New Year, New Me… Maybe?

Oh man, has it been a whirlwind of a year.

2017 was probably one of my best years, if anything. Though, I’ll admit that there were some moments that I weren’t too fond of. For those of you who don’t know, I had family that passed away, all of which did in the first two months of the year starting.

However, there were a lot of upsides, like a new place, a new car, new beginnings, and so forth.

I can’t complain, and I’m actually really glad to look back at 2017 with a smile on my face, and with more fond memories than poor ones. I like that there was a mix of good and bad things.

Yes, there were times that I felt sad. There were moments where I was super upset because I felt like the universe didn’t hear my pleas for help. Like my religious faith failed me when I begged for things I thought that I needed.

But, here I am, writing before you all, with renewed hope and conviction to be the best kind of person I can be.

And what better way to do that, than with a new year’s resolution??

I mean, come on. Traditionally, a new year means a lot of new things. Why? Because it’s a chance to start fresh.

Well, let’s face it. Not everyone STARTS fresh. They just really want to believe that a new year means a new beginning to something they’ve always wanted to do. Like the gym, for example. People want that awesome summer bod with the six pack and v-line on your abs, and the amazing cut of muscles you have when you hit the beach or just wanna take off your shirt.

If you’re gonna hit the gym, you better remember that you’re taking with you the problems you had before you got there. It doesn’t happen in an instant. It takes work, and do well to remember that.

You’re going to be tempted, you’re gonna fall off the band wagon sometimes. And you’ll make mistakes.



That being said, also make sure that you’re setting realistic goals too.

“I’m gonna lose 50 lbs this month!”

Uh, as wonderful as that may be, if you achieve it, you might want to make some smaller short-term goals to make sure that you get there.

Remember the strength of your convictions, and hold on to what you’re trying to accomplish. If you give up too soon, maybe you didn’t really want to achieve that goal you set for yourself, you know?

The journey is half the fun. Enjoy what you go through to get there. Remember how hard it was, how much effort you put in; it makes it that much more enjoyable once you get there.

Like I said before, you’re taking the previous problems you had with you.

So if its weight loss, then you’re trying to lose all the excess on your body before you got to the gym.

If your goal is to eat better, you have to remember what you’re giving up, like say processed sugar or soda or candy.

One of my favorites resolved to take less elevators and escalators and more stairs a few years back. That broke when he found out he had an interview on the 20th floor of the corporate building for an internship a few weeks later…

All that aside, it brings me to this point that I’ve wanted to bring up about the whole, “new year, new me” thing.

It’s not a “new year, new me,” to me.

It’s a, “New Year, Old Me, but a chance to make some changes.”

It’s not quite as catchy mind you, but it works for me haha.

Anyone can make a change, whenever they want to. The new year just happens to be an ‘excuse’ of sorts, to try and actually make people believe they have some kind of push to make that kind of thing happen.

No one has to wait for the new year to make the ‘new me.” You can make a new me any damn time you want to. If it helps you start making the change, then awesome. Don’t forget that you’re WORKING to make the goal happen.

Nothing’s easy. Take pride in what you’re doing, and what you’re working towards.

I wonder what your new years resolution is…?

Me? I’m going to be more diligent about my gym routine. I’ve been slacking lately, ever since my family came into town for the holidays. I gotta tell you, having so many people cooking so much food for the month of December? I’m fairly certain I doubled my weight haha.

Home cooked Filipino food? Oh man, I cannot even BEGIN to explain the joys and wonders of the food we get to eat. But now that everyone’s gone, I miss it all. Which means I can’t wait for the next holiday we all get together. So we can eat. AGAIN.

To everyone out there, I hope you fulfill your resolutions. If you don’t have any, I hope you have a great year. If you’re not different from last year, it’s cool. You’re still you, and I don’t mind that.

I don’t think your friends and family mind it either.



October 1, 2017 in Las Vegas

“Would you look at that? David’s going to get the next star!” I realized, watching the game on tv.

“Dude?! What the hell???” My friend Jordan exclaimed as my other friend David saw his opportunity to buy another star from Mario Party 2. After Jordan bought his next star on the electronic board game, his contentment suddenly transformed into player-friendly rage.

David laughed and smiled. “Hey, thanks Jordan!” He said happily, enjoying his favorable luck. “Now I’ll get to second place.”

“I don’t even care anymore! I’m just gonna take you down!” he replied, with passion burning in his eyes.

“Oh come on, babe, relax.” Angel, his fiancé reasoned. “It’s just a game. Though, I’ve never seen him lose at these games before.”

“Alright Jeremy, it’s your turn now.” David said to me, as I reached for my controller. As I watched the dice twirl on the screen, my focus was interrupted.

“Hey you guys,” Angel said, staring intently at his phone. “There’s been a shooting.” he informed us. The room fell silent, with nothing but the background music of the video game playing all around us.

“What?” I asked him.

“It happened at the Mandalay Bay during the musical festival. Apparently some people have gotten hurt.” he answered.

The three of us quickly took to our smart phones and started checking social media and the news. Angel was right. There have been reports of gunfire happening during the Route 91 Music Festival.

“It says that at least people two people are dead, and twenty some people are hurt.” Jordan said, reading his cell phone.

“I hope everyone’s alright…” I said, troubled by the news. “My friend Sharyn asked if we could check in on Facebook to say that we’re alright and safe.”

Each of us took to the app, and found the event online. It read, “Violent Incident in Las Vegas.”

“Looks like my friend is calling me to see if I’m ok.” Angel said, hearing his phone ring a few minutes later.

“My phone is blowing up with messages.” I added, answering what texts and messages I could. Jordan and David concentrated on their screens, reading what they could about the event.

“The number is getting higher for the shot and injured.” David said sullenly.


That’s what happened on Sunday night when I heard that news of the Mandalay Bay shooting. I was at my friend’s home after the Foodie Fest in Sunset Station when I heard Angel tell me that people were being shot and attacked.

That night, when I got home, I couldn’t sleep. My older sister called me to make sure I was alright. My aunt from California asked me if I was ok, and my friend from Alaska checked in on me as well.

I knew that the next day was going to be terrible. I knew that we needed to be ready for anything.

I came into work that morning with a heavy heart, listening to every word on the radio station on the drive. The numbers came in worse and worse, as the announcers broadcast the events that took place. Not a single station played music. All they could do, was fight back tears and emotions as they disclosed to us what happened.

During Jason Aldean’s performance, shots were heard in the distance. They sounded like fireworks. They sounded like they were part of the show.

Then someone collapsed, and then screaming happened. Then, people started running for their lives.

As of now, the count is as follows:

59 dead. 527 injured.

I work for Desert Springs Hospital, which is off of the Las Vegas Strip. There were three main hospitals when everything took place: Sunrise Hospital, UMC, and Desert Springs.

For those patients, we treated 105 of them.


