It’s a theory based on experience and observation.
I’ve known a lot of men in my life. Most of them were average “normal” guys with families, jobs, the occasional night where they had a bit too much to drink, good neighbors, jokesters, and some athletic ability.
They were Police officers, Lawyers, Doctors, Heavy Equipment Operators, Landscapers, Advertising Execs, Coaches, Educators, Engineers, you get it, their professions ran the gamut.
Of all of these men, the only men I’ve known who were complete “poon hounds” were men that were troubled.
Most “normal” men appreciate beautiful women, but their appreciation usually is curtailed by the ring on their finger, or the picture of their kids on their phone or in their wallet.
Those men, have nothing to prove to themselves or anyone else. They think about the woman they’ve married, or their children and happily leave a bar to go home to them.
Newly divorced men, get a little “houndy” shortly after their divorce, then settle down again into some sort of regular relationship. I’ve always thought of it like a second adolescence/young adulthood, “Hey, I can do whatever I want… Whoo HOOO!”
Then like the worker in a chocolate factory, reality sets in and they’re not trying every Bon Bon, they get more selective.
I’ve known women that do the exact same thing after their divorces. How many women started dating a biker after dumping their nice safe accountant?
It’s human nature.
The men that never seemed to get over the “poon hound” phase often had something else going on.
The guy who sleeps with any and every willing woman, or rents prostitutes every single night is trying to prove something. Either to himself or his buddies.
“Man, that Josh gets more ass than a toilet seat!”
“Yeah, but he drinks so much and snorts so much, he never remembers them.”
Eventuality the guys buddies aren’t impressed and the guy settles down, or he doesn’t.
The guys that don’t settle down, are the guys that often turn out to be gay.
See, they were trying to prove to themselves that they weren’t gay.
I’ve known Marines, Army, Navy, and Air Force guys that joined the military to prove they weren’t fagots. Only to discover three years in, that they were gay and then spent the rest of their hitch worried about being found out.
A man that’s engaging in risky sex with any woman that’s breathing is trying to fuck the pain away.
The pain of shame. Of disappointing their father, mother, pastor, or church. These guys, get into self destructive habits of whores, booze, drugs, and usually fuck themselves out of a career in the process.
I’m not a psychologist. I’m just relating what I’ve observed.
When this group of men finally look themselves in the mirror and acknowledge, “Yep… I want some dick…” Their lives often start to turn around.
No, I’m not saying everything immediately becomes rainbows and unicorns, but in being honest with themselves they begin walking the path toward accepting who they really are, instead of hiding it from the world and more importantly, from themselves.
In my experience, guys who are always badmouthing faggots either were abused, or they want dick and can’t reconcile it with themselves. They scream how much they hate faggots to demonstrate that they’re not one.
Think of it as “Methinks the maid doth protest too much.”
Lots of the men I’ve known who were fighting what they really were also had serious porn addictions and often filmed their escapades so that they could have visual proof they weren’t gay.
“Yeah, I put my dick in her and she loved it!”
I guess it’s a kind of feedback loop. “I fuck, therefore I’m a man, not a faggot pussy!”
There are gay men who knowing they’re gay, still feel “Less Than” and they’re much more likely to have drinking problems or self medicate with God only knows what.
I once knew a guy who’d gotten a permanent case of “Cocaine Dick,” He’d get hard, he’d fuck like a maniac, but for all his effort couldn’t achieve climax. The poor man walked around all the time with a serious case of blue balls and couldn’t find relief.
His problem was that while he was okay being gay, he couldn’t admit it to anyone. He felt he was a disappointment to his parents, and felt terrible guilt over not giving them grand children. That led to cocaine abuse, ultimately leading to his problem. Miraculously, when his parents died, (and it sounds harsh,) he got a handle on the coke, and after a few years began to have mostly normal orgasms.
I’ve known men with meth addictions that had the same kinds of problem. In addition to their teeth rotting out of their heads.
For some reason, men like these tend to open up to me. I guess I have a trustworthy face.
All of this preamble brings me to the point I wanted to make.
I theorize that Hunter Biden is gay.
He exemplifies the most troubled men I’ve met in my life.
He’s begging for Daddies approval, and attention. Who screws his brother’s wife? What is that other than saying, “See, I measure up.”
Who admits snorting parmesan cheese out of a carpet except someone that is so troubled they have to be high to live their life?
Who knocks up a stripper, while fucking his brother’s wife, while settling a nasty divorce?
Who gets, or stays, so fucked up that they leave a laptop full of self porn, with hookers, underage girls, and random women, at a shop and never goes back to claim it?
Someone in dire need of approval. Someone hoping Daddy sees the videos and says, “Good job son, that one was hot!”
Someone screaming for help. Someone so broken that they don’t know any better than to keep going back into the situation that broke them in the first place.
In short, a man whose inner turmoil is so profound that they only know one or two ways to feel good. Sex or drugs.
You can only fuck the pain away for so long. Eventually, no matter how many times you cum, no matter how many partners you have, you’re still empty inside and nothing can fill that painful void. So you can only live, drunk enough, or high enough to numb the agony.
Unless you’re really lucky.
Sometimes, you find yourself just drunk enough or just high enough, and you’re with a guy. Sometimes that guy is open to fucking around and you think, “What the fuck? I’ve done everything else. Let’s see what cock tastes like. I wonder if a guys ass feels the same as a woman’s.”
Then you’re lying in the afterglow smoking a cigarette and realize, “I don’t hurt so much anymore. Something’s changed, I don’t feel so alone.”
You have an epiphany. You realize your life is yours. You understand what’s been missing.
For the first time in your life, someone… The right person, at the right time, touched your soul.
It wasn’t just about sex, it was seeing that there was another way. A way that didn’t force you back into pain. There was the potential for you to find someone that always touched your soul and it wasn’t just about your body. The physical pleasure was just the icing on the cake.
If you’re very lucky, it occurs to you that you don’t have to be one way or another. You can have it all, if you’re fearless enough and want what makes you happy. It’s the ability to start to seize your own life and make the best of it you can.
Yeah… Been there, done that.
That’s why I think Hunter Biden is gay.
I hope that he finds the right person, at the right time, and that someone can touch his soul.
Then I hope he’s fortunate enough to put the pieces together, bail on his dysfunctional family and seize control of his life.
I hate seeing someone in the kind of pain it looks like he’s feeling.
He’s still got time, unless he OD’s tomorrow.
