Sex with a Stranger on a Train – Well, Almost…

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Earlier, I shared my first sexual encounter with my college friend, Jez. My next brush with sex wouldn’t happen for two years. It seems unbelievable that someone could reach the age of 19 with only one hand-job in their sexual history. But I was shy and didn’t know any other gay people. 

Anyway, the next encounter happened on a tube train. It was early on either a Saturday or Sunday morning. I’d been to an all-night film marathon at the Scala Cinema in Kings Cross and was heading to my parents’ house at the end of the Central Line.

I’d dozed off and woke to find a handsome mixed-race guy sitting opposite me. I’d guess he was in his thirties. He was definitely quite q bit older than me. He smiled and began to chat, asking me about my night. Eventually he moved to sit next to me and asked if he could touch my cock.

I was taken aback. I hadn’t experienced such an open request for sex from a stranger before. Certainly not on a train. At first, I acted indignant and said no. But within a few minutes I had taken his hand and placed it in my lap. He took my knob out and began to jerk me off. I was excited and nervous. What if someone else got on the train? What if the guy currently tossing me off was a psychopath? What if I came all over my jumper and had to face my parents with a front full of cum

His cock was huge. I only felt it briefly as someone else did board the carriage, just as my hand had slid inside his jeans. But I still remember that hard slab of meat. The guy getting on the train glanced in our direction while my cock was still fully in view, and hastily looked away. I reluctantly pushed my length back into my pants and zipped myself up. No orgasm for me on this occasion.

We swapped numbers, but I never heard from him again. 

When I arrived at my parents’ house my mother asked if I was feeling okay. Apparently I looked a little flushed.

If you enjoy reading sexy stuff, please check out my male/male erotic romance novellas The Black Mask and Hard Lessons. They are available direct from the publisher’s website or from Amazon UK and Amazon USA, and other online sellers.

A Sexy Excerpt from Hard Lessons

Yesterday I offered you an erotic excerpt from my male/male romance The Black Mask, today its the turn of my other gay romance novella Hard Lessons which is available to pre-order now. Enjoy. Buy links at the end of the post.

Excerpt from Hard Lessons

Sunlight was streaming through the huge window when Jake opened his eyes. He could have closed the blinds so that the day wouldn’t have infringed on his sleep, but he was glad he hadn’t. He glanced at his phone, which sat on a small bedside table. It was only seven a.m. He thought about getting dressed and sneaking out of the house alone. He wasn’t sure lunch with Nathan was such a great idea after the knee-rubbing of the previous night, but his new boss had suggested it would be a good chance to talk about how the lessons were going to pan out. Also, if Jake were honest with himself, he liked the idea of spending time with Nathan.

There was no denying he was attracted, but getting involved with Nathan would be a bad idea on so many levels. First of all, Jake was still reeling from his break-up with Matt, and second, Nathan Foley was his boss and student for the next two months. They needed to establish a professional relationship.

As if Nathan could hear his thoughts, there came a knock on the door and the man’s husky voice calling.

“Jake, are you awake?”

Jake froze. Should he keep quiet, pretend to be sleeping or invite Nathan into his bedroom?

The knock came again.

“Yes, come in,” called Jake, making sure the quilt was pulled up to his neck.

Nathan opened the door. He was dressed in a white bath robe that only came down to an inch above his knees. It gaped open at the top, revealing a chest covered in dark hair.

“Morning,” he said. “I’ve made coffee and wondered if you wanted some.” He was holding two mugs in his left hand, one finger looped through the handles.

“Yeah, that would be great,” said Jake, shifting into a sitting position. The quilt dropped down to his waist, revealing his smooth, toned torso. He thought about pulling the quilt up to his neck again but decided it would make him look too paranoid.

“If you’re up for it, I thought we could head over to this beach I know,” said Nathan. “It’s really isolated and would be a great place to walk and chat and build up an appetite for lunch.”

Nathan sat on the end of Jake’s bed, handing him one of the mugs. Jake took it, feeling a flush spread from his face down to his chest.

How did Nathan go from the stony-faced interviewer of just a few days ago to this affable man who brings me coffee in bed?

“That sounds like a plan,” said Jake, unable not to look at Nathan’s exposed chest, one dark nipple clearly visible where the top of the robe hung loose.

“Excellent,” said Nathan, standing. As he moved, his robe momentarily shifted and Jake had to suppress a gasp at the brief glimpse he had of Nathan’s cock. Even while flaccid, it was long and thick, hanging between Nathan’s firm thighs. Jake hastily averted his gaze, although Nathan’s dick had already disappeared behind the robe.

