Matt Joseph Diaz

This week, Matt kicks off our Conversation series on coming out with his own story.

I’m not writing this in order to get defensive about my number of partners, by the way. I’ve had sex with around 25 people since the end of 2012 and I’m perfectly proud of and comfortable with that number. However, asking someone you’re dating about how many people they’ve slept with is a question meant to make them feel ashamed.

Think of #MondaysWithMatt as the ultimate #MondayMotivation. Today's topic is how to handle mental health in a partner.

After spending a long time in nature, it stopped being intimidating. It started being calm. The quiet wasn't something I feared anymore. It was something I wanted to cherish.

You aren’t half of something waiting to be made whole — you’re a complete human being with your own important thoughts and ideas, looking for someone to add to your life. You're neither incomplete nor missing out on anything just because you’re single.

I feel equipped to talk about the intricacies of the body positivity movement; for with all its beauty and empowerment, there are aspects of body positivity that try to control how others view and treat their bodies. Though I understand the intention, behavior like this flies in the face of the ideals the movement is trying to create. Put simply: it's time we stop trying to police body positivity.

[CN: surgery, bodily fluids] There are scars, blood drainage, swelling and bruising — it’s essentially going to look like makeup from The Walking Dead following the procedure. Not only that, but you’ll probably lack the necessary energy to groom yourself like you normally do, and you might not be allowed to shower for an extended period of time.

If I get into a heterosexual relationship and spend the rest of my life with that person, I will still be bisexual. I will still feel that attraction to the man on the other side of the bar, even if I’m in love with my partner who happens to be a woman.

You are not where you're from, and you are not your environment.

For some of us, our first real taste of adulthood comes from sitting alone in a clinic, waiting to get our ding-dongs tested.