Why I wish I read THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY ... 10 Years Ago

I recently had to catch up on a literary classic -- and by classic I mean one written before the 21st century. You know, one of those books you should've read in high school, but only pretend to know by name? Well, had I read this particularly cautionary tale by Mr. Oscar Wilde (the eminent 'mo of his Victorian day), I might've shaved a decade of adolescent learning off my life.     

For those of you like me, who barely knew Dorian Gray by name, I highly suggest you rush out and buy or download The Picture of Dorian Gray for free. This isn't a classic you need to add zombies to make entertaining; Wilde is as witty as Mean Girls.  

You've probably never seen the movie either, it's even more obscure.

That said, here’s my Spark Notes.  It’s about this high-society guy so hot everybody wants to be him or be with him. When a painter captures his hotness in portrait form and his sassy and sinister best friend / devil on his shoulder Lord Henry Wotton puts bad advice in his head (i.e. "the people who love only once in their lives are really the shallow people”), Dorian makes a Devilish deal to ensure the painting ages instead of him. Essentially free of his conscience, Dorian becomes a sleazy, self-absorbed narcissistic hedonist who leaves a trail of heartbreak and suicide in his wake. Until, spoiler-alert, he goes insane, stabs a few people--and then the painting--effectively killing himself.

Modern-day Dorian Grays, and, no, they don't need magic paintings.

It's not very difficult to draw comparisons to today.  Dorian’s basically the 19^th century equivalent of a modern day player douchebag. He's gorgeous, likely grew up in the Hamptons, never had to work a day in his life (unless you count modeling), and gets everything in his life served to him on a silver platter. He even has a name readymade for a CW show. Now we may not have magic paintings that can keep us young, but with convincing botox and mad science telomerase-enhancing pills, we're getting pretty close. 

Hollywood movies have taught us that, at least in the heterosexual world, extreme cases of hot assholes who coast through their formative years on their looks generally get eclipsed by smart geeks with robust senses of humor. Eventually these super-hotties get their comeuppance when their looks fade and women become wiser of their disingenuous ways. Or they eventually learn that even though their good looks can get them laid (or better marks, careers and criminal court verdicts), relying on them can be pretty soul-crushing.

Even Mr. Gosling learned that being a hedonist douchebag eventually gets old. 

But if there is one place where this retribution is so delayed it sometimes never even happens, it's the gay world. And this is speaking from experience.  

If you’re young and beautiful you’re immediately ushered into the elitist scene as the belle of the ball – maybe even made the live-in of a richer silver fox “daddy.” (AKA our Lord Henry Wotton). Adolescence into adulthood (the critical period of life where most people learn to stop being shallow, self-absorbed narcissists) is thus postponed. You may not ever need to go through it, depending how good your genes are – and how much capital you’ve got to spend on Botox and steroids.  That’s right, we may not have a magic age-defying mirror, but we do have plastic surgery!

Dozens of ways to become your own Dorian Gray!

Let’s examine some other lessons to learn from Dorian.  Take the Grindr meat market – a dating app that reduces human beings into savage animals – where we select our sex partners for their pretty faces and six-pack abs while callously rejecting the fat, femmy or ethnically diverse, with not a second consideration to how these guys might take said rejections. Sound a bit like when Dorian Gray rejects once-fiancé Sibyl Vane and she ends up committing suicide: "You have killed my love. You used to stir my imagination. Now you don’t even stir my curiosity."? Okay maybe we’re not that bitchy, but you get the point.  

Douchebags of Grindr: if only they read The Picture of Dorian Gray  

And what about our canonization of mean-spirited Über-cunts like Cersei “I’ll have you strangled in your sleep” Lannister and Regina “that is the ugliest F-ing skirt I’ve ever seen” George? We love these bitches so much, fellow homo Ryan Murphy made a whole show about them for us with American Horror Story: Coven. Well guess what, before there was Regina George or Fiona Goode there was Lord Henry Wotton, who had delightful one-liners like: "I choose my friends for their good looks, and my enemies for their good intellects" and "Mrs. Vandeleur was so dreadfully dowdy that she reminded one of a badly bound hymn-book".  

So why do some of us love these bitches so much? Probably because deep down we're incredibly insecure Dorian Gray-types, so we like to put others down to make ourselves feel better. Why is this beginning to sound like an after school special?