“See you in about an hour?” Nathan gave him a questioning look.

“Sure,” said Jake, needing Nathan to leave so that he could fantasize about that cock while he masturbated. There was no way he could get through an entire day without responding to the sight of that amazing dick.

As the bedroom door clicked closed, Jake threw back the quilt and grabbed hold of his already hard length, jerking it aggressively as he imagined Nathan sitting on the end of his bed, robe fully open, revealing his entire manly body and that suckable dick, gradually growing hard.

Jake came in several thick gushes, covering his stomach and chest. He lay back, breathing heavily, still thinking of Nathan, now imagining his boss leaning across the bed and kissing him on the lips. A familiar warm feeling spread through his body and Jake realized he was developing more than simple feelings of lust for Nathan Foley. This is going to be a confusing and potentially exciting two months.

If you enjoy reading sexy stuff, please check out my male/male erotic romance novellas The Black Mask and Hard Lessons. They are available direct from the publisher’s website or from Amazon UK and Amazon USA, and other online sellers.

My First Experience of Gay Sex

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Your first time is meant to be special, right? But in many cases it’s anything but. I remember mine clearly. It was with a boy in my sixth-form college called Jez. Jez was a loud and proud, out gay guy – a brave thing to be in 1986. He was 19, I was 18. He spent most of the year we were in college together trying to force me out of the closet – but I just wasn’t ready. I was a very insecure kid, and being honest about my sexuality just wasn’t an option for me.

I didn’t fancy Jez at all, but apart from an even camper guy in the same year as him, he was the only gay person I knew. So, one June day I called him up and suggested I go round to his to revise for our drama exam.

We ended up in his bedroom, sitting on his bed and it wasn’t long before he started quizzing me about my sexuality. He showed me a gay porn mag and I grew hard, hoping he wouldn’t notice. But he did. He unzipped my fly and I didn’t stop him. That’s why I was there really, after all. I don’t think we even bothered taking out and books to revise.

Soon we had both removed our trousers and underwear and Jez was teaching me the wonders of mutual masturbation. His was the first hand to grip my erect cock and his was the first dick I ever felt. I was shocked at how big it was – it was bigger than mine, and I’m not small. I was also struck by how loose the foreskin felt as my hand slid up and down his shaft.

I asked if I could suck his cock and he said not to move too fast. Next thing I was coming into a hankie that he offered me for that purpose and not long after he was spurting into the same crusty piece of material.

Jez had barely finished wiping himself clean when he suggested I leave. He made some excuse about his dad being due home soon, but I knew he just wanted rid of me. He’d achieved his goal of outing me and had no further interest. 

I left feeling used and full of self-loathing. Not how you want to feel after your first sexual encounter. 

Sure enough, when I returned to college the next year everyone seemed to know about my experience. Jez had made sure he told the biggest gossips so that word would spread fast. I wish I’d had the confidence to be brazen and front it out, but sadly, I recoiled into myself even more and that last year of college was a fairly lonely one.

A funny side note  – the porn mag Jez showed me that day was the title I ended up posing for some four years later, and the editor became my partner for four years. You just never know where life is going to take you.

If you enjoy reading sexy stuff, please check out my male/male erotic romance novellas The Black Mask, Hard Lessons and Mirror Man. They are available direct from the publisher’s website or from Amazon UK and Amazon USA, and other online sellers.

A Steamy Snippet from The Black Mask

The last excerpt I posted from my male/male erotic romance, The black Mask, contained no sex, this one is a bit more steamy and likely to get you hot under the collar. Enjoy. Buy links are at the end of the post. Its only 99p/99c.

Excerpt From The Black Mask

On the wall above the TV is a poster of my creation, The Black Mask. Sam had a limited number designed by a comic book artist friend of his. He’s sold about a hundred so far and I get royalties on each sale. The Black Mask is crouching, ready to pounce, his tight, muscular body encased in black material. He has bulging biceps, thighs and pecs that threaten to burst through the fabric and more than a hint of something else bulging between those thighs. How can Sam deny The Black Mask is at least a bit gay? And did Sam specify how big to make that bulge?

Although his face is completely covered by his mask, I feel like he is watching me, which I find strangely erotic as I unzip the fly of my jeans and begin massaging my erect cock through the cotton of my white briefs. My cock is big, at least eight inches, and uncut. Its purplish-red head is already poking from above the waistband of my briefs, leaking pre-cum onto my flat stomach. I don’t work out much, but I run and eat healthily, so I have a fit, slim body, even if I do say so myself.

