HNT: Thinking things, again

As we close out the decade, blady blady blah, here's me naked, and one of the more popular pictures I had.

Sexism

I had a discussion with a female friend recently about sex roles in society. While I am not an expert, nor a woman, I have an opinion that is smart, damnit.

The boundaries imposed upon women for years, some of which still exist, were not fair, I admit. However, many of these constraints were not motivated by subjugation or oppression. Women weren't allowed to vote or run for office because men thought (maybe with good reason) that politics is an ugly business, that a man's vote speaks for his household, and his wife had opportunity to affect that vote. Women were sheltered from military service, high-stress (and admittedly high-profile and high-pay) positions like medicine and law, and working outside the home for similar reasons. Whether women needed to be protected or whether such efforts just demonstrated that men viewed women as inferior isn't really the issue, as far as I am concerned. Adults shield children from many things, and their benevolence is not questioned. I am aware that inequalities in pay still exist between men and women, with some numbers saying women earn $.66 for every $1 earned by a man doing the same job. I don't think it's justifiable, but women will more happily accept a compliment or non-material benefit in lieu of monetary reward.

The disparity I currently notice has more to do with relationships than society. Women traditionally (50+ years ago) were homemakers: expected to raise kids, cook, clean, host, etc. Men were traditionally asked to be the sole bread-winner, to handle physical tasks around the house, to protect the house, to be the leader and final decision maker. I would argue that these perceived sexism roles were not as sexist as those which exist currently. More aptly, many of men's traditional roles have remained, while women have gained the upper-hand.

Many men are better cooks than their partners, clean more than their partners, and have taken on traditional female roles. Many women expect men to also fulfill traditional male roles: lift heavy things, mow the grass, check out nocturnal disturbances, fix the car, hold a job. I am not opposed to cleaning parts of the house, or getting my cook on, but doesn't equality mean that everyone is treated the same? Even more frustrating is that women often want a man who is strong, who makes decisions, who imposes boundaries on her, despite her constant nagging and bitching about wanting a say-so and the like.

The most blatant examples coming to mind involve courtship rituals: dates, chivalry, etc. Men were once expected to walk on the outside of the sidewalk, to sacrifice their coats to a puddle, to stand up when a woman entered the room, to open doors and pull out chairs. The reason we did all of this was because women were dainty, soft beings who needed us to give of ourselves. We as men were pursuers, making an effort to demonstrate our worth and ability to protect. Women didn't complain then, and I have never heard a woman complain when I opened the door for her. The motivation was sexist, but a woman enjoyed the results.

When two people go on dates before they being a relationship, they are attempting to find out about the other person, to get to know them so they can see if a relationship is even possible. Men used to call upon women at their homes, and sit with their families or outside their homes and talk to the girl. The girl's father owned her, and the man could not socially take her from the home without taking her on as his property (which explains the tradition of a man asking a woman's father for permission to marry his daughter, can't take a man's stuff without asking him). Modern work schedules require that people meet during dinner time, so people meet at restaurants, and eat while conversing. This adaptation to demands isn't the problem. What I take issue with is the paying. I have been eating with a female multiple times, and the check came only for her to look at me like, "Go ahead and take care of that". What women don't realize is that when a man pays for her dinner, she is basically putting a monetary value on her time. I don't pay for girls' meals anymore, because when I employ the services of a prostitute, I don't have to put up with her bitchy mouth except for when it's on my body.

"Men should pay, be chivalrous, and because that's what men do, and that's the traditional thing to do to make a woman feel special."

"Women should raise my children, clean my home, and cook my food, because that's what women do for men who are chivalrous and act traditionally. Oh, and because she doesn't get to eat her cake and have it too."

I found this today, just by chance

Tiger and me... The first and exclusive look.

It's been almost three weeks. Three weeks of pressure, phone calls, harassment, and coercion. I don't care what he does to me though, my heart is telling me to get rid of this demon. Tiger Woods and I have been sleeping together ever since his knee injury. In fact, I was responsible for that injury. He messed it up jumping down from a ladder that he had to use to...abuse me with. We liked it rough, rather, he did.

I am sparing all the golf jokes about wood and balls and driving it deep, because I loved him. He was my boss, and my daddy, and he said he was going to leave his wife for me; that he had finally found himself as a gay man; that he was going to use his money to discreetly fund a Constitutional amendment guaranteeing gay marriage rights. He said all the girls who always called him were his hetero girl friends who went shopping and starbucksing with him. I was the "wife" that he talked about on that voicemail.

I'm breaking the story here instead of giving it to TMZ or E! Online, because I still love him, and I don't want to hurt him like all those selfish bitches. He is misunderstood, lonely, and all alone. People only love him for his fame, his image, his fame, what he can do for them. I knew the real Tiger, Eldrick. He was a man of character, who protected my heart from the terror of loneliness.

I love you, E. Come back to me!

Technological Issues

I don't know why my twitter feed on here is not MY twitter feed. On the back end of things, it's all correct. As for why it's at the bottom of the page, along with my archives and blogs I'm following, I don't know what the deal is with that.

If anyone who is still reading this knows how to fix that, help me, PLEASE!!!!

And as a corresponding note, facebook has led me onto girls at my school who are, to put it nonstalkerish, very interesting. Maybe that didn't work, but the point is, I'm interested in talking to them. Particularly one, or two. Both of these girls are friends of friends, and if I had the chance to talk to them, I bet I could woo them. Especially considering their ex bf's look like total doofuses.

Following the line of girls, SG and I had an encounter the other night. She was in the library at the same time as me, and I offered to walk her to her car, since it was midnight and didn't want her to get assaulted (however much she might enjoy or deserve it). Her car was a lot closer than mine, so I made her drive me to my car, since it was really cold outside. While in the car, here's how the conversation went:

SG- "So what are you doing now?"
Me-"Right now?"
SG- "Ya are you going home, what are you doing?"
Me-"Well, I had planned on just going home, and sleeping, because it's midnight on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving."
SG- "So you're just going home to go to sleep? You're not going to stay up?"
Me-"Ummmmmmm, ya. I'm going home"
SG- "I can't believe you're going to sleep right now!!! OMG!!"
Me- "Why are you asking? Is there something that I should be staying up for?"
SG-"What? No! There's nothing."

Another sighting with the craziest woman on earth (maybe second to Kari Ann from Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew). I dropped a pocket knife I keep with me while I was in her car, and I can't get the bitch to get it back to me!

God Almighty help the man she marries.

HNT: Impossible Understanding

My very good friend, possibly my closest friend, and I talk often. She would correct me, and be embarrassed, to hear me say that she is remarkably strong. At 21 years old, she has suffered a large amount of physical abuse, emotional torment, sexual abuse, rape, and assault. She has escaped the poverty and poor decisions that her family was full of and has made an incredible life for herself. This is her first semester going to a remarkably elite school, which she is paying for, in cash, out of her own pocket.

She has helped me through a lot, and has been my confidant regarding my counseling sessions, and I love her. This week, after I left my counseling session, she politely asked how it was, and I told her it was ok: that I was still growing impatient with how slowly it progressed. I asked her how her doctor's appointment was, and she responded:

"Well, I went to get an MRI last week on my wrist, because some sort of lump was there. While I was at the doctors, I gave them a blood sample, as part of just a check-up. The good news is the lump on my wrist came from me breaking it a long time ago and just not realizing it."

(Me)- "That's what I had guessed, bone cancer is something that just doesn't affect people our age very often."

(Her)-"I have to go back Thursday to get a bone marrow biopsy, the doctor said my blood tests show that I have leukemia."

After I pulled my foot out of my mouth, which wasn't hard considering my jaw had dropped, I asked her what kind it was, etc. Fortunately, as she told me, it's one of the least severe kind. As my med school friend put it, "If I were to pick a cancer to have, it would be that type of leukemia." She will have to get chemotherapy, and she will most likely see the cancer go away within a few years.

When I found out, I cried. I cried pretty hard. Not only because of how sorry I was, but how shocked. She is so kind, and sweet, and she doesn't deserve to have this burden upon her. Her particular type of leukemia doesn't require bone marrow transplants, or I would be at the front of the line. I want to do something to honor her, to help her, to show her that people will care, and be there, and love her.

