WHAT SINGLE PEOPLE SHOULD DO ON VALENTINES DAY

It's almost Valentines Day which means if you're single, couples will become even more annoying, you'll become clinically depressed and if you're lucky, you might even projectile vomit over all the lovey-dovey paraphernalia available. If you're not single, you can buy me ice cream to make it up to me. Being single on Valentines Day sucks and blows, and not in a good way. Here is a list of things to do on Valentines Day if you're single:

• Murder.
• Get wasted drunk with a selected group of single friends.
• Watch horror films.
• Chain smoke in your room until you sound like Shirley from Eastenders.
• DON'T WATCH BRIDGET JONES.
• Watch cartoons
• Try out something new. Opt-out for a ready meal lasagne instead of shepherds pie.
• Make Vodoo Dolls of your ex-boyfriends or ex-girlfriends and let your dominant alter-ego spread it's wings.
• Eat
• Eat some more.
• Ice cream is good.
• Host a gang bang for a recently paroled group of men.
• Get flowers delivered to yourself in a public area but make sure you put 'From Zac Efron' on the card.
• Go shopping
• Murder.

But maybe I'm just bitter?

Does size really matter?

The world of online dating has become literally, bonkers. People are becoming more and more picky when it comes to picking their future lover, whether they have to wear a uniform in the day or have a big dong. Yes, that's right, a big dong. I recently came across an advert for a new dating site specifically for people who like big dicks. You can find that website here (yes, it is called 7orBetter.com and I grant them 10 points for that name).

I never know how to feel about absolutely massive cocks or how anyone can have a fetish over it, especially if you're a gay bottom (I'M VERSITILE). Yes, I admit sometimes when I see one online (I'm not that lucky to experience the live show yet), I think to myself, 'Holy shit, that's beautiful.' Also, I don't know why but if I know someone has a big dick, I look at them as authoritative for some strange reason. I guess it's like dogs. You can't really call a chihuahua a dog, but you wouldn't fuck with a huge Rottweiler. On a purely visual level, looking at a big penis is like looking at the London's Gherkin, an absolutely beautiful landmark that makes you spew innuendo more than... well, I don't know the name of any other phallic landmark in the world that wouldn't scab your hole.

The question is, should the size of your chosen lover's penis be any different than having a preference over what colour eye's you prefer on your man or if you prefer Lady Gaga or Madonna? Due to the popular belief that 'bigger is better', you'd assume that people have every right to be picky with penises. But on the other hand, you can't change the size of your penis unless you get surgery and end up on a gone-wrong This Morning segment with Holly Willoughby uncontrollably laughing.

I think the answer to this not-so-important question is that it doesn't matter. It's what inside that matters. Dick size is only a tiny leaf on the oak tree of love.

ONLY KIDDING. WHERE'S THE BIG DICK AT?

On a serious note, life must be quite difficult if you have an insanely small penis. Especially if you're part of the gay community. A community that has welcomed me with open arms, but a community where appearance, confidence and semen are huge factors when it comes to love. All you have to do is visit douchebagsofgrindr.com to understand what it's like. I think people need to realise that whether they prefer a chopper or a chode, there is a human being attached to that penis they are scrutinising. What I'm trying to say is that I may prefer Lady Gaga, but I would never tell Madonna that.

Confidence can lead to a shag.

Our three day British summer has come and gone, the remains of my summer glow is slowly fading and I feel fucking fantastic. So my tan may have faded a little, but my post-British summer positive mental attitude is very much still intact. Funnily enough, the glow on my face made me confident which made me more attractive to boys. What are the chances? Who'd have known that all I needed was a bit of self-confidence and a smile to get more boys gathered around me like blind lesbians at the fish mongers. I am now (relatively) the 'Catch of the Day'.

Even though I am still nineteen years old, I have decided to rediscover my freshers youth. I had a bit of a dry spell when it came to going out clubbing as I would have much rathered staying in my little halls of residence room with a bottle of red wine and Netflix. I always got fucked up whenever I went out which would ruin my sleeping pattern until the next time I went out, which would repeat the process. So, I went a bit anti-student and had a little party detox, bar a couple of trips to G-A-Y, because no-one can say no to £1.70 a drink.