I push my jeans and briefs down to below my waist and begin stroking my cock. It’s hot and so solid. I grip it hard, squeezing out more pre-cum, which forms a weblike string between my stomach and cockhead.

I fantasize about Sam standing behind his desk, massaging his dick through his gray trousers. He’s glaring at me like I’ve really pissed him off, like he resents how horny he’s feeling. Suddenly I feel stupid, masturbating over a guy that will never look at me in that way. I should be out trying to meet other gay guys, not lying in my room jerking off over a straight man.

I’m distracted by a movement across the room. I stop masturbating and stare at the poster of The Black Mask. He is no longer crouching. He is standing and that bulge in his black-clad crotch is definitely a huge, hard cock.

“What the—?”

Then he leans forward and his head and shoulders protrude for real out of the poster, solid and three-dimensional. Now the poster is glowing like a TV screen with the brightness level turned up to the max.


He reaches down with a leather-gloved hand and begins to rub his massive boner through the thin fabric of his skin-tight suit. Incredibly, it grows even bigger, and it, too, is now solid and three-dimensional, bursting from the surface of the poster.

Suddenly my bedroom door flies open and Jules is standing there, still naked.

“Sorry,” he says, “but do you have any lube?”

I release a jet of cum, which spatters across my stomach and chest, drenching my T-shirt and barely missing my face. I look from Jules, who seems impressed as much as embarrassed, back to the poster. The Black Mask is crouching again and the poster is just a poster.

“Wow,” says Jules. “Something certainly got you horny. You should have just joined us.”

I’m so shocked by what has just happened that I don’t even bother trying to cover my cum-soaked body, despite the fact that Jules is still standing in my bedroom doorway waiting for a response to his request. When I glance back at him, I notice he is fully hard and tugging on his balls.

If you enjoy reading sexy stuff, please check out my male/male erotic romance novellas The Black Mask and Hard Lessons. They are available direct from the publisher’s website or from Amazon UK and Amazon USA, and other online sellers.

My Trip to Hampstead Heath’s Gay Cruising Area

Those of you who follow me on Twitter know I love to walk over Hampstead Heath. It’s such a beautiful place, an oasis of green in the middle of a massive city. But as well as its wholesome side – the dog-walkers, joggers and families having fun – the Heath also has a sexy reputation.

Tucked away behind Jack Straws Castle – once a pub, now luxury apartments – is the gay cruising area. I’ve only ever been once, many years ago when I was in my mid-twenties. I went on impulse with a guy I knew from a bar in Camden Town. 

I’d heard about The Heath, and I was curious. It was around midnight but the trees and bushes were alive with men having sex. I sucked off the friend I’d gone with for a while to get us in the mood, and then we split up to see what delights The Heath had to offer.

I’d love to tell you I had an incredible experience, getting sucked off by a gorgeous stranger, or fucked from behind while I hugged a tree, but I actually found the experience disconcerting. I didn’t know the etiquette – how you said yes or no to someone. I ended up surrounded by men of all shapes sizes and ages, all groping me and placing my hands on their cocks. I walked away and called out for the guy that had brought me who luckily was happy to leave with me and drive me home.

For me, my trip to the cruising area of The Heath was a good example of reality not living up to fantasy. But you have to give these things a go, right?

Tell me in the comments about some of your experiences.

If you enjoy reading sexy stuff, please check out my male/male erotic romance novellas The Black Mask and Hard Lessons. They are available direct from the publisher’s website or from Amazon UK and Amazon USA, and other online sellers.

What’s Your Sexual Fantasy?

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Considering this is the blog of a gay erotic romance writer, I haven’t talked much about sex or erotica, and only a little about romance. So, today, I want to talk a little about sexual fantasies.

My ultimate fantasy is being watched while I have sex, or even just performing for someone – someone I wouldn’t actually want to have sex with. They’d be made to watch from a distance, maybe taking images, while I pleasured myself.

I enjoy the odd session of cam sex, which is probably the closest I get to the above. It’s a great way to let off steam, with no fuss or the need for small talk when you’ve finished. In my third book with Pride Publishing there is a scene where Alfie, the handsome young protagonist, jerks off with a gorgeous man trapped inside a mystical mirror. This scene was basically a magical version of a web cam wank.

I’d love to hear about what turns you on, so please feel free to comment.