Today she told me she is scared, that she was told that the procedure tomorrow involves sticking a needle into her hip, and pulling out liquid marrow. I expect this does hurt, and have tried to be an optimist, and positive, and tell her that she's done way worse. I have never had anyone close to me suffer from any type of cancer. Everyone I know who has died has done so suddenly and unexpectedly.

Tomorrow, she will have a needle inserted just above her rear end and into her hip. That's why I used this picture.

Take notice of those people around you who inspire you, who make you love, who can make you cry. For the first time in a long time, I cried for someone other than myself. She deserves all the kindness and prayers in the world, and I know she can make it through, but it is really scary for me right now,

I cannot hope to see the world as she does.

HNT: Return to Innocence

EI OH EI OH EI EI OH OH EI OH EI EI OH
A return to innocence!

I love that Enigma song, you know the one in Man of the House featuring Jonathan Taylor Thomas comedying the hell out of Chevy Chase? Farrah Fawcett was a hot mom, god rest her soul.


Since I haven't posted an HNT in a while, and since people only come to my blog to look at my body (I have a tracker you know :P), I decided to go back to my roots, to bring my daily traffic out of the doldrums.

Enjoy, if you're still listening

Digital Locker room

www.thevisualizer.net 

I stumbled across this site a while ago, and have been fascinated by it since.  I think there are a few categories of people here:

1. Monster weiner guys who come to show off and get an ego boost

2. Tiny weiner guys who come to be degraded by themselves, enjoying the shame they already feel in a masochistic way.

3. Guys who are gay/bicurious/a little homo who come to look at other dudes dongs and try to get all frisky inside by comparing

4. People like me, who are probably too curious for their own good as to how they stack up.  

Now, I understand that there are differing opinions on the size of a man's penis, both from men and women.  Overall, the report is that, for the most part, it's not the most important thing in the world.  Where size does seem matter is in girth.  I have also read that size matters in relation to extremes, as neither a micropenis nor a mandingo dick would be enjoyable for a huge majority of women.  It seems as though evolution, or God, or fate, has put men at the correct size overall, with some deviation occurring. 

Research tell us that 50% of all men are under 5.5-6 inches long.   Approximately 2% of all men are 7 inches, with <1%>

Since it seems to be the more important of the two dimensions, thickness should also be examined.  5 inches is just above average, with 6 inches occurring approximately 2-4%, and 7 inches almost never (but that's a coke can, so come on!).  

Thus the most often occurring penis is 5.5-6 inches long x 4.5-5 inches around. The most often occurring vagina, when aroused, 5-6 inches deep x 1.5-2.5 inches wide (4.71-7.85 around). So, most men and women match up well, even though most men are not going to stretch their partners vagina each time they have sex. 

So, if most women are satisfied by their partner's size, and most men do not come close to the magical (in my mind) marks of 8 inch dicks that women take notice of, why do most men, and some women, continue to make it a big deal? 

I am not planning on disclosing my size. (If you're curious, ask me, and we can talk about it, although I would guess most of the people who read this blog are not interested for one reason or another)  However, I will say that I do not lack, and I have used the above site to compare myself to others.

How women view themselves, parallels this issue: most men see their partner much more kindly than she sees herself.  It is an issue of self-image, body appreciation, and understanding. I don't deny that I get fascinated by knowing that I'll never have a penis big enough to make a porn star quiver.  The idea of my inadequacy frightens me, captivates me, holds me to look at dark parts of myself.  I think women (or men) read beauty magazines in a similar way: comparing themselves, seeing where they are better or worse.  

I don't know what causes people to be so down on themselves, why we feel a need to compete and push against others in an effort to demonstrate our own inadequacies.  I know why I do it, but I believe it is vital for us to pick up our eyes when we walk in the shower rooms.  Instead of looking at the body of the bather next to us, hoping to see how we are better or worse, we should just look in the mirror, and move past the darkness that so often binds us to our petty self-loathing. 

Counseling

I made such a big deal about my search of mental health treatment, and now I am going to write about it.  I have had less than 10 sessions thus far, and, after finding the write provider for me, I am finally starting to make some progress.  At first, I was seeing a woman who was a bit... wishy washy.  She did not direct me, did not advise me, did not offer new insights, just kept me going in a mental circle.  And believe me, if I wanted that, I could sit in my room in the dark and listen to my internal dialogue all day. 

The other person I have found to be insightful, sharp, and more equipped to wade through and disentangle the important things from the remainder of my mental dissertations.  She is helping me just say stuff, and is, for once, removing me from my mind.  I am able to feel things more, to escape the cognitive trappings that wait for me. 

No major revelations yet, but I anticipate things will get better as I continue.  For now, I can say without question that I want to go to counseling every day and never want it to end.  I always feel better when I leave, and it is something to look forward to throughout the week.  Hopefully I can find some things out, so that I can have other things to look forward to throughout the week.

Thank You

To anyone who has served, serves, or is on their way to serve in our military:

Thank you.  Thank you for doing something so strong and brave.  Thank you for giving me the freedom to complain, to explore, to watch the sun rise over a beautiful landscape. Thank you for not expecting to hear thank you, thank you for not expecting anything, even the things everyone you serve takes for granted. Thank you every day of the year, not just the 11th of the 11th of the 11th.  

She's a Little Young

I have dated women who are older than me always.  There have been a few passing fancies for girls who are a few months younger than me, but nothing serious, nothing physical, nothing that counts.  Recently, a girl has spent some time around me, thanks to her being friends with my younger brother's girlfriend.  She is younger than me, and very very cute.  Great smile, pretty eyes, looking good in her little thin girl sweats (I love those). 

I anticipate most of the people who read my blog are older than me, and are probably thinking, "Younger than you? Good God, man, don't break the law!" All silly and projected dramatic thoughts aside, she can buy tobacco and vote, so I won't be doing any time in the pokey. 

I don't know exactly how to feel about this.  You see, I would not have any problem with taking this girl to get a smoothie and make out with her. But she's about to finish high school, and yikes! The fact that she touches me a lot when she comes over, and the fact that I have to mentally recite Bible verses when she's around, mean that something there is worth exploring.  If anyone would please give me their input on this subject I would appreciate it, because I need someone's perspective-- someone who isn't bound by their own idiotic worries about people's judgment.  

Thanks.

Apologize for Apologies

I am sorry to anyone who reads this blog still.  Sorry for my negativity, for my angst, for my frustration, for the petulance that I appear to be filled with.  I am sorry for saying sorry for everything.  I want to make my life better, I want to see the world like I once saw it.  I want to understand the beauty within someone I hate.  I want to.  

The frustration lies with the dissonance between that cognitive want and a seeming inability to fulfill that desire.  I do not know what else to do.  I have used this blog as a canvas for my darkness, that part of me that I try not to share with other people.  I just feel myself becoming something I despise.  You are not responsible for suffering that.  I know better.  I will return to my light hearted, witty, shirtless subject matter, and let you know when my mental health treatment returns me to the man I was once, the man I should be.  

Boundless  compassion. Forgiveness to infinity heart of fathoms depth I can reach I can hold I can do what you want.  Drink in beauty tastes like your lips. Angles of your knees play like kaleidoscopes as my sleeping eyes watch you dress. Hair dances over my face, on point while I wake to you voice breathing into my core. Soft, saccharide, promising skin sweeps over my warm waking eyes. Love means nothing when you don't have to say it. Words hold no power in a delicate glance. we find each other in the breadth of my arms, breathing in nothing but what exists there. Momentous existence frees us from our greatest burdens.

Life Threatening

I went paddling on a nearby, famous for around here, creek.   Some of the rapids on this water can have severe consequences.  All of the water I have paddled to this point has been relatively safe, in that, if one turns over or swims (has to exit their boat), the biggest threat is some rocks to the head or body.  While that may sound dangerous, helmets and manliness prevent any real danger from being presented.  This creek, however, will separate shoulders, break noses, and tear up someone who doesn't respect it.  I knew this coming in.  

