I’m needy and you know it
Here I am. In front of the Mister B store. About to buy things to stick up my hole. Or my dick. Or in my mouth. Maybe even all of the above. Walking in. Embracing my sexuality. Living my truth. 42 years old. Hands sweaty. Nervous as fuck.
Here I am, don’t look at me. I am 13. Checking out bodybuilders in Flex Magazine. Trying to get the courage to peek at that gay porn mag on the top shelf. Feeling awkward. Boner in my briefs. Not sure of who or what I am, but knowing full well at the same time. So does that sales guy. Fuck. I need to leave. Now!
Here I am back in a bookstore. I just turned 30. Feeling lost, searching for guidance, discovering Coach Yourself To Success. A self-help book on discount. I should put it down and walk away, but I am still holding it in my hands. What the fuck? What the fuck?? Is this what my life has turned into? Approaching the cashier. Answer her question please: “No, it is NOT a gift.” Have anything else to confess? “It is for me.” There you go. Good boy! Next time speak up!
Here I am, back at the Mister B store in Amsterdam. 42 and slightly nervous while shopping for sex toys. Trying not to give into that feeling of shame. Like most of us I have my needs. I know what they are, but I don’t necessarily want the outside world to know as well. It is too confronting to show others what you are into; how pervy you actually are. And let’s be honest: it is none of their business anyway.
And then it hits me: it actually IS. Their business, I mean.
So here I am again. Getting advice on sex toys by Nereida, that wicked sales girl that you may already (know or) have read about in this issue of WINGS. Calm. At ease. Laughing about a filthy gadget that she is showing me: a tube that connects your cock and ass so you can piss into your own hole. Staring at Mister B’s dildo collection and deciding on what is more important – length or girth – and getting professional advice on it. Leaving with a black plastic bag containing something named a Hammering Hank, a rubber ball gag, and a huge smile on my face.
Is a Dutch/German journalist on the lookout for free tickets to the Eurovision Song Contest in Rotterdam (slide into his DMs). He lives in Amsterdam with two chubby cats, his talented German fiancée, and an Argentinean plus one. Follow his adventures on Insta @hohlinone, where he has been documenting his day-to-day life for over the last six years #365daysofinstagram.