That morning, when I got to work, we were briefed on what happened. A shooter sprayed the crowd from the 32nd floor of the Mandalay Bay with an assault rifle, before taking his own life before the police arrived. The roads were packed and blocked off, and even medical transport and first responders couldn’t get through.

That’s when civilians stepped in. They offered rides to hospitals. They offered to help people find their friends and families. They sheltered the people who needed it, and helped whoever they could.

We were told that staff members came in to help with the wounded. Extra nurses, doctors, techs and other employees rushed into the hospital emergency rooms, trying to do what they could to sustain and protect the lives that came through those triaged doors.

We as a healthcare team stood united, strong and wary. We were going to do everything we could for those people. We had to be fast, cautious, and effective. And nothing would stop us from making sure we could save as many lives as we could.

But like any incident, it cannot be without cost.

My friends from Sunrise Hospital told me the horrors that took place in that ER. The screaming, the crying, the bloodshed.

One of my friends, an ER tech, told me how people were rushed in, crying in pain, dazed and confused, angry and heartbroken.


Words cannot describe how I felt when I came to my hospital. I couldn’t even fathom what had just happened. All I could do, was help in any way, shape or form.

What would be one of my biggest nightmares came true. I saw someone in the ER that I knew. One of my friends that I’ve known for years, who was now an admitted patient in the hospital that I work for.

It makes me wonder the strength of will people have to be there, on the front lines, witnessing patients coming into the hospital with fresh wounds and trauma. You have to know when to make your emotions run, and when to hold them in check. Sometimes, you can’t draw that line, and it becomes impossible. And yet, you still have the find the courage to go up to that patient, assure them they are in good hands, and help them with whatever needs they may have.

It is now, officially, two days after the shooting took place. Something that has been classified as the deadliest mass shooting in the history of the United States.

But, we as a city, came together.

Blood drives were filled by 9 am that following morning. So many people came together that they were full for the entire day, and yet people came in making appointments to donate blood. People got in line as early as 2 am to wait for them to open so they could help.

Donations for other items came into play. Food and clothing for the victims and the victims families.

Complimentary rides were offered by Lyft and Uber to help people travel around the city.

Allegiant Air has offered complimentary air fare for victim’s families.

Hotels have offered rooms and services for those who need to stay for their friends and families.

Steve Sisolak, the Clark County Commissioner, started a gofundme page to raise funds with an original goal of $250,000. We’ve hit $8.3 million.

We might be Sin City, but when you need help most, we pull through. That’s who we are. We are #vegasstrong

Working with hospital administration, I get more updates than most people, so when I get to hear about relief services and ways to assist, I use the most powerful tool in my arsenal: Social Media.

It’s one thing to have information, it’s another to know that there are people around you who are willing to listen and spread the news.

When you know over 1200 people, and you tell them that there are ways to help the victims, that information moves.

I cannot thank my friends and family who continued to help us reach out to anyone in need of any resources available. Knowing that the United Blood Services were full, and that the Las Vegas Convention Center, is FILLED, with food and water and clothing, brings me so much happiness.


Though, I can see from some of my friends who wanted to help, that they are still ruled against when it comes to blood donations. Especially, those who are gay and have had sex with men within the last year.

They are still bound from being able to donate blood.


It’s a barrier that people in the LGBT community still have to endure.

Perhaps, something to consider in the future?

Even without blood, my friends did what they could to help. Donations of goods, vigils to honor those who’ve passed, and even checking in online to make sure that people around them are safe.

Thank you, Facebook, for the “I’m safe,” portion of it. It helps us keep track of those people we care about.

But for what it’s worth, I’m proud and happy to be a part of a profession that helps people medically. I’m proud and happy to do what I can to help those in need.

We are Vegas Strong.

The President, the Transgender, and the Military

How’s it going tonight, readers?!

It’s so good to come back into writing again. Not only is there some inspiration to write, but also, there’s an issue to be had. And like many things, I would like to discuss some of these with you all.

Now, way, and I mean, WAY, back when, I had written a piece on the Transgender Community. See below:

For those of you who aren’t aware, Transgender is a term given to people who are born biologically as one gender, but feel that they are the opposite gender.

Men who feel like they are women, and vice verse.

I’m sure a lot of you are probably aware of one of the most famous of the Transgender community, Caitlyn Jenner, who was previous known as Bruce Jenner.


Others include famous Glee star, Charice Pempengo, who is now known as Jake Zyrus, or even Aydian Dowling, the first transgender to be on the cover of Gay Times Magazine.



If you’ve read my previous blogs about how to treat them, you know with sensitivity, patience and understanding, then you should be in a lot better shape than some of the people here in the U.S.A.

Let me explain.

Being part of the transgender community is a huge deal, a major transition, and a constant struggle with being able to identify who you are as a person. It takes a lot of courage to come out of the closet, but it takes even more bravery to admit to yourself and to other people that you’re not the right gender you were biologically assigned at birth.

Coming out for being a homosexual or bisexual or whatever doesn’t necessarily mean anything in terms of money. Maybe clothes or higher quality products?

But as a transgender? You need to be able to save up to have the constructive surgery. You need to support hormonal therapy.

Essentially, you need to have a lot of financial backing to be able to go through with it.

And then! And then when you are finally comfortable to be who you are? You flaunt it any way you damn well please! You be you, and you show the world how amazing and awesome and wonderful you are.

All that? Is actually not the point that I’m trying to make, though it is fairly relevant to why I’m bringing this up.

It’s the focus on that lat paragraph about being you and about being comfortable who you are. Because now that you’ve been able to finally obtain your freedom, and be the person you were meant to be, you can do pretty much anything you want to.

Unfortunately, here in the U.S.A, that’s not really whats happening.

Just a few days ago, our Commander-in-Chief, President Donald Trump, issued a statement regarding our military forces.

“…the United States Government will not accept or allow Transgender Individuals to serve in any capacity in the U.S. Military…”

Read it below.


Now, I don’t know about you all, but I’m a little aggravated.

Our President has just placed a ban on people of a certain population from serving the military.

This is the same man, who said that he would fight for the rights of the people in the LGBTQIA Community in the beginning of his campaign.

For those of you who aren’t aware of what he’s done thus far for those of us in this particular group, here’s a brief history lesson:


Now before we get all huffy and puffy. Let’s take a look at this shall we?

First thing is first. I don’t know about you or anyone for that matter, but I think that qualities like bravery, initiative, and passion, are not gender specific.

Anyone can be anyone that they want to be. Me? I don’t care what it is that you do, or who you’re attracted to, or whatever it may be. I don’t look into anything that hurts other people.

Please just respect that I have different beliefs than you do and I respect that you have different beliefs than I do. And that’s ok. Do not force me to join you, do not tell me that my way of thinking is wrong. I won’t do that to you, especially when it comes to religion and faith.


I believe that we are part of a melting pot of culture and diversity. I appreciate and admire that we, as a population, have different backgrounds, ethnicities and traditions.