Before I entered some of the major rapids, another paddler in my group told me how to proceed, etc.  I went over a 10 foot waterfall without being afraid.  I went down huge rapids that wreak havoc on boaters with much more experience or equipment than me, without being afraid.  On one occasion I was in a very, very dangerous position, literally barely balancing on the edge of a scary turn of events.  When I escape unscathed (and rather stylishly, might I add), the guy with me, who basically helped found the sport in the area (he's so good, he ran the creek at midnight), told me he had never seen anyone do anything like that in that particular rapid.  I distinctly remember sitting and looking at him while I was being retained by the hole, and him yelling at me to get the fuck out of there, and get ready to catch a rope.  I wasn't scared.

I walked around one rapid, as I knew that I was not ready for it, and the consequences were too serious for me to try to luck my way out of.  I wasn't scared of the rapid, did not feel any sympathetic nervous responses, I just knew I was going to portage.  All of these very dangerous events, and nothing evoked a true, primal fear from me.  That concerns me.

I went to the counselor for my second session a day or two before the paddle.  She started to piss me off when she continued asking, "What would make you feel better?" 

"If I knew what I could do to improve my state of mind, I would do it."

"Well, perhaps I'm asking the question wrong.  How will you know when you do feel better?"

"I will know I am better when I no longer feel this way."

That conversation took 30 minutes.  This woman had to get a doctorate to fucking ask me these questions? I am extremely impatient for her kid-gloving me around when I am paying for her to ask me and tell me things I already told her, and when I have spent the last 10 months inside my own head, to no avail, only to come to a professional who cannot seem to do a better job than I can.  Jesus tittyfucking Christ.  My life is wasting away.  Every day I spend in this half-state of being is a day I cannot recover, a day that I just used up resources and expelled carbon.  The creek did not scare me.  The fact that I was so numb to it's threats, and that the fucking therapist won't move the fuck on and help me while I spend day after day trying to escape the overwhelming dread of a life wasted on repetitiveness and liminal bullshit, scares me.  It keeps me up at night.  All the while I just wonder whether I will ever feel better, whether anything can help me, or whether I need to just go to my MD and ask him for some SSRI's and Viagara.  At least then I will be able to act like I'm having a good time.  

All of this ranting to express my dread of a hopeless future, and a dead life.  That's what it is now, just a life of dying, daily.  

HNT: Where my name originates

I sent an email to someone, and my nickname for this gmail account was on there. They said something about what did it mean, etc., when I responded that it had to do with my enjoyment of kayaking, they said they were concerned I was into something more sinister.  As moronic as that is to say to someone you don't even know, I suppose some people who have read some of the posts, and didn't know any better, could assume I have a thing for spanking.  Not to discount my fondness for the limited spanking opportunities I have had, but it obviously stems from my thing for paddle sports: kayaking, rafting, etc.  If you are interested in getting into paddling, I would honestly love to talk to you about it.  I get impassioned and grinny when I talk about it to someone else, so ask away. Is this a great picture, or what? Natural beauty speaks to me, in women, and in the world.

HNT: Perspectives

I finally have the opportunity to take a mirror straight out of the shower picture, but I am wondering whether I should put up a picture that explains my nickname.  It's tempting, but I'll put this one up to spike my traffic.  If you can figure out the perspective I had in mind when I took the shot, you may be able to gain a different, more alluring perspective for yourself.  

Intake Form

BACKGROUND INFORMATION

Name-Paddlemonster (the kayaking implement, or the rougher stuff, if you prefer)

Sex- Male, confused a little about what may be expected of me

Age- I'm in college, and not one of the creepy 40 year old freshmen

Ethnicity- White. I've got Cherokee heritage, but doesn't everyone?

Sexual Orientation- Heterosexual, but only making out, anything else would be too much at this point.

Preferred Method of Contact- Text message during my physiological psychology class

Academic Information- Currently a student, but that won't last much longer if this doesn't work.

Referred by- The people who said this was my only free option.

PRESENTING CONCERNS

Briefly describe what brought you in today- Dull and hollow affect, lack of sex and competitive drive, inability to concen....

LEVEL OF IMPACT

How much do these concerns interfere with your: (1-5)

Academic Performance-4

Emotional Well-Being-3

Social Activities-4

Daily Routine-2

MENTAL HEALTH HISTORY

Have you received mental health treatment in the past?- Nothing helpful, but definitely treatment of some kind.

Have you purposely injured yourself without suicidal intent?- Unless you count SG, no.

I just wanted to rid myself of my smart ass answers before I went to my appointment.  The therapist I am seeing is a woman, I am interested to see how that affects my perception. 

Either way, I am looking forward to it. 

Drool!

I just found this girl on the web, and I am quite happy I did.  Not because she is the hottest girl in the world, which is disputable, but because she is my fantasy, completely, no exceptions, in this picture.  Thick blonde hair, voluminous lips,  light eyes, large breasts, exquisite everything else, but most importantly, the men's shirt with the slight hint of panties.  GOD ALLLLMIGHTY! You can find other pictures of her, but this is just magic. 

The Click Through from HNT.

I am sorry, but I am obviously not smart enough to figure out how to set stuff up so you can see a different picture when you click on one for HNT.  So here is what should have been on the click through.  If someone who knows how to do click through stuff would help me, I would be so so happy.

HNT: Exercising my right to photoshop

Because I have slacked on my recent HNT posts, I decided to add a treat to it this week. Every night before I go to sleep, I do some pushups, some sit-ups, and some body bridges.  It's my way of calming down before I go to sleep. I fiddled with my camera exposure to demonstrate a pushup in action, and if you click, you might find said treat.    

I think this should work.

Challenged?

I felt better than I have in a long time last night.  I didn't feel whole or normal, just better. I faced a little bit of a challenge, performed, and felt actualized to an extent. This is worth noting here, considering my recent string of upsetting discussions.  I had a crappy week last week, and last night really helped me remember that something was wrong, and that relief exists.  Based on the hope I gained, I decided to call a mental health professional and seek treatment.

I have yet to make the call. I am embarrassed, and am struggling with my pride.  I suppose I just call the office and say I need to make an appointment. I suppose we will see.  I am hoping for courage and ability to look past my foolish arrogance.  I'm a psychology major, and yet I still am embarrassed to call and ask for help.  I imagine a combination of my own personal struggles with weakness, as well as a hesitance to go to the doctor in general (it's just a pain in the ass), contributes to this trepidation. I can't imagine what it must be like for those who haven't been brought up around psychology/talk therapy ideals/etc. 

I am looking forward to the challenge of doing something threatening like this.  Even calling and taking the steps towards getting help will require me to face issues I battle every day.  

The Politics of Greece

I am a member of a Greek organization, for those who did not know.  Dater X, you can stop reading now, if your disgust with all things fraternity is just too much to stomach. ;)

When I signed up to join, I was unaware of how the process worked: rush, pledge, bid, etc.  Being a pledge basically means being the active members' bitch until you are initiated and get to mistreat the next group of pledges.  While my school is very serious about preventing hazing, that doesn't stop the actives from exercising what little power they still hold.  Tonight, I got a taste of that, in a more negative way than I have had thus far.

The pledges had to elect a leader at the beginning of this process, a person to be a liaison between the officer in charge of us, and the group.  I volunteered, and won the post.  After a meeting of the whole chapter a few weeks ago, during which a member had told a story of driving drunk people home who vomited in his car, I jokingly said that I wouldn't be driving any drunks home, since 'my ride is so fly, and I don't drink anyway, so not like I need it.'

This was a joke.  The other pledges laughed, I moved on.  Tonight, the officer in charge of the pledges asked me during the chapter meeting, in front of everyone if I had said that I wasn't going to sober drive since I don't use it.  I said yes, and that I had done so in jest.  He said I was a dumbass and then said 'you're fired.'

There are pledges who didn't particularly like the way I ran things (if that's even possible, considering all I basically did was mass text people after the officer told me what to do). These pledges told active members during the past few weeks that I didn't take commitments like sober driving seriously, spinning me as a bad guy, a snob, precocious.  The pledge who doesn't have to follow the rules.

Now the actives told the officer in charge about this, and he called me out on it.  I don't blame him, that's what I would have done too.  I think the pledges who started the drama, should have said something to my face about it.  I think the actives should have asked me about it.  But, once I got fired, those responsible for spreading my words volunteered to replace me, and won.

