reFRESH Magazine is a beautiful, over-sized London based, glossy, coffee table style publication. They cover fashion, travel, the arts and culture as well as food and drink.

To add a little humor to this Vogue-like gay magazine, the editor asked me to contribute an irreverent and humorous column about sex, love and dating which now appears in each issue called "Dear Henry".

Written in a "Dear John" format, I try to break-up with my friend Henry. But unfortunately, like a bad rash, he just won't go away.

Here in the states, many international magazine stores as well as most Barnes and Nobles carry reFRESH.

What follows are the "Dear Henry" columns which I can share with you, after each issue has been published.
_______________

March/April 2008

LET'S CALL IT SPLITS

Dear Henry,

It pains me to have to write this letter but you've given me no choice. It hurts so much because I bent over backwards...and forwards for that matter...and yet you never gave me an inch. I'm sorry, that's not true. You almost gave me 5.5 inches but I didn't penalize you for that.

You have to admit, our initial meeting was like a fairy tale. If you recall, we romantically met in a chat room online. I told you that I was a former gymnast, kind of average looking, a successful writer and somewhere between 31 and death. And you told me how tall, dark and handsome you were and that you were 38 and then we exchanged pictures.

But I didn't hold it against you when we met in person at that charming café and you ordered a coke and vodka and discovered you were short, light and a bit quirky looking. And the fact that you were older than you said didn't faze me at all. With Internet age, you always add on an extra five years. But I was a bit surprised when I realized the photo you sent me was not your picture. Heck, I've only seen one Colin Farrell movie so I thought it could have been you. Call me madcap, but I think that was bit deceitful.

One must admit though we both felt a lot of chemistry right away and at the end of that first date I'm glad we didn't jump right into bed. It felt mature that we took our time getting to know one another and held off on having sex. To give in to lust and temptation would have felt cheap and easy. I'm glad we waited till the second date.

Some may have thought that your food eccentricities might be a turn off but not me. I have never met anyone before who would only eat white food. But as long as you're getting all your nutrients, why not? White rice, white cheese, white milk, white cauliflower, white beans, white bread, boiled chicken. (But the chicken did look a bit more gray than white.) That's a hard food group to work with. I'm proud of the surprise dinner I came up with but am sorry that some parsley landed on your plate and ruined the meal for you.

And did I judge you when we visited my friend Jon's house in the country for the weekend and you brought along your formal wear? If you find standing in the middle of his pool, soaking wet in an Armani suit hot and sexy, I say, "Go for it." Although, you might want to be a bit more practical and invest in less expensive suits. One dunk and it's ruined. We all know that you telemarketers don't make a lot of money.

And didn't you say when we first met you were versatile? If you are, you're doing it with someone other than me. You're not a top. You're not a bottom. You're a side. I was willing to meet you half way but instead you made me do all the work. I can see your face right now. You're making that combination condescending smirk slash frown. I'm not being critical, just honest.

But I worked through all of that and I know that relationships take time and patience and sometimes compromise. So when you asked me if I was into leather, something that's never been on my sexual "to do" list, I thought to myself, "Be open. Why not give it a try? Especially if it will make him happy." I actually started having visions of leather harnesses, biker jackets and even hooded masks. Just the thought of the smell of leather was beginning to turn me on.

Hence, the night we planned our fetish adventure I was completely psyched and ready to explore new worlds and facets of my sexual being. And to experience it for the first time with you meant so much to me. But I was at a total loss when you showed up at my place empty handed and then went rummaging through my closet. And what did you pull out? A pair of dusty leather tassel loafers.

The devilish look on your face when you discovered them, the glimmer in your eye, the heavy breathing was all quite confusing not to mention disturbing. I remember, you brought the shoes over to me and asked, "Are you passionate about slip-ons?" And I thought to myself, "A slip-on dildo, maybe but an old shoe?" You were practically drooling over that pigskin and honestly it was uncomfortable for me to watch you sodomize them. I had to leave the bedroom so you and the pair could finish your business. I've heard of threesomes but this was ridiculous. And I'll never forget what you screamed at me from the bedroom. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

I may be guilty of being jealous of other people's money, careers or even looks but I'm not jealous of my own pair of shoes. By the way, you ruined the leather. I think it's only fair that you financially compensate me for it.

Henry, I think it's best if we part ways. When in relationships, whether they be with family, friends or loved ones, we all must be adaptable. How can you ask me to be free as the wind and go with the flow when you yourself are so stiff and rigid? Actually, it would have been nice if you did get stiff and rigid. But I'm not one to hold grudges.

