I didn’t enter a 60-day Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT) program with a triumphant attitude. I entered it the way you enter a dentist’s office after years of avoidance: tense, suspicious, and hoping no one would ask too many follow-up questions.

I wasn’t just there for drugs and alcohol. I was there because my nervous system had been living in a state of “something bad is about to happen” for most of my life. Domestic violence had taught my body that love could turn fast. Rape had taught it that safety was optional. Substances had stepped in like an unlicensed contractor and said, I can fix this.

Spoiler: They could not.

They numbed things, sure. They also made my life smaller, blurrier, and way more exhausting.

Let’s be real, fellas: gay men are Olympic-level overthinkers. We can take the simplest situation and turn it into a full Netflix mini-series in our heads. Add body image insecurities into the mix, and suddenly a perfectly fine relationship starts to feel like a house of cards built on an active volcano.

Picture this: You open Instagram for “just a minute,” and three hours later, you’re knee-deep in a shirtless spiral, staring at an endless grid of men who look like they’ve been carved by Zeus, spray-tanned by Apollo, and Photoshopped by Beyoncé’s lighting team.

Meanwhile, you’re still in yesterday’s sweatpants, eating peanut butter straight from the jar. With a spoon. (If you used a fork, we need to talk.)

Welcome to the paradox of being a gay man online: in real life, we know beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. But on social media? Apparently, it only comes in “under 8% body fat.”

This is a fictional story based on the experiences of several clients over the years, with the hope of empowering those who have not yet come out.

Let’s start with this: I was 42, married, living in the suburbs, mowing my lawn every Saturday, and somehow still pretending I was into fantasy football when in reality, the only fantasy I had was about the guy who delivered our Amazon packages. In shorts. In July.

And that’s when I knew. Or rather, that’s when I finally stopped lying to myself.

At some point—maybe after one too many vodka sodas, or waking up next to a guy whose name you definitely don’t remember—you start to feel it: the party doesn’t hit like it used to.

Not because the music got worse (though, let’s be honest, we’re still playing “Rain On Me”), but because you’re changing. And stud, that’s not a crisis—it’s growth.

A chill, guy-to-guy guide to staying youthful, inside and out.

Let’s be honest—most of us wouldn’t mind looking like we just stepped off the set of a Calvin Klein shoot… even if our knees pop every time we bend over. The good news? You don’t need to chase your 20s or inject anything illegal into your face in a hotel bathroom.

Looking youthful isn’t about trying to stay young forever. It’s about feeling good, looking sharp, and aging like a man who knows what he’s doing.

Here are some easy, no-BS tips for staying fresh, energized, and just the right amount of hot as you get older.

Ah, bottoming. The final frontier. The backdoor ballet. The thing you've seen in all your favorite spicy videos and thought, "I could do that… right?"

First of all—YES, you absolutely can. But like baking a soufflé or wearing white to a wedding you weren’t invited to, it takes preparation, confidence, and a splash of bravery (and lube).

Whether you’re finally ready to surrender to the peachy powers of pleasure or your top has the patience of a saint (God bless him), here are 7 no-nonsense, all-facts-no-friction tips for bottoming like a boss—especially if it’s your first time.

Let’s be honest—falling in love as a gay man hits differently. Maybe it’s because many of us grew up hiding parts of ourselves, taught to build walls for protection instead of bridges for connection. Maybe it’s because love didn’t feel like an option for so long, and when it finally was, we dove in like we’d been holding our breath our whole damn lives.

Alright, guys, let’s talk about something serious—your testosterone. That magical hormone that gives you muscle, sex drive, energy, and the ability to lift heavy things while looking sexy. But what happens when your T-levels drop? Well, suddenly, you’re less of a raging stallion and more of a sleepy house cat.

And listen, low testosterone isn’t just for your dad’s generation. Plenty of men—yes, even gym bros and party boys—deal with it. And if you’re a gay man trying to navigate dating, fitness, and staying Sunday brunches, low T can feel like Mother Nature herself is playing a cruel joke on you.

You know what’s sexier than a six-pack and a square jawline? Internal happiness. That’s right. True, deep, unshakeable joy. The kind that isn’t dependent on Instagram likes, validation from some dude named Jake, or whether or not your pecs cast a shadow at noon.

So how do we get there? How do we cultivate that sweet, sweet self-love that makes us glow like we just finished a 90-minute hot yoga class taught by a shirtless firefighter? Let’s break it down.