THEGAYUK

Category: Column

  • COLUMN | Why putting a pronoun in your signature isn’t always a good thing

    COLUMN | Why putting a pronoun in your signature isn’t always a good thing

    Should putting your pronoun in emails, zoom calls and texts become standard practice? It can be a brilliant way to show allyship, but it can be deeply scarring for those who are still figuring it out.

    I’m going back to school. Yep, I decided that I’m about to change the direction of my life and I’m retraining to become a therapist. It’s been a long time in the making. I used to volunteer for a well-known helpline and I’m always being told that I’m a good listener – heck, interviewing hundreds of people for this publication has really help hone my skills as a listener and good and inquisitive questioner.

    But as I readied myself for the classroom, albeit online for the first semester, I was forced to confront an issue that i wasn’t quite ready to confront.

    I‘ve spoken briefly before about my own gender identity and the trouble I’ve have it, and whilst I do identify as gay, I’m not entirely sure I identify as a man and whatever that means in today’s society. I’ve written before about how it just doesn’t feel right when someone refers to me that way, but weirdly I don’t mind the he/him/his pronouns, but wouldn’t necessarily attach them to myself. I’m definitely not a they, them their, perhaps more of a Ze/Zim/Zir. I just don’t know and that’s the issue.

    This week I received a message from the institute where I’m about to start my course telling all students that pronouns would now be a requirement on Zoom calls. I know that the policy was written without malice and was a well intended piece of inclusiveness, but there’s a couple of reasons why pronoun usage should be encouraged rather than required.

    I don’t mind admitting I’m already having anxiety pangs about starting a new course, but the idea of having to write a pronoun next to my name, felt like a chasm, that I’m just not ready or don’t know how to bridge just yet.

    I know there will be people who will roll their eyes and say, “get a grip man,” but honestly aren’t we striving for a future where we’re all accepted and included, no matter how we identify or don’t?

    I remember a conversation at that well-known helpline where a similar debate raged. Should we include our pronouns on emails and to callers. At the time, I didn’t really take that much notice, except being aware of a dark stirring of being uncomfortable about having to disclose something I haven’t come to terms with myself. A number of issues were raised by some in that meeting about pronouns, mainly that 1) if forced, or required that everyone disclose their identity it might force someone who hasn’t or isn’t quite ready to admit or confirm their identity to come out about it before they are ready. The second point was that if someone is forced to choose a pronoun before they are ready, the identity that they actually share maybe a lie – in order to fit in or because they fear judgement from others. Sitting with that lie next to their name would feel awful and deeply damaging.

    The more I thought about it the more I started to tailspin about the first day and about how uncomfortable it might be – not just for me, but someone else who’s really not ready to have the conversation about their identity, especially in front of a group of new people – and over a Zoom call.

    So should we use our pronouns wherever and whenever?

    Should putting our pronouns in emails, zoom calls and texts become standard practice?
    Gender is a spectrum and it’s not always easy to find the right words to describe it. Photo by Laker on Pexels.com

    I would say this. If you’re comfortable doing it, then do it, particularly if you fear that you might be misgendered. It’s really important that you do let people know how you want to be referred to as.

    But if there’s no fear that you will be misgendered, give a moment’s thought about why you’re doing it. It’s an awesome thing to do if your intension is to be an ally, but if it’s anything else, just stick with your name. When enforcing pronouns becomes a blanket policy – a requirement, it stops being a allyship move – and can actually cause more harm than good.

    Encourage pronoun usage, but don’t force it.

    Back in 2019, there was a backlash about pronoun usage being forced in the public sector, which turned out to be a hoax, none-the-less it did stoke tension against the trans and non binary community.

    It could also lead employers open to legal issues. Speaking to THEGAYUK back in 2019, Helen Hughes, legal director and employment law specialist at the law firm, Shakespeare Martineau spoke about the legal ramifications on employers asking their employees to state their gender publicly. Hughes told us,

    “Although this may be introduced with the best intentions – to address individuals with respect and courtesy in the way that they wish to be referred to – employers must be wary about requesting information from employees that could impact the way they are treated. Although they can’t force you to disclose this kind of information, you should feel comfortable sharing preferred pronouns if you feel it important to do so.

    “Forcing employees to reveal their pronoun preferences could leave employers open to discrimination claims, and employees feeling alienated.”

    Helen hughes

    Luckily after speaking to the institute they reversed the policy and added that people were encouraged to share their pronouns.

  • Do you know what Grindr does with your data?

    Do you know what Grindr does with your data?

    Today is international data protection day, a day to highlight the importance of Data Protection and the right to privacy. But please don’t let that put you off reading further, I appreciate that when you say the words ‘Data Protection’ most people’s eye’s glaze over. And in many ways that’s deserving, it does have a bad rep, but also it’s far more important than that.

    Let me ask you a question, are you a user of the app Grindr? If not, then this is just a fascinating article for you. If so, you really do need to be aware of what Grindr has been up to with your data.

    When you use these apps, you expect them to take care of the data given that a wide range of people from our community use such apps. Yes for hook-ups, but also for contact and even just reaching out for those in remote communities or those unable to be ‘out’ where they live/work/other.

    The knowledge of where a gay/bi/trans/non-binary user is and indeed their data around their personal pictures is something that, if misused, can be used to huge detrimental effect.

    Grindr has had a troubled history with its Data Protection and Cyber Security protections. In 2020 a flaw in its security was highlighted to it by a ‘hacker’ and highlighted concerns over some back Cyber Security principles and standards with the online app. As an early user of Grindr, I remember the various bugs, crashes, data quality flaws that the app has faced over the years. This recent flaw highlighted some concerns in basic account security settings for an App that should now be ‘more mature’ in its approach to protecting customer data.     