All in the name of brotherhood, character, loyalty, and honor.

I'm disappointed that I believed in something greater than myself.  Foolish me. 

Smarter Than That

I voiced my concerns to the Winner. Her new name is the Liar.

I should know better than that. 

Worth Pouting Over

The Winner, who I have gotten closer to lately after choosing to stop hiding within myself, and I have spoken for close to 9 months.  I have a webcam, and have used this when speaking to her on multiple occasions.   She has, in the past, whined and pouted and complained and cried about the fact that I don't want to be exclusive with her.  

Exclusive with someone I have never seen in person.  

Never seen smile in real time, don't even know for certain if she is who she says she is.

I don't believe in exclusivity to begin with.  

She's off her nut.

When she told me a few weeks ago that she was buying a webcam, I was immediately happy. Not because I wanted to see her naked or any of that stuff, because, I don't have those intentions immediately in mind.  Instead, I just want to see her laugh, her smile, her eyes respond to my jokes.  I just wanted to connect. To see how my words could be read in her face. 

I still haven't seen her face. She told me the shipping has been delayed on the product, due to some labor dispute on the West coast.  

I'm sure most of you are thinking what I am, "She's lying, she isn't who she says she is.  She could go to her local Best Buy and get the webcam without any shipping worries."

I have to believe her. Because that's what people do, they trust.  I continue to trust in what she says. I don't think I should anymore.  I don't think she's earned my trust. 

I think for all her bitching about my hesitance to be exclusive, she has not given me any reason to want to.  

I think I should give her something to pout about.  

I want to know what everyone else thinks.

Layers of a man

A friend of mine was talking about her boyfriend, well, soon to be ex boyfriend.  She told me in the beginning of their relationship, he was nice to her.  Nicer than me.  She said she was attracted to him because of a subtle bossiness and demanding nature she detected.  She has told me in the past, as well as during the same conversation, that she is attracted to me because I am nice. Because I am brash, cocky, an asshole, bossy, and an overall jerk.  The same subtle bossiness she detected in him was smeared all over me, and the niceness he blatantly poured on her was sparingly given by me.  

Turns out the reason why she is breaking up with him is due to the fact that he has shoved her, threatened her, controlled her, and did all the things she perceived as subtle.  

Turns out the reason why she likes me so much is due to the fact that I am a kind, accepting, tender person.  

Turns out the reason I sit in class, walk across campus, go to parties, do anything socially threatening, etc. and silently judge everyone else is due to the fact that I am a kind, accepting, tender person who is frightened of people.  Frightened that the kindness will leave me exposed.  

Maybe people are who they say they are.  Maybe people are who you think they are.  Maybe people deserve to be emotionally dissected before a word comes out of their mouth.

A note to those who wouldn't leave me the fuck alone

I am a superficial college male.  I want a certain type of female, and I am not ashamed to say so.   I am a good-looking guy, even better once my clothes come off, and I want a very hot girl.  Easy, simple, done.  So don't come at me and act like you are better than me because you dance with all the uggo's.  I don't think I'm better than you, but I do have enough self-control to not rub on someone like that. 

Ya I know how to dance, I just always seem to forget when a fat girl is involved.

A Busy Week

This week promises to be busy, rather, it has already begun to be busy.  Before I move into that hullabaloo, a quick glimpse back at the weekend:

Friday night, a few friends and I went to a massive party.  As far as house parties go, I've never seen a bigger one.  People were paying $5  a cup for some vodka and orange soda, and with about 500 people coming throughout the night, I would imagine the fellas hosting the party probably brought cash to Best Buy the following day to pay for a new HDTV for the house.  Pretty damn smart.  While I was there, I met a girl who is 5'; I like shorter girls, but didn't realize until then just how short that is.  

My family is in the process of moving, and Saturday I did handy man work around the new and the current, soon to be former, house.  Pardon my Tim Taylor moment, but few things reinforce one's masculinity like lifting heavy stuff and using tools effectively. 

Sunday I watched the Dallas Cowboys win, the remainder of some poor football (really, Rams?) and then went to an induction ceremony for the fraternity I joined.  It wasn't anything special, just dress up, repeat some oaths, etc. etc.  I don't completely understand how the pledge process works, but it looks like pledge=bitch.  I'm a senior, and I'll just make the freshman pledges do it.  

As for this week:

More moving.

A date with the 5' girl. 

Flag football.

Pledge events.

Three, count em, three tests.

It's only Monday. 

I love being busy. I feel like I'm doing something, and God knows I need that.

HNT: Request from the 206

Half-Nekkid Thursdays present a challenge: Taking a picture that is alluring, creative, tasteful, new, and doesn't show my dangle.  I feel like I do a fairly good job given the disadvantages I suffer: I don't have anyone else to take the pictures; I'm not a girl, so I can only hide one thing; and no one wants to see me unless I have my clothes off.

Based on that, I took a request from a fellow blogga, and she gave me an idea of what she was looking for.  I think I appeased her.

If you have any requests, forward them to: guy with his shirt off @one dimensional pictures.com/ get a better camera  I will be sure to, within reason, honor all requests.

An Explanation, Sort of

I was going through some stuff last week, stuff that isn't fair.  Why I expected life to be fair, who knows?  Here's a back story, of sorts:

My job is lonely and doesn't pay me, literally, at all. The lack of money means I really can't do much of anything except stay home, and I cannot stand on my own feet, which is a great source of pride for me.  This is a bad place to be, and I don't know how to escape it.  This causes despair.

There are a few females in my life, most of whom I know via the internet, who live a day's trip away.  A month ago all of them were arranging ways to see me in person.  Currently, two have since acquired partners, leaving me to feel like the platonic gay friend.  I got especially upset when a few girls have spoken to me as though they were doing me a favor in talking to me.  Granted, I was probably a little needier than I should have been, but if we were to look into their past histories with me, I think we would have see who has always been the one clamoring for affection.  My pride is something that keeps me rigid, that keeps me standing: I do not show dark, vulnerable emotions, not because someone could hurt me (maybe that's why), but because I need to be seen as a strong, able man.  To think that someone sees me as less, or as a clingy boy, that devastated me when I was already beginning to go to dark places.  

I realized that I need to just live in real life, where I am, with real people.  These girls are not who I am.  I need to take an active role in my life, and just do more.  I am joining a fraternity, puke if you want, but I am still the same person, and I would rather regret doing it than regret not doing it.  

As an update, SL and I have gone rounds a few times over different arrangements to see one another.  I am still feeling a little weird about the whole thing, but I am planning on visiting with her sometime in the next week face to face and modeling for her.  

Which brings me to HNT: a new picture will be posted tomorrow, so I expect to see my blog hits go up exponentially on Thursday like they typically do.  An interesting side note, someone found my blog by googling: "naked nude male men."

Am I that repetitive?

Darkness

I have been struggling the last few days with dark feelings, dark thoughts.  I am better today, which gives me the chance to talk about what I was experiencing.  As a preface I would like to say that I realize how juvenile and immature some of these thoughts are, that I shouldn't be this upset when I am not having any serious problems, that I am selfish, or whatever else. 

As a rule, I don't feel anger as much as I do sadness.  Sadness, guilt, shame are pretty easy emotions for me.  Easy for me to access, easy for me to fall into.  Recently it has been anger, hopelessness, and a want to hurt something.  I find myself with a strong urge to physically harm someone, to really unleash my pain onto them, to release the governors and ache with rage.  My better thoughts prevent me from doing anything like this, so I instead decided it would feel good to harm myself. 

I don't know about cutting, I frankly don't want to have to explain the blood and scars.  I do know that punching or striking something until my hands bleed seems both fulfilling and easily explained (I scraped my knuckles while I was working on my car).  When I played high school football, my position required a lot of impact on my head, the forehead and body.  Something about that felt good, and soothed me, and I miss it.  I am not quite foolish enough to punch myself in the face, but the thought of getting in a fight and taking a few shots doesn't sound terrible.  