Age is Just a Number – But Let’s be Realistic

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Maybe it’s a gay thing, but I am a bit of an age fascist when I watch films. Not in a sexist way or anything. It just bugs me when I’m watching a film where, for example, the supposed teenage son is about thirty-five years-old. 

It’s made me think about some of the classic films that feature actors playing roles where they are meant to be much younger than they actually are.

Here are few that sprung to mind.


Ahh, how we cried as 17-year-old Rizzo bared her soul about sleeping around and teenage pregnancy, with her angst-ridden rendition of ‘There are worse things I could do’. Perhaps we would have been less sympathetic if actress Stockard Channing had been playing her real age, 33. Come on woman, you’re practically middle-aged, kick Kenickie into touch and grow up! And if you’ve only slept with a boy or two at your age, you’re hardly loose! Channing was not alone in playing way below her real age. Jeff Conaway, who played Kinickie, was more than mature enough to handle the responsibilities of fatherhood, at 28 and sweet, naive Sandy was portrayed by a 30-year-old Olivia Newton John. 

North by Northwest

Yes, Cary Grant was known as the ageless, debonair star of everything from screwball comedies to intense thrillers, but actress Jessie Royce Landis must surely have been slightly put out at being cast as his mother in Hitchcock’s 1959 North by Northwest. Grant was 55 at the time of filming, while his screen mother was just eight years his senior. Jessie was far nearer the star’s real age than Eva Marie Saint, who plays Grant’s love interest – she was 35 at the time of filming.

The Graduate

When his character Benjamin Braddock tells older fame fatale, Mrs Robinson, “I will be 21 next week”; Dustin Hoffman was actually 29, while Anne Bancroft, playing the seductress Mrs. Robinson was just 35 – despite telling the hormonal Benjamin, “I’m twice your age.” Kind of makes the whole scenario seem a lot less scandalous, doesn’t it. Just get on with it guys!

The Railway Children

Who can forget those adorable kids, waving their red bloomers at a steam train to prevent immanent disaster?  In fact, one of those children, cute little 11-year-old Phyllis was played by 20-year-old actress, Sally Thomsett. Sally was actually three years older than Jenny Agutter, who played her big sister. Sally’s real age was a closely guarded secret, even from the crew working on set. The actress nearly let the cat out of the bag, however, when she and Jenny ducked out for a wild night of clubbing during filming. According to IMBD, director Lionel Jeffries was not impressed and grounded both stars until the final scenes had been shot.


Critics had a lot to say about Madonna’s performance in film musical Evita,not all positive. Personally, I thought she was very convincing as a not-that-talented entertainer who slept her way to the top. Slightly harder to swallow is the facts that at the outset of the movie, Eva is meant to be 15 years old – Che, the narrator confirms this in the lyric: ‘There was nowhere she’d been at the age of fifteen’. While Madonna looked great for 38, even she couldn’t carry off 15! No doubt, the diva’s’s closest advisors offered words of wisdom such as ‘Maj, if you’re going to play a girl of 15 you need to take a long holiday first, or get some new material, girl!’ 

The Dressmaker

Consummate professional and English rose, Kate Winslet, could convince us of most things, but maybe not that she was the same age as super-hunk Liam Hemsworth in 2015 movie, The Dressmaker. Winslet, 40 years-old at the time, was actually 15 years the senior of Liam, despite their characters having been in the same school year. Washington Postcritic Ann Hornaday questioned the believability of the pairing in her review, asking: ‘And how are we supposed to believe that an ab-tastic love interest named Teddy (Liam Hemsworth) is remotely believable as her contemporary?’ I’m assuming it’s the age difference Ann is referring too and not Hemsworth’s hotness, because Winslet has a hotness all of her own!

The Opening Scene from The Black Mask

I don’t want to show Hard Lessons all the love, so here’s an exert from my earlier male/male erotic romance The Black Mask.

Chapter One

Sam Bradley is giving me a lecture about the latest installment of The Black Mask, the series I write for his fantasy fiction magazine, Exciting Adventurers. I don’t know why I still make a habit of coming to his office. It’s cluttered and pokey and, lately, Sam always seems to be giving me a stripping down—and not in a good way.

Actually, I do know why I keep coming back. It’s because Sam is hot—not in a fantasy boyfriend kind of way, but in a ‘real man, needs a shave, could do with a haircut but is still so sexy’ way. It started out that I just fancied him. I’ve always been a sucker for unobtainable men. But over the months that I’ve been making excuses to pop up to his office, I’ve developed a real thing for the guy. There’s another side to him, apart from the whiskey-drinking hard man he projects. He doesn’t show it often, but the softer Sam is caring. When his last girlfriend ended their relationship for another guy, he was devastated and we ended up talking for hours as he opened up. I think that’s the point where my feelings went from pure lust to actually caring. But what can I do? Sam is one hundred percent straight.