Bitches: Why do we love them so much? Probably because we identify with them.

Needless to say, visit any gay scene and you're sure to encounter more than a few vain, self-absorbed Dorian Grays and their enabling, sassy Henry Wottons, and it's a vicious cycle with loads of collateral damage.  Sure to call members of the gay community shallow and superficial isn’t new but speaking as one of these self-absorbed, Dorian Gray Biotches, I think it bares repeating.

I think I'm ready to atone for past sins, and this isn't just my bitter, dried-up cynicism talking. Even if I had read The Picture of Dorian Gray in high school, I probably would’ve rejected the wisdom it had to offer. I still wanted to be older, so I didn’t know what it was like to dread age and I wasn’t even out of the closet, so I didn’t know what it was like to appreciate beauty. 

But now, as somebody who spent the last decade chasing twinks at Buddies, dropping snarky one-liners to friends and foes alike, and leaving a wake of victims in my douchey wake - basically trying to be or be with Dorian Gray - I'm ready for some change.  

And thus I pledge 2014 to be the year I try to become Miss Congeniality.

I have a Confession to Make...

Okay. First a necessary precursor: It’s been over TWO months since my last blog post. I could say I was busy shooting the documentary and writing my book. Both excuses are based in partial truth so therefore might sound valid. But let’s also be clear: they’re also Bullshit, just like all excuses known to man. The unfortunate truth is I have an addiction, the satiation of which kept me from releasing this next post, which is actually the topic of the very post itself. How’s that for bitter irony?

Writing these blog posts is kind of like an exercise in cathartic release and psychotherapy. Once I use the digital page to exorcise one of my demons, I can’t exactly fall back on my word? That would make me Queen of the Hypocrites.  

If you've slept with any of the gentlemen pictured here, this blog post is for you!

So perhaps, subconsciously, I needed to go through one last cycle of tempting bad habits. Re-downloading Grindr (after I'd pledged to Never be a Hookup Whore ever again) and meeting up with 20-something prettyboys to gorge my need to feel young, hot and desirable. Getting lazy and eating muffins at Starbucks so that I could get fat again (by my standards), so I’d have an excuse to look down on myself, and blame the problems in my life on not being goodlooking enough. I know it all sounds crazy, but these are the Symptoms of a much more virulent addiction. And it’s one I plan to beat.   

So faithful and patient readers. Without further ado, I have a confession to make.

Bryce Pre-Addiction. He didn't smoke, party or do drugs. But he also never had sex. 

I’ve always put myself on a self-righteous pedestal because I lived my adolescence on the straight-and-arrow. I got straight A’s in the 90s. I didn’t drink or go to parties because I was too busy trying to be Hermione Granger and Alex Trebek's love child (okay Hermione wasn't born when I was in high school, so the idea of her sleeping with a man in his 70s is kind of gross, but you get the point). I’ve always resisted the boozing, drugs and even smoking that tempt mere mortals. 

But then I came out of the closet and you all know what happened there. That’s right, I excavated my deep insecurities and transformed into the delayed douchebag you love (or love to hate) today. Problem is, remember how I said I’m trapped in the third quadrant? The phase where one Makes Up For Lost Time where you trade your self-respect and dignity for a six-pack and high-school hookups. Well here is where I discovered an addiction to Validation (of Sexual Desire). A drug worse than cocaine. 

Stage One Validation Addiction: Former Fatties will know it well.

Anybody cursed with an addiction for validation knows it's pretty simple. 

You look in the mirror and hate what you see. So you go to the gym and pump iron until someone tells you "you're hot." It will start with friends, family and colleagues, but their empty compliments mean nothing, because they're not having sex with you. But eventually you'll start to get attention from randoms in the bar. Or you'll put up hot new pictures on Grindr. And just like magic, you'll start having sex with guys you could never have sex with before. You might wake up feeling empty or shameful you didn't do something more productive. But luckily there's always another sexy hookup to make you escape those shameful thoughts! 

Unfortunately, in Stage One Validation Addiction, you will be plagued by unrelenting Self-Doubt. As you break your routine (and lose your sense of discipline), this can subconsciously lead to Shame-fueling Binge Eating. If it's really bad you might actually get fat again, but, either way, that's what you will see when you look in the mirror. You might think the easy cure is simply getting validated. You could tell me I have a great body and mean it - but guess what, chances are I’ll forget by the next day, when I reach the next hurdle in life. When you’re truly addicted to validation, you keep raising the stakes, eventually adding Body Dysphoria and Perfectionism

Stage Two Validation Addiction: PLAYERS FOR LIFE suffer from this.

