The Door Opened

Repeater

2010-12-21T22:05:00.000-08:00

When I hear a song I like, or a show I like, or a dish I like, but especially the song thing, I like it. I repeat it. Over and over it plays, and over and over I like it. Today, yesterday, I have been getting into bed and repeating a word over and over: push. I don't know what it means exactly. I don't know why I'm saying it, but my heart is pounding, and all that is in my mind is push. Sometimes I believe I want to push someone, push them away; sometimes I believe I want to push myself, push towards a goal or objective. Then again, maybe I just want to push against something, to have active adversary or resistance. I want it tattooed in big block letters on my body, as if putting it down like that will allow me to release its repetitive grasp on me.

In other news, an update: The Princess is back, she called me and said "I want to try us again, I want to date you." I agreed to it, with some stipulations. I am going to be emotionally reserved, but display the overtones of a lover with sensitivity. Basically I am lying to her, making her believe I am interested to a point. If she comes through, then great, I may actually come up to meet that projected level. If she flakes out like she did before, or if I feel like it's right, I'm gonna let her know it was all a lie. Fuck her either way.

Virginia is getting closer and closer to coming here. She was supposed to come in the summer, and I have basically been waiting to get a job until she came, because I didn't want to leave her alone for long stretches of time, and I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. I hope she comes soon, I'm running out of saved money. I'm just not sure how this will end, or how I want it to end even. On the one hand, she is so compatible with me. We are similar in so many ways, but a lot of days, I feel like there's a spark missing. I remind myself that spark (which I feel with the Princess) is probably my deep and ingrained desire for drama and a woman who is cold, unavailable, etc. She's not boring, but I don't know.

And a new character, whom I haven't thought of a clever name for, has arrived. She is perplexing. I keep her name amongst contenders because I may soon be in proximity to her, and she's hot. She is young, and she shows it. I get actually annoyed with some of her immaturity, but at the same time, I find aspects of it refreshing. Oh well.

Spirits, Expelled.

2010-12-09T14:30:00.000-08:00

On the lighter side of things, any one who has enough personal experience with male ejaculation knows that no two cumshots are the same. One may just be average from beginning to end, the next may be more of a low volume, multiple squeeze affair. Some may be two normal releases followed by a massive third. These can vary both in quantity and velocity for each pump, so you understand the statistical opportunities for variance.

I don't think, honestly, that what I'm about to say is worthy of a high five or celebration, even though I think there are enough women who would take note of it, I don't think I am Peter North.

My first gf, the one who is a dirty whore and can enjoy her lifetime of average and unremarkable life with a drunk just like her dad, used to comment on the amount and strength of my ejaculations with the same tone a disapproving wife noticing her husband's "interesting" outfit for her planned double date: "That's a big mess, I don't really like messing up my towels so much". She also denied me oral sex and any cum shot placement near her face because of the volume and strength. It's not every time, maybe half or a third, but enough to know not to let my guard down.

I say all this because the other day, I gave myself a facial, because the first two pumps were moderate and the third shot came out of nowhere like one of those fountains at a plaza where kids play. It was a total shock, and suddenly I had cum from my hair to my chin. The first facial I've ever given to anyone, and it was to myself. AWESOME. And I don't know what girls are complaining about, it's not that bad, and I actually laughed about it afterwards. Don't tell anyone, because I'm pretty sure giving a dude a facial is gay. Or is it?

Conversations To Change

2010-09-28T22:24:00.000-07:00

You know how people talk to each other? And you know how people talk to each other and disagree with each other on that topic? And you know how people continue to get more and more "passionate" as they try to prove themselves correct? And you know how no ground is gained for either, and the only accomplished thing is resentment? Wellll, this isn't one of those instances.

I think any intelligent person can, at any time, change their mind. I think you are not intelligent unless you are capable of a change of heart. F. Scott Fitzy said the true measure of intelligence is holding two opposing ideas in your mind simultaneously while retaining function (paraphrase), so if you are in your 20's and have never changed your mind on anything, you're dumb. My digression aside, I remember the first time I changed my mind in an instant. I thought it was great, and that I understood the purpose of research for the first time.

