In this chaos that’s supposed to be life, there”s some deep comfort in the act of transformation. It’s in this complex dance of being and becoming that I found a kind of liberation — the freedom to embody the spirit of a dog.
Let me introduce you to Buday, not a canine of flesh and bone, but an alter ego kinda, born from the depths of my imagination. On the surface, it might seem like an escape, a retreat from the human existence into the playful guise of a dog. But look a little deeper, and you’ll find it’s more than that.
Life, as we all live it, can be super complex. It’s a maze of decisions, responsibilities, expectations, and the relentless pursuit of something that often feels just beyond grasp. In this whirlwind of existence, Buday became my sanctuary, a persona that allowed me to shed the weight of the world and embrace the implicity of being.
Becoming Buday, wearing the mask, was like stepping into a new world where the rules of human life momentarily paused. It was in these moments, that I rediscovered the joy in the simple, the beauty in the trivial, and the profound peace in the act of just ‘being’ a good boy.
There’s something remarkably freeing about viewing the world through the eyes of a creature unburdened by the complexities of human society. As Buday, I’m not just mimicking the physicality of a dog; I’m embodying the essence of what it means to be a dog — the unconditional love, the boundless joy in simple pleasures, and the uninhibited expression of emotion.
This transformation is of course not without its challenges. Society, with its rigid norms and silent judgments, often views such acts of self-expression with skepticism. Yet, it is in the face of these challenges that Buday’s true purpose crystalized. He became my symbol, not just of escapism, but of resilience, of the courage to embrace one’s true self in a world that tries to fit us into neatly labeled boxes.
The most profound encounter in my journey as Buday happened in an unexpected place — a community event, where others who shared this unique form of expression gathered. Among them, I met another soul, in the disguise of a dog. The connection was immediate, breaking of the barriers that often hinder human interaction. In our silent understanding, our playful antics, there was a conversation deeper than words could ever convey.
This interaction was a strong reminder of the inherent need for connection, for finding kinship in shared experiences, even those as unconventional as ours. It was to the power of finding one’s pack, of the comfort and strength that comes from knowing you’re not alone in your journey.
So, as I reflect on the path that led me to Buday, I see more than just an escape. I see a journey of self-discovery, the power of play, and a reminder of the essential joy that lies in the heart of simplicity. But hey, sometimes it’s okay to just be a puppy, to let go of the mask and embrace the simple joy of wagging your tail to the small things in life. Remember Buday? Once he puts on his mask, he’s not just Buday; he’s a symbol of transformation, reminding us all to nourish our inner child and find strength in our true selves.
It all began as a typical Grindr date. From the start, it was clear: Themis already had a partner and wasn’t looking for anything serious, while Nikolas was still recovering from his most recent breakup. We met on a chilly winter evening in Athens at a café, and the date ended, quite naturally, at Nikolas’s place.
Three and a half years later, here we are: the two of us sharing a city change, career shifts, countless trips together, and endless memories. Nikolas moved from web design into the world of therapy, massage, and bodywork. Themis relocated to Brussels, choosing a fresh start away from Athens. Big, scary moves, made possible through the support of one to the other.
We balance each other in the little things: Nikolas is always early (lateness stresses him out) while Themis is perpetually late. Nikolas is a fan of series, while Themis has barely seen more than a couple. Nikolas is more introvert enjoying time with himself while Themis likes going out, meeting with friends. But we share many common pleasures, like nature, nudism, and french fries..
Our relationship gets deepen everyday, perhaps as is the case for many relationships, but it truly feels like we’re growing and healing together, discovering more about ourselves. Being a gay couple in an open, long-distance relationship requires transparency, the clear expression of needs, boundaries, and desires. It isn’t always easy to communicate honestly, especially when you’ve grown up in a society that didn’t model or support that kind of openness.
There’s always the underlying fear of judgment or rejection or conflict. Yet the more we build trust and safety, the more we can be our true selves (the more we can understand who these true selves are), set boundaries and honor them. And creating safety and trust is not something easy. For Nikolas, it means expressing the hard truths, for Themis it means reassuring that having a different opinion does not mean that i cannot love you. There’s a vulnerability there, but true connection lies in that vulnerability. And from true connection emerges the possibility of a shared life.
