belongings, and left.

As I sat in my car ready to drive home, thoughts of death pervaded my mind. Every part of my body was expressing its disdain for continuing to live. Hysterically crying and hyperventilating, the pain had complete control of me. I couldn’t even drink water without spilling it all over myself.

“What have I done? I have no purpose. I fucked up. I’m a waste of space. End it now. I’m done.”

This is the first half of Tommy Vē’s I Saw the Sign – The Intervention. Look for the conclusion next week. * Names in this story have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.

Tommy Vē is a Buffalo-based pop singer/songwriter whose EP “My Lucid Nightmare” can be found on all major music streaming platforms today. Watch for his new single coming later this month and catch him on June 1st performing for Buffalo Pride Week’s EXIST an Allentown First Friday Artwalk experience.

My Lucid Nightmare – EP by Tommy Vē on Spotify

The post I Saw the Sign – The Intervention (Part 1 of 2) appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

THE GENTLEMAN PIG :: A Guide On How To Not Be A Douche

Dear GGN Reader,

In order to interview one of my heroes, LGBT icon Larry Kramer, over a decade ago, it took letters from New York City influencers advocating on my behalf, after my initial outreach, to get him to pay attention to my request and agree to it. (After he acquiesced and before we at last spoke, I was apprised of the kinds of things Kramer “didn’t cotton to,” a forewarning about not wasting his time.)

Kramer (because LGBT history is not everyone’s A+ subject,) was nominated for an Academy Award for his screenplay, Women In Love, in the late 1960’s. His 1978 novel, Faggots, about 1970’s gay promiscuity won him much derision from those he confronted. When AIDS began killing our forbearers, Kramer cofounded the Gay Men’s Health Crisis, now the world’s largest private AIDS service organization, and his political activism continued with the founding of ACT UP! He wrote the widely loved play, The Normal Heart, was a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize, and has won the OBIE –  twice.

And that’s just a Coles Notes bio.

I fairly held my breath when we first began to speak on the phone – I wanted to do a good job badly – and was therefore so pleased, ninety minutes later, when we said our good-byes, when the infamously ornery Kramer told me: ” Shaun: I genuinely enjoyed this.”

Far less pleased, after I hung up. In a moment that tested my humour, temper, and sanity, my laptop immediately died. A cosmic joke I still don’t find funny, the Kramer audio and my 90-words-a-minute note-taking were lost.  Forever; I spent time and money trying to recover them, with no luck. I didn’t have the nerve to ask for a re-do.

That Mac attack remains one of the biggest disappointments of my career.

Years later, I’ve been thinking of Larry Kramer a lot, especially since divorcing and enjoying single guy sex again for the first time in almost a decade.

Kramer is now 82. There are not a lot of gay men of that age who exist, because, of course, a horrific percentage of Kramer’s generation were wiped away by AIDS; the ones who dropped like flies. Mine, the one after, is therefore a generation of lost boys.

Because AIDS decimated those before us, guys like me have had shockingly few role models showing us, as gay men, how to grow up and grow older; how to be a great gay. 

I personally feel it’s incumbent on myself, and my gay male peers, to make sure we do the best job we can in showing those coming up behind us what being a gay man means. (As best we can, of course, given that we, the ones who escaped – though not unscathed – are still making our way through the dark shadow AIDS cast over us, and still does, as we age without much guidance. But that’s still no excuse not to guide and be uplifters for those around us.)

Larry Kramer once said: “I love being gay. I love gay people. I think we’re better than other people. I really do. I think we’re smarter and more talented and more aware and I do, I do, I totally do. And I think we’re more tuned into what’s happening, tuned into the moment, tuned into our emotions, and other people’s emotions, and we’re better friends. I really do think all those things.”

I love and agree with all of that. Except one part.

We aren’t better friends. At least not in the world of online sexual hooking up, an orbit I’ve spent time in since I found myself suddenly single. While I’ll let whatever romance life has in store happen organically, I like hunting for casual sex with the touch of a button (though that course-corrected once I concluded last summer – despite multiple police denials – that a serial killer was on the loose… but that’s another story.) 

You could argue that someone you hook up with isn’t a real friend. But if you can call someone you’ve never even met a “friend” on Facebook, surely we can call those we allow inside our homes and bodies “friends” of a sort.

It is wonderful to metaphorically roll in the mud and the muck with other guys who call themselves “pigs.” And those who don’t identify that way – but are.  Which is where I must disagree with Kramer. 

We might have once been better friends, but if what I’ve witnessed and experienced, we are failing each other horribly now.

How some treat others in this modern gay sex scene, actually brings to mind another Kramer-ism: “We are not crumbs. We must not accept crumbs.”

From ourselves, and from each other… yet we do. We, appallingly, shockingly, behave like mean girls, and we lie, and we steal, and so much more. (I even once had my jeans, wallet, phone and keys stolen at a trick’s. Another story too, but let’s just say it ain’t easy getting home without your pants!)

This is all beneath us. I think we’re better than other people. I really do. 

We, one of the most historically persecuted groups of people in the world, need to get our act together. Many of us, at the very least. Like many of you, I’m so upset by how it seems the police seemingly did not take better care of the LGBT community, as I watch the sickening Bruce McArthur case unfold.

But, if we want people on the outside to take care of us, shouldn’t we demand the same thing of ourselves and each other, here, on the inside, in the thick of it all? One way we can is whenever we do one of the things gay men do best: hook up and fuck.

And so it’s in this spirit that we present for your consideration: The Gentleman Pig: A Guide To Not Being A Douche.

Please let’s take better care of each other. 

Shaun Proulx,

Publisher- TheGayGuideNetwork.com

Pigs abound. But it takes self-awareness and self-actualization to straddle who you are sexually and bring forward the compassionate, kind, honourable, grown up side of yourself – one we all have access too if we choose – which I’ll call your gentleman side.

Rather than describe what a gentleman is, let’s look at what he’s not: A gentleman is not a douche.

Douches steal. Lube, poppers, cock-rings, jewellery, laptops, jeans (!), party favours, eye-cream, lip balm, smart phones, hard-drives, and shoes are not take-home gifts. (Neither are phone charging cords, so I started to use bright LED charging cables, which no one can “whoopsie” out the door, “thinking” they was theirs – even though they asked to use yours because they never brought any.(I got mine here.) Douches, stop taking people’s belongings. To you it might just be an item to nick you think your host or guest will just replace, but sentimental value is a real thing, feeling violated is, too, as is feeling through evidentiary experience like you cannot trust people. Grow up.

Douches come to your place under the auspices of sex, but really just want the roof over your head and free WiFi. I had to laugh when complaints arose about a downtown high-rise complex I live near: tenants were finding people sitting in the stairwells. One expert in the media suggested it was homeless people coming in from the winter’s cold. Perhaps, but I’d wager elsewhere: It’s guys sitting close enough to the apartments of the trick they just left to keep using their wi-fi.  Grow up.

Douches stay on their phones: Unless you were invited specifically to come by and sit on your phone and ignore me, on unless you said, “Hey, wanna come by and watch me type on my device?” put your phone away – guest or host. It’s the height of rudeness, it’s sometimes symptomatic of dopamine imbalance, and there is nothing hot about sitting next to someone who has gone down what I call the Rabbit Hole. Grow up.

Douches don’t know when to leave. “Get out. You’ve been here for 35 hours. I said my girl friend is coming by in ten minutes and I smell like you and me. So I need time to shower because I respect myself and my girlfriend … so why are you still telling me about your bitchy sister in Cornwall, like you were when we were shagging? Get out! This is awful!” Grow up.

This portion of our post is brought to by the word “punding.”

