To start...

I am a twenty-something man, currently living in a suburb of Toronto, Canada and I am convinced I am the world's most awkward gay.

I know this is a huge thing to claim. There are thousands of gay people in the world, some more awkward than others, but from what I've witnessed in the years I've been out of the closet, I am fairly certain that I am the King of Awkward.

It's not that I am frightfully ugly, fat, have an awful lisp or have a skraggle tooth. In fact, I'm not bad looking at all (if I do say so myself). I'm fairly smart (well educated and well read, at least). People say I'm nice. I think it's my ordinariness that makes my inability to exist in the gay community that much more awkward. I can't blame my utter failure as a homosexual on the fact that I have a physical or emotional defect. I just find it difficult to function. Plain and simple.

Let me put my life into some context.

I grew up in a very religious, Born-Again Christian home. I lead a youth bible study, was a part of the church worship band and was the president of the Christian fellowship at my high school. Until I went to college, this was who I was. Needless to say, my life took a 180 when I came to terms with the fact that my passion for the church drama team was not simply because I thought theatre was a great way to bring the message of Christ to people, but because I really just wanted to jazz hands. I'm beginning to think that the church thing might play some part in my under-development.

I  "came out" in my first year of University. I went to a school that had about three gay people in it, so this wasn't because I had found a group of homos that accepted me. I think it was probably because I started drinking and this coincided with me being more honest with people. With myself. Regardless, my first gay experience was with some random friend-of-a-friend, on his birthday in the bathroom of The Green Room in Toronto. Classy nights.

I met Keven (this isn't his real name, I know better than that) through my only gay friend at the time, a lesbian who lived near my university. She played a major role in my development in those early years. Keven was beautiful, fun and smart. We had the same major and very similar interests. He was a little strange, but I found this adorable. The beginnings of my reign as King Awkward began when I first met Kevin.

Long story short, he broke up with me after a year because he got into a school overseas. He told me not to wait for him.

I totally did.

Not that there were dozens of hot guys banging at my apartment door. There were maybe three and none of them held a candle to the glory of Keven. So like a complete sucker, I waited. Even when his emails stopped coming after two months. Even after he set his Facebook profile to private. Even when I didn't get a text, an email or a postcard for my birthday, I waited. It wasn't until he returned with his gorgeous European boyfriend that I got the hint.

Wham-mo.

My roommate started to suspect something was wrong when I started substituting ice for the vodka I kept in the freezer.

Since Keven, I have had a total of ONE other boyfriend.

This one's a good one.

Get ready.

I met Alex (again, fake name) working on a musical. Go figure. I took a liking to him almost immediately. He was tall, toned, tan and blonde. Sue me for being interested. By some miracle, he likes me back and we start dating after a month of knowing each other. Its true what they say, tools rush in.

After six months of really passionate handjobs and two really terrible attempts at sex, I get this text.

On Valentine's Day.

I screwed up. We need to talk.

Fuuuuuuucccckkkk.
Another one bites the dust.

I recently met the other guy. He was actually really nice, so...there's that.

Alex became a stripper to pay for school. I hear he's doing well.

Keven and Alex are just the two that got the title of "boyfriend." I have recently made a list of all the guys I have fallen in love with and beside each name I gave them a rating in degrees of how fucking crazy I was about them.

For example:

Drew S. 4
Paul M. 9.5
Drew F. 7

I really snapped the reins over Paul M., I was Facebook-stalk-too-much for Drew F. and I probably bought Drew S. flowers. I have emotional problems. And apparently really like guys named Drew.

The list is long enough to be depressing in a NEEDS MEDICATION kind of way and will probably be used against me one day.

The reason for this blog?

Recently, I have had a number of really awkward, yet hilarious experiences that I feel need to be shared. I have little faith that this blog will be read by anyone, but I hope that in the off chance that someone stumbles upon it, they get a good kick out of how embarrassing I am.

I'm not a sad person. I am just a guy who has the ability to laugh at his mistakes, shake his head and hope for better next time.

Lots of love (perhaps too much?),

B