ASK ROGAN

It’s been awhile since I’ve had heaps of nasty shit thrown at me. Though you just have to google my name and you will find blogs out there full of hateful things written about me. Though the fact that most resort to using Aids as their main insult completely shows how ignorant they are and disvalues anything they have to say.

“A lion doesn’t concern himself with the opinion of a sheep.” And this massive Gorilla definitely doesn’t concern himself with the attacks of all these chimpanzees. But it did make me think about a guy who approached me recently asking me how do I be me, and not give a fuck about what anyone thinks.

Firstly, I do care, I’m human after all. And I listen to any productive criticism that comes from an educated and non-spiteful source. All of the awful stuff people say about me comes from their own issues. When someone maliciously attacks another person without being provoked, it is because they are deflecting their own fears, insecurities and unhappiness. Or possibly they’re ignorant. It’s really as simple as that. And it’s a lot easier for me to deflect the hate, cause for every hurtful message I get, I get 100 ego boosting positive messages. I fought hard to find out who I was and harder to accept it and FKIN “Learn it. Live it. Love it.” And during that process I developed a tough skin and early in my career/lifestyle I realised I would have to accept I get the good with the bad.

But what about that boy who approached me who doesn’t have the global support from social media platforms to constantly reassure him he’s amazing for being him? What about that boy who’s just discovering who he is and that it’s not the same as everyone else? What about that boy who is scared or ashamed of who he is because society or his family have told him he is wrong…

BUT WHATS FKIN WORSE is what about that boy who finds the courage to dance to another beat only to have the other boys in his so called “community” be the ones to attack him and put him down. This is something that I really feel passionate about. This self hate within our community.

Now I am very well aware there is a lot of down right evil thrown towards us Queers, minorities and groups that are different from the straights but in my experience I am lucky enough to say I haven’t experienced that. I’ve only been word bashed by our community. It really saddens and frustrates me that the same community that has and is still fighting for acceptance and equality is the first to attack one another for being different or living their lives the way they want too.

For all those cunts who have told me I’m what’s wrong with the gay community cause I’m a promiscuous man who loves anon piggy sex and has taken it a step further by being open about it and making a career outta it. For attacking me for doing what I need to, to achieve the physique I want and being unashamed to use it to my advantage. I wanna ask you, what is it that I represent that makes you feel so threatened to feel the need to have a go at me?

And for that boy who messaged me. You only live your life once so you FKIN be you and you FKIN Love yourself and every time someone hurts you, or judges you for doing that, you turn the other way knowing you are the bigger person. You can’t please everyone so FKIN please yourself and tell ‘em Rogan Richards told you so!

IF YOU COULD ONLY SEE.

“Love them from a distance.” That’s the advice they gave me to deal with Skippy’s meth addiction. I was once asked. ”When do you know when you should walk away?” And at the time I filmed an ASK ROGAN segment with Skip and we both said you need to walk away when the addicts are not willing to help themselves. Both those pieces of advice are complete bullshit.

I don’t have the answer to any questions. I want to say, save yourself and walk away from the start but I couldn’t and I haven’t. Because I loved him so much? Or because I’m stubborn? Because I feel guilty and because I fucked up and want to make it right? Because we never had the chance? All of the above. Sometimes I think I was supportive, needed, something for him to hold onto to stop from going under. Then other times I think I was enabling him, making things worse, hurting us both. I cant tell the difference anymore. All I know is you can’t be with someone who’s an active addict cause it will destroy you. But if you love them and can’t turn away from them, what do you do?

I remember one night, after I had told him I didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, I went and fucked a muscle couple to take my mind of it, as I do. I didn’t cum and I left only feeling more pent up frustration than before I had gone to their house. I could track Skip via his iPhone and despite every inch of me screaming don’t look, I looked for him and saw that he was at a sauna. (Tracking him became an obsession, and trying to tell myself not to look up where he was at any given time was like trying to tell Britney Spears not to flick her hair.) I drove to the sauna, the whole time arguing with myself to turn back. The next thing I’m taking off my clothes and putting them in a locker and walking down the hallway with my freshly washed towel around my hips…