When I wake up, I don't look forward to anything.  Well, maybe lunch, but other than that, I just feel like I go to class so that I can graduate, and I go to work so that my parents won't be mad at me.  I then spend time goofing around until it's time to sleep and repeat the process.  I was suffering from overwhelming boredom (not that it has left), but now I just feel quite hopeless. Like nothing will improve, nothing will matter, like tomorrow and today are the same, thus a waste of my life as it is passed doing things I don't enjoy. 

More than ever, I'm having problems enjoying things.  Sex being example one.  9 months ago, I could get aroused over nothing, incredibly out of control aroused.  Massively, full, thick erections that needed to be muzzled and put in isolation for fear of their destructive force.  

Now, I don't really care about sex, don't watch porn, don't want to do anything sexual.  I will jack off, but it's really just something to do, like watching tv.  It doesn't feel good, it just is 15 minutes that I don't have to be sitting.  

I have to quit my job.  I work for my father, with my stepmother supervising, kind of.  I don't have anyone that I work with, I'm basically alone for 4 hours everyday, and I hate the nature of the work.  This is the single thing I can, without a doubt, point to as causing the majority of my negative feelings.  I feel like nothing I do is worth anything, like it is like a fart in the wind. Just gone instantly.  I don't get paid, which isn't a huge ordeal, because I wouldn't want to do this work if I did get paid.  I'm starting to really dislike my stepmom and father, because I feel like they are the ones keeping me here. 

I tried to quit a few weeks ago, and my father told me I couldn't.  He doesn't support me in any way financially, apart from letting me live in his house and feeding me, but I don't think it should have to come to a discussion of me walking out on him.  I shouldn't have to quit being his son for a few weeks just to remove myself from this position.  However, I do not know what I can do otherwise.  The longer I do this, the worse and worse it gets. I know quitting is the solution.  Getting another job where I am around people, where I get to make money and not be in financial starvation mode, and where I can just be happier with my family will create a much better atmosphere for myself.

Until that happens, I am trying to avoid those parts of me that can cause damage.

The Winner's Exclusivity

The Winner, believer in exclusivity, and champion of faithfulness decided she was going to show me a thing or two.   She and I had not talked for some time, and when she got on the phone, her mood was subdued.  Our conversation previous to this had ended with her in tears and me refusing to give in to her demands.   Therefore, I was not surprised to hear her acting less than happy with me.  I began talking to her, telling her how I witnessed the drunkest girl I have ever seen, and how someone I know had proceeded to get this girl's number while her knees bled from multiple wounds suffered from multiple falls.  She reported that she had gotten pretty drunk also, and she had done other stuff she wasn't proud of. 

I asked what she meant.  She said she got hammered, smoked weed, and then fooled around with some guy.  A few weeks ago, she told me how she was never going to drink again after watching how her parents had behaved under the influence of alcohol, citing her aversion to following in their footsteps.  I asked her about why she changed her mind, and furthermore, why she proceeded to take it too far, like past just a buzz and into hammered.  Then I was curious as to why she felt like smoking weed would augment her experience. 

I have never done any of that, so I wanted to know, to gain perspective, and to see life through her eyes.  She told me that she did it because she was mad at me and wanted to "not care." She told me she felt guilty about what she had done. I don't care, and I don't know if I buy that, the interesting thing about all this was my new perspective.

I have a few friends who I talk nasty with every now and then; relationships that are organic.  The Winner is the only girl who I have declared and felt more deep intimate emotions with.  When my ex told me, while we were still dating, that she had cheated on me, I knew it before she told me.  I just knew.  I knew her, I knew what she was, and it was clear. With The Winner, I knew what she did once she said she got wasted.  I didn't know how far it went, but I knew what had happened. 

I felt slightly betrayed.  I felt like she had said something to me and then did another.  Strange, that after crying and yelling at me about how she needed someone to care for her, she would do that.  I don't blame her, because she did what she wanted, and I practically told her to go fuck with someone else.  I just don't like how I felt, I don't like that I briefly revisited my feelings of inadequacy from long ago.  I guess I am not as smart as I would have guessed, and she's not as true as she might have seemed. 

On Jealousy, Cheating, Exclusivity,

I was having a conversation with the Winner.  She was telling me that she thinks dude on dude action is hot.  As disturbing as I find the idea personally, I played the game and asked her if she was telling me she wanted to watch me with a dude. She said yes, that she did enjoy the idea of watching some man receive it from me.  

Now, a brief side bar before I continue,  The Winner is under the delusional notion that we are in an exclusive relationship.  I have told her we aren't, I have reminded her as best as I can we aren't, but she persists nonetheless.  Also, how does it make sense that people think it's ok for their partner to do sexual things with someone of the same sex?  If a girl kisses a girl, despite what songs say to the opposite, most men I know wouldn't care, they might applaud it.  And this girl just said she would also applaud it to watch me do something sexual with a member of my gender.  How does the sexual orientation of the act make it not only forgivable, but celebrated?  Logically, getting head from a man is the same as getting it from a woman.  If someone can offer a sound argument for why this is ok, I would appreciate it.

Back to the story.  I told her that I think it would be sexy to watch her with another guy.  She immediately freaked and a conversation ensued about how I didn't care about her, because no one who cared about someone else could watch something like that.   I brought up the admission she had made 30 seconds prior regarding watching me with someone else, and she said it wasn't the same.  The conversation was carried on for hours.  A friend of mine and fellow blogger ran into some jealous-ish issues lately, and I got inspired to write my thesis.

When I dated my ex, at the wise age of 17, I was a jealous boyfriend.  I did not tell her so, I did not let her know that I cared about where she went or who she might talk to.  I kept it all inside.  My mother had convinced me that infidelity was the reason for my parents' divorce when I was 6.  This isn't the truth, but I feared that my relationship could be dissolved by the same thing.  Additionally, my gf had actually cheated on a bf of hers with me as the other guy, so I knew she was capable.  

For months I lived in fear: Fear that she would find someone who would be better sexually than me.  I am an incredible catch for any woman, but I doubted myself sexually.  I was inexperienced, especially compared to her, and worried about it.  I gave into the fears that she was dating down, that I wasn't as pretty as her.  I was worried often.  

Eventually, she cheated.  I knew what was going on while it was going on, and when she admitted it to me the next day, I wasn't surprised.  We eventually broke up, and I was alone while she was with the cheatee (sic?). In the four months between the split and her coming back crying to take her back, I learned a lot, maybe one of the greatest growth periods of my life.  I thought, "All I did for her, all I was, none of it mattered, she still cheated."  I suppose many people feel like this, some people are right to think they were incredible, some aren't, but I was right (she told me so later). 

That thought is the crux of jealousy, of cheating, of all of it.  You can see cheating as your fault, ie "I wasn't good enough, that's why she cheated.  I will never measure up well enough," or you can see "No matter what I did, she cheated, therefore, she is the failure." Those are the facts of cheating, of exclusive boundaries.  People cheat.  I spent 22 months with a girl who I gave to boundlessly.  She cheated.  She was the lonely one, she was the broken one, she was the scared one, and I was just the sucker that made her go longer than anyone else without doing it.  

Relationships are voluntary activities.  If you don't want to be with me, then I hope you will be a strong enough person to live your life.  Exclusive relationship boundaries are superfluous and unnecessary in a relationship between two honest and courageous people.  Think about the first month or two of any great relationship: the swooping heart, the endless idiotic smiling, the junior high conversations of who should go to sleep first.  No exclusivity is declared because none is needed!  You couldn't imagine wanting anyone else except that man in front of you, end of story, leave it at that. 

But the romance fades, the discovery and growth that existed at the beginning fizzles, and now you are left with this person... 

"We are exclusive. You only kiss and sex (insert particular rules here) with me, and I only whatever with you." Another sidebar on this thought- Where does emotional infidelity fall? I have connected far more deeply with people I have never touched than with some people I had sex with, and isn't that the betrayal of cheating, connection? The idea that you might connect with someone better than with your significant other, physically? And if sex is an expression of emotional intimacy, as it is supposed to be, and that sex can be had as a mindless superficial experience not involving any closeness, then wouldn't it seem that emotional intimacy, which cannot be faked or done mindlessly, is the greater betrayal, the truer hurt and infidelity?  Yet people do not consider it cheating when a woman has a great deep talk with her friend (be it man, woman, or gay).  

