Pic of the Day

Getting Back to the Gym… Eventually

I really need to start going back to the gym. I haven’t been since those back problems started in July—other than two very short, half-hearted attempts—and every time I tell myself I’ll go after work, it somehow never happens. My orthopedist has encouraged me to ease back into it, but good intentions and actual follow-through don’t always line up, especially when your couch keeps whispering sweet nothings.

I had enjoyed working out… though I’ll admit that might have had a little something to do with my very cute trainer at the time. He showed me what to do, corrected my posture, kept me motivated—and now he’s no longer a trainer, which leaves me feeling a bit intimidated. Without someone there to guide me, I’m suddenly aware of how little I really know about what to do at the gym.

Planet Fitness’s app has videos and instructions for all their machines—upper body, core, lower body, plus whatever I choose for cardio (let’s be honest, it will be the treadmill). I could absolutely follow a routine from that. The problem is less about knowledge and more about confidence, or maybe inertia. I keep telling myself that if I could get into a rhythm again, I’d probably enjoy it. But step one is, annoyingly, simply making myself go.

And let’s be honest: the eye candy is definitely a motivator. Gyms always have eye candy. Unfortunately, it’s also the eye candy that makes me feel intimidated—like everyone else knows exactly what they’re doing while I’m still figuring out which way to face on a machine. It’s hard to look confident when your inner monologue is, “Does this adjust up? Down? Am I about to embarrass myself?”

I need to check whether they’ve hired a new trainer and, if so, get on their schedule. I think having someone there who actually knows what they’re doing would help me feel a lot less lost.

I’m off work tomorrow. I have a meeting—one I’m both excited about and nervous about. For once, it’s something I don’t want to talk about yet. Depending on how it goes, I may share more later. What I am hoping, though, is that after the meeting I’ll be able to ride that momentum straight to the gym. Optimism versus intimidation… we’ll see who wins.

Here’s hoping tomorrow brings clarity—and maybe the spark to get me back on the treadmill too.

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Mistletoe

Mistletoe
By Walter de la Mare

Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the sleepy dancers gone,
Just one candle burning on,
Shadows lurking everywhere:
Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go
Nodding under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
Stooped in the still and shadowy air
Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

I was thinking the other day about kissing—it came up in a discussion—and it made me wonder: when was the last time I was kissed passionately or romantically? Really kissed. And the truth is… I couldn’t remember. Men I’ve dated often don’t want to kiss, or there’s a “no kissing on the first date” rule. So yes, it’s been a while. And I miss it. I’ve always loved kissing. It was actually kissing the last girlfriend I ever dated that made me realize I no longer wanted to try dating women. The kiss wasn’t bad—it was fine—but I remember thinking that I’d rather be her, the one kissed, held, and cherished. That desire to be held and loved, to feel that deep sense of comfort and safety, was the first real shift in how I understood my sexuality.

Anyway, I’m already off topic. This morning was bitterly cold (it was –8° last night and still –1° when I got up), and as I searched for a poem that felt right for December—something that carried the hush of the season—I returned to Walter de la Mare’s “Mistletoe.” I’ve used this poem in the past, but it hits differently every time I read it.

About the Poem

“Mistletoe” is a winter whisper of longing, enchantment, and loneliness. De la Mare captures that in-between moment at the end of a party—when the music has stopped, the candles have burned low, and someone remains behind in the soft afterglow. It’s a scene suspended between waking and dreaming. Out of that stillness comes a kiss, quiet and unannounced, arriving like magic or memory or hope.

The kiss is tender, mysterious, and possibly imagined. That ambiguity is the poem’s heartbeat:

Is the kiss real, or is it the dream of someone wishing desperately to be kissed?

From a queer perspective, the poem resonates even more. Many LGBTQ+ people know what it means to sit on the margins of gatherings, to feel both present and unseen. Many of us have spent years longing for a kiss we didn’t yet have permission to want—or couldn’t openly ask for. The poem’s “lips unseen” carry the suggestion of a secret desire, a hidden affection, or the longing for intimacy that might not be safe to show in public.

The mistletoe itself—a plant associated with holiday traditions, romantic possibility, and the chance of a spontaneous kiss—becomes a symbol of queer yearning. It represents the hope that love might find us unexpectedly, even quietly, even when we feel most alone.

Reading it today, what struck me most was the tenderness of an unseen kiss offered to someone tired, lonely, half-asleep. It feels like a blessing of comfort. A reminder that desire doesn’t disappear simply because time has passed. A reminder that even in the coldest season, warmth can find us.

And maybe, for some of us, a reminder that we still long to be kissed—and that it’s okay to say so.

About the Poet

Walter de la Mare (1873–1956) was an English poet, novelist, and writer of children’s literature, best known for his atmospheric, dreamlike style. His work often explores the boundary between the real and the uncanny, weaving together memory, imagination, and the subtle tensions of solitude. De la Mare’s poetry is marked by musical phrasing and delicate imagery, and he remains beloved for pieces like “The Listeners” and his numerous anthology favorites. Though he lived a largely private life, his work continues to resonate with anyone drawn to mystery, introspection, and the quiet emotional spaces we tend to visit in winter.

