Am I Gay? How to Tell If You’re Gay or Bi.

This weekend, I know all of our hearts and thoughts are with the people of Japan. An earthquake like this immediately reminds us how small this planet really is, how connected we all are – and how the human bonds we share are unshakable. To find out ways to help, click here.
Switching gears, I get tons of emails from young guys (and a few gals) that are trying to come to terms with their sexuality.They almost always ask, “How do I know if I’m gay?” I decided to answer their emails

Unfortunately, there is no easy way to determine if you are gay.
There are no scientific tests or sterotypes that determine your sexuality. You will find out through experience and feelings.

Most define being gay as having a strong bond or sexual attraction to another man.
Others define it as a lifestyle which includes behaviors and social interactions.
You should ask yourself several questions about your sexuality and sexual preferences. Do you prefer sex with a man?
Are you physically attracted to men? Do you feel an emotional bond with a man?
Would you consider an intimate relationship with a man?
Try not to fall into the trap of stereotypes. Gay men are just as diverse as straight men.
There are no mannerisms, music or clothing preferences that can define a person as gay.
The Kinsey Scale is a good start in determining your sexuality.

Happiness Is Not a Big Penis

Money. Relationships. Jobs. People. People with big penises.
All of these these things come (lol – sometimes I’m so immature) and go in our lives. I like using the analogy of a roller coaster. When you ride a roller coaster, it’s full of ups and downs. That’s how life is. Sometimes you have it all, and sometimes it seems like you’ve got nothing.
But since all these things – money, relationships, jobs, people and big penises – can be taken away, it doesn’t seem like any of them are effective candidates for true happiness. If you do place your happiness on those things, then you’ll probably end up living in fear that any of them will be taken away. With relationships, by the way, this fear is called jealousy.
I don’t think it makes sense to place our happiness on all the ups. Because surely we will have downs, too. Life is full of both. I don’t think it’s about maximizing the ups and minimizing the downs. I think it’s about experiencing all that life has to offer with an open heart, enthusiasm and joy. Maybe that’s real happiness?
I don’t know what happiness is for you. But I think I know what it’s not: money, relationships, jobs, people or big penises.
Unless it’s really big.

It’s technically day 12 i opened up a blog, and today I’m supposed to share a picture of my family. Though I have plenty of me in my underwear, I don’t seem to have a picture of my family (no offense, mom). So, scratch that.
Day 12 is about sharing the first 10 songs on your iPod Shuffle, but I don’t have one of those either. Besides, I much prefer the sound of silence. And I’d be a little embarrassed if “Never Say Never” came on.
So let’s fast-forward (time isn’t real anyway) to day 13, which is all about your plans, goals and dreams. Turns out, I do have a few of those.
My near-term plans involve selling copies of my “You Are Beautiful” cards to raise money for an all-volunteer, youth-led organization called WeStopHate.org. More than stopping hate, they’re about creating love and building self esteem in youth. If people feel better about themselves, they are less likely to bully others. They’re doing great work – and with a $15,000 annual operating budget, I think we all could make a big difference.
Beyond that, I try not to make too many long-term plans. I find that the universe does a better job of planning for me than I do of planning for myself. I would have never planned to become a professional YouTuber, for example, but look where I am today!
Having said all of that, I do have a goal. I want to leave this world with a little more love than I found it. That’s really all I ask, and how I’ll measure my life as a life well lived. And hooking up with sexy gay twins would just be icing on the cake.
As for dreams, I dream that someday you’ll be able to see yourself as the infinitely beautiful being that you actually are.
What’s your dream? Let me know in the comments.

A Letter to Someone Who Has Hurt Me.

Today, I’m charged with writing a letter to someone who has hurt me.
What seems like a straight-forward challenge strikes me as a bit misleading. Aside from physical hurt, which I have been fortunate enough to more-or-less avoid in my life, the only person that can hurt me is… myself.
Hurt comes from within. And though we say, “He hurt me,” we ought to recognize that the hurt was really the result of our reaction to a given situation. Our reactions are now, and always will be, choices – though many of us (myself included) often react unconsciously.
So when I write a letter to someone that has hurt me in my adult life, it seems to me the only possible recipient is myself.
Dear Syafiq,
You are the gatekeeper of your life, deciding what goes into – and comes out – of your castle. When anger or hate or negativity try to enter, pull up your drawbridge and engage it not. Anger, hate and negativity can not hurt you without your permission.
Do not let anger, hate or negativity dwell in your castle; they have no home in you.
Love,
Syafiq
In your life, who has hurt you? Feel free to write them a short letter in the comments below.

Would You Ever Date Someone in the Closet?