    Earlier in 2018, Grindr made headlines as it was revealed that Grindr was owned by a Chinese firm linked (like most Chinese firms seem to be) to the Chinese Government. A regime, claimed by many Countries, to be engaged every minute of every day in cyber warfare. In 2020 the concerns became so much that the Chinese firm announced it was selling its shares in Grindr to a US-based company.

    An app that contains location, names, photos, sexuality and HIV status details of millions of users around the globe has had a chequered past of inappropriate data sharing and storage.   

    This was highlighted again this week after it was announced that the Data Protection Regulator in Norway was intending to fine Grindr NOK100,000,000 (or around €10M or ~$12.1M). If the fine goes ahead, this will be one of the more serious fines under Data Protection (almost 10% of Grindr’s annual turnover last year) that we have seen since the introduction of the GDPR.

    The Danish regulator investigated Grindr after a complaint was raised around Grindr’s sharing of personal data, specifically what it tells users and how it’s ‘take it or leave it’ consent is unlawful under Data Protection law.

    The investigation found that Grindr was sharing users personal data with third parties for marketing purposes (including location, profile data and the fact the person has an account on Grindr (itself a revealing characteristic)). Grindr states that it informs you, the user, of this and you consent to it. When it has been found that they don’t, as what they do provide you is unclear and misleading in the way it is written.

    It’s worth noting that Grindr isn’t the only one to engage in such practices. Several investigations over a range of dating and fertility apps around the globe have revealed some creepy behaviour from the majority of them. Grindr, it would seem, given the context of the platform, is just the most recent to be called out for its poor data sharing practices.

    Why you should care about your data

    So why is this an issue? Why should you, a ‘motivated’ user, for one thing, care about your Data Protection? The key is choice. Under Data Protection you can choose to use a service and not be subjected to marketing or irrelevant data sharing. You pay or want to use an app to do X or Y or Z. Not to then have your messages, images, profile data and even the fact you are on the app shared with other parties without your knowledge, or indeed consent.

    For the vulnerable in our community, Grindr (or other such apps) can be a lifeline to allow them to express themselves and reach others. This practice can only ever be creepy unless you are happy with it and are happy to have your details shared. Knowledge and choice. Such laws are there to go give you, the individual, the power to know, understand and chose what you want to happen and not to be forced into doing it because you have no real choice.

    As members of the LGBT community, we know in our history what the power of data can do. It can build and connect; it can also destroy and damage. While I’m not advocating dumping Grindr as this is a chance for them to improve their practices, I encourage you to see Data Protection as more than just a dull legalistic thing. It is every day in everything. Even if you chose to give away your data, which is your right and freedom, at least make an informed choice.

    P.S. You might also want to take a look at WhatsApp and Facebook. They wrote the book on being creepy and it’s only getting worse.

  • THE UNDATEABLE GAY | The man I thought I would marry; Part Two

    To read part one click here

    Two dates down with Rick and we still hadn’t shared anything more intimate than a handhold. This was definitely some kind of record for me. It’s been a rare occurrence for me to get past the first date without a bit of How’s your father.

    But with Rick. De nada. Not even a kiss. Some friends thought this was a bad sign. Others believed it was romantic. I started to panic. I needed to know if that spark was there when our lips locked. As Cher categorically states, “It’s in his kiss.”

    On our third date, which was only FOUR days after our second, (YES, we were certainly having a whirlwind romance), I decided a kiss had to happen. We had so much chemistry emotionally, I needed to be certain it was there physically too.

    I booked us tickets to see a one woman show in a theatre in the West End. And the one woman was none other than Amanda Muggleton. YES, Amanda Muggleton.

    I’m anticipating the perplexed looks of most readers, scratching their heads. Who the fuck is Amanda Muggleton? Well, let me tell you. She is one of my favourite actresses from the 1980’s cult classic, Prisoner: Cell Block H.

    We sat in the theatre, watching the amazing performance. (I know, I’m biased). And we were holding hands. What had this boy done to me? When it comes to friends, I have no problems expressing my emotions and feelings. But, until Rick, I’d never been very tactile when it came to men. Apart from the odd bunk up.

    As we left the theatre, we decided to grab a bite to eat. We found a beautiful little Thai place that served the most delicious Thai Green Curry. The best I’d ever got my mouth round. Rick was very cultured when it came to eating out and he was very well travelled.

    We walked back towards the tube, the moonlight glistening down on the pavement and I decided now was the time. I had a duty to Cher to find out if it’s really in his kiss. Without warning, I pounced like a lion on its prey.

    Words will NEVER do justice to THAT kiss. But if it had been a Hollywood movie, fireworks would have been exploding above our heads and topless dancers would have been doing backflips and cartwheels down Trafalgar Square.

    I had him pinned up against the wall, sheer passion erupting from my lips, like a scene out of trashy super soap FOOTBALLERS WIVES.

    He finally managed to escape my grip, and my lips, and looked me straight in the eye.

    “Alright Tanya Turner”, he managed to say, as the blood came rushing back to his gums, tongue and lips. “I feel like Conrad when Tanya fucked him on the washing machine.”

    That was the best compliment any man had ever given me. Besides Joan Collins, Zoe Lucker as Tanya Turner is my IDOL. And I really could have taken Rick on a full spin cycle. But I felt Trafalgar Square wasn’t the appropriate place for our first fornication. 

    It was time for our fourth date and we were back in Windsor, where it had all begun, just two weeks prior. After a romantic dinner date under the arches, we went for a moonlit stroll along the river. Although we didn’t make it as far as the Thames. 

    As we went to walk past a pub, three very drunken ladies stumbled out in front of us. Rick’s face dropped, faster than a whore’s drawers. Confused, I looked at Rick. And then at the ladies. And then back at Rick. Rick broke the silence.

    “MUM! AUNTY JOY! NAN!”