So you be whoever you want to be, and you can be all you can be.


(Yeah, that was intentional).

That being said, I don’t think that your gender identity should be a factor in if you choose to serve your country.

Last I checked, a target is a target. I don’t think that guy trying to shoot you or whoever is worried about what kind of person you are. The only thing they know is that if you’re considered and enemy, you are considered a threat to the well-being of what their patriotic values.

But in his defense, let’s look at what the President means.

Now this, move by President Trump contradicts what was done in 2016 by Defense Secretary Ash Carter.

“Transgender people can now openly serve in the US military, defense secretary Ash Carter announced on Thursday, the culmination of a years-long campaign by activists to change the Pentagon’s policy, which many derided as discriminatory.”


Alright, let’s look at this. I mentioned earlier that it takes a lot of money to help take care of all the different procedures needed in order to completely become your identified gender.

“By analyzing private health insurance data on gender transition-related expenditures, (such as hormone therapy or surgical treatment, for instance), researchers found that Military Health System costs could increase by $2.4 million and $8.4 million per year if it were extended to cover the estimated 1,320 to 6,630 transgender people in the military. This amount pales in comparison to the Department of Defense’s $49.3 billion health care expenditures in 2014, for example, and would represent between 0.005% to 0.017% of the department’s overall health care costs, according to the study.

Overall, the study estimated that only 29–129 service members would seek gender transition–related care per year, and 30 to 140 personnel would seek hormone therapy. Another 25 to 130 personnel would seek surgical treatment.

…a 2016 RAND study commissioned by the Pentagon itself contradicts the President’s rationale, finding that the medical costs for transgender military members would be an “exceedingly small portion of active-component health care expenditures…

but the RAND study concluded that “evidence from foreign militaries and the U.S. military has indicated no significant impact on unit cohesion or operational readiness as a result of allowing transgender and gay and lesbian personnel to serve openly.”


If you’re unfamiliar, RAND is a non-profit research institution, utilized for its ability to a analyze certain populations of people and identify trends in things like cost among other things.

Here’s what the study said:

“The study estimates the number of transgender individuals currently serving in the active component of the U.S. military at between 1,320 and 6,630 out of a total of about 1.3 million service members. However, not all of these transgender service members would be expected to seek medical treatment related to their gender status or become nondeployable.

“Only a small portion of service members would likely seek gender transition-related medical treatments that would affect their deployability or health care costs,” said Agnes Gereben Schaefer, lead author of the study and a senior political scientist at RAND.”

So, now with that being said, where do we stand?

President Trump is banning people in the Transgender community from actively serving in the military.


Your gender doesn’t really make a difference when it comes to fighting in a war or fighting in any situation.

Oh, but it doesn’t stop there. I’m sure you can expect to see that there is backlash almost immediately.

For example, Navy Seal Veteran Kristin Beck who served in the military for the past 20 years, came out as a transgender woman in 2013. She is more concerned than upset about what this ban could mean. You can read her story below.

In another branch, Staff Sargent Logan Ireland, has openly challenged this order from the President.

“I would like to see them try to kick me out of my military,” Staff Sgt. Logan Ireland of the Air Force told Air Force Times. “You are not going to deny me my right to serve my country when I am fully qualified and able and willing to give my life.”


These are just two of numerous testimonies circulating in the social media circuit in response to this latest news from the White House.

Honestly, I’m not going to give a rat’s ass whether you’re transgender or not. You’ve realized who you are as a person, and you can do whatever it is that you feel is right in your life. Join the military, be a house husband/wife, be a firefighter, it doesn’t matter. You’re fighting for our civil liberties and freedoms, defending the ideals of our forefathers before us.

But God am I sorry that this is coming to light. Based now on what we’ve read, or at least what’s presented, I’m still a little confused as to what kind of major costs they will be trying to cover for a transgender’s transition-related medical expenses.

You should never be stopped from becoming who you were meant to be. And far be it from me to tell you that you’re not allowed to do something because your gender. That’s discrimination.

Men can do feminine things.

Women can do masculine things.

Both can do either.

There is no such thing as one gender can’t do what the other can.



Don’t tell me they aren’t allowed to serve, to voluntarily put their lives on the line for us, to be the front line defense against the people who you otherwise harm or hurt us.

I hope this is going to be like President Trump’s previous bans, and corrections are made as time passes.

Just remember this out there:

Your gender should never dictate what you are capable of doing. We are strong because we can be and do anything.

That’s what makes us amazing.

Thank you all for hearing my say on this matter. Please show me the love and like my Facebook page! I want to reach out to as many people as a I can.


Coming Clean and Closet Cases #22 – Honestly, I Don’t Know What It’s Like to Hug Another Man

Hello everyone!!!

Time for another rousing game of:


Our guest writer today comes from Southeast Asia, and would like to share his story with all of you who like to follow.

He DOES however, ask that he be made anonymous. Which is totally fine, and I respect your privacy.

Our writer is fairly limited in his ability to meet with fellow LGBT members, due to geographical and religious barriers that hinder many windows of of opportunity for him in his home.

Nevertheless, his willingness to let us in and allow us to hear his story is beneficial to all of us, and gives him the chance to share his feelings.

I’d like to share my story anonymously. I might be ready to share my experience with the world, but I don’t know how ready I’ll be to have that shared in my community.

I would like to share my story with you and with everyone, because mine isn’t exactly the happiest one around. But I think it would be nice if I had the opportunity to let people know what I have to deal with.

I’m in a country where being homosexual is insanely frowned upon. And unfortunately, coming out to my family hasn’t helped at all, considering how strongly they feel that it’s wrong.

My family, is still in denial.

They also think I’m fat but I’ll get into that.

And yet, I still try and hold on to the hope that I’ll find the right person for me. But because of how shamed it is here, I can’t find anyone to openly date. Where I live, people are predominantly Muslim, and not really open to the idea of a homosexual relationship.

I don’t want my life to be considered hidden. I don’t want it to be a secret. I want to walk around, out and proudly with my boyfriend or whoever and not be afraid to hold their hand or give them a kiss.

Honestly, I don’t even know what it’s like to hug another man that I really care about.

Which is why I turned to online dating. Mobile apps like Grindr and Jack’d gave me the chance to actually go and meet people.

It’s kind of a weird, twisted cycle. I get online, I find people I like, and then we chat. But then a majority of them aren’t a fan of long distance relationships.

But for me, it’s currently my only option for the time being. I long for that physical touch, you know? I want the chance to hug someone when I need to be comforted, but it’s something that’s just out of reach for me. If the connection is there, then I’m going to pursue it.

This is what lead me to my very first boyfriend, who I, surprise surprise, met online.

Not unlike the first guy I met here where I live. Like some of the posts you’ve posted, I fell in love with a guy locally, and then he fell in love with a woman.