Douches bring nothing to the table. Or to the bedroom. They mooch. They need your shower; they need your towels; they need your toiletries; they need something to drink – usually something very specific like a fruit  juice with no pulp – your Imodium; your baby powder; they need a fresh tee shirt, they need a minute; they wonder if you have any favours; they could use a cigarette. Douches prefer one kind of lube over the other and they use it in vast amounts but they didn’t bring any – even though they know they need it – and: got a cock-ring? Or, even better: some Viagra? Douches rarely have money – or an orange or a newborn goat – in exchange any of this… which brings me back to favours. What makes you think the person you are with should gift you at least  $100 or more in free goods because you are standing there on your phone ignoring him? Get out. Go! Grow up.

Douches gossip. After performing intimate sexual acts together with another man or men, a douche turns into the Rona Barrett (or for you whippersnappers: Perez Hilton) of your local sex scene. Breaking all sacredness, trust, and the energy of the prior exchange, it’s important for the douche to point out your ad online and share with those he is now with that you’re into whatever you both got into. Of course, the douche is NOT into it. But you are. And now, everyone knows. Not that you should be ashamed. But he should. Douche. Grow up.

Douches are hypocrites. They say they only play safe, but they bareback, lie to themselves and their friends about it, and then condemn and criticize those who do exactly the same but without the self-loathing part, which self-loathing douches hate. And remember “Truvada Whore?” Don’t hear that term as much now that the cost-prohibitive drug is more easily accessible and hypocritical douches everywhere are on it, do we? PrEP is a miracle and we attacked first users? Grow up.

Douches are awful guests. If I invited you to my home for dinner, would you show up at the door with someone else who is a stranger to me and whom I didn’t invite? Would you sit there and say absolutely nothing to me, but eat all my food?  Would you completely ignore the other people at the table, because they aren’t your cup of tea? Would you be on your phone, inviting other guys over, unbeknownst to me? Would you complain you don’t like the music can we change it, ask for more more dessert, more dessert, more dessert, more dessert, even taking someone else’s dessert when you are trying to pass it to them and consuming it for yourself – even though you brought nothing with you as a simple rule of thumb right out of Guest 101?  Would you begin video tape us all eating, or cam us live without permission? Grow up.

Douches don’t say thank you. Have you been a guest at a guy’s home who basically ignores you once sex is done? Or perhaps you entertained, and then after,  watched your guest put his clothes on and leave, wordlessly? Call me old-fashioned, but I think if fluids were exchanged, a hug, a pat on the shoulder, a smile, a thank you, is appropriate. Some of my best friends are guys I met having sex. We’re taking 25 and 15, and 5 year friendships all because of manners  after the fun. This is what you deny yourself access to when you choose to be a douche. Grow up.

Douches employ computer courage. Oh the snark, rude, abrupt, pissy things we’ll type and then fire off when hidden behind the safety of a device. Unless you would be willing to look the person directly in the eye and say it to their face, don’t say it. Grow up.

Douches don’t answer online sex responses if they are uninterested, but grumble like Mama June in her early diet days if you don’t answer theirs. You get back what you put out and that’s just quantum physics and Universal law. Grow up.

Douches don’t know history. Or even present. A serial killer has killed at least five of our gay brothers, here in Toronto, here in Canada, here in North America, here on our planet,  as of this writing. For over thirty years a dis-ease took the lives of millions of our own and still does. We owe it to them, to ourselves, and to each other, to treat one another better than we do. If we don’t take care of ourselves and each other, we can’t expect others to honour us to such a high degree. Grow up.

Douches negate and discount: Especially when we are in each other’s presence and especially when we are in each other’s homes. Both are sacred spaces. Lying, stealing, diminishing,  – everything mentioned above – and I don’t care how high you are on what you’re high on – is wrong.

Douches don’t know their drugs: I know a lot, especially about crystal methamphetamine, having been the first journalist in North America to authentically share his experience with the drug, in 2004. Know your poisons. It doesn’t matter what the most popular recreational drug is, if it’s not for you, don’t do it. You know it’s not for you when you start thinking there’s a camera behind the art, someone in the closet, people in the hallway, others talking in another room, or that the police are coming, or shouting “TIM!” at apartment buildings. Those are also signs you need some sleep and something to eat, so heed them. You know a drug isn’t for you if you wake up hours later and don’t know who was inside you. I know lots of guys who love to go all night or all weekend – but who do so on whatever they choose, not what everyone else appears to be doing – and the end result is a lot of healthy respectful fun. That said, I am not telling you not to do drugs or to do them, to me it’s fine one way or the other. What isn’t fine though is not knowing yourself or respecting yourself. If you are walking down the street looking like you are furiously playing the piano, if no one understands a word you are saying, if you are sweating like that time I was  a virgin at the prison ball, it is time to pull back a moment and think about how you could manage you better.

A lot of guys I talk to blame the arrival of crystal meth on our scene (and her refusal to leave the party,) for douchery and while it may contribute, I know lots of gentlemen pigs who enjoy the letter T and don’t douche out all over you  – so the argument to me is blame game nonsense. (Drugs of all kinds have historically been part of the experience of some gay men and while the arch bitch in every gay man exists and we can be catty, I hope I’m being clean that I am talk talking about complete demoralization, disregard, lack of feeling or empathy that continues to grow and fester.) This is about men treating each other like they have not value. It’s about men being douches to each other.

Grow up. Even in the most casual or anonymous scene, you have a choice about going high or low.

Know this if you choose the latter: There is nothing enlightened about playing small. It doesn’t serve you, us, or the world.

In no way am I perfect. Approaching 50 years of age this summer, of course, there have been lots of times I was a douche. But primarily I am kind. Primarily I am respectful. All while being shockingly fun, according to at least 1001 reference.

I’m old enough now to have seen times when we gay men had each other’s back – as a rule. What I see now, sadly, are gay men lacking self-esteem and treating others from that low-level.

We are better than that. We have to be better than this. We have to help each other. Grow up. No one likes to be told to grow up. It likely got pretty annoying getting to this point of this post, with me saying grow up like I have. But grow up. Behave with a measure of honour, and be proud to be gay because it is a blessing, and be proud to be with guys naked and being gay with them, in each other’s homes, in each other’s bodies.

Take care of you, take care of him, take care of them.

It’s uncomplicated. So can we stop making it so?

Be a gentleman. Pig.

Shaun Proulx is the publisher of TheGayGuideNetwork.com. He hosts The Shaun Proulx Show on SiriusXM 167 where everyone from Oprah to Micahel Alig have ben guests. He leads a #ThoughtRevolution about busting through personal limits on ShaunProulx.com. He is a gentleman pig.

The post SEX :: The Gentleman Pig. A Guide On How To Not Be A Douche appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

New year, new face!

It’s be a minute since we last launched our current look (okay, over five years) and given that we don’t trust anyone who keeps the same hair style for more than two years in a row, who are we to not shake up our image here on your gay guide to the good life?

We’re excited about the compelling new layout coming your way and the added features you’ll only find here on GGN, Canada’s original digital magazine for the LGBT Community.

GGNewsletter Subscribers will get the first look-see (WHAT? You’re not a Subscriber? So how do you win fabulous giveaways we have, like cruises, tickets, once-in-a-lifetime adventures, etc? You can fix that here.)

Anyway, back under the digital knife we go. We can’t wait to emerge… flawless!

The post MAKEOVERS :: We’re Getting A New Face! Please Excuse Our Appearance! appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

This is the time of year when I say, “Out with the old and in with the new”. I say this because I am trying to live a life of purpose and meaning. The first thing I ask is not “why” or even “what” but “who” I need to change in order to live my life to its fullest potential.

The Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, calls this your “true self.” So many of us hide behind the false selves of achievement and status, because we are afraid for the world to truly see us for who we are.

Caring what people think of me has been a challenge for as long as I can remember. I was taught at a young age to care about how I appeared to others; it is ingrained in me. The other reason is because, let’s face it, like me, you care what people think… to a point. I care what people think of me during a job interview, at a party where I know no one, with my family, with my co-workers, and then there’s social media caring about all the likes and followers I get.

