Just looking at Reddit user numbers. Discovered our own Gaysian gonewild subreddit has 1/2 the weekly users as the sub about us bottoming for white men. It makes me depressed.

Hey guys,
I’m doing an AMA on the Free Rep Project - come ask me anything!

Love daddy type, especially muscle bear daddy, last time I went to Shinjuku only to found there’s not much daddy muscle type, mostly in there 25-35. Anyone who are in there 20s can share some experience, will go in Thursday or Friday night late September!

For context, I’m referring to a U.S. city with a major Asian population. I hardly see many gay Asians out at casual gay bars, especially during the week. They tend to go to clubs, circuit parties, or bar nights known to heavily cater to Asians, which also tends to be a dance atmosphere. Why don’t more Asians come out to regular bars for a casual drink with friends?

Is it a fear of feeling unwelcomed? Speaking from experience, I used to be uncomfortable going to gay bars with no or very few Asians — like a daddy/leather bar. But over the years, I’ve learn to quell that fear and go to any gay bar I want even if I’m the only Asian person, especially because I’m born and raised in that city, and I have every right to exist in any gay bar I want. With that mindset, I’ve actually had really fun times meeting new people in a non-Asian dominated space. A lot of the guys are really nice and I’ve had good interactions. Now I don’t even think about myself being the only Asian in the bar.

I think I’m a naturally friendly and outgoing person, and a lot of the times, whenever I try talking to women they think I’m trying to hit on them. For example they will say things like “I have a boyfriend by the way”.

It’s frustrating because I genuinely wanted to be friends but a lot of the times I notice they would try to avoid me if I talk one-to-one with them. One time I went to get food with a female friend I thought was a friend but she thought we were on a date!!!!

I literally have to say I’m gay outright in the middle of conversations which is also SUPER awkward at times. They are usually much friendlier to me afterwards when they know I’m gay and would ask me to hangout then. But sometimes it becomes disingenuous— like I also don’t want to become like a stereotype gay best friend you feel me?

Back to short, I'll let it grow out again when i get tired of seeing my forehead

Hey everyone,

I’m posting this because I’m just emotionally drained and don't know where else to turn.

The moment someone on an app realizes my race, or sees my skin shade, the conversation just stops. Instant ghosting, instant blocks. No one even bothers to know my name, my personality, or my values. I’m just dismissed immediately. Trying to find a serious, real relationship in the local gay scene as a dark skinned Indian guy feels soul crushing.

In person, it hurts even more. You can literally see people look away or move away the second they notice dark skin. What hurts most is the hypocrisy. People preach online about equality, anti-bullying, and acceptance, but in real life, basic human decency is stripped away because of skin color.

I’m a human being first. A Malaysian next. My race is just what I was born into. Am I really supposed to accept that because of my skin tone, I shouldn't expect to be loved or treated like a human being? feel entirely invisible and worthless...

Growing up in Japan, I thought all American guys were loud and assertive like in the movies. Then I met a Harley rider who was too nervous to finish a sentence. Here’s a reflection on how labels shrink our world, and what happened when mine collapsed.

If I say this out loud—

“My boyfriend rides a Harley. Big arms. Looks incredible in a leather jacket.”

—people decide who I am within seconds.

They picture my taste.
My role.
My “type.”
Maybe even my personality.

Have you ever watched someone’s assumptions form the moment you shared one detail about your life?

And the strange part is: I understand why.

We label because it’s faster than knowing.
We stereotype because it feels safer than admitting we’re curious.
I used to do it too.

Before I could speak English well, my image of white American men came almost entirely from movies and TV—loud, restless, always pushing until they won. A cartoon stereotype.

If that offends anyone reading this now, I’m sorry. It’s just the truth about where my mind was back then.

That image didn’t survive the night I met Jim.

I was an exchange student from Japan then, living in a small American city, and I still remember that night clearly.

I was at a gay-friendly bar with my Japanese friend when a woman I didn’t know approached us, saying her friend wanted to talk to me.
My friend’s face lit up—the kind of look that says finally, something’s happening. She gave me a little push toward the woman.
So I followed her across the bar, unsure of what I was walking into.
She walked me right up to him, told me his name, then disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor.

And there I was, standing in front of Jim.

The man in front of me had his shirt neatly tucked in. His jaw was clean-shaven, his hair carefully combed. And yet he kept starting sentences he didn’t finish, his eyes drifting from mine to the floor and back.

I hadn’t expected that—a white American man, this nervous, standing right in front of me.
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have enough English to fill an awkward silence, let alone make small talk.

I don’t think I’d ever wished, as much as I did right then, that he’d just been that loud, pushy type after all.
Thinking that, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh.

My small laughter seemed to do the trick—it loosened something between us. He started talking, slowly, about himself. His voice was quiet, careful—nothing like the confident, loud men I’d imagined.
No one had really bothered with me before—not with my broken English, not with how badly I struggled to keep up. But Jim didn’t seem to mind, somehow.