It ruined me. It made me feel weak. Used. Afraid.

And then I realized that I had gotten a lot bigger. I totally left myself go. And then came in all the bad comments about being an overweight gay. I didn’t realize that was a thing. I thought people liked people. And gay people would like gay people. Turns out, you need to look a certain way and being considered ‘gay fat’ is a crime. After weeks of telling myself that I was fine, and that there was nothing wrong with myself, I finally decided to do something about it.

At least, if not for the sake of meeting the right person, for myself so I can be a healthy person.

So I got into power lifting, started eating better, and managed my physical exercise and diet to the point where I was making progress. Though, all of that kind of meant nothing until I could actually meet someone. Honestly, if you’re going to do the dating thing online, you better be ready physically. Most people look at the pictures first and only. Well, that’s what I came across when I was on there. Many conversations I’ve had with people had abruptly came to a stand still because our communication stopped. And always on their end too. I love talking to people when I can, and if the guy is right, then I’m going to keep talking to him.

I just wish it was the other way around.

And then I met someone who was genuinely into me.

We’ll call him Joe.

Joe and I started talking online, and we hit it off right away. He was a great guy, working from America. Me, being in Southeast Asia, found that there were some time constraints, but that didn’t matter to me. I loved talking to Joe.

When I would start work, he’d be getting ready for bed. He would tell me about his day and ask about what I was about to do at mine.

This went on for months, before I finally made the suggestion for us to try being a couple.

I wanted to call him my boyfriend. I wanted to have someone to call my partner and companion, who was going to be there for me. And after all the talks we had, I thought I had finally found him.

He, unfortunately, did not feel the same way.

My feelings were not reciprocated and he stopped talking to me altogether.

It broke my heart.

As of now, it still hurts. But it’s my only option at this point of finding my one and only. I can’t consider moving out of the country because I don’t have the money. And I stay with my family and we kind of work together with our expenses.

I love that there are stories out there to give people like me hope. That’s why I read your other cases. There are good stories. And there are bad ones.

I’m hoping to find the happy ending to my story.

To my submitter, thank you so much for your contribution.

You know, he brings up a very good point that sometimes the location you’re in just isn’t ideal.

Especially when they believe in something negative towards people like us in LGBT, and frown upon who we are as people.

If I may say one thing though, there really IS a stigma on appearance in the LGBT community.

There’s a term for people who have these strange idealistic notions on how they look. The term?

Straight Skinny, Gay Fat.

Put simply, if I was straight, I would be great. But sine I’m gay, I’m considered fat.

It’s actually a really big issue, because many people in LGBT feel that they need to conform to this ideal look in order to find the right person.

I talked about this before in a previous post regarding size and the way you look:

But before you try and change yourself. Be you so you can do things just for yourself. People will like you for you. I know that can be difficult when it comes to online dating, since you’re really just given a picture.

Also, you’re in a very difficult position. Long Distance Relationships are very difficult to maintain. I’m not saying that it’s not possible, but both you and your partner need to have the ability to see each other so fondly that distance won’t matter.

In your case, it’s a long distance relationship from the start. You haven’t met anyone in person. and the people that you meet are online. The ability to create a working foundation for your relationship with them is already hard to begin with.

I’m so sorry that you have to go through this out there. I’m glad that my blog gives you a chance to find some peace in your troubles. But sometimes the circumstance that need to change are the things that cost the most. For you, moving away would mean getting away from the prejudices, but away from your family.

It’s a hard decision to make, but it can be well worth it in the end if you really are invested in the idea.

My advice to you is this: Sometimes, the biggest sacrifice can yield the best results. I’m not saying jump on the first plane out of there. Plan ahead and prep for yourself for change. Depending on how bad you want to to find your happiness, you have to ask yourself what is it that you’re willing give for it. Most people give time, while others will give money. The list goes on, but my point is, the cost can sometimes be as great as the wish.

You can wait for someone to come by locally, or you can try and start fresh somewhere else. Whatever choice you make, you’ll find him eventually. Just hold true to your values and keep trying.

Thank you for sharing what you’re going through. To my readers, please keep sharing the love. Leave me a like on my Facebook page. I want to keep spreading out the good juju.

Search for Hey It’s That One Asian Guy. You’ll know it when you see it ^_^



Coming Clean and Closet Cases #18-21, The Power of Pride


I’ve been on quite the downhill slope ever since my grandfather passed away in March, so keeping up here has been a little difficult for me.

You can read about that here:

But, what better way to celebrate a break in the dark with a month that literally celebrates the ability to come out of the closet to the people you care about?

It’s funny, I actually came out on June 13, 2009. (Thank you Facebook for reminding me). And you know what? I couldn’t be happier. The day after I told my parents, they noticed that I felt much freer (spell check? Free-er? idk…) than I was prior. Like a giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

You can read about that here ^_^:

So, in honor of this month, and for celebrating my own anniversary of starting to find my own peace. I’d like to contribute this post, to a whole SHIT-ton of coming out stories. 🙂

The first goes to Shawn Barber, a Canadian Pole Vaulter who also happens to be the World Champion:


In a status on Facebook, the famed Olympian decided that it was time to come out. And luckily, this was one of the best ones I’ve come across. Not only did he have the love and support of his friends, but his family, mainly his parents, helped him be the person he was always meant to be.

“Gay and proud! Thank you to my parents for being such a great support,” Barber wrote in a Facebook post. “I continue to grow as a person and have a great support group. My parents are my greatest support and have helped me through a lot recently. To my friends, you are always my friends and i love you too!” – Shawn Barber.

If you’d like to see what he’s accomplished, I’ve posted the link to his Facebook here:

And speaking of people who came out in front of an audience, another athlete accomplished the same thing for his mother.

Ryan Jordan Santana of the Golden Grove Dodgers in Australia on live TV during a television program called, “This is Life, Live.”

Ryan was an alum of Azusa Pacific University in Southern California, came from a Catholic school in Phoenix, Arizona and actually knew he was gay around 15 years old, but like many closeted individuals, had a hard time coming to terms with it.

According to the article from, both his high school and college had a school policy in place, barring sex between gay people.

But his courage definitely came to light when he decided to come out on the television program. He said, ““I feel like I struggled with it, and I know there are others struggling with their sexuality as well… And I feel like I don’t want them to feel alone or by themselves. And i want to let them know they are not alone. I want to be some kind of outlet, a light.”

When he came out to his friends on his team, and his mother, both accepting him with loving, open arms. Said his roommate, “It doesn’t change anything between our friendship,” while his mother stated: “I’m accepting of anything and everything with you boys…You’re still you.”

Stories like this make me smile. I hope for any of you closeted athletes out there get to see that the bonds you get to make with your teammates are strong. I can’t say that 100% of the time unfortunately, but I can say for certain that they’ll become family that you can find solace in.