In Stage Two Validation Addiction, your self-sabotaging Stockholme Syndrome loses its grip, and you realize Upper Echelon Grindr Hotties can only be attained by going to ridiculous extremes of dieting and exercise. You'll believe you've Raised your Standards and adopt a truly visceral Body Dysmorphia. So when you look in that mirror, you'll still see the Fat Monster you always hated. And thus the Cycle of Validation starts anew, as per above. 

The fact that I decided to pursue a career in entertainment makes my validation addiction cripplingly two-fold. It’s sexual and creative! Basically I either need you to say you desire me or you think I’m brilliant! A daily bout of writer’s block can fuel a sense of creative talentlessness. To escape that feeling, I might try to score a (meaningless) date or hookup. If I fail in that, I'll blame my inch of pinch-able fat. If I succeed I might beat myself up for not being productive.  

The thing with an addiction to validation, there isn’t a set paradigm for curing it. How many validation rehab clinics have you heard of? A 12-step regime or Validation Anonymous? Sure you can spend hundreds on psychotherapy (and believe me I have), but chances are that will only solidify the idea that you're crazy, and make you dependent on Therapeutic Validation.  

Holy Grail Cure for Validation: If either of these Chris' falls in love with you, you can skip my next blog post.

The easy cure for an Addiction to Validation is a deeply fulfilling long-term relationship with a smoking hot Ultimate Catch. That's right, to become an Ultimate Catch, you must earn the love of an Ultimate Catch. He or she will accept you despite your insecurities because in their storied wisdom, they can see your unearthed potential. Because they’ve got a 9 face and 9 body, you’ll actually trust their esteemed judgement. You’ll become the effortlessly confidant hunkosaurus Rex pretty much overnight.

Alas (and this is a good thing), we live in a world where you have to love yourself before you can truly be loved. They call this Self-Validation. Now in lieu of magical, meaningful love from Mr. or Mrs. Perfect, chances are, you’re on your own in the big fight. The good news is once you beat this independently, there’s no going back, grasshopper. But if that Ultimate Catch above turns out to be a Player Douchebag and dumps you, welcome to Validation Addiction!

The bad news is I’m extremely long-winded and a bit of a tease. You’ll have to wait until next week for Bryce’s 12-Step Routine to Beating Validation Addiction.

What to Bring on the Trip of a Lifetime

It's not very often that you set out on a cross-country journey to do some proverbial soul searching and hook up with meet and connect with as many sexy guys diverse and interesting people along the way. But for a journey like this one, you must of course be prepared for anything. So here's my necessary checklist of travel items.

MacBook Air

This is a writing adventure after all. I plan to get up at 8am sharp, write for 3-4 hours, then drive and I can't do that without my trusty MacBook Air. If you're reading this Apple - and I get famous - you're welcome for the free product placement.

 Bookkeeping

The boring part, sure, but when we crazies inevitably get into trouble, sponsorship letters from the network and travel insurance are our guardian angels. And dear Revenue Canada, as this is all research for my work, I'll be keeping my receipts.

Artistic fuel

Some artists need drugs; some writers need validation that they're hot. My creativity is tied to my unrelenting quest for beauty. Plus it helps me get laid. You know what Elle Woods said about endorphins.

Overpacked Tickle Trunk

Fitted Lannister T's and Gryffindor ties to prove my geek cred to incredulous power-nerds at conventions and comic/gaming circles. Suits for the meetings I manage to land in LA. As any gay man knows, a multi-faceted wardrobe for all occasions is critical for blending in everywhere.

Inspirational Goods

Part of the creative process is exposing yourself to new things and cribbing them for your own expressive needs. Some people like nature walks and jazz festivals. I do all my best inspirational work playing Mass Effect or Bio-Shock. They're also a healthy antidote to avoiding the Siren's call of country bumpkin fresh meat when I inevitably get addicted to sexual validation (see above).

Support from my Loved Ones

For those lonely nights in when I'm fighting my grinder cravings and Commander Shepherd can't keep me company (cause I don't have an HDMI cable), JLO's adventures taming killer snakes and Sigourney's epic Russian accent will keep me company.