Whenever you hear someone say, “I’m not racist,” they’re about to spout something racist. And so I believe when folks say they’re not judgmental.
Of late, a quiet storm of hate — you can attempt to call it disapproval, dismay or other such terms, but it truly boils down to hate — has spread to the corners of the Internet. It’s generated a kind of peer pressure, not unlike the vocal Tea Party. A small minority within the majority. And those people, the squeaky wheels, have created a disproportionate voice among the many to silence a voice that had finally begun to rise.
Barebacking is not an activity of the minority of positive men who are about to die anyway. Recent scientific surveys revealed about half of gay men engage in raw sex. And that outrages the conservative wing of the gay vocals.
This, along with the rise of the Bareback Brotherhood 
, my blog, Raw Top’s blog , BarebackRT.com , Treasure Island Media , porn performers going raw 
and other such events coming to light makes for nothing short of radicalization by some.
It’s in quiet corners but it’s having an impact. I’m going to share what’s happening over the next couple of entries. I’ve written about some things . And to many who claim not to be judgmental, those folks seem to enjoy calling me and others brutal names and attempting at humor to blunt something nothing less than radical right hatred.
Explaining Myself
I do want to thank those who write me small notes of encouragement when they see, hear and read the attacks.
My blog is about me and all the dichotomies I embody and, without reading everything, some choose to select entries and judge me based on those. But I choose to believe we all struggle with our place on the planet and, no matter how sincere that sounds, someone’s going to twist that into me sounding something other than sincere.
I understand that I fuck my way through man after man, sometimes through a gloryhole , and that “intimate” act could seem anything but intimate. Some of my friends consider fucking as friendly as “hello” and the most intimate act being a French kiss. I’ve put myself into the handler space and attempted a little pup play, but that just never floated my boat. It’s not my place to attack those choices if one chooses to belittle another.
Perhaps my occasional need to have the opportunity to use a hole comes from being used myself as a molested child and unusual urges that wanted it to happen sometimes . Perhaps I’m just an asshole that way.
However, I never force anyone to back their ass up to a gloryhole . I don’t have a leash or a whip. No one’s been trained or chained.
I started this blog as an exploration of my sexual being and my life. It’s become much more than that. I’m not apologizing for my humanity. And the explanation of who I am isn’t over. The day the blog ends is the day that explanation is over.
I have a feeling it’s the day I die.
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When did you start escorting?
I started right out of high school. I hung out with an older crowd of people. A guy I knew who was a stripper at a night club in Providence, RI. That’s where I had my first taste of getting paid for my time. I fell in love with that world and I’m still doing it today nine years later.
The endless amount of spam I get sent to my phone and e-mail. 
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