Dirty Thirty

I’m officially thirty years old as of yesterday.

The question I kept getting all day was “Do you feel thirty years old?” I didn’t know how to answer since I wasn’t aware there was a certain way to feel thirty years old. I’ve always believe that you are as young as you feel – which makes me sixteen actually.

And I believe that age is nothing but a number. Unfortunately, the gay community doesn’t see it like this. Younger is always better right? Wrong. I’ve always felt that being younger makes you more naïve in the sense that you are trying to figure yourself out. Besides, an older more masculine looking physique always looks hotter than some twinkie hairless houseboy. Oh, there’s my cunty gayness coming out!

The question that does haunt me internally is “What do I foresee me doing in my thirties?” Well, I see myself moving to Los Angeles within six months. I see myself working on my health including the weight training I have been doing at the gym the past couple of years. I see myself writing more, and pushing the limits on what subjects I tackle. I see myself becoming more of a slut so I can have even more sex as humanly possible – I’m not kidding. I see myself dabbling in all art forms – performance, painting, and so forth. I see myself seriously focusing on a career involving entertainment, or sex, or both. I see myself traveling more… fuck, like I don’t travel enough, but I do want to go down to Arizona more so I can spoil my niece.

There is so much to do in life that I don’t want any moment to go by where I can wonder “what if?” I want to do it and try as much as possible. I welcome my thirties with open arms. And open legs.