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Heated Rivalry Scored… Repeatedly

Every now and then, a book series grabs hold of me so completely that I find myself staying up far too late because I have to read just one more chapter. That’s exactly what happened when I picked up Rachel Reid’s Game Changers series—starting with the first two books, Game Changer and Heated Rivalry. I’ll be honest: hockey romances are not usually my favorite subgenre of m/m romance. But these books completely won me over. They’re steamy, full of heart, and emotionally rich in all the best ways. They’re the kind of novels that make you sigh one moment and fan yourself the next.

If you haven’t read Rachel Reid before, she’s a Canadian author widely loved for her blend of erotic heat and emotional tenderness. Her Game Changers novels focus on professional hockey players navigating fame, pressure, identity, and love—with characters so well developed that you can’t help falling for them. Reid has become one of the standout voices in contemporary LGBTQ+ romance, and it’s easy to see why.

It was actually the new television adaptation, Heated Rivalry, that convinced me to pick up the books. I checked out the series when it premiered and immediately fell for its production quality—and let’s be honest, the steaminess. The adaptation stays remarkably close to the novels, even lifting some dialogue straight from the page. Episode three, which adapts Game Changer, deviates more (condensing an entire book into 50 minutes will do that), but it still captures the heart of the story. And yes, the sex scenes absolutely live up to the hype.

After devouring the first two books, I’m now reading Tough Guy, book three. I’m enjoying it, even if it isn’t hooking me quite as deeply as the first two. I’m looking forward to continuing the series, especially books four and five (Common Goal and Role Model). But the book I’m especially eager to reach is the sixth, The Long Game, which returns to the couple from Heated Rivalry and continues their story. I’ve heard nothing but glowing praise.

One of the joys of the TV adaptation is its casting. Shane Hollander is played by Hudson William, and Ilya Rozanov is portrayed by Connor Storrie. Their chemistry is electric, and the show gives them the time and space to build a believable, aching, deeply sensual connection. François Arnaud, who plays Scott Hunter, is openly bisexual and has long been a visible voice for LGBTQ+ representation. And Robbie G.K., who plays the impossibly cute Kip Grady, steals nearly every scene he’s in. There isn’t much publicly available about his personal life aside from the fact that he appears to be single, but he brings a joyful, queer-coded energy to the role that fans immediately latch onto.

The show is also notable for its broader LGBTQ+ representation behind the scenes. Reporting from Out highlights that multiple queer actors and creators are involved in the project, helping shape a series that treats queer romance with sincerity, playfulness, respect, and heat. It’s refreshing to see a production that doesn’t shy away from the eroticism of the source material while still leaning into its emotional beats.

If you enjoy sports romances, queer love stories, or simply beautifully crafted television, I highly recommend picking up Game Changer, Heated Rivalry, and the rest of the Game Changers series—and definitely give the TV adaptation a try. Even if hockey isn’t normally your thing, this series might just charm you the way it did me.

And honestly? It’s just a whole lot of fun.

The series debuted on Crave with a two-episode premiere on November 28, 2025, followed by weekly episodes, with the finale airing on December 26. In advance of the program's television premiere, the first episode received a preview screening at the 2025 Image+Nation festival on November 23, 2025. The series was released by HBO Max in the United States and Australia, Sky in New Zealand, and Movistar Plus+ in Spain.

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Walk in the Light

“I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness but will have the light of life.”

— John 8:12

Jesus’ declaration that He is the light of the world is more than a statement of identity—it is an invitation. His light is not harsh or exposing, but comforting and revealing, helping us see the truth of who we are in God’s love. When Christ shines into our lives, He illuminates not only the path before us but the very goodness God has planted within us.

As LGBTQ+ Christians, many of us know intimately what darkness feels like. We’ve endured seasons when rejection or silence made the world seem shadowed. Yet even there, we can echo the assurance of Psalm 23:4: “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” Darkness may surround us at times, but it never defines the journey. God walks with us, and Christ’s light guides us through valleys that once felt unending.

What makes Jesus’ words even more extraordinary is that He shares this light with us. In the Sermon on the Mount, He tells His followers, “You are the light of the world,” affirming that we bear His radiance in our lives. He goes on to say that “a city set on a hill cannot be hidden,” reminding us that God never intended for us to shrink or conceal our true selves. Our gifts, our love, our queerness—these are not shadows to hide but reflections of the beauty God has woven into us.

When Jesus urges us to let our light shine before others, He invites us into authenticity rather than performance. Our compassion, courage, honesty, and resilience become expressions of the divine light entrusted to us. Even in difficult moments, when we choose hope over despair or gentleness over anger, we shine in ways that help others glimpse God’s presence.

And the Gospel of John offers a sustaining promise: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” Whatever shadows we face—whether from others or within ourselves—Christ’s light remains steady and untouchable. Because it lives within us, we, too, cannot be extinguished.

As we move through this Advent season, we remember that God has always used light to guide people toward hope. Just as the Star of Bethlehem led the magi to the Christ child, that same divine light still beckons us today—shining in our lives, shining through our love, and leading us ever closer to the heart of God. May you walk in that light with confidence, knowing it has already claimed you, warmed you, and made you radiant.

Pic of the Day

Moment of Zen: White Briefs

There’s something timeless and undeniably sexy about a man in just a pair of white briefs.