But I am still a teenager for one more year so I decided to act like it. When the sun came out, the alcohol cravings began. I got all my friends together and decided to get absolutely fucked. Living in London, I have no fucking idea what to do when a spontaneous alcoholic outing occurs. I find myself googling things like 'best student nights out in London' or 'the best gay nightclubs in London' and go from there. Even though this occasionally works sometimes, we usually end up in a familiar place where we always go. But this night was different.

"You know it's a straight club, right?" my friend asked. "Perfect," I replied. During this point in my life (a whole three weeks ago), I was going through this awkward relationship with someone and didn't know what to do. I wanted to go out and dance, not find a fuck, considering for the past couple of months before hand, I had retired my dancing shoes.

Drinking my bottle of Blossom Hill Pinot grigio rosé in my new black skinny jeans on the tube, I had never felt more excited/clASSy to get off my face. I had a summer glow and a new outfit causing me to walk into this night club like Roxxxy Andrews walking into the work space on RuPaul's Drag Race series five. I felt good, I was smiling and I wasn't even thinking about the end of night McDonald's, which is usually always on my mind.

Even though I promised myself to stay away from guys, the moment I walked into this club I noticed the cutest boy, around my age ordering a drink. About four hours later he was taking me home on the night bus. This usually never happens to me, and if it does, I usually blame it on the other person feeling sorry for my friends because I used to get too drunk. We didn't have sex, but we could of. In fact, with this relationship I'm currently in going a bit tits up, now I wish I did have a joint party in our pants.

The moral to this overly-long blog post is to have fun, feel confident and smile whenever jizz is involved. Being cute is a way of being (I'm being sarcastic, do whatever you want).

It's Not Me, It's Ru

It took me a very long time and a very stressful essay crisis to get into RuPaul's Drag Race. After seeing a whole lot of gays go crazy on tumblr and a lot of essay procrastination to do, I decided to dedicate a whole three days to television gold. A couple weeks later, and I've seen every single episode to every single series. I can't even imagine a world without a completely unnecessary but absolutely compulsory 'lip-synch for your life'. Questioning pronouns has never been a bigger part of my life and I absolutely love it.

I never understood the fascination with Drag Queens or why anyone would pay good money to see some man make some dick jokes, whilst miming to Britney Spears dressed as a woman. But now I am one of those people who recently bought a ticket for 'The Real Lady Boys of Bangkok' and cannot fucking wait to go. Of course, I cannot assume that every single gay person will love Drag Race, I'm sure a lot of them despise the show, but there is no denying that it has a huge impact on popular and gay culture. The Queens that enter end up preforming all over the world in gay clubs, pride parades and even festivals or big events. Even straight people love the show because it's probably the most competitive and entertaining reality television show out at the moment. All these Queens are desperate to win a life supply of make-up, a holiday and a hundred thousand dollars (who wouldn't?).

 Even though everyone is competitive, no-one takes it seriously. Not even Ru-Paul. It's honestly a bigger joke than Amanda Bynes' acting comeback. THEY LIP-SYNCH FOR THEIR LIVES GODDAMMIT. It's an obvious parody of Project Runway or Next Top Model, but in the best possible way. All the queens make their own clothes, they do their own make up, their hair always looks flawless. When you're watching it, it just feels like a big hug from Christopher Biggins. The endless puns, the one-liners, the catchphrases and the amazing bitchiness are the bait that will eventually reel you in. You will end up laying there with the fishy Queens at the fish market, in the metaphorical supermarket of RuPaul. Also, The false-sense of drama in this show is just so... lovely.

 It's the only reality TV show in the world not to give a fuck which makes us give a fuck. The winner may win a cash sum of $100,000, but even the winner will go back to performing in gay clubs after the show and everyone knows that. Yes, they will probably play the best gay night clubs in the world, but a night club is a night club. The show doesn't care if you don't know what 'ki-ki' or 'shade' means, because it's a show for gay people and gay lovers. The show is on the only US gay network 'Logo', and RuPaul is probably the only straight crossover hit on that network because it's pretty much amazing and there's this overwhelming hype. I can confirm that the hype, is infact, real. If you think I'm an idiot for loving this show, or have not seen one episode, clip or even GIF. I have two words for you.