    I saw the horror on Rick’s face. I don’t think he had intended me to meet his family just yet. And not under these circumstances.

    “Dis… a very handsome boy you have here Rick”, I heard a woman slur as she grabbed my cheeks. I assumed it was his Nan. Unless his mum had had a hard life.

    Another of the inebriated women elbowed Rick and whispered. Well, it wasn’t actually a whisper, but I think they intended it to be.

    “You’ve done well for yourself here Rick!”

    I felt myself grow a bit taller and a slight blush pop up on my face. Although Rick was mortified and he quickly said his goodbyes to his drunken relations and abruptly dragged me off towards the river.

    Our fifth date arrived and I made the decision to do something I hadn’t done with a man since my first boyfriend way back in 2003. I invited him to meet my friends. I planned a dinner party at my house.

    We had a homemade curry and he went down a storm with my pals. Chatting, playing games and laughing. I looked at Rick interacting with my friends, and I just knew I would marry this man. How wrong could I be…

    That week, he was due to go to Canada for a month to visit a friend. As I said goodbye at the departure gates at Heathrow, I did my best Tanya Turner impression and kissed him passionately up against a terminal five wall. 

    Little did I know that that was to be our last kiss.

    The weeks went by and he was due back from Canada. Excited, I planned a romantic, home cooked, welcome back meal to mark his return. I had fillet steak, potato dauphinoise and as much as I hate the stuff, copious bottles of white zinfandel.

    But he never turned up. And I never heard from him again…

  • REMEMBERING THE AIDS CRISIS: Memories of 1980’s UK

    REMEMBERING THE AIDS CRISIS: Memories of 1980’s UK

    I remember only too well when AIDS first impacted on my world and came into the public eye.

    In 1981 I was 19 and there was talk in the gay clubs and pubs where I lived of a disease originating in monkeys that was killing Americans. I remember there was a lone American visiting for professional reasons and he was considered as guilty by association, just because of his accent. I look back with shame now on how people were afraid to approach him and how the treatment he received was similar to that in the dark ages a leper might have expected, minus the bell to ring and the calling out of the phrase “unclean”.

    Over the next couple of years, probably longer, as it took time for information and knowledge to disseminate. The names of those who had contracted the condition made it appeared to be an illness that blighted the pretty boys and those who had the biggest cocks.

    Of course, that is not true. It’s just where I lived there was a small gay circle and once infected those who were sexually promiscuous and practised unsafe sex were the first to be hit and through them as HIV spread rapidly.

    There was too little information and it was too late, that was part of the problem. The other problem was a NIMBY (Not In My Back Yard) mentality. People thought it wouldn’t happen where they lived or to them as it was affecting other parts of the globe. In the 1980s the world was getting smaller and people travelled for work, holiday and to play in the gay hot-spots.

    For me, it was the indiscriminate nature of the illness. There were personal losses of people I knew.

    In the media, the death of Rock Hudson seemed to have an impact. In the USA I recall a movement quilting and marking the lives of the victims they knew in this way. There were powerful images of the time where over vast areas these quilts were laid out with loved ones present.

    There was a TV program about a man called Terry Madeley. In interviews in 1987, he was the first in the UK to speak openly about his fight with AIDS. A year later a program about his fight for death with dignity was aired on 1st December 1988 World AIDS day. It was titled Remember Terry and 29 years ago today, I still do. He had died in the previous October and I recall an image broadcast at the funeral in a crematorium of a hand through the curtain wearing a diamante glove waving goodbye. He appeared to have such strength of character and good humour for those snippets to stay with me.

    To be in 2017 when there is a more positive outlook  – I can’t help pausing to consider and remember all of those who do not have the opportunity to share today.

    This article was first published in 2017 and has been updated with links.

  • THE UNDATEABLE GAY | The man I thought I would marry; Part One

    THE UNDATEABLE GAY | The man I thought I would marry; Part One

    I’m taking you back to 2016…

    I was lashed on my faux leather sofa, knocking back a much-needed glass of Savvy B. I can’t remember why it was much needed. It probably wasn’t. But when it comes to Savvy B, who needs a reason?

    I looked down at my phone to see a notification ping up. A Grindr notification. Looking at the half-drunk bottle of New Zealand plonk, I decided whoever it was had better be prepared to travel. I was over the limit. 

    “Hi. Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got really pretty eyes?”

    Flattery. Will. Get. You. Everywhere. 

    And thank fuck it wasn’t the usual opening line of, “can u accom?”

    It soon became apparent that Rick, that was his name, by the way, wasn’t looking for your typical Grindr one-night-stand. He was making decent conversation. It was the first time in my gay life that I could have let my Nan cast her eyes on one of my Grindr chats.

    Before we said goodnight on that first evening of conversing, he asked me if I wanted to go for a date the next day. Of course, I said YES. We agreed to meet in Windsor at 12:30 for lunch. An afternoon date. How sophisticated. 

    I made the decision to drive. I came to the conclusion that if I had my car, it would stop me from getting too pissed. As this is a constant error I seem to have made on dates over the years. No one likes a lush.

    Well… little did I know that Rick was, in fact, a lush himself. And the date would end up with me leaving my car in Windsor, resulting in a hefty parking charge when I went to retrieve my car the next day. But I won’t dwell on that and ruin the romance of this tale.

    We started off in Browns, having the most delicious lunch. And my word, what an absolutely charming chap Rick was. I’ve just read that line back. It sounds like I’m writing an 18th century novel. But I’m not even joking, he was a thoroughly decent chap.

    As for looks, he certainly wasn’t the most handsome grape in the bunch. But there was just something about him that I was immediately drawn to. He certainly wasn’t the usual type of guy I would go for, but for once, I decided I should opt for personality. Besides, going for looks hadn’t done me any favours in the past. 