I don’t know how long I was in there but it seemed like forever, Walking around the hallways, looking into rooms, trying to see if one of the tangled bodies in the middle of a group fucking was him or not. At one point I gave up and just tried to get my dick sucked but no one seemed interested. Maybe the smell of desperation was too poignant. I realized I had to go home when I found myself outside a locked room listening to someone being fucked inside and trying to figure out if it was him or not. No, it gets better. I then walked into the adjacent room and tried to scale the dividing wall and peep over it. You know, with out making it sound like, a 100 kilo gorilla was trying to do so. When I slipped and ended up on my ass I was like, “ENOUGH! Go home!” Or maybe it was Mousey, so mortified at my behaviour, had taught himself telepathy and got into my head. Either way, I went and put on my clothes and handed in my towel and that’s when the guy behind the counter said, “You just missed Skippy, he just left with the guys.” And my heart plummeted down through my chest and tummy and out my ass. I remember being upset that he was there and I didn’t find him but destroyed that he had left with, “the guys.” 

I walked to my car and texted him. Skip never answers his phone when he’s on it so when he texted me back my whole world started to spin. I told him I was in the area and for him to meet me outside the sauna… And he agreed.

I met him and there was some small talk and I asked him if he wanted to go inside with me and he said ok. He wanted to know what I was doing and I said I had no FKIN idea. All I knew was I wanted to be naked with him. That night I blasted for the first time because I wanted to know what this amazing high felt like. I wanted to know what had ripped Skippy away from me. I wanted to give it a face. I wanted to look it in the face and tell it to FK off.

What I did was pretty FKED up. But I wanted to do it and I don’t regret it. As it turns out noting happened, it was like popping a 90s ecstasy pill. This is a common thing with my relationship with drugs. Nothing affects me, or I’m bent over vomiting. There seems to be no middle ground and besides all drugs make me soft, including G so why the FK would I wanna use any? A lot of the time gay guys use drugs to get to a piggy level of sex, but that’s me naturally.

And that’s not the worst story. Oh, and that wasn’t the first time I’d tracked him to a public place and wasn’t the last. Fighting Skip’s meth addiction made me do, and think, and be things I never thought possible. So now lets take a minute to address the elephant in the room. Why the FK would you stay with someone who is acting the way Skip was? I‘ve compared it to Cap 3 before and Bucky and the Cap’s relationship. And as silly as it is, it’s exactly what it’s like!

All the professional help I received made it clear to me that the person under the influence of their addiction has no power over what they’re doing and doesn’t care who they hurt. It’s like they’re possessed. So how do you hate someone who is “professionally described as“ helpless? How do you hold them accountable for what you’re being told they cant control? Can I have some FKIN help here? Do you see my frustration? Of course I was in control the entire time. I had the power to walk away at any point. But I have seen Skip as the most amazing, loyal and beautiful man and I took that man for granted and abused and hurt him. So yeah, there was a lot of guilt keeping me there. But more than guilt, hope. Hope that we could finally at least try to be the couple he always wanted us to be and that I finally realised we could be. Just a little too late.

And it’s so lonely when no one else truly gets what you’re going through. When all your friends are telling you to walk away, when you’re family don’t like him and wouldn’t understand and you have no support. I felt so alienated. I don’t blame my friends I would be telling them the exact same thing if the roles were reversed. And unless it’s happening to you, you don’t truly understand it. You might think you do and FK does everyone have a FKIN opinion but you don’t know a FKIN thing. It was actually during some of my lowest and loneliest times that the positive comments on my social media from followers helped me keep my determination alive. So I want to thank you guys for that. I was extremely fortunate to find a meth councillor, who has since become a very close friend of mine, who was the only support I had or person I could ask advise from. Of course I rang every help line available and even went to a group. The help lines have their place in the system but were FKIN useless for me and the all the groups are catered towards families and couldn’t help a gay lover who sexually was a trigger for his partner.

Of course there’s the Living For Love approach. Telling them to fuck off and come back and find you when they’re clean. Which might take 3 months, 5 years or never. But you get on with your life without them. After almost a year and half of this I was at that point. I’d blocked him on all social media and began to rebuild my life without him in it. Well, as much as I could in a week before he finally started doing everything he could to get back into rehab, letting his family put him under house arrest, taking his phone and wallet off him. Seeing him finally showing me that he was ready to stop made my heart flood open again.