Wankr's on Grindr

Grindr is described as a location-based dating app for gay men, so basically it's a hookup/one night stand/dick pic app. There are over five million users worldwide who spend, on average, ninety minutes of their day browsing through profiles of other gay men who'd like to chat, meet or blow. To most gay men with the app it's a serendipity, but to me it's a nightmare.

Most gays think I'm stupid for hating Grindr, but it's just a glorified orgy. Not to mention it's full of pricks that are so picky in who they want to meet, it makes me want to vomit. Pretentious knobheads using the over-used phrase, 'no fems, no fats, no Asians'. Don't get me wrong, it can be great if you're single and want to find a potential dating partner, and I'm sure a lot of people have found love through the app and whatever. Unfortunately, the majority of people on there are looking for sex, and it creeps me out.

Curiosity has made me download this app so many times, shortly followed by me deleting it. When I decided to talk about Grindr on here I downloaded it and decided to open it in the heart of London's gay town. It took me sixty seconds to get someone's location to meet and have sexy time with (of course I didn't go). Me and my friend were scrolling through the profiles, sitting in SOHO Coffee Co. and saw taglines saying things like 'twink free zone', 'no fatties' and (my personal favourite) 'If your wrist is broken, don't even bother'. Call me old-fashioned, but I'd much rather go to a club and pull an absolute munter, than be a twat and have sex with a stranger that meets my tastes.

In my opinion, it gives gay men a bad name. Sex obsessed and happy enough to send a picture of their dong to a stranger. Of course I would never judge a person who meets for sex through the app, it's your life, and I know a lot of lovely people who use the app to find dates, or even just to chat. But it's not my cup of tea, although it is currently downloaded on my iPod. I guess it's just a source of entertainment for me. Here are some screenshots of some funny Grindr conversations about blow jobs.

Bikini Bottom of the Love Chain

Moving to London was one of the best decisions of my life, and like most Londoners, I have given serious and generous thought to the state of my flat should I get killed during the day. What if someone pushes me onto the underground tracks? Or if I accidentally blow up? Or if a lady with a pram studs my big toe making me fall in front of a double-decker bus? What then? After I get rushed to hospital and the sheets cover my face. After my funeral and all the cheese and pickle hedgehogs have been demolished. What will happen?

Back in my little room will be an unmade bed with my dishes still unwashed in the kitchen. The day I get shot in the corner shop (buying fags, naturally) will be laundry day with all my clothes on the floor, but I opted to watch 'Modern Family' all day in my onsie instead. I picture, quite frequently, my parents coming down to London to collect my things and clean out my room and they enter a room so disgusting that they'll actually be angry with me, even though I'll be six feet under.

Whilst my parents are discovering my huge collection of gay lifestyle magazines, and finding my giant stash of 54 condoms I took from the university nurse during freshers week. They will also probably come across my mini Spongebob Squarepants figure collection kept in a shoebox under my bed. There are about 8 mini figures that I have collected since my mid-teens. Every time I saw one of those toy vending machines that had a Spongebob inclusion, I wouldn't hesitate to waste a £2 coin, even if it was shiny. The sad thing about the collection is, that the most recent addition to the collection was only three weeks ago, when I saw a vending machine at a M4 services.

I'm not exactly sure how the Spongebob thing happend, but it has happened, and there's no going back now. I was quite a Spongebob fan as a youngster, but not in a way where I would ask my parents for paraphernalia. I guess I just like the fact that they're little and cute. Plus I always thought that if Spongebob was in office he would legalise gay marriage immediately. And thus the Spongebob shoebox came to be.