There is a gap between my true self and my false self; between my soul and my sole, and it’s up to me to fill it.  I feel this is true for all of us….we are all — hopefully — becoming truer versions of ourselves, those selves that step into the light and do not hide from who we really are, but to do this well, we need insight. We need a way to recognize our blind spots because as human beings, we are terrible at self-awareness. We need the voices of others to point out what we’re missing.

There came a point in my life where I really didn’t care what someone thought of me. This was great because it gave me the strength to end two connections I had. One, was with my ex-boyfriend and the other was with a long, lost friend of mine who became my roommate from hell.

The relationship with my ex was very toxic. I ended it in 2010, however, I kept a connection due to thinking I could maintain a healthy “friendship”  and because we shared custody of the dog, Dalton. By the time 2017 arrived, I started to pull back because I reached the point when I said to myself, “Enough is a enough”. With each passing month, I pulled further and further back until November which was when I decided to end the friendship (if you want to call it that) forever.

It wasn’t difficult to end my connection with him, but it was difficult because I had to give him custody of Dalton. We battled over him a lot because we had different views on training and care. My heart still breaks knowing I’ll never take Dalton on a walk again, have another sleep with him cuddled up by my side, or to have another playful moment with him. Moving forward, I know in my heart it was what I had to do. I had to step forward with my life because having a connection with my ex would mean having contact with him for as long as Dalton should live.

After living with my roommate for four months, I realized she didn’t serve me well due to her financial issues, alcoholism, lack of respect for my home, and her snoring!

2017 was a roller coaster ride for me. However, what it taught me was strength. It is a feeling I always have had but it grew to masterful proportions this past year right to the point where I felt empowered and I owned it.

New Year’s resolutions are society’s way of making us feel we have something to look forward to, something to share with those we don’t know at the holiday party. This year is different – don’t make a resolution. Make a promise with yourself that you will rid yourself of what, who, or isn’t working for you.

I promise you a weight will feel like it has been lifted. A door has been closed. A chapter has ended. Sure, it may cause a moment for reflection but what it will do is open you up to a whole new world of wonderful, and room for new people and experiences to enter your life.

Finding our “who” — that true self we were meant to be — begins with understanding who we are right now, good or bad, warts and all.

Fear sets us back. Don’t let fear be your guide. Allow your heart and intuition to lead you and believe in its strength, for it will give you the power to release what burdens you and open the path to what is waiting for you.

Cheers to 2018: no fear and gaining inner strength.

By Raquel Richards, publisher of Scenester magazine and the host of The Miss Raquel Show

The post 2018 :: No Fear, Much Strength appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

On the heels of being chosen as one of the recipients of the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health’s Transforming Lives Award in 2010, I really thought that things were beginning to go my way. My life in Toronto had sufficiently stabilized to the point of me being able to continue my studies at both George Brown College and Ryerson University, and I dug deeper to find common ground with family members and connected with friends and communities I had deep ties with.

I was on a roll and there was a plan to continue to build on these successes. Within months however, my mental state began to show signs of distress as circumstances led me to a time without a fixed address. Here is my story (names have been changed).

Housing is expensive in Toronto. Having moved from a small town to the Big City, I held a variety of jobs, from working as a professional musician to hustling as a telemarketer to working part time for a very reputable firm with benefits, but these proved not enough to be able to secure an apartment. I ended up in shared accommodation, an arrangement that was fine; it was clean, secure, convenient… and inexpensive.

I had been living with Trevor for about a year, platonically and peaceably, when I asked him if I could be listed on the lease to give me some degree of legal protection. He refused my request, and I, not wishing to cause ill-will, dropped the subject. After all, we had co-habitated for a year without as much as a grumble. What could possibly go wrong?

Trevor had been seeing Leonard for about four months when I received word that Leonard was to be moving in, and I needed to find a place in eight weeks. Sadness relented to anger in quick succession; I would have to hustle to find clean, safe, and comfortable lodging.

I can be quite resourceful at times of crisis, but when eight weeks until my exit date became four, desperate panic took over. In my case, credit and cash were in short supply, and my employment insurance was running out.

Housing, part of physical environment, is one of the social determinants of health that predicts how successful a person will be in navigating greater societal forces. Income, social status, social networks, education, coping skills – each play a vital role in ensuring one’s health, and more often than not, these factors were not playing in my favour. The circle of friends to which I belonged had moved on with their lives with partners, homes, and families, leaving me with a small group of people facing similar challenges.

So began another descent into what would become two years of hell, where having a network of people I could couchsurf with turned into occasional nights of sleeping outside when no one could help.

Most humbling of all was the experience of being under a bridge, rolling suitcase in one hand, duffel bag in the other. The most humiliating was to ask and be denied a ride on the Queen streetcar because it was raining and I had nowhere to go.

It would be dishonest to say that living rough was my lifestyle for two years. I did have (and still do have) a dear friend, Anna, who provided food, shelter, and money when I really needed it. But there were times when she was simply unavailable, and I had to find my own way.

It’s funny how the face of the city changes after dark; there is indeed an underworld where men and women trade whatever they have to survive the streets. Coffee shops become change rooms and (un)safe injection sites; bathhouses and sex shops provide a temporary shelter for those looking for a little bit of affection and company in an otherwise preoccupied world. Most important, though is to have a tacit commitment to keep moving, it is when you are at rest that you are most vulnerable to being robbed, harassed, or somehow targeted.

Homelessness and mental health are inexorably linked. Both are insidious, and the behaviours of one often, but not always, begets the other; substance use and addiction; legal and justice issues; access to support.

There is reason for hope, however. What got me through this very dark period was Anna’s encouragement and belief in me, even when I had given up on myself and when those closest to me chose to look the other way. Hope and success is possible with dogged determination and saint-like patience.

It’s been almost 18 months since I was at my lowest point, and while I am very occasionally haunted by some unpleasant memories, I remain grateful for this odyssey which has made my narrative that much more extraordinary. The line that separates those who have from those who haven’t isn’t necessarily measured monetarily. I revel in this wealth, and wish for others to live boldly so I can hear their stories and know of their unintended transformations.

By Dexter Roberts, GGN Contributor

The post SOCIETY :: Living Homeless appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

Pick an adjective: magnificent, grand, awe-inspiring, breath-taking, spectacular, unbelievable, majestic. That’s Alaska. Where words cannot express its beauty and photographs will never do this magical place justice.

Alaska is all about taking your surroundings in (spoiler alert) like in the movie, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, when Ben Stiller finds Sean Penn on top of the Himalayan Mountains. He’s been waiting there to capture the perfect photograph of a snow leopard. When it appears, Penn just stares at it outside of the camera lens and Stiller asks him when he’s going to take it, and Penn replies, “Sometimes I don’t. If I like a moment, I mean me, personally, I don’t like to have the distraction of the camera. I just want to stay in it”.

Sometimes we’re so busy trying to capture the moment in our camera that we forget to live in the moment. Your eyes can’t help but weep in awe of being in the presence of sheer beauty, impossible to hold back as you take in this once in a lifetime experience. To see this with your eyes instead of through a lens, which we are all guilty of doing. Trying to capture these moments to last us a lifetime instead of letting it etch into our souls in gratitude of being able to experience this moment.  Even of no one ever sees it, no one ever understands what we saw, it is the only one that matters. We saw it. That is the moment we remember, THAT is the one that lasts forever.

Summer time in Alaska is just about anyone’s dream, getting about 18 hours of daylight but the catch is in winter, when it’s reversed. There’s something about Alaska that allows you to let go and not stress and sweat the small stuff. One morning I couldn’t connect to WiFi to check my e-mails and I couldn’t find where the steward put my room service book (I didn’t want to eat at the buffet as I was feeling sea sick and resorted to eating green apples and crackers, and stayed away from alcohol which seemed to help). I was so frustrated at these stupid, mundane little things that I just went on my balcony to cool down and happened to look at the ocean to see a dolphin jump out! I gasped from the unexpectedness of it. Then two more popped up and swam in tandem. Suddenly, the WiFi and my queasy stomach didn’t matter anymore – I was staring at something beautiful, something nature delivered that not a lot of people get to experience.