It was a week before my first bodybuilding comp and I had stupidly agreed to doing a sex show at Sircuit based on the availability of a visiting porn star (who ended up being FKIN useless anyway.) I didn’t know about Skip’s addiction then. All I knew was he had started lying a lot and was regularly pissing me off. I was wet rag as any bodybuilder or person who’s had close contact with a bodybuilder that close to a comp on prep would tell you. Me and Skip weren’t talking (again) but he had been advertised as doing the show so I told him he had to be there.

What’s worse is he had been fucking with the visiting guys who were also performing that night, one, in the sex show with me and Skip. Which left me FKIN heart broken, furious and craving doughnuts in no particular order! I don’t blame anyone Skip has fucked on one of his binges behind my back for Skip’s actions. Having said that I don’t wanna hang out with them either and definitely don’t wanna get naked with them. So turning up that night to do just that was FKIN hard. Even now writing about it, it hurts. 

So the first show happened, the sex show with the three of us and it was what it was and we all got through it. Me and Skip both emotional wrecks and the third guy too out of it or FKIN dumb to know what was going on. I remember being in the change rooms and just…crying. I was a week out from my comp remember! At one point I looked up and saw that Skip was next to me getting something from his bag, he would have seen me crying and said nothing. He just walked outta the room. 

All of a sudden I went from Genie in a Bottle to Fighter! I stormed outta that room and found Skip sitting on a seat talking to someone. Ok, I quickly have to tell you that we still had a second show to do, me and him. But I leant over to him and said something like, “Go fuck yourself, I don’t need you for the second show!” and continued storming my way through the club wondering what the fuck I was going to do for my second show? Which was quickly replaced with an overwhelming need to piss. 

As I was walking back out of the toilets a remix of Madonna’s Living For Love came on. And look, I know that song is all about empowerment after having your heart broken and getting on with life and loving again, but that night, maybe because I was so carb depleted, I got stuck on the “Living for Love’ bit and kinda lost the rest. I can’t even describe the wave of emotion that flooded me. I just walked back over to where Skip was, thankfully, still sitting where I left him. I grabbed him by the scuff of his T-shirt and literally picked him up with one arm and dragged him over to the stage and threw him on it. Then got up there with him and stuck my tonged down his throat. 

God knows what Skip was thinking and it would be great to hear his side of this nights escapades. I started to strip off both our clothes, Skip really had no say in what was going on. And in between kissing him I was FKIN sobbing. Literally crying my eyes out into his shoulder. Taking a breath, composing myself and then looking all serious for the crowd while we simulated sex until I pulled him into me again and started another sobbing fit. I have no FKIN idea what we did that night or what the FK it looked like to anyone watching. I remember at the time thinking, “No one can see me crying.” But I think that was similar to like when you’re drunk and throwing up in the corner of a club thinking you’re invisible to the crowded room. I do remember a guy telling Skip on social media a few days afterwards our second performance was intense.

So what now? Skip’s in rehab again. This one has a better reputation than the first one he went too and comes with a recommendation from someone that I fully trust. Also I believe that Skips ready to quit this time and to do what ever it takes. They say, “Only an addict can save themselves, they have to want to stop in order to stop.” Someone who is a recovered addict told me, “You have to want it as much as oxygen.” That’s how powerful this disease is, they need to want to quit as much as they want to live. You and I can’t even comprehend something of that magnitude. Unless, you know, you’re an addict, or recovered addict, or Mandy Moore in 47 Metres Down, and had a severe near death experience!

Have I ever told you guys I would be dead today if it wasn’t for Return of the Jedi, more specifically, the Biker Scouts? I’ll save that for another time…

Skip has his own story to tell you about his battle with meth that only he can. And as bad as it got for me, as dark and painful I know it was always ten times worse for him.

I can’t say reading this will help anyone going through something similar but I know how predominant meth is in our community and open conversation and talking about these experiences can’t hurt and only maybe educate or at least influence more discussion and maybe sometime in the future there might be a better support system for someone like me who has been fighting a loosing battle with a demon that I can’t beat. Advise for gay men on how to combat the intense connection between the meth addiction and sex.