It's uncomfortable to admit, but I've been given Spongebob figures on two occasions by my past lovers. My ex-boyfriend back when I was in Wales gave me one on Valentines day. I know it seems like a pathetic gift in comparison to chocolate, but we'd only been seeing each other a week before V-Day. Then before Christmas, when someone came back to mine after a night out, he found the Spongebob collection. A week later I had a little gift from the same person, a limited edition, baywatch-esque, mini Spongebob figure. These figures are becoming a symbol that marks the beginning of a relationship. Kinda cute, right? But I was thinking last night, that the whole Spongebob thing is equally as cute as it is creepy. The Spongebob gift is the beginning of a romantic repertoire of private jokes within my relationships (which is how I think all relationships are focused on), and a chance for all my future boyfriends (every member of One Direction) to see how much of a slut I was before them. So I'm not sure what to do with the figures.

What if, these Spongebob figures, if by accident, come to represent the most overtly sentimental parts of my life? Because both relationships that had Spongebob gifts included, have ended, and ended badly. But I couldn't throw them away because I already had a collection before both relationships. They are my odd little secret, if you will.

Unfortunately the creepy overrides the sentimental and whilst writing this, I've put the Spongebob shoebox in the bin, and the bin is almost ready to go outside and into the skip. I created this ideology and now I need to uncreate it. When I fall down a montain, get trampled on by scaffolding or eaten by a Lion that escaped from London zoo, a shoebox will not represent my pathetic love life. The real proof that I was loved and did love could never fit in a converse box.

Love, dating and my sad, pathetic life.

For those who are new to this blog. Hello. I'm Jack. I'm 18 and I'm married to Shannen Doherty from the original Beverly Hills, 90210 with three kids. Well, this is not strictly true, although the essay I wrote when I was ten predicted I'd be married to a woman by 21, have a son at 24 and twin girls by the time I'm 30. Alas, I am a gay dude who's Facebook relationship status is single, and I have two years to find and marry Shannen Doherty.

Despite my desperation to find Zayn Malik, I've only ever had two gay relationships. One ended before coming to university last Summer, and the other with vodka (we're on a break, after what I can only describe as the worst hangover ever, sent from Hell) (I assume vodka is a boy, because it's so damn delicious). Because of my break-up with a boy I thought I'd be with for a long time ended, my bed has become my loving husband, and Netflix my harsh dominatrix of a mistress, demanding I devote all my time to watching The Hills and Jerseylicious (don't judge me).

The problem is I've not been a very good dater. The other night I decided to take someone out on a date. I was in charge of location, time, etc. and to be quite honest, it was lovely. We went for street food in Camden, followed by a cupcake accompanied walk to Primrose Hill, where we enjoyed hot chocolate and a chat, with the most amazing view of the London skyline. But now I don't know what to do or what to say.

I've spent nearly my entire teenage years in relationships with Troy Bolton, Justin Timberlake and Zack Morris from Saved by the Bell. My teenage years are almost over. I want to find someone that I can be myself around, have sexy times with, and do crosswords with whilst drinking a bottle of red. I really don't think I'll find this relationship in SoHo on a night out with my girls and gays. The only relationship you'll form from a night out in SoHo is with gonorrhea.

My problem is obvious. I'm not making the most of what I get. Cupid shoots the arrows and I go to surgically remove them. But I think this applies to all gay men. I've had two sexual experiences since coming to university. One of them included me bringing someone back to mine. It was just before Christmas and I really liked this person. I even cooked him oven chips for Christ's sake. If that doesn't scream true love, then I don't know what does. After getting the undercooked crumbs of the McCoys oven chips all over my sheets, we got a little frisky and had the best sleep ever resulting in a late for lecture fiasco with a quick digit exchange. After that, I didn't hear from him, and he didn't hear from me (if you're reading this, it's a bit fucking late now, and my apologies for not texting you). Maybe it's just my destiny to become a cat lady, which is fine and dandy with me because I spend 20% of my time youtubing cat videos, and another 20% looking for cat GIFS on tumblr. That's 40% guys. 40%.

This sad and pathetic blog posts calls for an intervention. I, Jack Rattenbury, am going to go on a second date this week. It's what Dame Lauren Conrad would want.

Some exciting news!