And Santana’s mom? Major brownie points Mrs. Santana. You rock 🙂

If you’d like to read the article, you can find it down below:

Segue to another really cool sports coming out story. This seems to be a popular category…

Remember how I just mentioned that your teammates will become your family? How do you deal with it when the rumor comes out before you do?

Wyatt Pertuset of Ohio knew he was gay in high school, but grew up in a small tow where the idea of being gay was frowned upon, especially from chatter he overheard in the locker room of his high school.


Through an accidental slip, people starting realizing who he was, and what he was. Despite what he thought would come to fruition in terms of attitudes from his peers, wonderful things came of it. Acceptance. Love. Loyalty. Respect.

Wyatt wasn’t treated any less. if anything, everyone around his accepted who he was, loved him even more, and helped boost his confidence. He was Homecoming King, Prom King, Student Body President, and even made honor roll his senior year of high school.

He has this to say to you who may be closeted athletes:

“If you are in the closet and also an athlete and you’re reading this, I want you to know that coming out is not as scary as you make it out to be. It is the most relieving experience you’ll ever come to term with…You finally get to be yourself and show people that the LGBT community knows how to play ball too.”

Thank you, Wyatt for your words of encouragement and wisdom. I’m sure that it was very difficult for you to deal with people who had talks like, “how gross gays are and wrong it is.” It’s people like you who help others realize their dreams. You’re a success story that will undoubtedly help inspire other people.

If you’d like to read more about Wyatt and his journey, you can find that article here:

Which brings me to something that’s a little more difficult.

I hope your’e familiar with famous actor, Matt Bomer? If not, here are some of my favorite pictures of him ^_~

Also, he’s a wonderful singer. Just putting that out there 😀

I didn’t realize this, but Matt Bomer didn’t come out to his family like most people do it person. Turns out, he did it through a letter.

The famous actor was a technically dating another actress at the time during the Utah Shakespeare Festival. (Contemplating going this year btw). His epiphany came when he was watching a make-up artist. Quite an interesting way to find your inspiration. I dig it.

But after he sent the letter, he said there was six months of silence before he came home, and he was confronted with that pent up conversation he was destined to have with his family. Luckily, they were able to eventually work through it. And you know what? Not only isn’t he happily married, he has three kids.


It’s a comfort to know that not all these stories are happy. I know that sounds strange, but to me it helps me appreciate that people are able to rise above what they have to deal with. You know that famous hashtag, the struggle is real? Well truer words have never been spoken, ESPECIALLY when it comes to something like this.

I’m thrilled that not only did he come out, but he was able to maintain his relationship with his family, and even start a new one! That’s something we all strive for. The chance to have the happiness we deserve.

If you’d like to read that article, here it is:

That being said, I have ANOTHER, wonderful story for you. Also regarding two young men who came out together in college.

(See a trend so far?)

Another amazing read from (there has been so many amazing things happening on that website I’ve had a lot of great things to share with you).

I’d like to introduce to you: Brad Neumann and Justin Rabon, two classmates and teammates from the University of Minnesota Track Team.

Justin, who found himself in a dark place from rumor spreading by his peers (a seemingly common trend…), decided to come out to his friend Brad via text message, to which he responded, “Oh, that’s cool.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, coming out is a BIG deal. Coming to terms with who you are, is one thing, but in this case, he kinda got forced into a corner. And yet, all he gets is a “Oh, that’s cool.” I mean, come on. It’s better than having a screaming fight, and getting kicked out. But, having some type of reaction helps people gauge the importance and emotional weight of their issues. It must be nice to see that some people can just accept it as a ‘normal’ event and just move on.

Sorry, tangent. Coming back.

Anyways, after coming out, the two young men found each other, found their relationship to each others inner turmoils and issues to be a building bock of their friendship, and now they have blossomed into something wonderful.

Here’s that article, if you’re interested in looking into their story.

(Also, I couldn’t get their pictures, so you’ll have to click the link to see them, as well as links to their Instagram accounts.)

So class, what have we learned today?

Coming out can come via mail.

Family can come from your teammates.

Sometimes coming out can help empower you to do even more than you ever thought possible.

Mom’s rock.

I want to leave all of you with good juju and happy thoughts. You know, that’s been my goal from the start. That’s what I hope to achieve. To reach out and to show people that it’s ok. That they aren’t alone.

Stand on your own two feet, and embrace who you are. Be ashamed of nothing. As long as you’re not hurting other people, then it’s fine by me. Be you.

That’s pride.


*Addendum (2017)*

I was able to create my very own Facebook page!! 

If you search for: Hey It’s That One Asian Guy

You’ll be able to support on Facebook too ^_^ Leave me a like! I love writing, and seeing people liking the page and reading the stats here on the blog show me that I’m actually reaching people!! 

If you’d like to be a coming out story to share, message me on the Facebook page.We’ll discuss anonymity if you’d prefer to keep yourself discreet. Love you all ❤

Prayer for St. Joseph

Hello, everyone.

I can’t believe it’s been so long since my last entry, but if it’s alright with the rest of you, I’d like to share something with you all.

People say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. The truth is you knew you had it. But we never think about the possibility that we would lose it.

On March 20 at 11 am, I was at work when I called in to talk to my grandfather, Tatay (Pron-nounced Tah-TIE). I could see him on the camera, and I told him, “Tay, when you’re better, I’ll be waiting for you in Vegas. I’m gonna bring you out to your favorite restaurant after we play at the casino and win. Once you get back on your feet, I’ll be here for you.” With a smile he replied. “Jem, that will be so nice.”

In January, he was diagnosed with Stage Four Lung Cancer, metastatic to his liver. The doctor told him he would have six months at best. My mother, being an RN, said he had at best two months. We realized back then that chemotherapy would ruin his body even more. For 91 years old, he was already fragile. But still, as a family, we stayed together in prayer, hoping for the best for him.

Twenty minutes later I received a phone call that he died.

There’s a reason to the title, I promise. Bear with me everyone. I’ll explain what it is.

I was asked to write a eulogy for him for his funeral. Among the twelve grandchildren we were, we each had a say. This is what I had to share, along with a little bit more that I wanted to add.:

You know, I don’t think anyone of us were ready. Despite knowing what we knew, it still came as a surprise. It still hurt.

I had so many questions when it happened. I found that faith could answer everything. Ironically enough, my grandfather was not a religious man. When he was younger, and my uncle told him that he wanted to be a priest, my grandfather immediately stepped back from the idea. But near the end, he started praying more. He kept hoping for more time until the pain was too much, and then he prayed for release.

Despite being sad, I could find my own closure to his passing with faith and prayer, and even a few songs that I’ve listened to.

(Side note, if you don’t know, if you ready something that says, NAME #:#, It’s normally read as Book of ________, Chapter # Verse #)

I hated that it was sunny when I found the news of your passing. I always assumed that there was a say in the weather, and it was supposed to be gloomy when someone died. I realized later that the rain drops that fell were supposed to be the tears in my sadness and loss. At work, I wept for my grandfather.