We love exploring, experimenting, discovering, playing, checking what feels better for us. Not without tension, not without conflict, not without hard moments. Themis learns that conflict does not mean separation. Nikolas understands that boundaries do not mean abandonment. And we continue this journey together. After three years and a half, we are very much in love with each other.
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Tale of Men project was born out of my passion for photography and storytelling. As it grows, the cost starts to mount. You can help the project stay alive by becoming a patron or purchasing the Tale of Men magazines. Thank you!
Simply Boys – Bastien
The patron content is only available for patrons of Tale of Men. You can become one here.
Tale of Men project was born out of my passion for photography and storytelling. As it grows, the cost starts to mount. You can help the project stay alive by becoming a patron or purchasing the Tale of Men magazines. Thank you!
Francisco in Brussels
I used to think that I was happy on my own. I have been repetitively told the story that I am enough and that I don’t need others to be happy. I have also been hopping from one city to the other for the last five years, and hence I became used to having ephemerous friends, situationships, and the feeling that I belong everywhere and nowhere. I believed the story that I was told and decided that I could be self-sufficient.
But of course, that doesn’t work that way so easily. I rather became dependent on the dopamine and thrill of meeting random, interesting, and sometimes sexy guys for brief and impersonal encounters. I enjoyed those, but they had essentially begun to replace genuine and meaningful human connections. I was even afraid to open myself to possible friendships and acquaintances.
Then, I met someone special, and I shifted apart from that vicious circle. He made me realise that I actually crave deep relations, and that I had been lying to myself because I’d been too afraid to be vulnerable to others.
Today, this significant other has left, and I am faced with my instinct to go back to my shelf. This is obviously the easiest path. But at the same time, I also realise that I am actually afraid to be alone.
I suppose that is, to some extent, what is reflected in these pictures: you can see my journey inward, trying to find a connection with a stranger that I will probably never see again. I hope you can see the desire in my eyes to be taken, to be used and misused, and mostly to be seen. Do you see it there?
My tale is about solitude, but it is also about how we attempt to fill in the gaps that our emotional needs have, trying to deal with our loneliness and our desire to connect to something bigger than us.
The patron content is only available for patrons of Tale of Men. You can become one here.
Tale of Men project was born out of my passion for photography and storytelling. As it grows, the cost starts to mount. You can help the project stay alive by becoming a patron or purchasing the Tale of Men magazines. Thank you!
Simply Boys – P. from Berlin
The patron content is only available for patrons of Tale of Men. You can become one here.
Tale of Men project was born out of my passion for photography and storytelling. As it grows, the cost starts to mount. You can help the project stay alive by becoming a patron or purchasing the Tale of Men magazines. Thank you!
Lars in Berlin
The Hidden Barbies
In a small village in the heart of Germany, I hid my Barbies from my father as a child. Not out of defiance, but from a fear I couldn’t yet name. Our house was filled with tension and violence – my father was abusive toward my mother, and both of my parents were so consumed by their own problems that there was no space for a child who was already different.Inside me lived a boy who wanted the life he felt – equal parts feminine and masculine. But in a world full of rigid structures, where homosexuality was taboo, and in a home where survival meant staying invisible, I felt trapped in a straitjacket. Being different wasn’t just shameful – it was dangerous.I knew early on that I was gay. And with that clarity came shame – a feeling that shapes me to this day. Shame for being myself, amplified by an environment where showing any vulnerability could make you a target. I escaped into fantasy worlds that became my refuges, small worlds where I could finally breathe, where violence didn’t exist, where I could be safe and whole.
The Path to Freedom That Wasn’t
When my parents separated and me and my mother moved to the city, new doors opened. I graduated high school, went to Leipzig to study, had several relationships. But I continued hiding from my family – out of shame for myself and fear of being recognized as gay. Until I couldn’t anymore.My family eventually accepted it, got used to it. Today it’s completely okay. But the shame remained. It transformed, became more specific, more cruel: shame about being sick, having sexually transmitted diseases that “gay men just get.” About dying of AIDS. I was afraid to get tested. So I tried to drown the fear in alcohol.It worked for one evening. The next morning, it was back. So I drank more.