Back to the point, the locks are on, the path is fenced in, no longer is it a relationship of choice, but a relationship of obligation.  You go to the party for her little sister because you have to.  You go to see him at his house because you're his girlfriend, despite your desire to go out to the bars with your friends.  You go on dates because you think they want to, and they are thinking the same thing you are: "I wish I was at home watching a movie with my friends right now instead of here talking past someone I'm really sick of right now."  Your life has become not yours, but someone else's.  You resent the relationship, which leads to resentment of your partner, the manifest of that hindrance of your life.  Instead of hating yourself for giving up who you are to be who you think they want, you hate them and say they are making you do it.  You cheat, you break up, whatever.  The very arrangement that you put in place to protect your love destroyed it. 

Let's play with some hypotheticals here.  If a person were rated on a datability scale from 1-10, with 10 being the best, think what you have to have in order to leave your partner for them. We will refer to this number as the F.  This is more than just what it would take to have sex with them, it's more general than that, but you can apply that too. If I am dating Jenna exclusively, and Tammy, who is a 7 comes into my life, I am not allowed to date her.   The fact that I can't date her ups her rank to about an 7.5 (some people will see more of an increase due to the forbidden fruit thing).  Let's assume I think girls need an F of 8.  Jenna is an 8, at least, but doesn't want me to go spend time with Tammy because we are exclusive. 

But if I had gone on the date, I would have seen that Tammy is only a 7, and I wouldn't want to date her anyway.  No harm done.  However, let's say that Kelly is a 9.  Kelly thinks I got mad funny jokes, and wants to hang out.  Forbidden fruit factoring in, as well as me getting tired of Jenna nagging at me for flirting, and suddenly, I leave Jenna for Kelly.  This is a little scientific for laughs, but you see that if it takes a certain quality person to leave your current partner, then your relationship is not going to protect you from that person leaving.  Trust me, they will leave regardless.  

What exclusive relationships do is handicap people.  They limit their life.  I may have become great friends with Tammy, made a good business contact, learned something really fascinating, but I did not have that chance.  That breeds resentment. People have a right to do what they want, to explore life, to go Dead Poets Society on it.  Any attempt to limit their natural rights to pursue their happiness will breed resentment. If Jenna and I were not exclusive, I could have spent time with any of the three woman, and made a decision, a decision to leave Jenna for Kelly or not to.  Jenna would have the same opportunities, and the relationship, as well as the decisions about it regarding the people in it, would have been fair and would have been informed. 

The greatest thing of a relationship is it allows us to share life with someone.  We can tell them the crazy shit that happened to us that day, advise them not to let their landlord fuck them over like we were fucked over, to comfort them in their grief.  So, why not tell someone to live their life in the way they want, and to agree to do the same, and then you can experience all the wonderful things they do when you sit down over dinner and relate the stories to each other? How you felt, what you thought, the laughter, the shock, the sadness, whatever!!  Now you are experiencing the discovery all over again.  The freshness, the newness, the virgin territory, the pure longing to be around one another because you cannot get something so great anywhere else.  It's back, and you have created it by living honestly, you go to the wedding because you love watching her make fun of her brother-in-law, you skip girls night out because listening to him talk about that shed he built reminds you of the passion he has that made you love him from day one.  Now you are with a person, not in a relationship.  You are living naturally in the space of existing, and everything else is just bullshit.  You get to make the first two weeks last as long as you want, and you get to learn more than you ever thought you could: about yourself, about the things you never saw, about things you saw but didn't realize.  Grow exponentially, and face things you thought were impossible, all while doing it in the company of someone you care illogically about.

People don't do that.  They are scared, scared of themselves.  Scared that the inadequacies and worthlessness they hold will betray them. Scared that the person will get to know you and that weird clicking noise your jaw makes when you eat, and they will leave. They are scared that if they don't have a bf/gf, they will have to spend an evening alone with the person they hate the most: the one in the mirror.  They want someone to hold, to relieve them of their loneliness, to fill the void in their heart.  Exclusive relationships exist for security, for safety.  Like tape, fencing, nets: they keep the relationship contained and together, but they also trap you. They make you take drastic measures to leave, they make you waste countless breaths in a place you are unhappy in.  Exclusive relationships are the structures we build for ourselves; the result of walling out perceived unhappiness, walling in the person that you "cannot live without", and winding up alone in a dark cell with those walls keeping you company. 

The fear is jealousy. Think about when an animal attacks another animal.  Apart from food needs, the only reason this happens is for protection.  Protecting your young, your food, your habitat, your claim to a potential mate, etc.  Attacks and aggression are the actions taken to protect your species' survival, the very core of evolutionary behavior.  Jealousy is no different. A person is scared, scared of all those things they think will happen if a person breaks up with them. Some people take it farther than others, and some people are left silently suffering every day with demons that torment them to tears.  "I am not worth enough for this person to stay with me, and if they leave, I will be alone, and they will be happy with someone else. If they leave, that means I am the inadequate one. They mean more to me than I do to them, I have to make them stay with me.  They cannot look at anyone else, they cannot talk to anyone else, I will aggressively move to protect my interests here."

Sounds pretty primitive and animalistic, because that's exactly what it is. Anyone who has experienced a jealous person has most likely tried repeatedly to reassure them of their value, that you don't want anyone else, that they know better.  Nothing you can say will change their mind. Nothing.  Their emptiness is a black hole for your affection, and the only person who can fix it is them.  I am reminded of a song by a favorite artist of mine, I recommend you listen. Unfortunately, the more they admit their jealousy, the more you want to go have sex/pursue intimacy with someone else.  You lose respect for them, the imagined power/attractiveness gradient they see becomes a reality, and you set out to find someone who you aren't with because you pity them.   Again, the things they have put in place to make sure you stay with them are the things that drive you away, despite your best intentions to the contrary.

I have been that guy, the guy who said those things.  I have been the one who had to realize that she cheated because she wanted to, not because I had failed.  Now I have become the one to hear that I am too good for her, that she'll never find anyone like me.  I have seen this from both angles.  People's inadequacies motivate their self-doubt, which motivates their desire for company and surety, which motivates their need for exclusivity, which leads to resentment from partners, which leads to the end of relationships, which leads to further feelings of inadequacies.  The cycle is self-reinforcing and perpetual, like an avalanche of fear and hopelessness. The only way to stop it is to break the chain, and they have to do this themselves: they cannot be saved from the poison they brew.  

To be clear, I believe in marriage, exclusive marriage. I am talking about boyfriend girlfriend type relationships in the sense that most people think of.  Discourse is always welcomed. 

HNT: School Days

School.  It began, I wrote about some stuff.  I decided to see what I would look like with the necessary components, meaning only my backpack.  

Career Opportunities 3

I was supposed to meet SL and go with her to a party she was throwing as her security.  She didn't show.  I called her number to see what was up, and her roommate/lackey answered.  Roommate lackey said SL had tried to get in touch with me, to no avail, and that she had left.  I was irate, to say the least.  I checked all possible places, and no contact had been attempted. 

I sent a message to SL asking her what the fuck was up.  She responded by saying she was sorry, some things had happened, etc. etc.  I told her it was really frustrating, because the money she was going to pay would be sorely missed.

She quickly suggested that if it was money I wanted, she would just pay me the money and I could go on my way.  Here's where it gets strange...

Roommate lackey is a girl that is around my age, who SL felt sorry for, due to the history of abuse and neglect she had suffered.  SL also has a son who is about to start junior high.  SL suggested that I go get the money from her son, at her house.  

Uhhhhhh.  What?

She told me that I could just go get it from her son, as he knew the combination to her safe.  Now, I am still mad at this point, and I just want the money.  So I tell her I'm not going to pick up hundreds of dollars in cash from her son, it's just a bad thing, it's bad.  And not that I am the most holy or best of decision makers, but who puts their kid in that place?

I suggested that the kid give the money to Roommate, who could then meet me and give it to me.  What ensued can best be described as an arrangement of epic, weird, awkward, and unfortunate.  I didn't get my money, but I was at one point talking to the kid on yahoo, while speaking to the Roomate on the phone, while SL texted me.   