The other reason Sam is not boyfriend material, besides the being-straight part, is that he sometimes seems a bit homophobic. Unlike most fantasy fiction magazines, Exciting Adventures is yet to embrace the gay community. Sam likes to keep things very heterosexual, and he’s not happy that the character I invented, Alex Dark, aka The Black Mask, has started flirting too obviously with other guys.

“I don’t mind him flirting in a blokey way with gay guys,” says Sam, resting his elbows on his desk. “You know, like he’s being friendly but has no interest in them, but in this latest installment when he tells that guy he has a cute butt? That’s going too far.”

“Well, what if I see The Black Mask as bisexual?” I ask.

“Well then, I’d say take him to another magazine,” says Sam.

I wish I could tell Sam how I know for sure that The Black Mask is bisexual, but even I don’t quite understand. When I wrote the first story about The Black Mask, it was as if someone was dictating it to me—or actually, more like I was seeing a film in my head of how the story should pan out. And it had been like that ever since. I’d sit down at my computer with barely an idea in my head and images would just float into my brain. Two hours later I’d have the next installment. I decide not to raise this bizarre element of my writing process and instead come back at Sam with another approach.

“Your readers love him. He’s the main reason Exciting Adventures still sells while other fantasy mags have disappeared or gone digital-only. He has a cult following.”

Sam leans forward across his desk. He really is bloody sexy. He has striking green eyes and full, slightly dry lips that he licks frequently. He’s too macho to use lip balm. It’s hard to tell how old Sam is, because his face is always masked by about four days of stubble, but I’d guess he’s in his late thirties, about fifteen years older than me. He took over Exciting Adventures from his old boss, a guy called Frank, who launched the magazine about forty years ago, when fantasy and sci-fi mags sold by the truckload. These days, it only sells a few thousand copies a month and pays a pittance to contributors like me, but Exciting Adventures is fun to write for, apart from Sam’s apparent homophobia.

“I’m not anti-gay,” he says, his gruff voice faltering slightly over the word ‘gay’, as if he finds it hard to say, “but I need to think of the readers and what they want. A lot of them have been reading Exciting Adventures for four decades. They’re not ready for their superheroes to start boning other guys.”

I briefly imagine leaning across the desk and kissing those lips—a long, slow kiss that will silence him for a shocked moment. Then I’m angry with myself for liking this man so much and I challenge him instead.

“Are you sure it’s not just you that isn’t ready?” I ask, shifting in the hard-backed chair I’m sitting in. The jeans I’m wearing are skinny fit and very tight across the crotch, and I’m getting turned on. Hearing the words ‘guys boning each other’ come out of Sam’s mouth has that effect on me. I’m pretty sure Sam can’t see my lap from where he’s sitting, but at some stage I will have to stand up and these jeans won’t hide a raging hard-on.

When Did You First Realise You Were Gay? (Part 3)

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I ended the last part of this tale by saying that the 12 year-old me didn’t want to think about being gay or straight. And that is partly of the problem with giving anything close to a clear-cut answer to the question I still get asked “When did you first realise you were gay?” When I was 12, the last thing I wanted was to be gay. I wanted to be that boy running across the park, not the one furtively poring through the men’s underwear section of my mum’s catalogue.  I spent years pretending I wasn’t attracted to boys, which makes pin-pointing the age at which I fully realised my sexuality almost impossible. Because even when I did know for sure, I was trying to convince myself I’d got it wrong and that one day I would wake up wanting nothing more than to make love to Debbie Harry. 

 Certainly, once I moved up to secondary school – a pretty rough all-boys comprehensive – the feelings I had for other boys became less platonic. Although, I was so naive, any sexual fantasies I had were pretty tame. And the romantic feelings never rose to the levels they had with William. They were transient yearnings, with one subject replaced with another within weeks. They were often intense though, and the effort of hiding my feelings from the boys concerned must have taken a constant effort. I obviously succeeded, as I don’t remember ever being called out for a lascivious glance. 

But can I even say with absolute certainty that my sexuality had fully formed during this time. There was another major crush to come before my school life finished, and just to confuse the issue, it was on a girl.