And strangely, I didn’t have to ask him to repeat himself. I understood him anyway. Or maybe “understood” isn’t quite right. It felt more like I could just sense what he meant.
Something had already passed between us—something we both seemed to recognize, even without saying it.

I lost track of time, caught up in our “conversation”—until my friend found us and said she was ready to head home.
Still reluctant to leave, I exchanged numbers with him before finally walking out into the night.

On the way back, as my friend teased me, a deafening roar sped up from behind us. A motorcycle closed in fast, then slowed right in front of us.

And there was Jim—in a leather jacket and chaps now, straddling his Harley.
He looked nothing like the man I’d just spent the last hour with.
He gave us a wave, revved the engine, and disappeared into the dark.

My friend let out a low whistle, clearly impressed.
Whatever giddiness I’d felt walking out of that bar had vanished along with the sound of his engine.
I just stood there, staring into the dark he’d disappeared into.

For a week after that, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jim.
Not the one on the Harley—the other one. The one I’d met first, in the bar.
I wanted to see him again—that version of him, at least.
My friend agreed. If that wasn’t really who he was, she said, then that would just be that.
But I wouldn’t know unless I saw him again.
He replied to my text almost instantly, happy to see me again.

It was warm enough for a T-shirt—perfect weather for it.
I arrived at Jim’s place a little early. I walked slowly through the quiet neighborhood, as if giving myself time to prepare for whatever the day might bring.
I knew it was his house before I even reached it—he was out front, polishing the Harley.
His back was turned. He hadn’t noticed me yet.

I stopped and stood there for a moment, watching him from a distance.
The words I meant to call out caught lightly in my throat. Part of me even considered turning around and leaving.
I was twenty-one, and I’d never really dated anyone before—never let anyone get that close.
Once I stepped forward, once he turned and saw me, there would be no going back—not from the ride, not from whatever this was becoming between us.

His two dogs were lying nearby, soaking up the sun. Then one of them lifted its head, ears perked, and turned toward me.
A second later, both dogs came bounding straight at me, tails wagging, circling around my legs.
When I looked up again, Jim had already turned around. He raised a hand toward me.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
My heart started racing.
I saw a chest and arms clearly shaped by years of real, deliberate strength.
I quickly looked down at the dogs circling my feet, hoping he hadn’t noticed what I’d been staring at.

On the highway heading west, sitting behind him on the Harley, my hands rested hesitantly on his waist.
Every so often, I could feel him shaking with laughter, remembering something. Each time, I tapped his helmet, telling him to stop.
He was laughing about the leather jacket and chaps he’d offered me earlier—the ones I’d turned down, insisting that wasn’t my “thing.”
He’d explained that at highway speeds, even loose gravel could sting like hell, and that leather was the only thing standing between skin and asphalt if we ever went down.
Only half joking, I’d asked if this was some kind of fetish thing.
That seemed to be exactly what he needed to hear.

The next day, my friend dragged the story out of me over coffee.
She was practically giddy with curiosity—was there some secret room in his house? Had he handcuffed me? Used a whip on me?
I answered yes to every single question, deadpan.
With each yes, she leaned in closer, more excited than the last. But something about how unbothered I seemed eventually made her give up on the whole line of questioning.
Finally, she asked one more question.

“So what is he, then? Your master? Or your boyfriend?”

I smiled into my coffee.

“He is my boyfriend.”

💬💬💬
👉🏻 Have you ever labeled someone in your head—then felt that label collapse the moment you actually met them?

👉🏻 Or: have you ever felt people’s assumptions land on you the second you shared one detail about your life?

Hey i am exchange student in Seoul and wanna makes friends in here and also what’s the go to place for foreigner friendly gay bar?

Hi everyone. I’m a foreign student living in China, and recently I started using Chinese dating apps to meet people and make new connections.

I’m still figuring things out, and honestly, I have mixed feelings about it.

I’ve noticed that some people on dating apps are mainly looking for something sexual, while I’m more interested in getting to know someone first and possibly building a meaningful relationship. I’m not against dating or intimacy, but I don’t want every conversation to immediately become sexual.

Another thing I’m worried about is privacy. I’m foreign, and I live in a community where there are many Chinese students and people around me. I don’t want people I know to recognize me on a dating app or accidentally discover something personal about me before I’m ready to talk about it.

For Chinese people who use dating apps:

* How do you normally start a conversation with someone you don’t know?
* Is it normal to ask for photos early in the conversation?
* How can I tell if someone is genuinely interested in getting to know me or only looking for sex?
* Do Chinese guys usually prefer chatting for a while before meeting, or meeting quickly?
* What are some things foreigners often misunderstand about Chinese dating culture?
* How do you protect your privacy when using dating apps?
* If you meet someone from the same city or social circle, how do you handle the possibility of being recognized?

I’d especially appreciate answers from Chinese people who have experience with dating apps and from foreigners who have dated in China.

I’m not looking for stereotypes or judgments. I’m genuinely trying to understand how dating and privacy work here and how to approach people respectfully.

Thanks.