I have many female friends.

I always had.

In every significant period of my life, I have had at least three fag hags as they are called — trustworthy female friends with whom I can share everything.

The only thing I don’t share with them is my nudes photos (though I know at least one of them used to peek at my blog). Except for that, I share every intimate detail of my life. Most times, they share with me intimate secrets as well.

For example, when I write about how a guy fucked me and creamed my ass at the nude beach, they already heard about it.

In contrast, almost a years ago, when I was walking home past midnight, after I have been released from the ER with a diagnosis of neurological damage, I called one of them right away. Later on, I cried non stop to her.

My first fag hag was Elinor.

She sent me this photo on Friday morning.

17.5 years old me

“Look how sweet and adorable we were.”

I looked at our photo and was flooded with so many emotions. The date was 9.5.1987, 22 years ago, minus four days.

I was in a boarding school between the age of 13.5 and 17.5. In this photo, we both already graduated from high school. It was a few months before we both were drafted to the army.

I am not even 18 in this photo.

In four months, I will be in the army in basic training for an elite infantry unit. In four years, I will be at the Technion, the MIT of Israel. In 8 years, I will have my first hi-tech job.

But here I am, smiling, happy, clueless, and even back then very gay. My first anal sex was when I was 16, and yes, I was a total bottom even back then. Elinor was the first to hear about it, of course.

“How on earth did you find this photo?”

“My son was going through my old albums and has found it.”

Then she sent me what I have written at the back of this photo:

“I am giving you this photo, so you remember me in the years to come. I am only doing so because you have asked for it (this is a terrible photo). In any case, this will always remind you of our love and friendship.

Always loving you, Theon.”

“A terrible photo?”

This photo is so adorable.

I sent it to my current fag hag.

“Oh my goodness, you were so hot!!”


“Shut up; you don’t need more compliments. Your comment about the photo, this is hilarious. Even back then you were so critical of your photos.”

It’s so true.

It made me think.

My hair is long gone, but the smile has remained the same, so did the elf-like ears and though you can’t see it in the photo, my ass is still smooth as it was 22 years ago.

Has nothing changed at all?

To complicate matters, Elinor wrote to me :

“We were best friends, and it was such a beautiful time of our life.

I will never forget how you helped when Barak was giving me hell. I was in such a stress, and you were the voice of reason, the rational one. The one who held my hand and helped me all the way.”

I was shocked when she wrote that.

Moran, another fag hag of mine, quite recently was going through a serious fight with a person ALSO named Barak. She sent me a very similar text, almost with the same words.

I shared it with Moran.

“That shows you that even back then, you sided with the weak, with those that you felt were mistreated. I think this is so beautiful.”

“Don’t you see,” I wrote her, “this is such a strange coincidence. Thirty-two years later and once again, I am helping a best friend against a person named Barak.”

Suddenly I felt the weight of all those years. I was full of emotions, and I felt like crying for no apparent reason.

Who am I?

Who is this kid, boy, teenager, man, in this photo?

I suddenly felt as if my whole life were passing in front of my eyes.

Friends, lovers, family, being an uncle for the first time, first relationship, buying my first home, my first car, getting a driving license, people who have already passed away, the first time I saw corpses (during active duty), taking my soldiers to battle, and so much more.

Who am I?

Has nothing changed at all since I was 17.5?

I am looking at my photo from 22 years ago right now, and once again, I have tears in my eyes.

I don’t have answers, only strong emotions when I see myself, smiling, happy, clueless, and innocent.

In this photo from yesterday in my roof terrace Jacuzzi, I am smiling like I did 32 years ago.

Perhaps I am no longer clueless or innocent but I am still happy. And yes, I will always be there for those who I mistreated, like the animals.

That's why I am vegan, because the animals are mistreated the most.

And I will never stop smiling, as long as I live.

Still smiling even with my hair long gone

If you enjoyed this post, I’d be very grateful if you’d help it spread by emailing it to a friend or sharing it. Thank you!

-sep2019 -2019