    We laughed. The conversation flowed. And so did the Savvy B. Well, for me anyway. He was knocking back a well-known brand White Zinfandel. How anyone drinks that godforsaken wine, I will never know. I swear it could give you diabetes. 

    After a very boozy lunch, we decided to walk along to a pub opposite Windsor Castle. I say walk, it was more of a stumble. And then he performed the most romantic gesture.

    A Browns, A Church, A Parking Ticket .. and a lot of wine.

    Before I reveal this grand gesture, I must tell you all of a very geeky hobby of mine, of which I indulged in telling Rick over lunch. I absolutely adore visiting churches and cathedrals. 

    And as we stumbled to the watering hole, Rick spotted an open church and grabbed my hand, insisting we go in and have a look, knowing how fond I am of them. I could have cried at that moment. I don’t think I’d ever met a man who had performed such a thoughtful act.

    After our impromptu visit to one of God’s houses, we continued on our quest to find our next glass of plonk. Once inside, we found a quaint corner table on their upstairs, outdoors balcony, overlooking Windsor Castle. We moved in closer to each other, clearly apparent we found each other insatiably attractive. 

    I found myself holding his hand. An act I’ve never been fond of in public, but it just felt right with Rick. And we couldn’t take our eyes off of each other’s gaze. Straight into the old pork pies, we both looked intently.

    Time went nowhere and before we knew it, it was 6:30. We’d been together six hours. Realising how intoxicated we were, we decided it was sensible to get the train home. Going opposite directions, we left each other on our respective platforms and blew a kiss across the tracks.

    No physical, on the lips kiss. And no talk of a quick bunk up. Unheard of for me. I knew it must be serious. 

    As my train pulled away from the platform, my phone bleeped. I looked at a text message. Rick.

    “That was the best date. EVER.”

    As my friends will proclaim, I’m not one for being soppy. But my eyes actually pricked with tears. Tears of happiness. 

    Within three days, we were on our second date. This time we opted for a Sunday lunch at a pub in Virginia Water. A place I childishly refer to as VAGINA waters. For those of you not local, this is a beautiful lake, on the outskirts of London, that you can walk around. 

    After a beautiful roast beef dinner with all the trimmings, filled with laugher, sparks and endless conversation, we went for a romantic walk around the lake. Holding hands. STOP PRESS. What had Rick done to me?

    I looked out at the lake, took a deep breath and stared Rick straight in the eyes.

    “I think I might marry this man.”

    Obviously, I said that in my head. And not out loud.

  • COMMENT | You can’t fix stupid; but we can hold ourselves accountable for our actions!

    COMMENT | You can’t fix stupid; but we can hold ourselves accountable for our actions!

    Well hello there! It’s nice to see you again. I must start this column with an apology. I’ve been in a bit of a strange rut over the last few weeks and I’ve not really wanted to write as much as I have been doing over the last few months. I guess I’ve had a bit of writer’s block. I’ve had ideas of what I want to write, but every time I’ve sat down to do it, I’ve come to a bit of standstill. I must do better – urgh, that sounds like a school report from when I was younger; “Al is well-liked and a big personality in the classroom, but when it comes to academics – he must do better”, and you know what, they were right. I must do better. I’ve always got some cock and bull scheme on the back burner or in the back of mind, and I always say I’m going to do something, and it never happens. It’s become a bit of a running joke with me. I need to do something to hold myself accountable for my actions and what I say.

    I had big dreams for 2020. Like many others, I had some many plans for this year and like most, they’re not turning out the way I planned. Admittedly, there have been some outside influences that have caused this. I had plans to move to Manchester in May 2020, and well, Miss Rona had other plans. But as we see light at the end of the tunnel, I guess its now time to start re-evaluating what I want from life and whether it still is what I want from my life. It is. I spent a few days over there in September and had the best time catching up with old friends, making new friends and discovering just how much of an incredible city it is.

    “Why Manchester?”; you may ask – why not? There is something really special about it for me. It reminds me a lot of London. A multi-cultural, inclusive and accepting hub of excitement. There is always something going on and always something new to explore. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Leeds is great, but after a while of living life there, it became monotonous. It’s the same bars, with the same people in the same order as last Saturday night. It’s predictable. We know that we’re going to start in Queens Court, and we all know that we’re going up doing slut-drops in the Viaduct Showbar. It’s not just about the drinking and the scene for me; I just think I’ve got a better chance of reinventing myself over there. I don’t have the emotional baggage that I do in somewhere like Leeds or London.

    Maybe I’ve been watching too many episodes of the Real Housewives of Cheshire whilst being in lockdown? OK. I just want to be best friends with Dawn Ward and Seema Malhotra. A gay can dream, right? I may joke about it, but actually; some of these Reality TV Stars can be great role models, because they prove that if you work hard, then you can have it all. You can achieve your goals. Having it all doesn’t mean having to sacrifice something else to get it. I don’t necessarily want to be a Housewife of Cheshire, although I would make a great one. I want to have an identity and a legacy.

    I want to go back to accountability. How do we keep ourselves accountable? Everyone is accountable in our jobs. I’m accountable for the words that I write, and the opinions that I voice in these columns. Ultimately, I think accountability is much more than just admitting to ourselves when we’ve made a mistake. That’s quite a narrow-minded perception of it, I think. True accountability is owning everything that happens in your life. it means that you are responsible for your attitude, actions, relationships and communications. It also means that you inevitably hold other people to account for their actions. 

    This doesn’t always work in your favour, as I’ve come to realise. You can’t hold other people accountable for their actions if they don’t want to. Sometimes, it’s not always a two-way street, and I’m now at the age where I want to be more selective who I want to associate with. If you can’t hold yourself accountable for your actions, then I’m not going to waste myself holding you to account.