In that moment, gratitude and joy melted away all the unnecessary crap I was focusing on. This is the gift that Alaska gave me. This is the gift that I will forever be grateful for and one that will bring a shine to my eyes whenever someone asks me about it. The gratitude also ties into not only my first cruise ever, but my first experience with Olivia Travel (read about my experiences with this travel company here).

Juneau

The Holland America Oosterdam embarked from sunny and warm Seattle, and I began my adventure at sea. We were on board for almost two days before we approached in Alaska’s capital of Juneau.

In the late 19^th century, a mining engineer by the name of George Pilz, offered a reward to anyone who could lead him to gold. His first chief’s attempt was unsuccessful but his second, which included Richard Harris and Joe Juneau, struck gold! That discovery not only changed the course of history but that of Alaska as well. On October 4, 1880, Harris and Juneau laid claim to the land which they named Gold Creek, and in 1881, gold miners voted to rename it Juneau.

The state capitol is nestled between Mount Juneau and Mount Roberts and filled with glaciers and mountains as far as the eye can see; the wildlife is endless – keep your eyes open for bald Eagles, mountain goats, beavers, and black bears (oh my!).

The only way into Juneau is by plane or boat, and Juneau’s only fast food restaurant is McDonalds which was built in 1982, sold 17,000 hamburgers on opening day, and then closed for three days until more supplies could be brought in.

Mendenhall Glacier, bordered between Mount McGinnis and Bullard Mountain, is Alaska’s most popular glacier that has been retreating since 1929. This breath-taking glacier is around Mendenhall Lake from Nugget Falls and its cascading waterfalls, discovered in 1974.

Red Dog Saloon, founded in the mid-20^th century with real sawdust on the floor. You’ll feel like you’re sitting in an old country and western bar, where you can order the Duck Fart (Bailey’s, Kahlua, and Crown Royal poured over a Mendocino cherry).

Other great landmarks and excursions in Juneau include a ride up Mount Roberts Tramway to get a scenic view of the area, the Juneau-Douglas City Museum, take a helicopter to the top of the glacier, and even go dog-sledding when you get to the top!

Hubbard Glacier: The amazing, rare blue ice of Hubbard Glacier is formed from the compression of pure snow which then develops into glacial ice. The magnitude of this magnificent beauty is awe-inspiring at 1,350 square miles. It rumbles with thunder when ice breaks off of the glacier (called “calving”) and splashes heavily into the cold Alaskan waters.

Sitka

Sitka, the original capital of Alaska, has a 14-mile-long highway and the McDonald’s is located directly across from the Emergency Room. Sitka is a quaint city, with more wildlife than you can shake a stick at.

This year marks a special anniversary for Sitka. As Canada celebrates our 150^th, Sitka celebrates the 150^th anniversary of the transfer of Alaska from Russia to the United States. This anniversary year is also a time that Sitka celebrates the rich Native culture, in place long before the Russians arrived, which is still alive and well as part of the community.

Sea Otter and Wildlife Quest has been an award-winning cruise for several years and I can understand why. Sea otters frolic in the water and swim on their backs, paired together holding hands. A bald eagle* sits atop a tree guarding its nest, strong and powerful. Sea lions, harbor lions, otters, bald eagles, and with a little luck, a family of humpback whales will show up and say hello.

Humpback whales jump out of the air by pumping their tails.  During the cruise, an enormous whale pumped its tail three times and in all its glory, made an extraordinary leap into the air and then crashed back into the water. I was awe-struck; this was something that my eyes could never un-see.

A hundred yards from the boat, the whale pod approached and I looked directly into the mouth of a humpback as it opened his giant muscle for air.  The whales dove back into the water, backs arched, then waved their tails to us, leaving us with jaw-dropping memories.

*Fact: Eagles are monogamous and mate for life, and return year-after-year to the same nest.

Other major visitor sites in Sitka include Castle Hill with stunning views of Sitka, St. Michael’s Cathedral, Sitka National Historical Park and Fortress of the Bear.

Ketchikan

Ketchikan was established in 1887 when a salmon cannery was built at the mouth of Ketchikan Creek. Today, fisherman and loggers still contribute to the cafes and bars surrounding the waterfront. Ketchikan is filled with wildlife and has the largest national rainforest in the United States, the Tongass National Forest, gateway to Misty Fjords National Monument, a spectacular wilderness area sculpted by glaciers.

While you’re there, be sure to take a stroll through Creek St Historic District, which once housed Alaska’s most notorious red-light district from 1902-1954; catch the Great Alaskan Lumberjack Show, find a local shop to purchase genuine stones crafted by authentic Alaskan jewellers, or grab some fresh fish tacos and Alaskan beers by the harbor. My best advice: just walk around and admire this beautiful city.

Victoria, BC

A special treat was being back on home soil when Canada celebrated its 150^th Birthday this past July, and the elegant and vibrant city of Victoria was just the place to do it! The celebrations were incredible with a free concert in front of the Parliament building and fireworks ending the special evening; The Fairmont Empress Hotel (famous for its traditional high tea) stood tall and overlooked the harbor that was covered in Canadian flags. It was good to be home.

This unique B.C. port offers visitors lots to explore including Chinatown (home to Canada’s smallest road, ‘Fan Tan Alley’), painter Emily Carr’s House, and the stunning Butchart Gardens that houses over 700 varieties of flowers, illuminated with thousands of lights at night!

Words can barely express why this unbelievable state should be at the top of your bucket list; photos and videos don’t do the incredible voyage justice but here is a video showing just the tip of this incredible iceberg.

~Sabrina Pirillo is the Editor of S.Travel

The post S. TRAVEL :: Majestic Alaska appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

Coming on board for this Majestic Alaska cruise was beyond extraordinary. The views were stunning, magnificent, incredible, and utterly breath-taking. The mountains disappear into the clouds, snow covered peaks disintegrate into mountain and forest. The tour of Alaska’s Inside Passage, the three cities of Juneau, Sitka, and Ketchikan, is amazing, and Alaskans generally are laid-back and appreciate the beauty that surrounds them.

Your first cruise can be very overwhelming. So many activities and parts of the ship to explore, mandatory safety meetings, and wondering if you should leave breadcrumbs to figure out how to get back to your room.

Not only was this my first cruise, it was my first cruise with Oliva Travel, the lesbian travel company who will be celebrating their 45th Anniversary next year! Their tagline is We bring women together… on vacation!

Whether you want to enjoy the relaxed vibe of an all-inclusive resort, sail the seven seas on a cruise with hundreds of lesbians, or immerse yourself in the culture of a new destination, Olivia has a vacation that’s sure to fit your style. The Olivia Experience is about women having fun together, making friends – and maybe even finding that special someone. With our world-class, just-for-you, entertainment; fabulous singles activities; incredible touring excursions; or even a touching commitment ceremony, you can be sure you’ll have a vacation experience you’ll never forget.

And that’s exactly what they delivered.

Being the straight girl on board, I was asked several times if I felt uncomfortable being on a cruise with almost 2000 lesbians. No, I couldn’t care less. I’m not used to being around that much female energy but I was excited! As a travel writer, Alaska has been on my bucket list for as far back as I could remember, so when the opportunity came up to explore this incredible place (that you forget is the 49^th state of the United States), it didn’t matter who I was sharing a cruise ship with.

I’ve been involved in the LGBT community for a decade now and this was one trip I wasn’t going to miss out on. Yes, I was hit on a few times, I was flattered (who wouldn’t be?), but not once did I feel uncomfortable or unwelcome. I met some incredible ladies that I still keep in touch with.