This week I have started an internship at a pop music blog, but I'm not sure if I'm aloud to tell you the name or the details yet. But I can say I'm having a really good time, everyone is really nice and the work is really enjoyable. I have not been aloud to write anything yet but hopefully that will change soon. In other news (call me Fiona Bruce), *BONG*, I have just purchased a ticket to go to Bestval, which is an annual festival in the Isle of White. Jessie Ware, Elton John, Disclosure and Bastille are there (with many more), so I'm really looking forward to that. *BONG* I'm also going back home to celebrate my mothers birthday, which is rather exciting because as much as I love it here in London, going home is always lovely.

Enough about me, HOW ARE YOU? Because I've been pretty absent from the blogsphere for a while, I can promice you that there will be a new post up soon about One Direction which is all rather exciting, isn't it gays?!

New Year, New Me. Like Fuck.

Happy New Year everybody. It is 2013 which is absolutely crazy to me. I'm not going to get all reflective up on your grill so I'm just going to say this. I hate people and I hate New Years Eve. Everyone is trying way to hard to have a good time and everyone is 70% faker than they already are. So I spent my night getting drunk with friends in below average night clubs, resulting in a grotesque kebab disaster, with me spilling my half eaten kebab on the floor, because I thought I was getting shot due to the unexpected explosion from a nearby firework. FUCKING HELL, THAT WAS A MOUTHFUL.

I wasn't as embarrassing compared to last year. Last year I was spewing my guts out singing 'All By Myself' in my garden as my family watched through the window. This was before leaving a nightclub at half past eleven because I was too drunk. Did I mention it took me an hour to walk two hundred feet to my house? And by 'walk' I mean 'crawl'.

So New Years is not my friend. But I hope you all had a fabulous New Years Eve and had that special midnight kiss (vomit).

P.S I don't have a New Years Resolution because I'm a normal human being who doesn't keep any promises.

I need to get drunk because sex is gross.

I recently came across this study that has shown being sexually aroused overrides feelings of disgust, meaning that you'd much be inclined to do something that you usually find repulsive when you're feeling horny minus your boner. In the study they used porn and something disgusting, (for example, Sex Toy Story 3 and wiping their hands with a used tissue). The people who watched the porn were then more likely to do the horrible task than the people who didn't watch porn. Even though this is completely true, I feel like alcohol has become more of a helping hand when it comes to, well, hand jobs.

Over the past couple of days I've realised that alcohol and being horny cancels out the disgusting state of the toilets in a concert arena I once gave someone a blowjob in (don't judge), or how I managed to sleep with someone so nauseatingly stupid that he didn't even understand what 'jounalism' meant, or how I managed to watch an entire episode of 'The Only Way is Essex' (joking).

But this has also made me worry a tiny bit, because I think whether you're turned on or off should determine if you're up for some bum, and not alcohol. I've always had quite an active social life ever since I can remember, and having been single for a while now, I've been having more one night stands (we've all had them, or will have one soon). I'm not having loads, just once a month or even every two. Usually when I meet the boy I'm going to have a one night stand with, I'm absolutely shit faced and scared I might spew up my sambuca if he's into oral. I'm afraid that vodka has become some sort of social and sexual lubricant that I'm going to need for sex with a future lover that won't be a one night thing.

So this is a little memo to Jack saying that sober sex might be shit, but try it out some time.

I need a stiff drink and a stiff something else.

HELLO! Happy Thursday to you. I decided not to go out tonight and now, have this huge feeling of regret in the pit of my stomach. I haven't had a double vodka and red bull in about 6 days and this to me, is unacceptable to the highest degree. Also I'm feeling unloved. I'm sick and tired of being single and I really want to take part in the American activity of dating because, as a British citizen I feel like we don't really partake in dating, and if we do call it a date it tends to make things awkward. I guess we'd call it 'outings', am I right? So I want an awkward free date with someone that gives me an instaboner (that's instant boner to those who don't know, it's not an app that makes your dick sepia).  My perfect date would be a few drinks (obviously) , sharing a shit full amount of carbohydrates and a good fuck.