    If you don’t understand what true accountability is, then we risk missing the point altogether and shaming each other for our actions. Whether that’s a choice of who we date, sleep with or choose to associate with. How we look? How we present ourselves to the outside world. As a community, we are far too quick to pass judgement on other people. When we think we are holding other people to account, what we are sometimes doing is shaming them. If we’re holding ourselves to account, then we shouldn’t have time to try and do that to other people. People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.

    “Take five minutes of your day today to think about what you want to achieve, how you are going to achieve it and how are we going to measure that success“

    We can’t change the world on our own, and quite simply, some people don’t want to be helped. So – let’s just take a step back and focus on ourselves. Take five minutes of your day today to think about what you want to achieve, how you are going to achieve it and how are we going to measure that success.

    I’ve three things that I want to do in the next few months. I want to lose some more weight, I’ve lost 5 stone since Christmas already, but I want to lose a little bit more. I know I’m never going to have the perfect body or a six-pack, but I want to feel more confident in my own body. I want to flirt with a handsome guy in a bar, and him not to take pity on me for being a bigger size and flirt back. I need to give up the cigarettes. It’s the one thing I’ve been saying I want to do for years, but I’ve been very successful with it. I know that If I do then it’s going to help with the weight loss, and the third objective – the big move to Manchester. If I don’t escape Leeds then I think I might go insane. I yearn for independence again and being in charge of my own life.

    These things are what I’m using to hold myself accountable because these are three of the main things that only I can do. I can’t make someone else quit smoking for me, although that would be pretty nice actually! I’ve started posting more pictures of my Instagram account to show my journey. It reminds me then how much I’ve changed the way I look over the last twelve months. I won’t be postings thirst traps anytime soon though boys. I mean, yes, 2020 has been shit for everybody, but that’s no reason for us to put our personal development on hold. We’ve all got to develop and grow, so let’s do it more positively.

    Having it all isn’t easy, but anything is possible if you are prepared to work for it.

    Now; where did I put those emergency cigs?

  • Now you make an Audi Quattro out of Lego and we’re all in

    Now you make an Audi Quattro out of Lego and we’re all in

    Audi’s legendary Quattro model is 40 years old this year. Just let that sink in for a bit because I am sure that if you are as old as I am and now on the wrong side of 45, you will remember the various adverts narrated by Geoffrey Palmer and have vivid memories of various Audi models in snow-covered roads doing the impossible.

    THEGAYUK was invited to take part in the Audi Quattro Lego challenge. An opportunity for motoring journalists to really show how quick their motoring sections fingers were at building the Lego Speedline Quattro kit. The fastest build won the Audi UR from Audi’s heritage fleet for a week. A prize worth winning.

    THEGAYUK or more importantly, I, did not do so well. I didn’t even make it into the top 10. I almost made it there with a 36 minutes but then I’d noticed I’d fitted the doors wrongly, hadn’t applied the window decal and more annoyingly I’d failed to make the rear spoiler properly. 

    The rear spoiler being my Achilles heel and almost resulting in the Audi having a kitchen sink drama with it being thrown across the dining room towards the sink. Building Lego against the clock is stressful and I’ve done CPR!

    Once I’d corrected my errors our time failed to make it into the top 10 leader board but that was OK because what I had here was a fine Lego car to play with instead and it is a fine piece of kit from Lego. The most pleasurable piece of this build was none of it was designed specifically for the Audi. It’s all parts available from Lego and found in various Lego kits. Unlike some of their bigger models that use pre-moulded parts for a car like the Fiat 500, this was simply Lego and more enjoyable for it. More so because put together, the Lego Audi Quattro made a for a fine example.

    (C) STUART M BIRD

    The build starts with the construction of the chassis and builds up quickly from there. Attention to detail is quite fun with the gear lever and handbrake handle items added inside. Outside there are the usual attributes associated with Group B rally cars with bulges and wings. 

    Lego does a range of cars for almost every motoring enthusiast. Their kits are well worth looking at.

  • COMMENT | Reinvention – It’s not just for Madonna, we all have the power to change ourselves

    They say that Madonna is the queen of reinvention. She’s been a dance-floor cowgirl, an ABBA-inspired disco diva, an erotic sex kitten, a rebel heart, and most recently, Madame X.

    In a career spanning four decades, one thing that Madonna has never been uninspiring. She is the queen of reinvention, so if Madonna can do it, then why can’t I?

    Sometimes you’ve got to make some changes; because as Real Housewife of O.C., Heather “Pretentious-Pants” Dubrow says; “If everybody around you is telling your dead, it’s probably time to lie down”.

    I’ve been frank about the problems that I’ve had with my confidence and body image over the last ten years, and as the sun goes down on another glorious weekend in God’s own country, I’ve decided that I’ve got the make the changes I need, to get to where I want to be in my life. There is always going to be times in your life when you’re going to want, or need, to reinvent yourself. People go through significant changes in their lives. Be it moving on from an old relationship, moving to a new house, losing a loved one or moving jobs.

    I’m moving on from an old relationship – myself.

    When something terrible happens in your life, you’ve got three choices. You can let it define you, let it destroy you or you can let it strengthen you. As far as I’m concerned, reinvention is all about making changes to your life to make you happy – you’re not doing it for anybody else. If you are, then maybe you should take a second to wonder why.

    I know why I want to change. I’ve got a stage in my life where I want more for myself. I want to be more assertive and have more confidence. I want to be able to walk into a room and own it because for so long I’ve been the booby prize that nobody wants. To reinvent yourself, you need to have an idea of who you want to be. You can get inspiration from anyone, be it a friend or family member who you look up to. Cast members of the Real Housewives inspire me. I want to have the assertive, quick tongue of Bethenny Frankel, and be able to call out the bullshit like Lisa Rinna. Have the confidence of the Gina Liano. These are qualities that I want to have, and while they may not be the role-models people have in mind, the traits that make them influential individuals.