I engaged in everything from intellectual, meaningful, and even LOL conversations (most of those came with Happy Hour), and had a hoot at the evening shows right up to the White Party dance party. I met some of the most amazing, strong, beautiful women on the cruise who were on the ship so they could be themselves and share this experience with the love of their life, or to look for that special connection. I listened to their stories, their triumphs, to their heartbreaks, and losses of loved ones. I watched them smile and support each other and love and exude strength and humility, and even after finding out I was straight (we had some affectionate fun at my expense, but I always felt accepted). Humility and love and kindness are a universal language.

Helpful Cruise Points

Seeing as though it was my first cruise, I was lucky enough to have my dear friend, Richard Ryder, who has cruised before, give me some helpful tips:

• A good time to explore the ship is while most people are off doing excursions;
• Pay attention to the carpet in the elevators, they will remind you what day it is – two days in, you’ll have no clue what day, time or time zone you’re in;
• Attend the jewelry sale on board where you’ll not only get beautiful pieces at great prices, but pay no tax;
• Hang your clothes up to save space;
• Use a hair clip to keep the curtains closed in your room;
• Beverage packages are important;
• Bring an empty water bottle so you can refill it all week-long without a cost.

Pay attention to key events with on-board perks – e.g. attending a jewelry sale where they offer complimentary sparkling wine or attend a mixology martini sampling for $4. Find out when Happy Hour is where you can purchase your second drink for only $2. If you aren’t buying a beverage package but enjoy a glass of wine (or two) with dinner, purchase a bottle instead of individual glasses.

Food

Hello, diet, exercise? We’re going to have to break up for about a week. It’s not you it’s me, but I think we need a break.

Eating eventually becomes glutinous, well beyond survival purposes. I blame the endless and delicious options from the buffet: giant bowls of salad and pasta; meats, sandwiches, tacos, and burgers; and main dinner delights of fresh fish, venison, escargot, and German schnitzel!

Cruising Life

Every morning the captain greeted us with “Good morning Ladies of Olivia!” The very helpful and accommodating women and volunteers of Olivia spent the week ensuring we are taken care of, along with the folks of Holland America’s Oosterdam (Holland America (HA) originates in Amsterdam, and the ships are named after streets of that city, so Oosterdam means east dam).

There are so many activities planned that there’s something for everyone. People can do as few or as many as they like: play bingo in the morning, take dance lessons in the afternoon, watch a movie in the theatre, play some Wet & Wacky pool games, attend a workshop, meet your fellow passengers at a mixer, and the list (that they leave in your mailbox every evening) goes on!

Coming on board on your own? Well, they’ve created a SOLO schedule specifically for ladies who may come on board single, but not necessarily docking with the same status. Olivia created meet-and-greets, special SOLO breakfasts, activities, and even an area for dining.

A new addition on board was the Literary Adventures at Sea, which featured programming by Sapphire Books Publishing and Curve Magazine; tea and poetry readings by literary legends Dorothy Allison, Jennifer Fulton, Karin Kallmaker, and Lee Lynch. Erika Feinman was the recipient of Olivia’s 2017 Scholartrip program, designed by Olivia to inspire, motivate, and empower the next generation of LBGTQ leaders.

The extraordinary women entertainers featured the likes of comedians Karen Williams and Suzanne Westenhoefer, SUEDE, the smooth singer and one-time opener for Joan Rivers, and the talented Broadway veteran, Natalie Toro. Plus, we danced the nights away with sly DJ’s Wildfire and Lisa Pittman, whose music really saw the ladies let loose – and let me tell you these ladies know how to bust a move!

Choose to Cruise with Olivia

Alaskan cruises happen every other year so make sure to book your spot in 2019. In the mean time, NEXT YEAR IS Olivia’s 45^th Anniversary and you can celebrate with their Caribbean trip happening April 2-9, 2018, plus choose from so many other trips including Mystical Norwegian Fjords, 45^th Anniversary Hard Rock Vallarta and New LGBT Club Med Sandpiper.

The best part about Olivia is that you can set up a more comfortable payment plan for your trip, so you don’t have to pay in one lump sum.  This is a personal travel company that works with you to bring memories of a lifetime on your schedule. And if you book while on board, the savings are greater!

The reason that Ladies of Olivia Travel together is because though they could spend money on a resort to holiday with families and silent strangers, with Olivia, they know who they’re travelling with. Ladies of Olivia can be themselves, enjoy time with family and old and new friends, and know that their money is well spent.

I heard about why these ladies were here, some veterans who have been travelling with Olivia for over 20 years, and some newbies soon to become veterans. It’s like being part of a family, an extended family, who you travel and make memories with. Olivia is its own community and takes the travel industry to a whole new level.

Gratitude

There was so much love and support aboard the Oosterdam.  My fantastic shipmates exuded the definition of be who you are and have, in a way, rubbed off on me to allow myself to accept who I am; my beauty both inside and out. We’re all so hard on ourselves sometimes but these extraordinary, strong, beautiful women are who they are and accept not only the women around them, but themselves. I think sometimes in life we struggle with that. Trying to fit in and hide our true identity for fear of being teased or bullied.

The gratitude from this trip not only comes from the beauty of Alaska that my eyes witnessed, but what my heart got to experience both on and off the ship.  Thank you ladies of Olivia, for giving me the gift of appreciating myself just a little bit more than I did before I left the shore.

By Sabrina Pirillo, editor of S. Travel

The post Majestic Alaska :: Straight Girl, Lesbian Cruising appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

SPIRITUALITY :: When somebody intentionally acts in a negative way to hurt someone – through cheating, stealing, lying, slandering…you name it – the hurt person typically re-acts either by lashing instantly, or letting it go. Many who “let it go” do so because they believe karma will work its magic.

How many times have you heard, or, said: “Karma is a bitch” – the subtext being that  karma is a mean girl who will get back at whoever put the mean out first?

Karma is the Sanskrit word for action. Think of karma as the spiritual equivalent of Newton’s Law of Motion. “For every action there is an equal but opposite reaction.” Karma suggests that when we exhibit a negative force of thought, word, or action, the same negative energy will come back to us.

However, karma is not meant to be a punishment. It is here to educate people. How else is someone going to learn how to be a good person if they are never taught that harmful action is wrong. A person only suffers if they have created the conditions for suffering.

These are the basic rules of Karma, that can make life easier

CAUSE & EFFECT

To receive happiness, peace, love, and friendship, one must BE happy, peaceful, loving, and a true friend.

Whatever one puts out into the Universe will come back to them.

CREATION

Life requires our participation to happen. It does not happen by itself.

We are one with the Universe, both inside and out.

Whatever surrounds us gives us clues to our inner state, surround yourself with what you want to have in your life and be yourself.

HUMILITY

One must accept something in order to change it.

If all one sees is an enemy or a negative character trait, then they are not and cannot be focused on a higher level of existence. 

GROWTH

“Wherever you go, there you are.”

It is we who must change and not the people, places or things around us if we want to grow spiritually.

All we are given is ourselves. That is the only thing we have control over.

When we change who and what we are within our hearts, our lives follow suit and change too.

RESPONSIBILITY

If there is something wrong in one’s life, there is something wrong in them.

We mirror what surrounds us, and what surrounds us mirrors us; this is a Universal Truth.

One must take responsibility for what is in one’s life.

CONNECTION

The smallest or seemingly least important of things must be done because everything in the Universe is connected.

Each step leads to the next step, and so forth and so on.

Someone must do the initial work to get a job done.

Neither the first step nor the last are of greater significance. They are both needed to accomplish the task.

Past, Present, and Future are all connected.

FOCUS

One cannot think of two things at the same time.

If our focus is on Spiritual Values, it is not possible for us to have lower thoughts like greed or anger.