After the fifth year at my secondary school, I progressed into the sixth-form college, which combined pupils from my school and the neighbouring girls school. It was exciting to be in mixed company again. I hadn’t always been the outsider I’d become in secondary school.  In junior school I’d been popular, partly because it was mixed and maybe I found it easier to form friendships with girls, which in turn led to friendships with larger groups, including boys. In an all-boys school, this process hadn’t been possible.

My sixth-form crush was called Laura. She was full of energy and humour, and a bundle of insecurities, combined with an apparent boundless confidence. I loved her, I’m sure of that. When I found out she was dating another boy in the sixth-form, I was devastated. If I tried to talk to Laura about him, I couldn’t even bring myself to say his name, my jealousy was so acute.  I wasn’t sexually attracted to Laura, but if she’d been romantically interested in me, I would have been delighted and I definitely would have dated her, maybe ended up in a sexual relationship, who knows, I may have ended up married to her. How often must that happen, that someone who knows they are gay forms a crush on a girl at an impressionable age, enters into a serious relationship, only to devastate her years later with the revelation that its other guys they actually fancy?

Perhaps that’s my answer. I genuinely knew I was gay at the point when I stopped separating romantic love and sexual love. Once I started having sexual relationships with other guys (later than most, at around 20), I stopped having crushes on girls. Once I allowed those lustful floodgates to open, my crushes were for guys only, and always a combination of romantic pining and lustful longing. 

So, next time I get asked the question, “When did you realise you were gay?”, maybe I’ll give a truncated version of this essay. Watch their eyes glaze over as I recall each crush, each early lustful dream, and analyse them before judging if they marked a genuine sexual awakening, or just another step towards one.

Or perhaps I’ll just ask them ‘When did you realise you were straight,’ and let them do the hard work while I eat my dinner and sip red wine.

12 Signs You are a Middle-aged Gay

You may once have been the twink that turned heads on the gay scene, but if any of these ring true, you could have become a middle-aged gay like me.

1.    You’ve become a fetish. At first, that attention from twenty-something guys is flattering, until you realise, you are the older man. You’ve joined the ranks of bears and fat blokes – you’ve become a fetish!

2.    You miss going out on the pull. Yes, it’s easier these days to meet likeminded guys looking for fun – it’s just a quick snap of your genitals away. But you kind of miss the excitement of actually going out to find some action – the eye contact, the flirting, the tension in the taxi back to theirs. The realisation that you slept together two months ago and they have really grotesque feet…Maybe you don’t miss that part.

3.    You really need a grooming regime. Back when you were a twink, you took pride in your appearance, sure, but there was far less to worry about. One day you wake up and discover eyebrow hairs that are two inches long, nasal hair that Prince Charming couldn’t hack his way through and those bags under your eyes that used to disappear by mid-morning, they’re not just overnight bags anymore. 

4.    You dance like a dad. How did this happen? You have no children, you don’t even particularly like kids, but still, you dance like your father at a wedding. 

5.    Just saying no isn’t hard any more. Gurning your way through an evening and talking shite was never attractive, now it’s positively unseemly.

6.    You can’t pass a pet rescue centre without thinking what a great companion a cat would be. Hey, it’s not like you’re out all the time.

7.    You need to learn to cook. How did all your 40-something friends suddenly become domestic goddesses, when they spent their 20 and 30s off their heads in Heaven? Dinner parties are the new house party, so invest in Delia’s How to Cook.

8.    You can’t shop at Topman anymore. It was the affordable go-to alternative to catwalk fashion, but one day you find yourself standing in Topman staring at the t-shirts and realising you don’t understand the cool slogans anymore. Maybe it’s time head to Zara, or if you really want to embrace your middle-age, Burtons.

9.    You start to resent having to be funny. Why do straight men get to be grumpy and speak in sentences that don’t end in punchlines? 

10.  You talk about the scene in your day, as if you’d fought in WW 2. No-one cares how hard it was for you in the 70s/80s/90s – they gay youth of today are out, proud and loud and want you to shut up!

11.  You miss when Pride was more political. We all love a boy band, and of course it’s great that straight people enjoy Pride too, but there was something exhilarating about marching through the streets in ridiculously tight shorts and giving the finger to all the haters gearing at you as you passed by.

12.  You start to notice how many gay people are on TV now. It’s wonderful that gay people are represented so much more on the small screen, but sometimes it can take you by surprise when two guys get it on before the watershed. Mr Humphries never did that! Even Colin and Barry in EastEnders only ever shared a quick peck, and that made headlines!

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