I found out that Roommate caused damage to SL's classic muscle car, then kid told SL that Roommate had been coming into his room every night for the past month while he slept. SL set up a sting to find out what was up, caught Roommate trying to do it again, and literally beat her up: black eye, broken nose, patches of hair ripped out

The Roommate said that she just enjoyed cuddling with the prepubescent boy, and didn't see anything wrong with it, despite her history of sexual abuse from a young age.  Oh, and Roommate had once propositioned me for sex, and I asked her about STD's (a smart move, I think).  She told me she had the following: "Hep. C., Genital Warts, and a few Crabs once".

HOLY EFFIN EFFER!

This is one of the strangest things I have taken part in over the past few months.  I don't even know what to say about it. 

Jesus Christ of Academia

This morning, I went to my first class of the semester, a 400-level course taught by the department head. As a senior I am used to the constant tirades and worshipping of a course by the prof:  Philosophy professors with their Master's telling me all sciences owe their start to Philosophy, Psychology professors claiming to be the actors in the hardest and noblest of sciences, Business teachers saying, "You will fail this class if you do no read the text. This isn't math class."  All these egocentric bastards believe their course/science trumps the others.  Call it a knowledge of the deepest parts of the subject bias, or a JOB PRESERVATION sales pitch, the bullshit abounds day 1. 

This morning I was in for a special treat when I got my fill of this, along with a constant reminder that we are "adults" and will be treated as such.  "If you are a point short, then you are a point short, no grace, no mercy: fairness for everyone."  "I have never been accused of being nice."

I'm sorry, where in this superfluous waste of my time did I get treated like an adult? I have been part of the "real world" for 3 years now (obviously not in school, because no one treats that like the real world) in various jobs and roles.  Adults get grace, adults get mercy, if you are 1 dollar short on a payment of over 400 dollars, that 100 extra pennies gets forgotten, or you can get away with it.   Adults don't get policies explained to them; with the how's and why's of their existence.  Adults are told the rules, and they deal with it.  Adults do not have to sit in a room with 39 other adults and finish the sentences of a neurotic fuzzball in a jcpenney suit (honestly? invest some of the 6 digit salary and go to Men's Wearhouse at the very least, you should be professional) while being reminded that their failure to read the text will result in a failing grade, despite previous knowledge to the contrary. 

It's a 400-level class.  We had to jump through hoops to get here, we understand it won't be "given to us like our cars."  That school had become something so diluted and corporate made him sick, and he was going to train us to change it.  If someone is cheating in this class, you tell someone, or else your "A" isn't worth as much.  Who the fuck does this guy think he is?

"And he came to the place that was the lectern, and there he took up the cross on which he was to be sacrificed.  As his tormentors scorned and beat him with whips of ignorance and naivety, he asked the fathers to forgive them: 'Locke, Voltaire, Aristotle! Let their burden of inexcusable stupidity be not a burden, for I have come to lay myself down so they may escape the horrors of their inexplicable ineptitude!' As the bells rang, as the grounds flourished with life, he gave his so they may better know knowledge."

Ph. D. 5:9-11

Career Opportunities 2

The woman I mentioned in a previous post, the Exotic Dancer, who from now on will just be SL, and I have been in discussion.  A friend of mine had talked to me about modeling, like nude or close to, so I was telling SL about it. She asked to see a picture or two, both of which came from this blog.  She liked one so much she offered to pay me for it, to blow it up, frame it, and hang it in her house.  

She had mentioned previously, during the Sugar Momma discussion, that her arm candy often models for her because she has a professional camera and obviously an appetite for naked men on her walls.  I just told her that she should do it right and take pictures with her camera, and I would bring the outfit in question.   She agreed, and is offering to pay me an unreasonable amount of money to do this.  So I have to accept this contract.  More on this as it develops.

SL told me when she goes to dance for private parties (bachelor parties, corporate parties, friendly homoerotic get togethers), she requires an escort come with her.  The customers foot the bill, and she has to pay someone, so she says she will pay me.  My job description involves being a security presence, telling pervy boys to keep their hands off, and making sure her music is playing right.  I get to watch a hot stripper for free, and get paid cash for it.  Dream job right? 

I am concerned that should an actual real threat arise, I would not be equipped to protect myself or her.  That seems worrisome, as do the late hours, the explanations and lies I would have to offer to my parents, and the ever real threat of me continuing down a road of psychological fuckedupness. 

Wow.  What a life. Any thoughts?

HNT: 76" in Landscape

Changing lightbulbs, a lack of well-fitting clothes, an undesirable fit in a bed.  Being 6'4" is not all glamorous, it's unfortunate and uncomfortable when you're in a queen sized bed and still have to curl your leg to fit.  Can't stretch out, can't do anything fun.  California King is obviously my only option.   I muted the colors  a little, like the touch.

Erin Andrews.... Wow?

I speak for all men, everywhere, when I say Erin Andrews is ferociously hot.  Burn the barn down with her microphone and sexytexassize hair.  I didn't look, or try to find her naked stuff, I got more respect than that.  But, when I heard she was in GQ magazine, I had to check it out.  You can look at the link with more pictures, but this one does it for me. 

The mud, the football pants, the wife beater, a little stomach showing, the HAIR. Sweet Jesus the hair.  This is a wet dream if I've ever seen one.  Wow. WOW. 

Career Opportunities

I recently met a stripper. She's in her early 30's, lives near me, and is pretty cool.  Oh, and she's not all strung out on drugs, nor is she trashy.  She basically has proposed a sugar momma relationship between she and I.  What in the world am I supposed to say to that? 

More on this later, but she did tell me I could make a lot of money dancing at bachelorette parties.  I wouldn't have to get fully naked, wear a man thong, or wax my unders.  I can make 300 dollars for like a few hours of doing what I do at house parties anyway.  I'm really considering it, as I am in need of funds.  But I do worry about telling people, as they probably have a pretty negative view of the whole thing.  If any one has any comments, like what would you think if someone you were dating told you they had done something like that.

Last night, a friend of mine was showing someone else her modeling pictures.  We had been swimming all day, and told me that she wanted to shoot with me in the pictures with her. She does a lot of nude stuff, but it's like forms and shapes nude, not dirty nude.  I am excited to have a new opportunity, as I think modeling sounds fun. 

SG, Wow

I called SG on Sunday to set up a time this week we could spend together.  I had decided over the weekend to be considerate, to be more accommodating to her, to maybe show her a little affection.  We said Wednesday would be good, no set time, no appointments to schedule around (I asked), nothing.  

It's Wednesday, I text her to tell her when and where.  She laughs and goes along. 

An hour beforehand, she says she can't make it.  She has something to do at 8. 

UHHHHHHHHHHHHH. What?

I just responded by saying it's best she and I not hang out anymore. 

When we talked the other night, I told her she was flakey, I told her she was sketchy, and that I would give her another shot if she would just grow up.  

I cannot fathom what on earth is wrong with this girl. I've never experienced someone like her. 

People will read this and say what I have said to myself multiple times: "That bitch is crazy, and a bad deal.  Run for your life!"

This truth does not escape me.  Something about her draws me to her. It may be the physical attraction, it may be the fact that I'm crazy a little (see video), or it may be the fact that I am just so goddamn bored I can't function.  

Whatever it is.  I just want school to start.  I'm going to rush, I'm going to be meeting mad bitches, and I'm going to just forget about her.  

I'm embarrassed. (I just noticed that the middle of that word has the words bare assed in it, kind of like assumed).  I feel like I got fooled for the second time, and as George W. Bush as my witness, that's just unacceptable.

HNT: Filling-In

I didn't have my camera, so I decided I would put this one in from when I was doing the series.  It's motion in motion.

TMI Tuesday

The questions for TMI Tuesday revolve around stuff I can't always relate to.  This week is a great example.  So instead, I'ma do my own thang.

1. If I am attempting to pick up women, I know I cannot go wrong with a classic button up shirt, wool slacks, and tasteful oxfords.  I think women dig that. If that's too dressy for the venue, I prefer a pair of jeans with a t shirt.

2. I have never measured my member, and I never will.  That is knowledge one does not need to know. I cannot change it, and if it is not where I would want it to be (which, I think most men would agree on a number somewhere around 8.5-9"), then I will be burdened with the knowledge of my inadequacy.  So I would rather not know and just let it be its own thing.