CONSISTENCY

If one believes something to be true, then sometime in their life they will be called upon to demonstrate that truth.

Here is where one puts what they CLAIM to have learned into PRACTICE.

PRESENT

One cannot be in the here and now if they are looking backward to examine what was or forward to worry about the future.

Old thoughts, old patterns of behavior, and old dreams prevent us from having new ones.

CHANGE

History repeats itself until we learn the lessons that we need to change our path.

PATIENCE

All Rewards require initial toil.

Rewards of lasting value require patient and persistent toil.

True joy comes from doing what one is supposed to be doing, and knowing that the reward will come in its own time.

REWARD

One gets back from something whatever they put into it.

The true value of something is a direct result of the energy and intent that is put into it.

Every personal contribution is also a contribution to the Whole.

Lesser contributions have no impact on the Whole, nor do they work to diminish it.

Loving contributions bring life to and inspire the Whole.

Easier to say than to consciously practice each one of this rules, or as I call them, suggestions, but working on each one a little bit every day, will make life easier for your own self and the ones around you.

-Polo Izquierdo is a dreamer who videotapes life in an effort to understand it. Find him on Twitter * Facebook * Vimeo

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EMPOWERMENT :: In 2001 I was working late one night at my community college as a disabilities rep for my local student union, when I heard a knock on the office door. I was a psychology major at the time.

The knock on the door was a security check, made by Ray, a male security guard I was on friendly terms with. Most evenings started with a security check, a drop in for a visit, or a chat. Ray would then carry on checking the rest of the campus.

This night felt different, a little eerie. Ray didn’t seem himself, and I was feeling tired from a really long day of studying for mid-terms, and working on a project for my student constituents.  I just wanted to get home. That didn’t happen.

I noticed a bottle in his bag. We both knew about the rules about alcohol on campus; I asked where he was going with the bottle. He said it was a confiscation but I could smell he’d been drinking.

Now I remember feeling a little scared but at the time my extreme tiredness overwhelmed that.

In the back of the office was a mattress. I went to lie down. Ray said he’d come back to check on me, and he locked the door behind him as he left.

I dozed off – for the whole night. I woke up to sheer horror. I was stripped down to nothing, the mattress was soaked with alcohol, water and semen. I was in pain, and Ray was nowhere to be found. I got myself together as best I could and ran to the emergency blue phones. I called 9-1-1, and within minutes, the police were everywhere, looking for Ray. 

They couldn’t find him right away, so they took me down to the nearby hospital. I checked in, filled out a police report as best I could, got a rape kit done, and was tested for every STD possible then sent home.

I spent the next few days in solitude, trying to figure out why something like this could happen to me, from someone I trusted, someone that I actually liked as a person, and how he could do something so violent, hurtful  and cruel.

I learned six weeks after the rape that I was HIV-positive. With two kids, ages 6 and 11, I was now an HIV-positive mom. 

In 2003 I received my psychology degree. In the time leading up to that accomplishment, I decided that if this was the hand I was dealt, I had to make the rest of my life as good as I knew how. I learned from this traumatic experience that it is up to me to own my life, to live deliberately.

The improvements I made to honour myself remain part of my life now. I eat as healthy as possible. I get myself out every day for a walk. I make time to pursue my passion for photography, performance, and theatre. Self care is important to me because if I won’t treat myself well, no one else will do that for me. Every day when I wake up and am still here, my heart beating, it is the beginning of a new day where I won’t let anything get in the way of good living.

When life becomes challenging I refuse to give up on myself, and I believe angels (I have a lot hanging out in this city) all help me get me through this journey called life.

Ray was booked, charged and ended up losing his job. I was given an opportunity to re-think the kind of life I wanted to have and to make it so.

–  Annabelle Harris is a pseudonym.

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FU*K THAT :: When I saw a post by GGN publisher Shaun Proulx on his #ThoughtRevolution Facebook page which read, “Unfu*ck Yourself. Be who you were before all that stuff happened that dimmed your fu*king shine,” it struck me:

I have been fu*king myself.

Around that same time, I read the words of a CEO who claims 95% of all things that happen in your life are because of you, your reactions and how you choose to handle them. The other 5% is from outside forces, which you simply have no control over.

I recently completed a contract as a marketing coordinator that I thought would be the best gig in town; everyone thought I was big time.

During this contract I experienced a corporate culture that was not the world I wanted to experience; I have before. Although I knew it wasn’t for me, I told myself I couldn’t pass up an awesome opportunity that held much prestige and made others envious.

I have never experienced so much pressure, stress, frustration and anger – which ultimately led to my anxiety disorder erupting at a high level, a severe warning sign for me.

But the contributing factors were of the 5% I could not control variety: egos; seasoned employees with cushy positions and little care for anything else; government and union politics; unrealistic expectations; and how terrible the Spadina-University subway operates during rush hour.

When I saw the “Unfu*k Yourself” post I realized I fu*ked myself up during this experience because I have a passion and a deep sense of care for what I do in my life professionally and personally, and so fought elements that were out of my control.

Since then I decided to own my crap. I am now moving forward because the experience taught me to let go. I mean I really let go of all I cannot control; the things that were fu*king me up.

I have unfu*ked myself. I now always want to be the person I know I am before all that stuff happened that dimmed my fu*king shine.

What about you?

– Be sure to LIKE Miss Raquel on Facebook. Follow Miss Raquel on Twitter (This is where the dirt is dished!)

Become a member of GGN’s growing community today! All are welcome to enjoy the good life!

Join thousands who receive the country’s most-read LGBT newsletter straight to their inbox

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MENTAL ILLNESS :: I have been diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder a.k.a. GAD, chronic anxiety and most recently depression.

Depression? Me? I thought only those who couldn’t get out of bed and slept all day had depression.

Apparently not.

I have met with numerous counsellors, attended group therapy sessions, and have long talks with my GP. Through these sessions and my willingness to understand, accept, and work with my mental illness, I have gotten better over the past year. I was prescribed daily anxiety meds, but I didn’t take the prescribed dosage because I didn’t like how it made me feel when I first started taking them. Plus, I am not down with taking a drug for the rest of my life when I know I have the power within me to face my illness and deal with it without western medicine.

Have you ever taken anti-anxiety or antidepressant? The first three months are hell. If you have ever taken ecstasy a.k.a. “E” then you may be able to relate to how I felt. It was like I was “peaking” (intensely high) for three months! WTF? And I was dizzy and sometimes couldn’t walk in a straight line. Let me tell you that looked great when I was at work, teetering here, swaying to and fro. Who the hell wants that? If I want my serotonin levels to rise I will go for jog, do a yoga class, take my puppy out for a walk. All these actions will increase my serotonin levels and make me feel better. Even talking to someone who will take the time to listen will help.

I am still not fully comfortable letting the world know I have a mental illness due to the stigma, but here I am writing this. Many people who do not understand mental illness are simply ignorant or chose to ignore it and /or not educate themselves on it. According to the Canadian Mental Health Association, mood and anxiety disorders impact an estimated 22% of the Canadian population. And this number will rise.

I have missed work due to my mental illness which of course causes me more anxiety but I simply have no choice. I can’t show up at work shaking, crying, breathing heavy and feeling embarrassed and ashamed someone will notice. I have to shut down my day. I cancel my plans and concentrate on me by doing something good for myself such as going for a walk, watching happy movies or TV, cooking, or taking a nap to reboot. According to the Mental Health Commission of Canada on any given week, more than 500,000 Canadians will not go to work because of mental illness.

Listen below to Miss Raquel Richards talk about this post on The Shaun Proulx Show

Over the past year I have started to pay attention to what my triggers are and have practiced working with them, avoiding them, or eliminating them completely. For example, I discovered I need to work in a social environment where there is open conversation, sharing of ideas, and freedom of expression. If I am not in this type of environment I instantly feel my anxiety rise and my depression starts to cover up my happy soul.