Matthew 5:4 Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

Psalm 147:3 He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.

It’s times like these when I wonder what if? And why? I ask God for strength and I pray as hard as I can to somehow comprehend the why? Why did it have to happen to Tatay? Did we do something? Was this really what was meant for him? Was this his plan?


Every day I knew that you were still with us was a blessing from God. I knew it meant we would be able to hear your voice and see you again. I loved catching you playing games, like Solitaire, and Sudoku. It made me so happy to know that I had another chance to spend time with you. Going to church with you was a gift. Every time we attended mass, I loved telling everyone that three generations of our family were present between me, my father and my grandfather.

Revelation 21:4 And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away

There are so many things I want to say, but the last time I tried this was for my grandmother Nanay, and I ended up crying in the end. Instead, I’d like to share with you some stories, or rather, the highlights of my time with Tatay.

Years ago, Nanay and Tatay lived with our family when my sister and I were little. I loved them because Nanay would sneak me chocolate milk, and Tatay would teach me card games. He always stayed in his room, playing Solitaire. I always wanted to play with him, but it’s kind of hard to play Solitaire with two people, since it’s you know, solitary.

I found that Tatay had a love for games, especially, Tong Its (a version Mah Jong for cards) and Sudoku. I would help Tatay solve the daily Sudoku in the newspaper, and play Tong Its with Nanay, my older sister, and me. We would have tea, and snacks. Sometimes, we even got to sing little ditties for them as we played, which he loved. Sometimes, we’d do it to distract him so he wouldn’t win, and he would end up dancing in his chair. But, we always feared the moment when Tatay would laugh saying, “I’m waiting…”

It meant victory was imminent.

Tatay was fond of gambling games, too. He loved getting the chance to play the slots at his favorite casino in Las Vegas. He and Nanay would always ask us to take them. Whether they won or lost, they always had a great time and told us stories of how they did really well or did really bad.

When Nanay died, she was taken back to the Philippines and her picture was up in the living room. Every day Tatay would look at her picture, and we could all tell how much he loved and missed her.

After her passing, Tatay kept living.

He still enjoyed playing at the casino, and playing Tong Its with us. He was with us when he heard of Manny Pacquiao. We bought the fight on Pay-Per-View. He leapt for joy when Manny won his first real fight. Tatay didn’t realize how close he was to the ground, and jumped up so hard he fell over.

Then, he cooked suman for Nanay for All Soul’s Day, which is November 2nd. It’s a type of rice porridge that’s made with coconut oil and brown sugar. The first time he did it, he burnt it. But Tatay remained diligent and kept trying. The second time, it was good. He actually had fun while he cooked it, keeping track of the kids I scared for Halloween as he prepped the altar for Nanay.

But at the end of the day, my stories have to stop. In the end, all our stories with him have to stop. My stories will have to become, and remain, memories.

We all wished for more time. Some of us wanted 91 more years. But in reality, we all just wanted one. But not just one year or one day. We wanted one everything.

You know what we all wanted more than anything? One. More. Moment.

Tatay, we all miss you. We all wanted to be there to help you. We wanted to shield you from your pain. We wanted you to be healthy, strong and happy. But all we could do was pray for you. All we could do was hope, and wish for that one more moment with you.

At least, you stopped hurting.

We were very fortunate that he was only bedridden for two days. Honestly, when I heard that news that you had stopped eating, when I caught word that you were seeing hallucinations of a woman standing at your bedside, I knew it was about time. I think that was Nanay, telling you she’s ready to finally welcome you back in her arms.

I still want to remember you laughing. I wish we could see that bright smile you always had. I knew if I saw it, I was going to have a great day.

It’s funny. When someone dies, all we want to do is remember all the good memories and moments. Arguments and misgivings that we’ve experienced with them don’t seem so important anymore. I can remember multiple times that I was upset with you when I was little. I didn’t know any better with what was right and wrong and what was a mistake. But none of that seems relevant anymore. What matters to me now is that you are a part of me. Your influence and teachings have helped shape me, and our family into who we are now.

John 14:1-4 Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also. And you know the way to where I am going.

I hoped for one more moment with Tatay. But instead, I have to settle for memories. I want to live with all my memories. Even if I felt that they were bad, or if they were things that make me feel hurt. I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to forget you. I know that someday, those memories will help be stepping-stones for the younger generations that need life lessons. Lessons that you taught me that I want to help pass on. And, if there are times where I feel like remembering you hurts, I know that its taught me something about myself, or was a lesson I needed to learn so that I could become a better person. Memories of you, good or bad, happy or sad, I’ll treasure. Though, with some wishful thinking, it still wouldn’t hurt for one more hug.

My last memory with you will be, being asked to be your pallbearer. I will remember being one of the pillars of strength to hold you up when you needed me.

I have finally realized that I don’t need to ask why anymore. I am just thankful that you’re finally home.

I’m going to remember everything I can about you. And even though, thinking about you being laid to rest still hurts, it will lead me to all the joys you brought me.

Let the pain remain forever in my heart. For every throb it brings is one more moment spent with you. If that’s the only way, if there’s no other way to see you again. Side A, Let the Pain Remain (Song Lyric)

I always wondered what it would it was like after someone died. Did you just stop? Were you reincarnated? Did you get to choose? If you didn’t get to choose, did someone else do it for you? What if I became a tree? Are you allowed to do that? What if I didn’t want to be a tree? What if I wanted to be a tiger? Could you become an animal or a plant?

1 Corinthians 15:51-55 Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed – in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on mortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, “Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your sting? O Hades, where is your victory?”

I don’t need to know where you’re going anymore. I know now that you’re with Nanay. I know you’re with your family that you haven’t seen in so long. And I’m so happy that your pain is gone. I am blessed to know that you are free.

Philippians 3:21 He will take our weak mortal bodies and change them into glorious bodies like his own, using the same power with which he will bring everything under his control.

This coming October will be the next Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed, All Souls Day. I will have some Apan-Apan (special veggie dish) and ginger tea ready for you, and I will light my candle to help guide you back. I can’t wait for that moment again.

Matthew 11:28-30 Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart. And you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

We love you Tatay. So Much. We are part of this legacy that you have started. Between the twelve children, the twelve grandchildren, and the three great-grandchildren, we will continue to carry on the family name. I hope you look down at us from Heaven with Nanay, proud and happy.

I hope you can hear us when we pray for you. I hope the music we play reaches you. We were a part of your symphony. The song we share will always be playing with us.

My grandfather died on March 20th, the day of the Feast of St. Joseph. St. Joseph was the husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and was the father figure for Jesus Christ.

I don’t know how you planned it, Tay, but that was pretty miraculous.

I love you, Tatay. Please, be at peace.

*Addendum (2017)*

I was able to create my very own Facebook page!! 