I was recently talking to a girl I have mentioned a lot, Virginia. She was the victim of a pretty awful rape when she was in her late teens. I know that all rape is awful, but hers was at the hands of a stranger, behind her place of employment, he was a clinical psychotic and paranoid schizophrenic, and he used a knife to force her to have sex with him. She had only kissed males up to this point, and was only saved when a local businessmen heard her screams, and assailed the man with the claw side of a hammer, covering her in his blood.

Up to that conversation, I viewed rape differently than I do now. Without sounding offensive, I did not see rape as more heinous than assault or battery. I am embarrassed to say that. I thought I viewed it as heinous, but it wasn't until I felt and saw the change in my heart, that I really was aware of how I had felt. Listening to her describe what happened, free of major details, just the basics, just broke my heart. It was like, until I knew someone who had been raped, who I cared so much about, I was unable to see the horror. Like I said, it really embarrasses me to admit that I felt like i did. She again displayed an extraordinary amount of poise and strength while telling me about it. She is 100 times the woman most females I talk to are. For someone who has experienced so much, she stands strong and still willing to be vulnerable. No one has an excuse, myself included, to complain after knowing her.

Next time you talk to someone, someone who has a different life than you, someone who has known something different than you, someone who isn't you, listen to them. Keep your heart open to them, keep your mind receptive to the change you could know with them, because you don't really know how much you can change or how much you want to change, until you do.

There are Things I Want to Say

2010-08-25T00:01:00.000-07:00

Obviously that's the purpose of a blog, even if no one reads it, but what I have to say is just important at the moment. While most of my posts are stories about the goofy details of life, or about what I'm doing, or why I'm confused, or some other psycho babble mumbo jumbo with stops in sociology and philosophy towns, this post is just some things I want to say to some different people. I don't know if I will ever say these things in real life, but I need to say them now.

D: I really love you, more than probably anyone. You don't know how much you mean to me and what you've given me. I try every day to live my life in a way that is good and right because of you. For all of this, sometimes I resent you for making me take and stay in a job I hated, and I am sorry for quitting. It breaks my heart to see your struggles, and I don't know how I can help you.

M: I know you're scared, and I know you're starting to wake up, but it's not fair to burden everyone else with the things that you don't even really care about. Your children are grown, and it's time to choose to be part of their life in a way that is relevant and healthier for you and them. Please get some therapy, you could really do well to just talk to someone, and to live for you.

K: I appreciate your efforts with me. With all of us. I do not envy your position, and I do not know how I could or would have handled it. i think you have given me a different set of things to wish for, to care for, and to seek. For that, I thank you. You have continued the work of others, however, in adding to my distrust, fear, and unhealthy attention to women and their happiness. Sometimes I feel like you draw lines where none exist, and hold those lines when it serves certain people.

E: If you would shut your mouth, stop acting like some sort of child from the projects, and hear me, you would know me. You would know that I think about you more than I care to admit to anyone. You would know that you're beautiful, beautiful for your spirit and unsure words, that I would love to do all those things we've dreamt of together. But you're too proud, too defensive, too virulent to see past your hateful fear. Want to know when I'm coming to see you? When you say you're sorry for your actions, when you admit how you feel about me in a vulnerable way, and when I trust you'll feel the same way tomorrow.

C: For the first time in a long time, you have provided a trustworthy and consistent person for me to believe in. I don't know how to begin understanding your journey in a personal way. You stretch the powers of my empathy every day. You turn ideas on their head, ideas put in place by those who came for you. An intelligent, beautiful, passionate, immeasurably strong, successful woman who can assess, divulge, and believe in the power of her choice and its terrible weight. Thank you for all of this, and I'm sorry I am so afraid, that I cannot do something so simple. My fears and experiences paralyze me far more than you would be able to tell. Please know that I do love you, I'm too afraid to really believe it.

J,C: I love you guys. Both my best friends. I know your journey will be scary, like mine is. Why it is so much easier to feel compassion and motivation for someone else's well-being than our own is complex. I see you pain, and I know the dark roads you have to walk, the places you're too afraid to go, the places we have to go, the caverns we must walk through to find our way to the light. If I could take away this for you, I would. I would take what penance you've assumed and carry it. Please love yourselves, please love one another. Please ask for help, and know that I am scared too, and that I want to know it's going to be ok. We are amazing in our ways, and belong together.