Due to this being a serious trigger I have eliminated this type of work setting. Don’t get me wrong I know there is no perfect working environment but I do know a stale, corporate cubicle environment, non-creative work place with a lack of communication both professionally and socially is no place for my cheerful self.

I don’t call my friends when I am in need of help because I don’t want to bother them. I feel embarrassed to call them; to have them experience this side of me. My mother, although she cares in her way, isn’t capable of helping me. Although I feel she is trying and I have to say is getting better at it, so I will still call her when I really need help. The one person who has always been there for me is my ex-boyfriend. He has been my anxiety rock since I was diagnosed with it about nine years ago. Sadly, he’s not always around when I need him, so I have to go it alone and this is frightening. But it’s also good for me to learn to cope and get through my attacks or bad days.

According to the Canadian Medical Association only 49% of Canadians said they would socialize with a friend who has a serious mental illness. With that stat it’s no wonder I don’t tell many people about my illness.

To help me work with my mental illness I have taken control and taken care of myself. I got a puppy, which is great because I have to care for him and he’s now part of my daily schedule. About three years ago I discovered hot yoga and this helps me more than anything! I trade at a yoga studio and I find solace in volunteering my time. I put in four hours a week cleaning the studio in exchange for unlimited yoga. Funny, how cleaning toilets and showers in a calm, serene environment really keeps me at peace.

I recently took over a co-worker’s gym membership at a monthly rate I could not pass up. I felt it was the universe; the law of attraction working for me. Exercise wakes up that happy chemical, serotonin.

I schedule a task to do every day such as running an errand, job hunting, and working out, etc… And you know what? It helps! I feel I am accomplishing something, being productive, and when I am busy I have no time to over think even the tiniest of tiny issues because I am too busy to worry about issues that are of no real concern in a healthy mental state.

I am strong, motivated, driven, and a high achiever. Many who have these characteristics have anxiety issues or depression because it’s the intense pressure we put on ourselves to achieve and to be the best. It’s a lot of work I tell you, and so tiring! If my upbringing had love and encouragement rather than the hostile abuse I received, I believe, through my therapy sessions, I wouldn’t have a mental illness. Mental illness doesn’t just happen; it stems from a deep seated emotional trauma – or could be hereditary.

According to the Canadian Institute of Health Research 1 in 5 Canadians will experience a form of mental illness at some point in their life. I never thought I’d be one of them, but I am and I have to accept it and deal with it in order to live a productive life. I believe I will eventually get along with my mental illness, or better yet get over it because I am practicing every day to make my life better.

The struggle is hard but I am wrapping my head around it. I know I will be in good health because I am a survivor and I have come this far and I am still standing.

– Be sure to LIKE Miss Raquel on Facebook. Follow Miss Raquel on Twitter (This is where the dirt is dished!)

The post SELF CARE :: I Have a Mental Illness appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

THE POWER OF OPTIMISM :: One year ago I was in the emergency room sitting quietly beside death. It was hard to tell who was who as the only real difference was he carrying a scythe and I was clutching a mask. We were both cloaked in black, bald, creepy and no one wanted to be near us.

When he invited me to join him on short trip towards the light – I politely leaned in and said, “Sorry I don’t date men – move along.”

It obviously worked, as here I am – yet back in the doctor’s office – this time not fighting for my life as much as fighting a common cold – which, after having been ravaged by cancer treatments for a year or so, is more like fighting the plague. Who knew these colours existed?

But, surprisingly I am thrilled to have a cold. It seems so normal and I would trade the smell of vapour rub over dose dense chemo any and every day of the week.

But I would not trade in the lessons I learned from having had – and maybe still having – cancer. It may be the best worst thing that has ever happened to me, my relationships, and my outlook on life.

It did however take time and effort to find the light in this very dark time. The glow began when I decided to to do a 30-day gratitude challenge on Twitter. My goal was to just take one negative though daily and turn into something positive.

“All my hair fell out. Yay. No more hair care products means more money to buy wine!”

Day by day I started finding more and more of my experiences hilarious. Ironic. Inspiring. I actually started looking forward to turning my negative thoughts around. It was fun. And I love having fun.

RELATED :: The Funny Side of Cancer

I have always been blessed with the gift of humour. I see it in everyone and everything. So eventually I was able to find my cancer funny and the cancer experience in general funny. Last December 23rd, when I was first in the clinic and last out, the nurses and I made a chemo bag tree with a tongue depressor star on top and I wheeled it around singing loudly and badly for all to hear:

“Star of wonder star of fright – star of royal cancer fight – westward bleeding still tube feeding guide me to the nearest Sprite!” (PS: it is always ginger ale – and no matter how many times I ask for the ale without ginger I never get it.)

I really wanted to organize a flash sob – paediatrics first – then the geriatrics – but none of us could agree on a song, and each time we did the lead dancer always seemed to die. Thank goodness I cannot dance…

And thank goodness for optimism. It helps. I cannot always be positive but I can always try. And if I cannot I will ask for help. If I start crying my partner reassures me for a moment, then tells me to get a grip, then Googles childish vegetable jokes.

The carrot blushed because it saw the salad dressing.

I am thankful for her. I am thankful for so many people who have come in and out of my life these past months. As the light around me continues to grow more and more people are standing in it. What an amazing feeling. I find it very hard to let people love me. I find it very hard to let go of people who do not love me, and even harder to watch people I have come to love depart. But I am always grateful for the conversations shared, the laughter and the tears.

Listen below as Kelly Dear discusses this post on The Shaun Proulx Show:

 
I am also grateful for the little things. Warm running water to rinse the sweat off my brow. Ice cubes to stuff in my shirt when I have a hot flash. Soft toilet paper. I hope you NEVER need to know the joy of that.

But I do hope you come to find the joy and the light in yourself and in all the challenges and experiences you face this coming year. Take a minute to look in the rear view mirror, happiness is closer than you think.

Happy new year.

– Kelly Dear is an award-winning (former) educator, lecturer and comedian who is now focused on being an inner child desperately seeking her outer adult. Read the rest of her story at DearKellyDear.com and follow her on Twitter.

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In recent years, Toronto has made huge strides in catching up with our cultured art loving neighbours to the East: Montreal.  You may have suspected as much what with Luminato and Nuit Blanche getting lots of press every year, but there’s so much more out there than that.  And with the help of The Ritz-Carlton‘s resident artist, Jacqueline Poirier, you too can enjoy art in the Tdot.

Here are some of Jacqueline’s suggestions:

–  Look up the independent galleries popping up around your neighbourhood and visit the Art Gallery of Ontario

– Our back alley’s are a veritable art gallery in their own right.  Enjoying them is free, and the selfies you’ll take will be the envy of all your friends!

– Fashion bible, Vogue, has dubbed West Queen West one of the coolest neighbourhoods in the world!  Take a look and find out why.

– Art, culture and entertainment are thriving in the historic Distillery district.  The Victorian buildings provide the perfect backdrop to Toronto’s booming artistic expression.

For everything you need to know on Toronto’s art scene CLICK HERE and start exploring today!

After a day of feeding your creative minds, why not stop in to the Spa My Blend by Clarins at The Ritz-Carlton Toronto to take care of your weary body?

Shaun Proulx Media recently enjoyed the Floating On A Cloud experience where we were pampered in our own private suite, including our favourite relaxation tool – a huge tub!

Our feet were scrubbed and rubbed in all the right ways using essential oils of rosemary, rosewood and mint mixed with sugar and salt.  Then we enjoyed deep full body massages.  We loved the customized oil blends, the professional, experienced and attentive staff who listened to our needs and of course the bubbly!

Cheers, we can’t wait to go back for more!