3. That being said, I have some sort of turn on trying to compare myself to other men. Girls I talk nasty with can turn me on by being honest about the size of their previous partners, how each felt, and where mine compares (gasp! I have camera on my computer).

4. Following those last two thoughts, I am not worried about my inadequacies.  :">

5. I think girls should thank their lucky stars that they don't have to manage the difficulties that testicles are. Honestly, sometimes I wish they were removable, like I could just put them on when I needed them. Summer time is not a fun time for my area.

Last night

I went to a party.  SG was there.  We hung out.  Some funny stuff happened.  I made her lift her dress up and show me her ass. She kept touching my business.  Eventually we talked...

I told her I didn't want to do anything with her except hang out, and talk and get to know her.  She said that I was too cool for her, too good for her, that she couldn't understand how I would be interested in her.  I am pretty sure she's crazy, but when we started making out, I didn't care.

Making out.  It's like roller coasters, it's like hammocks, it's like cotton boyshorts.  The simple pleasures.  

Tasty. Biting, sucking lips.

Currently...

The doctor told me a few weeks ago that I am displaying signs of dysthimia, a mild and long-term depression. This summer has been one day stretched out over 3 months. I wake up, work, eat lunch, work some more, eat dinner, maybe see a movie or work out, I go to sleep. Over and over. Nothing interests me, nothing pleases me, nothing gives me pleasure. The apathy is painful. I don't care, so I don't do anything; I don't do anything, so I don't care. Quite the cycle.

School will start in a few weeks. Before that happens, I hope to have quit my job and met up with a friend from out of town for a few days of something fresh. There are worse things that could be happening with me, but right now, this is unfortunate. After the doctor told me this, I tried to remember when this feeling started, what the causes might be. My job involves working for my father, doing tasks which offer no reward, either financially or emotionally. Usually they take their mental toll, as I do not like the nature of the work.

I have to quit, but it is very hard for me to do so. The loyalty I feel has kept me doing this for 5 months longer than I wished, and I am trying to get this shaken off before I start my final year of college. I do not want to do it, but no other choice has presented itself.

Last.

This should have been posted on Sunday.  Oh well.

Seven Deadly Sins

The quality of these is really starting to grind my gears. Sorry about the delay, weekend carried me away.

Let's talk about Six

For some reason these pictures are coming out all smeary and pixelated, if anyone knows how to remedy this, please help.  I thought I would continue the progression, and count the other as a bonus for HNT. 

HNT: Number Five

It's Thursday, time for numero cinco.

Ya... It's number four

Gosh. I hope I don't go too slowly in this process.

On a side note. I have been watching Wings, the TV show, on DVR.  Early morning USA network, you will find comic magic.

TMI Tuesday

TMI TUESDAY
1. The three words that best describe you are tender, sharp, and different. 
2. The three words that best describe your life are repetitive, low-key, and ok.
3. Your three guilty pleasures are the bachelorette, early 00's pop, and puppies.
4. The three places you would like to visit before you die are ITANDA, White Nile, Africa; Greece; and Tibet.5. The three things you would like to do before you die are have my own family, paddle class V, and find a good mirror.

Third's the number

Three's the number: Third button, Third Picture, Third day of the week.  So maybe third's the word.

The Second in a Series

As promised, the second in a series of more than two. More to come.

Welcome back.

As a way of welcoming myself back, I decided to take a series of pictures.  Starting with an outfit I think flatters me, I made an interesting set of shots.  Tomorrow, I'll bring the next one, so look forward to it.

My First Time(s)

I have a strange, atypical sexual history.  Skipping the sexual experience I gained before I turned 13, which was bizarre by all means, I had my first kiss when I was 14.  First real kiss: tongue, hands, bodies, kissing for only one purpose.  That was followed closely by making out (if there is a difference), and my hands under clothes.  When I was 16, I removed her clothing and put my mouth on her nipples.  Biting came naturally, almost unnaturally available to my mind.  She enjoyed it.

If you remember the last adventure I referenced with Priscilla, then you know the next step in my sexual ladder after the above mentioned teeth and lips on nipples.  After that incredibly porn-like experience, I had to escalate the situation.  We were at my house, my parents were gone for another 3 days, no one was around.  Making out led to an exchange of what should happen next, with both parties agreeing it had to get freaky in a hurry.  She suggested sex, I suggested the shower. We removed clothing, got in, continued the making out, and then sex came back up.  I didn't have any protection, and I did not want to be a moron.  

She agreed that vaginal sex wasn't the answer, and suggested we just have anal sex. 

Whoa.  

Anal sex.

You're 17, have watched a typical amount of porn, are in a shower with a sexy blonde and a pounding reminder begging you to do it.  You don't know anything about what's waiting on the other side of this decision, because it can't be that different than the feeling you get after you jack off, right?

I told her to put her hands on the shower head.  I tried to insert myself as well as I knew how.  It didn't work.  It was tight, the water from the shower had dried out our skin, and exacerbated the problem.  Thanks to the fellas at Old Spice for providing me with body wash, so that I could grab the bottle and apply a copious amount of the blue goo to all the involved parts.  That worked.  I slid myself inside of her.  She whimpered, I groaned.  Then the fucking began.  

My hands faced each other as the pads of my fingers became familiar with her hip bones.  The water ran down her hair, following gravity's path across her skin, falling into the cleft of her ass and dividing its stream over my cock.  I continued my warpath, the ideas of porn in my head as I used my entire being to go as hard and fast as I could.   She came.  Her ass squeezed my cock with consistent force, and she got weak in the knees.  I began to pull out to stop, when she implored me to continue.  

Now, up to this point, I was having an okay time.  "OKAY? You were 17, doing something that most men fantasize about, and some men have to beg or pay to do!!!! What is wrong with you?"

The emotions I had been warned about began to affect me.  I was feeling guilty, shameful, unfortunate, and like I wanted to go.  Also the heat and steam in the air, mixed with the smell of the body wash, mixed with the smell of something else that I should have been prepared for, but didn't, all were beginning to make me a little nauseous.

Needless to say, I fucked her some more.  I reached around and rubbed her clit, I pulled her hair, I really did the picturesque job I had aspired to.  I didn't orgasm, didn't come close, and at the end trying very hard to stay hard.  I think it's really difficult for me to cum standing up, as I have since tried with a variety of stimuli, none of which works.  I may not be able to let go enough, since I am fairly certain if I were to cum while standing up, I would finish on the floor after my legs gave out.  

We got out of the shower and dried off.  We both sat in my living room.  That image, along with the picture of her looking back at me during the act, grabs me.  I haven't forgiven myself for it.  I spent the next week showering and washing my hands with alarming frequency, I couldn't make the smell go away.  It was everywhere, and everyone who looked at me knew what I had done.  It's haunting when I see her to this day. 

I had gone from making out to anal sex.  No warm-up, no progression, no romance, no feelings of attachment.  I wasn't equipped with the ability to see the consequences of that, to see what would happen as a result.  I can't imagine, or would rather not to, what she must have felt like.  What a terrible decision, a decision I still can't get past.   

I had sex for the first time with a girl I didn't know very well.  I had vaginal sex for the first time with a girlfriend of 22 months who had just cheated on me 12 hours previous, and told me That sexual experience consisted of me sliding maybe 3 inches into her, and being halted as she couldn't take anymore. So, with a condom on, and the least amount of my cock inside her, I couldn't feel anything. She subsequently cheated again.  

The first time I had an orgasm while I had sex was with a woman who I can't even remember her name, but I do remember that the guilt and shame I felt.  I had problems staying hard, because of it.  

The first time I received a handjob was from my former stepmother, who, when I wasn't even 13 years old, told me to take a shower with her so that she could help me wash off.  Interesting I returned to the shower to take part in my first explicit sexual experience since.  Of course, I didn't orgasm, but it was a handjob nonetheless.

I don't believe I am the only person who has ever been a victim of traumatic experiences, sexually.  People have suffered far worse things, and my past would pale in comparison.  That being said, I know my progression has not been something people would consider average.  Taking into account the room of variation, I don't believe the crazy shit I have been a part of would qualify as standard.  

Hmm.