Berlin
I went to Berlin because I knew it was the only place where I could find people who could help me. People who had experienced the same things I had. People who could mirror me. But Berlin also led to my escape into alcohol only intensifying. We all know Berlin.In this city of supposed freedom, my imprisonment paradoxically intensified. I was surrounded by people like me, but more trapped than ever in a cycle of shame, fear, and numbing. Everywhere I looked, I saw gay men who seemed to have everything I longed for – muscular bodies they wore with pride, an openness about their sexuality that I could only dream of. They moved through the city with an unapologetic presence that made my own hiding feel even more suffocating.I envied them with a intensity that sometimes took my breath away. Not just their bodies, but their freedom from the shame that still lived in every cell of my being. While I was drowning myself in alcohol to escape who I was, they seemed to celebrate it. The contrast was devastating – and it drove me deeper into the bottle.I drew my self-confidence mainly from validation through the men I had sex with. I was actually satisfied with my body, but this self-confidence was fragile, dependent on external recognition, on desire. I used my body to get validation and numb pain, without really listening to it or appreciating it. All the while watching others who seemed to have mastered what I was desperately seeking: self-acceptance.What I didn’t understand then was that even the most perfect body, the most sculpted muscles, the most confident exterior couldn’t protect someone from shame and addiction. The very men I envied were fighting their own battles, carrying their own wounds. A beautiful body can be just another mask, another way to hide from yourself. The real work – the work of truly accepting yourself – happens on the inside, not in the gym.
The Point of No Return
Then came the moment when everything became crystal clear: I stopped drinking and smoking because I knew it had become life-threatening. I saw how my body was changing. And I witnessed a friend getting sick. Three mirrors that showed me where my path was leading.When the alcohol was gone, I could suddenly feel again what I had done to my body. I realized that I had been far too selfish with myself – not lovingly selfish, but destructively selfish. I had kept going without looking, without listening, without feeling.
The Silence After the Storm
Berlin without alcohol is a different city. The same streets, the same places – but suddenly I heard the rustling of trees in the early morning hours, the conversations of people on the subway that I had previously drowned out. My skin became thinner, my emotions lay exposed like raw nerves.Without the constant fog of nicotine and alcohol, I suddenly felt real tiredness again, real hunger, real joy. It was as if I was slowly awakening from years of numbness. Sometimes it was overwhelmingly beautiful, sometimes painfully intense.
Before Chris’ Camera – A Farewell
When Chris photographed me a year ago, I was ready for something I couldn’t quite understand at the time. The photo shoot was more than just creating images – it was a farewell to my old body. A farewell to the Lars who had abused his body to numb pain and find validation.Standing before Chris’ camera, naked and without any mask, reflected what was happening inside me: shedding old habits, showing myself in complete honesty, the willingness to be vulnerable – but this time from strength, not from desperation.During the shoot, something magical happened: I felt truly present in my body for the first time in a long time. Not hidden behind substances or seeking validation, but simply there. Present. Alive. Reconciled.
The Realization
Since this encounter with Chris and with myself through his camera, I have learned that the body is the home of the soul – and therefore worth protecting. This realization changed everything. My body was no longer just an instrument for gaining pleasure or suppressing pain, but my home, my temple, my responsibility.The Lars in the photos will soon belong to the past. The old, self-destructive me will be history. The images document not just a moment, but a transition – from destruction to healing, from escape to acceptance, from shame to self-love.
To You
If you’re reading these lines and recognize yourself in my story – whether in the shame, the escape, the search for validation, or the courage to start anew – know this: You are not alone. Each of us carries wounds from childhood, societal conditioning, fears of being different.Perhaps you recognize your own hidden Barbies in my story – the parts of yourself you thought you had to hide. Perhaps you know this longing for a place like Berlin, where you could finally be yourself, only to discover that freedom there also holds new traps. If you’re currently trapped in a cycle – whether alcohol, other substances, or destructive behavior patterns – allow yourself to recognize: Your body is the home of your soul. It deserves protection, love, and respect. From yourself. The journey to oneself begins with the courage to look. With the willingness to be vulnerable. With the decision to show yourself – as you are, not as you think you should be. Sometimes we must first completely expose ourselves – before a camera, before a mirror, before ourselves – to discover who we really are. And sometimes that’s the moment when the real journey can finally begin.