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FLOWERS GIVE OF THEMSELVES – FOR THE JOY OF IT :: When I first began to photograph flowers I had this idea of seeing past the pretty surface to reveal something I had never seen before, or even thought about.  I wanted to discover the essence and the energy, something truthful.  I think seeing past the surface of things is the very least expected of my job description, if I have the cheek to call myself an artist.

So off I went to the north St Lawrence Market, in Toronto where I am based, and where every Saturday morning from Easter until Thanksgiving the Taylor family brings in from their flower farm the most astonishing peonies, lilacs, dahlias… Heaven!  Old-fashioned, farmhouse blooms, that you can imagine being  arranged in a cut-glass vase, then placed on the sideboard in your great-grandmother’s dining-room, where the tick of the grandfather clock is the only sound.

These authentic, un-engineered blooms led me to the decision that I would embrace their often startling imperfections – a bunch of snapdragons with “dowager’s hump” comes to mind – and not even shy away from showing them as they wilt.  This summer I took the concept further by foraging for weeds and other scrappy specimens that grow in the vacant lots, sidewalk cracks and ungroomed parks of the inner city.

I looked at what I had formerly ignored or discounted, I looked at dandelions and goldenrod and clover and vetch, and I began to wonder why I had ever bothered to purchase flowers.  There seemed to be beauty in the most unlikely places.

Five things flowers can teach us:

1.  Flowers give of themselves totally, for the joy of it.

How often I give while secretly expecting something back.  A flower opens to the sun, looks you straight in the eye, and says, “Here you go, buddy. Purple petals!”  I want to learn to be more like that.  In fact, I want to learn to believe more sincerely that what I give is valuable.

2.  Be still.  

Flowers have the soothing gift of being right where they are.  They don’t race around on a mission; they aren’t engaged in secret, frantic agendas.  They just stay there, and we go to them, and willingly.  If I can risk sounding silly, they are content with where they are.  And when the air is still on a warm summer night, they are buddhas:  Motionless, inward, yet light at heart.  Nothing to change, nothing to do.

3.  Appreciate the rain.

“What a horrible day,” said the woman in the elevator.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did something happen?”, I replied.

My remark was a bit tongue-in-cheek; I had already guessed she judged the day horrible because it was raining.  I’m not talking here about life’s major setbacks; I’m just saying… rain is soft and refreshing, it makes the colours shine, and the clouds mauve-black, and you get to wear cool rubber boots from Canadian Tire for splashing in the puddles.  Have fun in the rain!

4.  There are cycles.  

There are days, weeks, even,  when – just between you and me – my petals are little brown around the edges.  This past year had its challenges, yet already the cycle has turned and I’m popping out a few bright green little shoots.  OK, so I’ve pushed the metaphor a bit far, but I hope I can remember when future difficulties cycle round that there is a time for everything, good can follow bad, and 99% of what I worried about never happened.

5.  Flowers are vulnerable and delicate; they are tenacious and strong.  

I want to remember the weeds that pushed through pavement;  the lilac blooms that fell with a breath after a few brief hours.  I want to see the strong tenacious strength of women and the vulnerable delicacy of men.

Can beauty truly be found anywhere?  Only you can tell.  Look, closely.

– David Roddis is a fine-art photographer based in Toronto, Canada.  As Florian Photo/Art, he creates large-scale, photo-based floral artwork that aims to astound. 

FB:  facebook.com/davidroddisflowers

Twitter:  twitter.com/droddisflowers

Image: “Sherbourne – North of Carlton” – June 2015 by David Roddis. Used with permission.

The post THE POWER OF FLOWERS :: 5 Things Flowers Teach Us appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.

MY MILKSHAKES :: Gynecomastia, enlarged male mammaries, also known as” man boobs” or “moobs”, can be a tricky condition both physically and psychologically. If you “carrying extra baggage on the top floor”, as Seinfeld’s Kramer would say, read on.

This condition is complex and its origins are difficult to pin down; man boobs – moobs – happen for many different reasons and different stages of a male’s life.

TIME attributes the condition to aging and also to hormones in adolescent boys, stating, “Nearly half of all men will experience it at some point in their lives, and not necessarily at the end. In fact, it’s most common during adolescence; 65% of boys have it at the age of 13 or 14.”

There are three stages in a male’s life when man boobs or moobs can develop: infancy, when breast tissue is stimulated by high levels of estradiol and progesterone produced by the mother during pregnancy; in puberty, where hormones are completely out of whack as estrogen levels increase and jockey for position with testosterone; and as men’s testosterone levels decline and body fat increases as he ages, men over 60 experience increased estrogen which may be a factor in developing gynecomastia.

Endotext, a resource for endocrinology (hormone) professionals, explains that a “significant percentage of gynecomastia is caused by medications or exogenous chemicals that result in increased estrogen effect.” This includes some psychoactive drugs (e.g. Diazepam), cardiac and anti-hypertensive medications, drugs for infectious diseases (e.g.  Indinavir, for HIV/AIDS antiretroviral therapy), and illicit drugs like heroin.

No matter what the cause, enlarged mammaries can be psychologically difficult for men and boys to deal with. For some, man boobs can be nothing short of mortifying. I just tried searching “man boobs emotional/social support”, and I get pages of “how to get rid of man boobs” instead of how to reconcile them.
Am I surprised? Not at all. Am I saddened by the lack of support for boobed men? Absolutely.

MAN BOOB / MOOB SOLUTIONS

Plastic surgery is a drastic option for minimizing man boobs / moobs. The procedure removes tissue, scars, and causes pain. It should be the last resort.

According to Muscle & Fitness, part of the moob solution is in diet – easing up on estrogen-producing foods like wheat and grains and instead consuming foods high in monounsaturated fats like avocados, nuts, and olive oil to produce testosterone.  Zinc supplements are also recommended. Talk to a dietitian or a doctor about it.

I asked lifelong athlete and certified personal trainer, Patrick Marano, for exercises men can do to banish the moobs. Patrick suggests three main exercises that focus on building the pectorals, and recommends starting your training with lower weights and higher repetitions, increasing the weight as you get stronger:

1. Bench press: Lie on your back on a weight bench and a lift bar bell up and down slowly. As you move into heavier weights, always have someone “spot” you so there are no accidents!

2. Pectoral fly: Or the “Pec Deck” as Patrick calls it. The act of squeezing the pectorals helps strengthen them. This exercise is done on a weight machine.

3. Classic push up: Be sure you’re in proper form with a straight line from your head through your back to your heels, hands under shoulders. Patrick says to do “as many as you can”  and repeat for 3 – 5 sets. Lower slowly and push up slowly. If this is too challenging, push up from your knees instead of your feet.

DRESSING THE MOOB

Obesity is also a major factor in gynecomastia, but not all heavy men have man boobs. A couple of differently shaped clients of mine have man boobs: one is heavy, rotund, and very confident, and the other is medium-sized, active, and very aware of his moobs (that are smaller in real life than they are in his head).

My job as an image consultant is to help my guys feel and look good in their clothes, so instead of resorting to the outright lie of compression garments to flatten your chest, try these dressing tips:

• Avoid clingy fabrics that outline and accentuate your bumps and lumps;
• Avoid heavy cotton sweaters – these tend to “fold” around man boobs when you’re sitting;
• Wear patterned shirts that move the eye around,  but avoid horizontal stripes if you’re a larger man;
• Jackets, cardigans, and vests do well to cover your chest excess;
• Wear clothes that are your correct size – wearing too-big shirts to hide behind won’t do you any favours;
• Wear a well-fit sleeveless undershirt alone in hot weather or under your shirt to smooth you out and hold you in (yes, men with boobs could use some support too without resorting to “The Bro” or the “Man-sseir”).

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZJ8Jxt9qrM&w=420&h=315[/youtube]

– Are you a superstar disguised as an ordinary Joe? Leah Morrigan can help.

The post LEAH MORRIGAN :: Got Moobs? The Skinny On Man Boobs appeared first on TheGayGuideNetwork.com.