I am Thompson Boy

The break that I took from writing and also from just being with anyone other than my friends and sexual encounters have served me well. It gave me time to think and also see how other's are doing and sometimes I wish I could bitch slap the hell out of some people. Esp gay people and their indulgence in the ugly art of self pity. And all because of one or two episodes of heartbreak and they so called lost the love of their life. Or will never find love again. This coupled with carefully selected soundtrack and song. Anyone who uses that term to begin with will spell trouble. Need to get those silly romantic storybook notion slapped out of their head. Relationships can be fun but it's not an easy thing. Sometimes it work, sometimes it doesn't. I have yet to encounter any that is working for myself but I don't go around feeling sorry for myself that I lost my one great love thinking that it would never happen again. What I do want to never happen again is probably some

I didn't know I was skinny-fat until my Russian boyfriend told me so. Actually, I didn't even know that was a thing until he told me so. I did, however, suspect something was wrong with my body the first night I stayed over his house. I went to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and ran into his roommate, Julio. I don't remember what he said, but I remember where he looked. He seemed to direct his entire conversation--and disgust--at my exposed midsection. Also known as my love handles. Julio (gay) and my boyfriend both possess the envious V-shape: broad shoulders narrowing down to a waist that hasn't smelled a carb in years. Their arms are huge, their chests are cut, their abs are visibly defined. I went into the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror. Sure, I was a professional dancer, and I did yoga, and went running, and watched what I ate. And yes, I was probably in pretty good shape. But I didn't look good enough. http://www.theatlant