    I need to make changes in my life. The first thing I’m going to do is pack in the cigarettes. They are one of my significant fixes in my life. Every time I get stressed or need to escape from something for a few minutes, I reach for the fags. They are my crux. The number of times throughout the week I say; “right, this is my last packet”, then twenty minutes later, I’m down the local off licence asking for twenty John Player Special. I’ve tried all sorts to quit. I’ve been attempting the vape, the patches, and the gum and they don’t seem to be doing the trick. I’ve decided I’m going to try some hypnotherapy and see if that helps me. I’m always open to trying new things; maybe this will be the thing that finally helps.

    I’m making a more conscious effort to eat healthier, and I’m going to start working out harder in the gym to get some more weight off. I’ve always had an unhealthy relationship with food, and again, that’s something that I need to take a real hard look at, because If I’m not eating right, then how the hell am I going to get the weight off in the gym. The COVID lockdown played a massive toll on my mental health, and I fell back into some particularly bad habits. It’s time for me to snap the fuck out of it and sort my shit out. If I feel better about myself, then that will shine through.

    I hope that if I make these changes and improvements to my life, then it will eventually spill into my love life, and I may find that perfect relationship that I’ve been yearning for, for so long.

    The thing about reinvention is that some people think it’s about tossing out the old new and starting entirely anew, like a blank canvas. I don’t believe that is 100 per cent accurate. To me, the power of reinvention lies within the knowledge of everything that you’ve been through—using that to leverage a new persona. You don’t need to start from scratch – there’s another version of you already there. You just need to find a way to tap into it.

  • COMMENT | “Straight men are an enigma for gay men. We want what we can’t have, and we go through periods of having feelings for people we shouldn’t”

    COMMENT | “Straight men are an enigma for gay men. We want what we can’t have, and we go through periods of having feelings for people we shouldn’t”

    Falling in love with the wrong person can be a difficult and painful thing to experience. For members of our community, this can be even hard because unrequited love is always the worst. I know many of you out there will have been through this at least once in your life. I’ve been through it too, on more than one occasion. You could say that I’m a masochist. I put my heart through that much trauma I’m surprised I’ve not given myself a heart attack.

    The first one was very traumatic. It lasted for about four years, and ultimately it cost me a lot. I lost close friends. I lost my integrity, and it also took a real toll on my mental health. I’ve always been honest with you; this time, I’m going to be brutal. For some, this will be a difficult read, but I think for some of you, you’ll be able to relate and if this helps one person to understand that this is a normal part of life, then I’ve achieved what I wanted to when I started writing this.

    It seems to be a rite of passage for gay men to fall in love with straight men and there is undoubtedly a social stigma that comes with it, that should it ever become public knowledge, is difficult to shake. People don’t seem to grasp that you cannot help who you genuinely fall in love with, it’s not a choice you make, it’s a feeling you struggle with for months, sometimes even years and it sends you into a spiral that you have no control over. You’re made out to be a predator because it was always you that initiated everything. The other person hasn’t done anything wrong. You are a walking devil.

    When you are in the thick of it you think about that person every single day; there is not a day goes by where you feel your life could be so much different. A part of you in your head tells you to grow the fuck up and move on, put him out of your life, and deal with it. But it’s your heart that overrides that situation, hanging on every word they say. Over analysing a simple text message, seeing how many ways you can take it, has he dropped a hint that maybe he feels the same way about you? You drive yourself insane. It did me.

    It’s been a long, and difficult road to get over that guy. It’s not been easy. It’s difficult to watch people around you fawn all over them and boost their ego, while you are wanting to scream across the room, screaming inside because you what they’re doing is breaking your heart. Your heart races a thousand beats per minute. They just don’t see it, or do they? Are they thriving off the attention they’re receiving? Are they playing a sick game with you; that twists and turns your insides, and manipulates your head without you comprehending?

    The hardest part is covering. You do your best to hide in public when you’re around your friend, you laugh off the jokes that deep-down inside is tearing you apart. You watch them play their games, and you just want to scream stop. The worst thing about it is that people can’t see inside your heads. They can see this smooth and sometimes icy exterior. They don’t know your hurting inside. You try to tell your “close” friends about it, but they don’t seem to understand, they just see the blatant front they’re putting on. They don’t honestly believe that someone is capable of doing these things you’re telling them. You start to see these people in a different light. People become blindsided. They only believe what they want you to see.

    You try to block it out with new relationships, but in the end, you end up committing self-sabotage, because you know that deep down inside that this person is nothing compared to the guy you want but can’t have. You mess around and hurt perfectly lovely guys because they’re not him. You can’t shake what you feel for him, something else comes and smacks you round the face that proves you are still in fact madly in love with them; or at least you think you are.

    In the end, you don’t blame them for feeling that way. They don’t want you to change their opinions about them. You’re made to feel like an outsider. People who you thought were close, best friends even, you look at them differently. You don’t know how to deal with it. You want to run. Run far away as possible. When you’re in the grasp of an obsession, sometimes it’s the only possible escape. The strength comes from staying and fronting it out. When you’ve mastered this, then you can begin to say to yourself that you’ve got this. It’s at this point you can start to reclaim control.

    Looking back now, this was a period of my life when I desperate to be loved, and this went on for four years until I got truly over him. I’ve not had any interaction with him for about five years now. It’s times like these when I re-evaluate the past and my life. I start to think about how I’ve changed. If I saw this guy again, five years on, and being the more developed and mature person, I am now, what would I say to him? I guess I would say; ‘Cheers; I learned from that experience, and It’s made me a more resilient person’. I have come through this experience, and I’ve closed the door on this part of my life, and going forward in my life, it’s going to make me a more well-rounded person, and it’s going to impact my relationship with men.