Hello everyone, as the year is coming to an end, I want to share the new issues of taleofmen zine 16 & 17 as a yearly tradition. Somehow it means a lot to me to make it happen, knowing that the taleofmen project still has its relevance and value. The kickstarter project has been launched today and will run until 30/12. Please take a moment and check it out. Back the project and share it with your friends if you want. Thanks!
Tale of Men is a photographic storytelling project created by Chris Chi in 2017. Born from a desire to see real, unfiltered stories of gay men represented with honesty, dignity, and tenderness, the project combines portrait photography with deeply personal narratives. Each story is shared in the subjects’ own words, capturing human experiences that are often unseen or misunderstood.
Over the years, Tale of Men has grown into a vibrant community of people who believe in the power of vulnerability. Through its zines, fine-art prints, exhibitions, and community events, the project creates safe spaces for men to share who they truly are — their joys, struggles, bodies, relationships, and identities. Many stories explore topics like love, self-acceptance, intimacy, and living with HIV, helping to break down stigma and replace shame with connection.
This Kickstarter supports the next chapter of the Tale of Men project: a new edition of our printed zine, featuring original photography shot on film, authentic stories from contributors around the world, and a commitment to continue building bridges between people through art and compassion.
By backing this project, you are not only supporting independent queer storytelling — you are helping preserve a space where gay men can be seen, heard, and celebrated.
Frederik in Brussels
Growing up, I never imagined I’d find comfort in my own skin. I was shy, always blending into the background, feeling like I didn’t belong. Teased for being effeminate since I was six, my late puberty only added to the bullying. My voice didn’t break until I was sixteen, and I was pale and underweight. The teasing for being gay hurt the most, because it was something I couldn’t change, unlike my appearance. Their words stayed with me, deepening my insecurities and leaving me constantly self-conscious about what others thought.
At 16, I decided to change things. I started going to the gym to build confidence, but also to gain approval from the world. I wasn’t one to follow the crowd, but I longed to feel accepted. The gym became my refuge, where I could focus on what I could control. Over time, it gave me discipline and pride, though the social anxiety didn’t go away.
My journey took a turn when I discovered nudism. As I learned more about it, I became intrigued. It wasn’t about appearances; it was about freedom, equality, and embracing your natural self. I joined a nudist Discord group, where I could try naked yoga. I was very hesitant at first, as I didn’t want to expose myself to random strangers online. However, I took a leap of faith, and I enjoyed it so much that I continued naked yoga for quite a while, and also building connections with other nudist gay men from around the world.
My first in-person nudist event was an exhibition by the Belgian Naturist Federation. Walking in and undressing was nerve-wracking, but I quickly got used to it. That event was a turning point, introducing me to a supportive community. I actually got to know a lot of people from all walks of life in a short amount of time, and made many friends. Nudism helped me shed not only my clothes but also societal expectations. I stopped seeking validation from others and started valuing myself for who I truly am. Vulnerability became a strength, allowing me to connect with others in ways I never thought possible.
Now, I realize that by gradually confronting my fears, I began to desensitize myself to the shame and vulnerability that had been tied to my self-image. This gradual exposure helped me challenge the negative beliefs about myself that stemmed from past trauma. In addition to exposure, nudism also encouraged self-acceptance and self-compassion.
When the chance to collaborate with Chris came, I hesitated. But then I thought about how far I’ve come. This wasn’t just about posing for a magazine; it was about celebrating my journey from a scared, insecure kid to someone who could stand tall and proud in their own skin. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that true freedom comes when we embrace ourselves fully, imperfections and all. In doing so, we find not only acceptance but also the courage to live authentically, no matter what the world thinks.
