Oakley - Binge

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For my people.

G O AHEAD, BINGE .

Im not saying go out and snort a bunch of cocaine or do anything thats going to seriously put you or the people around you in danger, obviously.

Binge on the things that bring fulfillment and happiness and satisfaction and make you feel alive. Binge on people who fascinate you and love that wakes you up from monotony. Binge on exploring, both your hometown and the farthest continent. Binge on the time you spend bettering yourself and petting dogs. Binge on picking your grandmas brain and learning the story of the time she got catfished. Binge on giving, in all senses. Binge on indulging.

Were told every day from an early age that moderation is key. Count your calories, wait a while before you tell someone you love them, and remember that balance is the path to happiness. While all of those are great in theory, does a lesson taught from someone elses mistakes resonate just as deeply as the ones you learn yourself? When you binge, you find your own boundaries.

Even if I spend every waking moment attempting to keep my life in balance, Im going to fuck up. Having already fucked up quite a few times in my life, and having lived to tell the tale, I dont regret any of it.

Ive binged plenty of times in my life, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. Regardless, I indulged. This collection is the result.

T YLER OAKLEY ISNT MY REAL name. Ahh! See? This book is full of surprises! Right off the bat, bam! Youve got an exclusive! Truth be told, my real name is Mathew Tyler Oakley, but it feels like Ive always gone by Tyler. Back in kindergarten, another Mathew was in my class, and that simply would not do. I was not there to leave it up to my classmates to label the two Mathews with adjectivesbecause Lord knows I would have been chubby Mathew, which was not the branding I was going for at age five (or ever).

So, I came home one day and told my parents that Id be going by Tyler. I needed to be one of a kind at school if I wanted to make any impression. I mean, imagine two celebrities sharing a name! How confusing and ridiculous would that be? Well, just look at Michelle Williams. No, not the one who was in Brokeback Mountain or Blue Valentine or My Week with Marilyn ... the one who used to be in Destinys Child with Beyonc. See?! This kind of confusion was not something I wanted to deal with down the line.

So here I am, as what has almost become two separate people, Mathew Tyler Oakley and Tyler Oakley. As time has gone on, Mathew has become my more private identitysomeone who I very much protect. Tyler is who I generously offer, at school, in life, and on YouTube. Mathew is what my parents and siblings call me, and the name I sign my binding contracts with, and Tyler is who makes embarrassing challenge videos and meets guys on Grindr. Ive always been both, and to some people Im more one than the other.

And now you know. But for me to give you Mathew right off the bat... thats me trusting you. Its me saying hi, welcome to my life, not everything is pretty or perfect or edited with jump cuts. Thats Tyler. You know Tyler. Its time for me to tell you all of Mathews stories.

But still call me Tyler because, honestly, do I even look like a Mathew at this point? Yeah, no.

T HOUGH I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION of it, I think I can safely assume my first birthday was spectacular. I probably ate the fuck out of some cake, and I probably shit my pants. I assume that Ill be spending my very last birthday the exact same way, not to mention a few in between if things go unexpectedly well.

Having birthday parties has always been an inexhaustible source of stress for me. What happens if you plan an extravagant celebration for yourself and no one shows up? Or what if someone plans a surprise party for you? Like, what if youre rushing home to shit explosively, you burst through the front door, and Surprise! in more ways than one? My mom often recounted the story of her own worst birthdaya surprise party her best friend attempted to throw for her, which nobody attended except the two of them. The horror of that story stuck with me, and each March 22, I take a firm stance against expectations.

Then theres the issue of attending other peoples birthday parties. I once attended a birthday-party horror story like my moms. Karen was in the grade above me; she was a bit of a loner who lacked social skills, and she had a severe crush on me. Although I obviously didnt reciprocate the feelings (because of the gay), I attended her party with my (hot, straight) best friend, Dolan. Her dad welcomed us into their home and directed us downstairs, and as we descended into her basement, we found her alone, pacing. We made some small talk, but soon realized you cant mingle if youre the only ones at the party. How were we going to escape?

My typical go-to move while attending any social function is what Ive heard referred to as the Irish exitwhere you slip out of the party, unnoticed, without saying good-bye to anyone. Good-byes are messy and an unnecessary disruption to the flow of an event, and honestly, what if you dont want to hug certain people? If I could Irish-exit out of every life situation, I would. Meetings, funerals, sexual encountersthats my preference. Unfortunately, there would be no Irish exits out of this particular soiree.

Just when I thought things couldnt get more uncomfortable, the birthday girl suggested a game of Twister. I glanced at Dolan and realized things were about to get delightfully homoerotic. Karen spun the dial of the Twister board and watched as Dolan and I stretched and rubbed against each other. It seemed a bit voyeuristic for her, and the homosexual undertones far outweighed the awkward silences between each spin (at least for me). In what Id later describe as my favorite moment of the evening, Dolan collapsed on me, and before any other games could be suggested, Karens mom invited us upstairs for cake. As Dolan and I decided it might be time to call it a night (at 4:00 p.m.), Karens dad offered to show us his VHS collection real quick. A thirty-minute tour through his wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling VHS tape collection followed. It felt like an episode of Hoarders come to life, but unfortunately no piles of garbage collapsed on me to put me out of my misery.

Maybe even worse for me than not having anyone show up to a birthday party is receiving a birthday gift I dont like. I realize all gifts deserve gratitude, but as someone who generally doesnt need much, Ive developed a fair amount of stress over opening presents in front of people. This is quite possibly the grossest first-world problem in history, but dont act like you havent been there. Id always suggest to my parents that I open my presents in the privacy of my own room, but they would have none of that. This resulted in a lot of overselling on my part. I ve always wanted a novelty oversize TV remote from the dollar store! Thank you, you really get me!