    When the lines between friendship and romance become blurred, hearts and minds can be hurt.
    FILE PHOTO: When the lines between friendship and romance become blurred, hearts and minds can be hurt.
    Photo by Helena Lopes on Pexels.com

    Straight men are an enigma for gay men. We want what we can’t have, and we go through periods of having feelings for people we shouldn’t. These feelings aren’t just a one-time thing. They can come out of the left-field sometimes. About a year ago, I reconnected with an old friend that I’d not spoken to for a very long time, and certain feelings have started to resurface. There’s a certain sexual tension between this new guy and me, and we’ve made out on a couple of occasions when we’ve been drunk. It’s unrealistic for it to be anything more than this, and I know this. The rational part of my brain understands and accepts this, it’s the other side that sometimes has a louder voice. We have to learn not to listen to that side as much and focus on living in a present state of rationality. I think the more I’ve grown as a person, the stronger I’ve become, and I see things in a completely different light.

    I look back on this saga with mixed emotions. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. I look back with a sensible, level head that I’ve got now thinking “Wow, Al; you were an absolute IDIOT”. Why did I waste the best part of a year on a guy that was not even worth my time; get some self-worth and some self-respect? Why did I do it? I guess I could say I was young. Frontal lobes aren’t developed. I had zero self-esteem. Maybe a part of me didn’t see that I was worth more? Perhaps I was yearning from the attention and acceptance that I couldn’t see everything with clarity. I also look back and think; this guy really did a number on my head – but; in the long run, it probably did me a huge favour. It’s made me stronger.

    I now know what I am worth and what I want in a relationship and a romantic partner. I don’t want somebody who is going to give me the run-around, fuck with my head and always hurt me; and nobody should settle for this. We are worth more. So if you are in a similar situation to the one I’ve been in, then give yourself the time to heal and remember your worth, because you are ten times the person that he will ever be and remember; you will get over it, and you will be a much more resilient person for it.

  • COMMENT | “I have a weird relationship with London. It’s the place that I began to discover myself, but it was also the place where I started to have problems”

    COMMENT | “I have a weird relationship with London. It’s the place that I began to discover myself, but it was also the place where I started to have problems”

    Bright Lights, Big City: Columnist Al Jenning confronts his past, with a trip to London

    We all have that one place that we love to visit, but it always stirs up some unwelcome memories. Whether it be a bar where we saw the bloke, we fancied necking somebody else, or whether it is the place where something traumatic happened to us. These places can be anything. I mean we all have these cruxes. For me, mine is the city of London.  I have a weird relationship with London. It’s the place that I began to discover myself, but it was also the place where I started to have problems with my mental health which drove me to a nervous breakdown.

    I was eighteen when I moved to London from a small town in East Yorkshire. I enrolled on a three-year Musical Theatre course at a university, and I thought I had made it already. I was so happy to get out of the town that I felt stifled and trapped in for so long and finally I could finally live my life. I had so many dreams for the future. I thought I would move to London, sail my way through a course I thought I was going to love, meet incredible life-long friends and finally meet that Mr Right that I had been longing to meet – naïve right? I guess at eighteen years old we are all slightly naïve. We have dreams and expectations that are completely unrealistic, and we have nobody there to give us a reality to check.

    The first few weeks were hard. I couldn’t imagine how homesick I would be, to the point where I used to cry myself to sleep at night because I just wanted to cuddle my dog and spend time with my family. I made an effort for the first few months not to visit home, and try to cut everything off and start fresh, and it was hard. When my parents came down to visit me for the first time after being there for three months, I was so excited. I settled in eventually and my first year was really enjoyable. I made some great friends, and I met a guy who I liked, and it felt like it might go somewhere. Alas, it wasn’t to be. He passed away from a short illness in early 2012.

    Coming back in the second year was even worse. When I moved back, it was as if something had changed, and I wanted to be anywhere else but there. I wasn’t enjoying the course as much as it was and I guess, I kind of put myself on the outs. I didn’t want to socialise. I wanted to be alone all the time. I wanted to put in as little effort as possible. Turn up, do what I needed to do then get out and go back to my flat. I couldn’t work out what was wrong with me. I kept missing lectures and classes, and I just didn’t want to do anything. My sleeping patterns were all over the place, and it felt that like I was missing out on so much of my friend’s lives and I wanted to be a part of it.

    During this time, I lost the guy I guess I fell in love with. The pain was unimaginable, and I felt that I had nobody to talk to. I didn’t tell my family, because they hadn’t met him, and they didn’t know that was seeing somebody. I had put myself on the outs with my course mates and I don’t think that any of them knew what was going on. It got to a point where I needed to speak to someone professional and I booked an appointment with a doctor to talk to them about it. I got to the appointment and I bottled it. I felt like I was a failure. That day I went back to my apartment and opened a bottle of vodka and had a good old drink. Thinking that I might find the answer to my problems at the bottom of the bottle. I didn’t. I just found myself spewing up violently for hours and my flatmate trying to help me into the bathroom. If that wasn’t a cry for help, then I don’t know what was. I knew at that point that I had hit rock bottom and that I needed to escape.

    I looked for every possible way out. I knew I didn’t want to go back to East Yorkshire, and I would be damned I was going to go back with my tail between my legs as a failure. I applied for so many jobs in London but couldn’t find anything. I failed the second year of my course, and I guess that was it. I was going back to the north. I wanted to have one more mad night out though. Me and few people I knew went for one more night out in Soho and ended up dancing in HEAVEN till 5 am. I went back to my flat and saw an email from TUI advertising positions as Event Hosts in the Mediterranean. Somehow, I got the job and I flew to Spain a few weeks later.

    I’ve had a distant relationship with London since. I’ve only visited for day trips or some event or show. It feels weird now.