If you search for: Hey It’s That One Asian Guy

You’ll be able to support on Facebook too ^_^ Leave me a like! I love writing, and seeing people liking the page and reading the stats here on the blog show me that I’m actually reaching people!! 

If you’d like to be a coming out story to share, message me on the Facebook page.We’ll discuss anonymity if you’d prefer to keep yourself discreet. Love you all ❤

Coming Clean and Closet Case #17 – I Found Out at a Military Academy Boarding School

Good evening! Or if you’re in other parts of the world, good morning, or good afternoon. Please take whichever greeting applies and acknowledge my sincerest greeting.

It’s time for a long awaited post of Coming Clean and Closet Cases!!

This is going to be number 17. Wow can you believe that? Shit, I can’t really believe it myself lol

But before we get into that, I thought I might grant you some insight as to why I found this article so relevant.

For those of you who don’t know, I actually used to be part of NJROTC. Naval Junior Reserve Officer Training Corps. Back in high school, I was enrolled for four years. I gotta tell you, I was really enthralled by the whole thing.

Logo 1.png


In the Philippines back in the day, all students had to participate in some time of military training. For men, they went into ROTC programs. For women, they were sent to WAC’s, or women’s auxiliary camps. So when I came across this opportunity in high school, my parents totally want me to join. Plus, my uncle is a paratrooper for the Phillipine Army, and my grandfather served in the military during World War II. Luckily, my grandfather only came out with a gunshot wound that wasn’t critical.

I loved my time in NJROTC. Ok I admit, I kinda didn’t want to talk P.E. in high school, but it was cool. We learned drill formations, and had academic classes on naval history and orienteering. I even got the chance to be a part of a department and help head it while I was a senior.

I made Lieutenant Junior Grade by my senior year, the fourth highest ranking position in the program. I wasn’t dedicated enough to be one of the Chief Officers, but they were my classmates, and I knew they were the right fit for the jobs.

I was an assistant department head, and I helped with uniforms, ribbons, ranks, and supplies, hence the department name, Supply haha (original I know…)

Now, I’m not gonna lie, there was some really hot guys in my NJROTC program. Since we didn’t have a locker room like in P.E., we had to just run to the bathroom and change into our uniforms for our P.F.T training days, or rather, the Physical Fitness Training. When I was a freshman, I always came across the older, more seasoned cadets that had taken the physical aspect to the next level.

Tall, muscular, lean, every color, every height

usnavyguys 4 maya.jpg

Believe you me, I loved Fridays haha

When you’re a closeted pre hormonal gay teenager, surrounded by various muscular teens that are older and taller and whatnot, you tend to forget sometimes that you’re changing…

So, why is this relevant?

I was reading different websites, I came across this really interesting article from Gay Pop Buzz.

To summarize, it’s about this guy who was sent to a military school. And strangely enough, the person he explored himself with, happened to be one of the guys who caused him the post problems.

Take a gander everyone. What do you think?

I always wondered what it was like to be with another guy. I found out at a military academy boarding school. 

By: Connor

“When was your first time?” my friend recently asked. It’s one of those “rites of passage” questions we all get when recalling our first gay experience. 

Haven’t you ever been asked?

So I’ll tell you the answer to my bud’s question. But first, it’s probably a good idea that I share a little background so that you know how things went down (figuratively speaking).

When I was 15-years old, I was sent to a military boarding school. In fact, my brother and I both ended up getting sent away.

There were numerous reasons for this, including the reality that we came from a “broken home”. That’s a polite way of saying that our parents ended up getting divorced. Today, it’s not as big of a deal but back in the 80’s, it still was frowned upon.

Anyway, once our p’s split, we ended up going with our mom; a woman who could barely take care of herself, let alone teenage boys. But it was better to live with her than dad because he had his own issues with alcohol and drugs.

Without going into it, I’ll share with you that we were a handful. If we weren’t causing problems in the neighborhood, we were getting into trouble at public school. The tipping point happened when my brother and I got busted joyriding in a hotwired car.

So after that happened, my mom’s side of the family held a pow-wow and decided it was best we went to “Bryson Academy”.

It’s a military boarding school that has been around for over 100 years. When it was originally founded, it was called Bryson Reform School. But as the years went on and times changed, it morphed into an “academy”; a place that boys from broken homes were sent to.

In case you are wondering, Bryson offered a sliding scale fee so that any family could afford it. The bulk of the money that allowed the place to operate (and still does) came from private donations and charitable gifts.

I think my family thought Bryson would be a good place for us because the school offered three things that were sorely missing at home: Responsibility, Respect and Self-Discipline.

What my family didn’t know when they shipped me off was that I was gay. At 15, I knew deep inside I liked guys and probably younger than that. I was still a “virgin” but I didn’t need a sexual experience as confirmation – I knew what I liked.

And so being sent to an all-male school was almost a dream come true. Oh sure, I was scared shitless. And I threw a fit when they broke the news. My brother did too.

But secretly, I knew that going to Bryson would be way better than running the streets of a large city. Plus, it would be my first time being around nothing but guys.

My first few years at the academy were difficult. Like me, most of the guys came from difficult homes. But unlike me, a few of the boys could be classified as “at-risk”.

Here, I’m talking about young men who were on the knife’s edge of becoming criminals. In fact, several of the guys I went school with moved firmly in that direction.

Some are in jail right now, others are dead – no joke.

So at Bryson you learned to keep your mouth shut and do as you were told. And even then, trouble had a way of finding you. If I had a dime for all of the fights I got into, I’d be rich.

You see when you go to an all-male school, it’s all about appearing tough and not showing any fear – not even a little. The minute someone smells it, it’s game over. I knew guys who were relentlessly bullied for showing just the slightest hint of weakness.

One of the cadets I would constantly get into fights with was named Martin. He was basically my age, maybe a year older? The both of us were active in intramural sports and played on competing teams.

At Bryson, he ran with the “Latin Boys”.

I guess I forgot to mention that. There were cliques at the school which were mostly split along racial lines. If you were black, you hung out with the black kids. White? That was your group. And Latin guys had their own gang.

The reason Martin and I fought so much was I never gave into his crap. A lot of the other guys did because they feared him. Word was that at home, he (and his three brothers) belonged to the Avenidas, a notorious street gang in LA.

There was no way I was going to become anyone’s punching bag or endure non-stop harassment for being a “pussy”.

So every time he picked on me, I’d give it to him right back. When we’d get into brawls, he won just about every time. But see it wasn’t about who “won” but instead, manning up and not wimping out.

If you did that, you could trade your scars to gain the respect of others. Yes, I know that sounds like something out of the toxic masculinity handbook but I’m just telling you how it was.

In any event, all of us were assigned to “cottages” at Bryson; a term that was a carryover from reform school days.

I was assigned to River Cottage and my brother to one called Sky. Out of the ten units on campus, “River” was considered the best because the house parents who ran it were the most lenient.