Here is a brief characterisation of my ideal man. I like light brown hair and blue eyes on other men *orgasm*. I like men with the same build as me (unless you are Tom Daley, then you can sit on my face), you have to either be a little taller or the same height as me. I love a good sense of humour and if you are lucky enough to be my boyfriend (pushing it), then I'll enjoy seasonal kiki's with you and dick banana splits. You have to like One Direction and support them through every decision they make. Also if I meet any of the following people, you need to understand that I am aloud to leave you if they are in love with me: Zayn Malik, Zac Efron, Tom Daley, Darren Criss, David Beckham or River Viiperi. Please note that this list does change sometimes (everyday). It would be nice if we had similar music tastes. Finally, and this is important, you cannot be clingy. This is the worst personality trait to me. I like time to myself and I think it's important to spend time on your own, as it is with people you love.

It's time for my 'THING OF THE WEEK' and for those of you who are actually feeling alone. This week it's a beautiful video made by a filmmaker called Andrea Dorfman. It's about being lonely and how to cope with it if you are. Whenever I do feel lonely (which is rare because I surround myself with some lovely people) I think of this video and all is good in the world.

Thank God for Fridays and Vodka.

IT'S FRIDAAAAAAAAAAAAY.
Happy Friday everybody. Going to be a stereotypical Friday-lover and go to TGI Fridays and make love to some sweet food. I honestly can't wait to be with good food and good people. I can't remember the last time I went out in London (I actually can, it was last Thursday, but a week without vodka is like a week without company), so going to a bar for some drinks afterwards is a must.

Since the last time we chatted I've only gone and got work experience at Attitude magazine (could I get any gayer? The answer is no), so I'm very excited and going to celebrate by having a cocktail with my meal tonight. A REAL MAGAZINE GUYS! A REAL GAY MAGAZINE. If there is a God, I'd like to thank you with all my heart, soul and jizz.

Peace out
-Jack

It feels weird being home.

I was looking forward to coming home for a few days. Having proper meals, sleeping in a nostalgic bed, being with my family, I just thought I would be loving every minute of it. Don't get me wrong I love being home, but I just wanna be drunk rolling out of Proud in Camden. Maybe it's because not everyone has gone home from university or I'm home for no particular reason but it just feels weird.

Although I'm basing all this on one night here and I haven't really don't much today. ANYWAY, I'm going now to watch The Valleys because I want my brain cells to decay. I'll leave you with this photo of Tom Daley.

Four more years...

I'm over the moon that Obama has won another term as president. Being British, it doesn't really effect me either way. Saying that I can't stand Romney, and it would worry me knowing that he would be the most powerful man in the world. Bringing religion into politics is as stupid as asking Honey Boo Boo to name all the states of America.

As a gay man, Barack certainly has helped out my community, supporting gay marriage with many states legalising it this year. But now what he needs to do is legalise it all over the US and realise that marriage equality is not a state issue. It is a basic, human right. He needs to do things faster and more efficient, to earn the respect off people who voted for that psychotic Republican.

I have only one dream in my life, and it's not to be a journalist or have a lot of money. It's to marry the person I love and have children. It's time to move forward.

I love you Barack.

-Jack

God Bless the Mess...

As a British citizen people might think my opinion is pointless but I've always been fond of Obama and think he's doing a terrific job. It really worries me that Mitt Romney has a chance of winning the election. In fact I find it absolutely crazy that someone so hateful could be one of the most powerful men in the world this Tuesday.

I strongly believe that before you can touch the economy, you have to sort out the social issues of a country, like equality for everyone,women's rights, LGBT rights, etc. and Obama did magnificently with these. Once the social issues are sorted I'm sure he would also do a great job with the economy.

Not to mention that Romney and Murdoch are strict, practicing Christians, and are bringing their beliefs into their campaign. America is a multicultural and multi-faith country and they need a president who can represent everyone. Having a president that thinks that pregnancy through rape is what God intended frightens the living day light out of me. It's disgusting and Romney will turn 2012 America into 1960's America all over again. Romney is the Cher of the election. He has the chance to turn back time so he will.

There's a lot at stake in this election and I know my blog only receives about 20 views a day from America but share this with all your friends. Make sure they all vote, and for the right person (Obama FYI) because America is a powerful country that has an effect on the rest of the world.