    It feels like every time I go back, I open a door to my past, and suddenly I’m this carefree eighteen-year-old again. I have a nickname given to me by a very close friend; Sally. That’s because I have this strange relationship from the character of Sally from the Sondheim musical, Follies. She is one of the central characters in the show, which is about a reunion of showgirls, where an unrequited love story takes place. Throughout the show, Sally becomes more helpless and fragile from confronting her past and Ben, the man she once loved but ended up marrying her best friend. It’s a strange connotation to make you might think but I can relate to it. When I’m in London it’s as if movies from my past play through my mind and I can remember all those thoughts, the feelings that I went through, now 10 years go. I see it all. The good. The bad. The ugly.

    I made a decision last year to try and put a few of those ghosts to bed. I booked a few nights in a hotel just down the road from where I used to live, and I went to look at some of the places that I used to frequent as that naïve kid I once was. It was a really weird experience, and I didn’t like it, but ten years I felt strong enough to put myself through it. I saw a couple of people from university in the Broadway that I knew from uni, but I kept my distance. I wasn’t quite sure whether I was ready to have a conversation with them. I wanted to remain invisible.

    It was a good thing for me to do, but I now have to make a conscious effort to focus on making new memories, so I’m doing just that. I’ve been writing this column whilst hurtling down the East Coast mainline. I’m on my way to London to visit a friend who is celebrating his ninetieth birthday this weekend and whilst I’m there I’m determined to make new positive memories. I’m going to do things I’ve never done before like take a river cruise up the Thames.

    With just a few minutes to arrival, the anxiety is growing. I’m scared that as soon as I get off this train I’m going be that person I was all those years ago, or I’m going to see him around every corner. I have to remind myself that I’m not that person anymore and I’m stronger, wised and a hell of a lot more resilient. I’m always going to have that person in a box somewhere in my head, and I’ve come to accept that. I’m not going to be ruled by him, but it would be nice to see a little bit of him again.

    Wish me luck!

  • THE UNDATEABLE GAY | LOCKDOWN – “I had to stop masturbating, I was becoming far too addicted”

    THE UNDATEABLE GAY | LOCKDOWN – “I had to stop masturbating, I was becoming far too addicted”

    The Sex Files, THE UNDATEABLE GAY reviews his past encounters and the issues of having a high sex drive.

    Not only has Coronavirus put us into a situation where we have been separated from our friends and families, but it has also given us singletons an extra problem.

    When the hell can we have sex again? I’m not saying I’m a slut but I’ve got needs. I’m craving a one night stand. 

    It is almost five months since this enforced dry was spell was pushed upon us. I’m so horny, I’ve even started to perve on our postman. Who is a balding, rather old gentleman with a beer belly.

    I’ve even noticed my straight housemate’s husband has started walking around with a padlock attached to his trousers. Okay, so I made that bit up. But you get the idea.

    I even had to stop masturbating for a few days as I was becoming far too addicted to the act. And noticed I was getting rather sore. Too much friction, I fear.

    But it’s got me reminiscing about some of my one night stands and sexual encounters from days gone by…

    1500

    I remember George. Now he was a handsome sort. And he wasn’t just a one night stand actually. Oh no. We had sex on numerous occasions over the course of a few months. I suppose you would call him a fuck buddy.

    Any ex-boyfriend of mine who might be reading will tell you – I have an incredibly high sex drive. Give me ten minutes to have a wee and a suck on my vape and I can go again. No problem.

    Except this did turn out to be a problem for George. Who couldn’t keep up with me. And one night (after we’d made love FOUR times), he got up from the bed, slight limp and informed me he wouldn’t be able to see me again. And so I was dumped by my FB for having a high sex drive.

    Ahhh. And then there was AJ. A very beautiful Australian bloke. He was such a tentative, seductive and attentive shag. As we were between the sheets, I felt like we were performing a sex scene from 80’s super soap, DYNASTY.

    And I couldn’t help but declare my satisfaction. Mid-way through love making, I stopped, grabbed his face and declared:

    “You’re such a passionate lover!” A la Joan Collins style.

    And when I say Joan Collins. I mean it. I imitated her accent, seductive purr and  glamorous pout to a tee. I was so proud. He was less impressed with my impersonation. He quickly finished and made his excuses to leave, never to be heard of again.

    And then there was Jimmy. Now, he wasn’t just sex. Oh no, no. We’d met on Gaydar. All my older gays will remember this site. It was big long before Grindr came along. 

    Jimmy made it perfectly clear that he wanted more than just sex. He wanted us to get to know each other. I remember he worked at Tesco. So one night, when he finished his shift, I went to pick him up in my car. I thought we could go for a romantic drive.

    It was a cold winter’s night, deep into December. I’d love to say it was snowing to make the story sound more romantic, but I’d be lying.

    We pulled over to admire the Christmas lights on Oxford Street and I could see Jimmy was shivvering.

    “I’ll give you a blow job to warm you up!” I blurted out. I was joking of course but Jimmy was more prudish than I’d given him credit for. And clearly lacked a sense of humour. 

    “How rude!” He retorted. And quickly made his excuses so that I would drop him home.

    And I will NEVER forget Liam. I met him in a pub and we just clicked. I did notice that he kept going to the toilet during our date. I just assumed he had a weak bladder. And he seemed to sniff a lot. I just assumed he might be getting a cold.

    Before I knew it, he’d taken me back to his place. No sooner had the front door shut behind us, Liam lifted me up, kissing me passionately and carried me into the bedroom. He lifted his leg to slam the bedroom door behind us. And then threw me onto the bed. Very macho. I felt like Tanya Turner in Footballers Wives. 

    I already felt aroused so I pulled his trousers down and was presented with a VERY flaccid penis. How could he not have an erection? He could read my thoughts.

    “Sorry. I’ve been taking coke all night.” Well, that killed the moment.