I stayed at River from the time I was 15 until I would graduate and went to college.

So why am I telling you this?

Well, because it was during my senior that the guy I told you about earlier, Martin, was transferred to River.

In an effort to create greater diversity among the student population, Bryson leadership decided to mix things up. This meant guys who had all white roomies were now paired with blacks. Latin guys, who almost always shared the same dorms, were made to split rooms with white and black guys.

At the time, I didn’t understand what was going on. But looking back, it made a lot of sense. I mean it was bad enough there were so many racial cliques among the cadets, you know?

In any event, guess who got placed in my room? Yep, Martin. One of my roomies was sent to his old cottage and he came to ours. I tried to tell my house parents that they shouldn’t put us together. But they said it was out of their hands.

And honestly, it probably was.

There’s something about having to live with someone in a dorm that forces you to get along. The first few days were hard and we were constantly at each other’s throats. But that faded away pretty fast.

Plus, the third guy in our room, Nathan, was bigger than both of us told us both to keep our shit shut.

At Bryson, you were either on the “7-Day Plan” or the “5-Day Plan”. The difference? If you were on the “7”, you stayed on campus Monday-Sunday. If you were a “5”, you went home on weekends.

I was a 7, thanks to my family. You see at Bryson, your parents made the choice or not if they wanted you home on weekends. I was always jealous of the 5’s because by 4pm on Friday, they were being picked up by their mom or dad.

There was one way, however, a 5 could be temporarily made a 7. It was called “restriction” and you were placed on this status if you got into trouble. Think of it as being grounded, military school style.

So you probably know where this is going.

Martin mouthed off to our platoon leader during morning formation and got written up. That resulted in a two-week restriction, which meant he was forced to stay in the cottage, with the exception of going to school or the dining hall.

Up until that point, I had enjoyed having the dorm all to myself on weekends. You could be alone, think, read and like most guys who are 18, sexually fantasize and beat off.

So the weekend Martin found himself tethered to the brick and mortar of River, I was none too happy. But what could I do?

I don’t know how it happened but it just did. Around 9 pm at night on a Friday, when it was dead silent at River, Martin started about talking about his girlfriends back home.

Like a lot of guys, he bragged about his conquests. I rarely talked that way unless it was necessary to keep my cover. I’m not proud of it but back then, it was better to lie and make up “girlfriends back home” as opposed to getting my ass kicked.

camouflage pants abs muscle

Marting had dark skin with an athletic build.

As he sat in his bed with no shirt on, I could see that his tone had changed from being the tough street guy to something else – something more vulnerable.

And his stick was tenting up in his fatigues. I’ll never forget his dark, smooth skin or how his biceps flexed as he adjusted himself in full view.

I continued to lie and talk about women. The conversation started heating up.

At some point, it just happened. He started to beat off.

He kept looking at me with his wide brown-eyes that urged me to join in. And so that’s what I did. I’d never done anything like this before. I was excited and freaked out all at the same time.

He briefly got up and blocked the door with a chair, just in case someone walked in.

Then, he walked back to his bed and continued doing his thing. We watched each other and then released.  The whole thing lasted no more than ten minutes.

When we were done, we used a boot polishing cloth to wipe up; standard gear all Bryson cadets were issued.

The next evening, Saturday, was just as dead as Friday. I had plans to go off campus on a pass and check out a movie. Yep, being on the 7-day plan didn’t mean you couldn’t leave. But if you were on restriction, you had to stay.

And that meant Martin was stuck.

Long story short, he asked me if I wanted blow off the movie and stay in for a game of Monopoly. Given what we did the night before, I kind of knew he was looking for more than just companionship.

I agreed to hang.

Somewhere between my winning Water Works and him winning St. Charles Station, the topic once again turned to girls. But this time, he started asking curious questions like, “Why do girls like sucking dick” and stuff like that.

The game ended and we took our respective beds. But the conversation about women and “why they liked it dick” continued. It was probably around 2 a.m.

We were both stroking it and talking – watching each other.

I remember him getting up to once again prop a chair against the door. But instead of heading back to his bunk, he swung over to mine.

He started going down on me. He didn’t ask me – he just did it.  No other way to explain it other than that.

We took turns reciprocating back and forth. It was crazy dangerous since a house parent could have tried to come in as part of “the rounds”. But I guess that’s what made it fun too.

That first time, my inexperience showed. Martin was bigger than me by a lot down there. I remember struggling to open my mouth wide enough to take it in.  Not huge like this guy but he was very large – and cut.

We never kissed or anything like that – “too gay” I suppose. But I do remember that just before I was about to release, he swallowed me – and then quickly spit it out.

“Hey, the only way to know what chicks like is to try it,” he said.”


During my last six months at Bryson, Martin would find himself on restriction at least three more times. And on each occasion, during the weekend, we’d “talk about girls.”

Nothing more. No anal, no making out. No cuddling. It wasn’t like that. But it was a way for us to explore our sexuality. And for me, it was confirmation of what I had always known – I liked men.

All of this went down decades ago. I haven’t seen Martin in years, although I do see posts from him on Facebook. He’s married now with kids and lives in a different state.

Was (is) Martin bi-curious? Probably. It’s hard to believe I was the first guy he messed around with. After all, it was an all male military school.

And my brother? He’s straight. He never shared with me anything from Bryson that made me wonder. But then again, I never told him what Ive told you here. Who knows?

Anyway, that’s my story. My first gay experience happened at military boarding school. Ever since then, I’ve been into getting serviced from other guys.

Standard stuff, huh?

Thanks for reading!


Thank you, Connor, for sharing that story with us.

When I was in high school, it was one of the most enlightening experiences that I ever had. It was the first time I started really paying attention to who I was, and who I liked being with. Like Connor in his story, I didn’t need a sexual experience to confirm anything about who I wanted to be around. I knew whose company I loved keeping, and like Connor, I didn’t like admitting it. Deep down I knew, but after that? I wouldn’t openly admit anything.

I had a crush on a fellow NJROTC cadet. He was someone I knew since middle school. It didn’t end well…

If you’re curious:

But, sometimes you know before you even have the experience.

Sometimes, you figure it out when you have our first experience.

Either way, you’re gonna figure it out. And you know what? There are going to be people out there who’ll judge, but screw them. If you’re happy with who you are, and who you become, and you’re not hurting anyone, then there is nothing wrong. You’re doing nothing wrong.

It’s very unlikely that I’ll ever come across the various people who put me down in my life, nor do I ever want the experience of sharing a sexual awakening with any of them. But the epiphanies we come across as individuals help us progress into the people we’re meant to become.

Thanks for reading everyone. Don’t forget, give the Facebook page a like if you like keeping up with the blog and the entries ^_^ Same domain, Hey It’s That One Asian Guy. Drop me a like 🙂 And if you’d like to be a part of the CCCC, send me a message on the Facebook page.

Cheers everyone. And good night!