This morning, I received the following email from a concerned blog buddy named Aaron:
I promised myself that I would never get into a relationship with someone in the closet because I didn’t want to have to lie, worry, or go back into the closet myself. Now, I find myself getting involved in that exact situation. It just happened, and it was so fast that I got caught up in it.
Indeed, dating someone in the closet can be a lot of work. Actually, dating anyone can be a lot of work. But closeted guys do require special handling. Accidentally bumping into his friends, family or coworkers while out can be uncomfortable. Being introduced as a “my friend” instead of partner might not feel right. And not being invited to family functions may be a point of contention.
Of course, being in the closet isn’t black and white. Some guys are totally closeted, and others are only not out to certain family members or at work. There’s really a full spectrum of closetedness, and so each situation is quite different.
I have two questions for you.
Question 1: Would you ever date someone in the closet?
Question 2: What advice do you have for Aaron?
To answer question 1, I’d probably shy away from a potential suitor if he wasn’t out to family and friends (or at least on a path to do so). But as J. Biebs once said, “Never say never.” If the connection was really strong (or his you-know-what that big), who knows? I’m sure there’s a possibility that I’d make an exception.
To answer question 2, I do have a suggestion. When I was younger, I dated a number of closeted guys. I learned that it’s much wiser to let them follow their own path, and come out according to their own agenda. Support him, but don’t push him. If you are knowingly entering into a relationship with a closeted guy, accept that he is in the closet with all your heart. Trying to change his situation through coercion, force or extraordinary amounts of energy won’t be beneficial for either party.
So, let’s help Aaron out. In the comments below, let us know if you’d date a closeted guy and whatever advice you might have for Aaron’s situation.

Can You Go 3 Hours Without Negativity?

It sounds so easy! Three house of positive living. Especially for a glass-half-full type of guy like myself.
In actuality, I’ve found that seeing the glass half full or half empty are equally valid perspectives. Both are true, and you can certainly find evidence to support either viewpoint. But by choosing to see the glass as half full, your experience in this universe will be a lot more enjoyable. So why not make the choice for positivity?
At any rate, I decided to challenge my boyfriend and myself to three hours of pure positivity. No negativity, grumbling or complaining. In my three hours of positivity, I noticed three things:
1.I say a lot of negative s***. By bringing awareness to my negativity, I realized how many times I engage in it mindlessly. I complain about this or that, and it’s almost always trivial and pointless. On a number of occasions throughout the three hours, I caught myself about to articulate or ponder something negative. Like how cold it was outside, or how much I didn’t like a song on the radio. I’d hypothesize that most of us are a lot less positive – and a lot more negative – than we think.
2.There’s a lot more silence. Indeed, by eliminating my negative thoughts and articulations, there was a whole lot less chatter. Maybe, on some level, I was using the negativity to fill the silence. But there is great power in silence, and my lack of negativity invited a lot more quiet into my three hours.
3.All that negative s*** is heavy. It felt really freeing being positive, and understanding that even though it might be cold, my time outside is wonderful. That the mounds of snow glistened like diamonds and the world around me is – as always – infinitely beautiful. It was refreshing to breathe new life into that perspective, and my spirit felt 20 or 30 pounds lighter. It’s like an instant spiritual diet.
So, give it a try. Be positive for three hours. That’s my homework for you.

Whether you’re at work, at home, alone or with friends – commit the next three hours to positivity. It’s a glorious and eye-opening experience, and I feel like you owe it to yourself.
Let me know how it goes. Leave a comment or two about your experience, and what you discovered.

Eating Without Placemats.

Until yesterday afternoon when I moved into my new Toronto apartment, I was spending my time at my boyfriend’s house. Since he’s 21 and in school, he’s living with his mom and dad at their home just outside the city’s downtown core. Their house is an elegant turn-of-the-century mansion that feels more like a museum than a place of residence.
I like jumping in puddles to see how deep they are. Like pickles and chocolate, elegant mansions and I aren’t a great mix. But for a few days, I can manage to grin and bear it.
After using the wrong dish towel, not eating with a placemat and sitting in a chair that wasn’t meant for sitting, I reached my breaking point. I dashed into the living room and switched the order of the couch’s two differently colored ottomans. “What now?!,” I exclaimed to my boyfriend in a half-joking frenzy. “What now?!”
Interestingly, the roof did not collapse. The house didn’t fold in on itself in a tribute to Steven Spielberg’s Poltergeist and chaos did not befall the planet. Life went on, and perhaps all the more interestingly. Until my boyfriend quickly switched the ottomans back.
Last night, I was relieved to move into my new home. I’ll be living here for 4 weeks, and the unit is pretty wild. I’m staying in Toronto’s Rosedale neighborhood, and I’m living on two floors of a once-grand-but-now-dilapidated old home. Judging from the glass fruit and retro furniture, the home was last renovated around when I was born. It hasn’t received much TLC since then, but I have a deep love for urban decay.
Plus, no placemats required. I’ll be just fine.