The Way to a Boy's Heart is Through His Broken Ribs
A faggot is his own worst enemy. To know this as gospel truth one only has to spend half an hour with the most irritating of the professional victim set, gay survivors of "intimate partner violence."
Now that HIV/AIDS has become passe, gay bars are no longer edgy places for straight hipsters to be seen in and the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras is so dated not even Community TV will televise it, the moderate GLBTQ activists have to find something else to put on their government grant application forms.
For confirmation of this meet David. Go on, click the link. Be moved by his touching honesty. I know I was. My heart bled as surely as David's nose did when he pushed Anthony too far.
You see the neat thing about websites like the one where David, Kim, Brad, Kent, Ruth, Lisa and Adam get to "share their stories" is we only hear one side of the sordid affair. They're victims. They claim to have been abused. They must be telling the truth.
And if you dare to question them, you might as well admit to eating fillets of new born infant in whale blubber gravy whilst watching kiddie porn.
Of course what we don't get to hear about is how David was a shrieking, personality disordered, commitment phobic racist meth-whore, who didn't know when to shut the fuck up. Quite frankly if David didn't have Anthony as a convenient scapegoat, it would have been his remote, uncaring father or obsessive lush of a mother who would be the reason his life amounted to nothing. Just so long as he doesn't have to be responsible for himself.
After reading David's account of things it becomes apparent that the true crime here is not that Anthony hit David, but that Anthony didn't hit the fucker hard enough.
Of course this has given birth to yet another industry for people who graduated with degrees in cultural policy, gender studies and holistic dance. We know it's the vital, burning issue facing gays and lesbians today, because a self help book was published about it back in 1991.
Perhaps How to Dodge Punches for Dummies would be a more useful text for the modern beaten boyfriend.
Naturally there's "research" to back all this up. Some studies claim that up to 25% of lesbian relationships are violent with that figure rising to 29% for gay men. Of course the sample sizes from these learned academic papers can be counted on two hands. But someone graduated with second class honours on the strength of them, so it's proof indisputable.
And no, I'm not going to provide a reference for that. You lazy motherfuckers are going to have to google for it, like I had to.
Domestic violence in same sex relationships is not the fault of the batterers, rather it's a product of gay and lesbian people yearning to live like straight people. Our headlong rush to emulate the breeders in every shape and way has it's downside, people. Sure marriage (or civil unions even) might bring you the right to keep the house and the 401(K) when Gavin fails his last treatment option and succumbs to PML, but you also get the negatives as well.
Like a broken nose. See? You've got more in common with your valium munching mother than you might have thought.
Of course it's not all physical violence. There's emotional and mental abuse too. If your partner calls you a cunt when you humiliate him in front of your friends, he's not telling the truth. He's assaulting you. Emotionally. And you too can jump on the IPV band wagon. There's plenty of room.
One thing that all the same sex DV websites preface their tedious arguments with is that IPV is the "shameful secret of gay and lesbian communities". Really? As far as Matty the Damned can tell, lesbians don't treat abuse in their relationships as a shameful secret, rather they seem to acclaim it as an Olympic event.
Meet Denise. Current world champion for knocking your femme girlfriend out with one punch. Butch Division.
And for fags, well I suspect it's not so much a dirty secret, as a non event.
The idea that a 315lbs, 6'8" muscle bound leather man can be beaten to a pulp by a bantam weight Thai ladyboi with acrylic nails and a booze problem truly boggles the mind. Though I'd buy it if he'd been shanked by a PCP addled Puerto Rican street queen who calls himself Concepcion de la Flores.
The truth is that batterers are not the monsters the IPV weenies would have us believe them to be. They're ordinary fags and dykes like you and I and just like you and I they have their limits. And sometimes those limits are breached.
So the next time your overworked, under-appreciated partner knocks you down the stairs when you ridicule and belittle him, take the hint.
He's just trying to help you.