Skippy was 4 months clean, he was starting to look like his old self, he was starting to act like his old self. His smile was bigger, that glint in his eyes were brighter and all this drove me insane with sexual frustration. I didn’t mean to fuck him that night, or maybe I did, maybe I was hoping I would and fooling myself into thinking I would be happy with lying naked with him and cuddling. I drove to his house without forewarning and soon we were naked in bed together.

We started kissing. It was intense, like we were breathing in each other through our mouths. My raging hard cock found his tight ass hole and I looked at him and said, “I wanna fuck you.” Was it selfish? Was it destructive? Was it my FKIN sex addiction once again putting my cock first and above anything else? Absolutely! (PS A meth addict and a sex addict may not be the best partnership!) If Skip knew it was potentially going to destroy him he didn’t say no to me because he saw the immense longing in my eyes or heard it in my voice and he loved me and wanted to give me something back I guess, even if it meant sacrificing himself. He just said, “I don’t know if it’s safe to go in there.” Skips a very clean bottom. I quickly answered, “I’ll risk it.” Lubed my cock up and was sliding it in before I had even finished the sentence.

Being inside him after so long and after all the emotional trauma felt strange but also felt so FKIN good. That night I didn’t BULLDOZER him like we used to it was slow, deep, gentle and FKIN passionate. He was on his back, his favourite position, so our mouths were locked together the entire time. As my cock slowly throbbed in and outta his ass, my weight on top of him, his hands all over my muscles. Until he finally said, “I’m gonna cum.” And I replied, “Cum baby, I will too.” And we both blew our loads together. Several days later, after being clean for 4 months he was back on it.

Of course I blame myself, well my dick more precisely. It was then that I thought maybe the best thing I could do for him was leave him. But he didn’t want that and neither did I.

I know Skip loves me and doesn’t want to hurt me. I acknowledge when the urge comes on its uncontrollable. I know I’m a trigger to him when all I want to do is be inside him. If there’s anyone who has sound advise on how to combat these things speak out. Cause honestly guys, these conundrums right there are the worst head fuck I have ever experienced and I was not, and still am not, equipped to understand or fight them.

If you read this Skip, I love you and I believe in you and I want you to prove everyone who doesn’t believe in you or us wrong. I wasn’t ready before but I’m ready now to be your man and together to rule the world! And our children, the GALAXY! 

To be continued…

And hey, if it doesn’t happen, well, I guess I still got a mouse I can rule the world with…

The latest RO-RI film on my XXX page is JOM (JURK Of the MONTH) Volume 2. A collection of videos of me jacking one out. It made me think back to when I was a teenager and used to think masturbation was an evil sin. Yes, I was that fucked in the head! Very sheltered catholic up bringing. You already know back then I was super shy and socially awkward, you also know I discovered masturbation by doing crunches and thought that was the only way I could make myself cum. (I’ve written about all that before.) But I have never spoken about …

THE BANE

WTF is the BANE? Well, it’s a Joe Donnelly horror book that I used to see on my Dad’s bookshelf … and its what I called the act of masturbation when I was a teenager. I also thought masturbation was a bad thing and hated myself for violating my body night after night. It gets better. All through high school I would keep a diary. No, not any diary, a TV HITS diary! And I would religiously write in this FKIN diary all the drama of my young life. And in this diary I would document my constant struggle with … the BANE!

It would be like, ”The BANE came again tonight and I couldn’t fight it!” or “I am going to beat the BANE!” stuff like, “I won’t let the BANE win anymore!” And of course on the very odd occasion there would be the entry, “I have beaten the BANE it hasn’t gotten me for the last three days!” Followed by, “It got me tonight.” You can’t make this shit up. I used to think jacking off was seriously bad to the point where I hated myself for doing it. And I used to have a TV HITS diary though I didn’t hate myself for that, I thought that was kinda cool. And I used to write shit like this in it! (I also used to write other crazy stuff but lets stay on topic.)

I can’t remember when I finally realised there’s nothing wrong with playing with my dick. There wasn’t a huge epiphany, a wise older man in a toilet block explaining its all very natural and good for me, maybe Madonna’s SEX book had some part in it. Or maybe I just gave up fighting but eventually I embraced the BANE, accepted I was going t o have a healthy life long relationship with it and got to work.