And in life, we constantly have to switch gears. Just remember to use the clutch. And stay flexible. Hell, I can still do my splits. Can you?

All the best,
Arthur
__________________________________

May/June 2008

DON'T IT MAKE MY BROWN EYE, BLUE?

Dear Henry,

I'm intrigued, if not confused, that we are still together. But I understand that relationships on any level take an element of give and take. On that note, I feel like I've been taking a lot more than giving. In fact, every time we have sex now, you're the pitcher and I'm the catcher. Not that I'm counting, but I would like to be on top of my game, once in a while.

And I was so impressed that you listened to what I had to say in my last letter,

"...in life, we constantly have to switch gears. Just remember to use the clutch."

But I meant it figuratively, not literally. So when the rusted out 1998 Allegro convertible with the tear in the roof that is patched with electrician's tape appeared in front of my house with a big bow on it and a note saying, "To Arthur, Enjoy my stick shift, Henry", I was quite overwhelmed to say the least. Especially since I don't drive. I thought Allegro was an opera. Or maybe an antihistamine? I hope you didn't actually pay money for that car. You have your self-esteem to think of. And could you please remove it? The car, that is. It's illegally parked, piled high with violation tickets and there's a large but pretty yellow device attached to the back wheel.

However Henry, I must confess I have enjoyed your "joy stick". There's something very comfortable about small penises. But I know you're frustrated with my inability to understand how to work with your hood - and I'm not referring to the Allegro. You blame it on the fact that I'm cut. I wish I wasn't. Or at the very least, I should have had a say in the decision process. I want it back.

So I girded my loins, took a deep breath and allowed you to attach that non-surgical foreskin restoration device to my talliwacker. The metal clamp was a bit tight and little cold but that was fine. What you didn't do was read the instructions carefully. It says it takes about 1 year to restore a man's foreskin, not 1 hour. Hence, it only makes sense that the extraordinary amount of weight that you attached to my shaft would have forced any man's skin that was left, to be violently torn off.

I'm sure you meant well so I'm not holding that against you. Besides, they say the stitches will dissolve on their own if infection doesn't set in. But it would be considerate if you helped out with the price - insurance isn't covering it. Oh, and when the weight hit my foot, the doctor said they just let broken toes heal on their own.

Lightheaded from the painkillers, I limped to a friend's house who reminded me that when it comes to relationships, compromise is imperative. So again, I let you have your way. I know you like a smooth hairless chest but why couldn't I have just shaved it off? Yes, when it grows back it becomes very stubbly, but exfoliation, especially for your face Henry, would be a good thing.

But I acquiesced and allowed you to use the home wax method. Before you came over that night I was really excited. Knowing my man was going to groom my body the way he wanted it and then ravage me seemed so erotic. I understand that hot wax removal dates back to the ancient Egyptians and even Alexander The Great had his body parts done to keep looking youthful and sexy. Now that's hot! And so was the paraffin wax you boiled up. But burns heal and you did yank the cloth strips at the proper 40-degree angle and yes it did remove my hair but unfortunately part of my areola came off with it, too. Not to worry. They grafted skin from the inside of my cheek onto my nipple and although the left side is obviously larger now then the right, it is smooth. You got your wish. They said hair will never grow there again.

I thought it only fair at this stage of the game to bring up a point of contention. Several rather sharp points. I'm not criticizing your dental hygiene or lack of but those canines of yours are lethal. I've heard that lots of orally challenged men wear mouth guards when going down on their partners. It's rather like being gummed to death. But is it my fault that your lower guard popped loose and lodged in your throat? Lucky for you I know the Heimlich maneuver.

I give you "A" for effort. And speaking of "A's" I appreciate the article you shared with me from that New York magazine that exclaimed - "Anal Bleaching! It's All The Rage!" The cream you sent over was very effective but I don't think the added sun block was necessary. I read the instructions and applied it just as they told me to and then it said I should see gradual results quickly. That should have been the tip off for me. Gradual results quickly? While imitating Michael Jackson singing "A, B, C, easy as 1, 2, 3,..." the bleaching cream morphed into battery acid and I couldn't wipe it off fast enough. With tears of pain streaming down my face I was able to make out on the back of the jar the word "CAUTION" in tiny little print. "This product contains 20% hydroquinone, a suspected carcinogen banned by several countries including the UK."

"Anal Bleaching! It's All The Rage!" Yeah, it's a real scream. Henry, I've given and taken as much as I can handle. It's over. I wish you well but I must insist that we not see each other again.

I've worked hard for my brown eye and I intend on keeping it. And if I get bum cancer, it's your ass that's on the line!

All the best,
Arthur