To everyone I care about, or did, or will: I'm sorry. I'm sorry for my inability to recognize my own beauty. I'm sorry for the hurtful and thoughtless things. I'm sorry that nothing you can give me will fill me, will fix the leak in my cup. Time breaks us all, makes us recall and hope and waste and cherish. I am not spared, and I hope you can forgive a fool's heart. I hope you can see that I am a man, and I can be great. And I can be human.

This isn't like a last will and testament. This is just things I want to say. We go around and bitch and complain and espouse and praise the people in our lives so often. We do not tell them the things that we want to, and we are left wanting. We hurt those who love us most often, and hope for those who do not. I just realized that I wanted these things to be out of me.

SG, The Final Chapter..... For Now

2010-06-18T23:59:00.000-07:00

When I last left her, SG had flaked out on me yet again, and I had sworn off talking to her. It lasted until November, when I walked literally right into her at the library around midnight. Being the idiotic, nice guy I am, I told her I would walk her to her care for safety's sake. Even though she greeted me like a junior high girl, I still kept a level head and made it to the vehicle. She was wayyy closer than me, and it was cold, so I asked for a ride to my car (okaaaayyyy, maybe it wasn't a purely practical motivation).

Most colleges don't have classes on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and mine is no exception. This was a Monday night, and I had small talked her and found out she was going home for the holidays. As we drive she says, "So what are you doing now?"

"Right now?"

"Ya, like right now."

"I had planned on going home and going to sleep."

"That's it? You're just going to go home and go to sleep?"

"As far as I know. Why? Is there something I should be staying up for?"

"No. I just, you know, am wondering."

I got out of her vehicle after an awkward silence and went home, only to discover my favorite pocket knife had fallen from my pocket in her car. I'm not a hillbilly or a terrorist, but knives are always good and handy things to carry around. This particular one had been my high school friend's before he died, so it meant a little more to me. I called her and texted to get it back. Eventually, after some very suggestive (on her part) and weird (her again) exchanges, she told me when I could zip by her house to get it before she went home for Christmas. And yes, it did take that long.

I walk in, and she pulls me by the hand to her bedroom, where the knife awaits on her pillow. All hilarious jokes aside (she and I have a safe word already agreed upon, it's rhubarb, no shiz), she doesn't just hand me the knife at the door, doesn't just bring it to me in the kitchen. She and I sit on the bed, get to talking, get to moving around, and wind up in what I would label a close position. No kissing has happened, nothing blatant, nothing directed. Just lying on the bed and in contact with each other, but not snuggling or cuddling.

We are having a nice time talking and just spinning it, but she hops up and jets out of the room. To this point, she had been trying to take her clothes off ("This shirt smells like my work, should I take it off?") trying to take my clothes off ("Do you have any scars on your chest?") and take her clothes off again ("Umm, SG, your pants are halfway down your bum." "Does it bother you?" "No, but I thought I'd let you know" "I like that you're looking").

Why did she get up? I thought maybe she was thirsty, maybe she needed to change shirts or whatever. She comes back into the room and says, "I'm going to have to kick you out of here soon, I have to work." Work was 4 hours away still, but I knew what was up. She was pissed I had stayed hands-off, so she was doing a take-away. Judge my interest, regain the power, and all that.

"I'll make that easy and won't fight ya. I'll leave without security."

I walked out, got to my car, and decided to go ROMCOM on her and go back inside and throw the feelings out there.

What ensued can best be described as her suddenly developing amnesia or denial, talking to me like I am a child, and her maybe being slightly idiotic. I asked her to tell me the story of our interactions, as she saw them, and then I would do the same. This exercise didn't work, so it eventually came to a point where I told her why I kept coming around: she's off the wall, unique, and unpredictable, which I want to know more about.

She said she thought we were too different. When I asked what she knew about me to make that determination, she couldn't give a satisfactory answer. When I asked whether she wanted to know me, she said it was a bad time.

And the crux, for the win, Alec: "SG, you obviously want to have sex with me, and I'm not ready for that until I get to know you. Do you even want to get to know me at all?"

"It's a bad time"

"So you don't but are too afraid to say it."

"............"

That was the end of it. Which explains some more of her erratic behavior.

A week later, I got a text from her: "I'm eating rhubarb pie, wondering how I could have gotten you to say it."

I think I already did.

Douche and Fag

2010-06-15T12:33:00.000-07:00

People operate effectively with heuristics. Note I said effectively, not correctly or justly. Schemas, scripts, rules of thumb, whatever you want to call it, people use them. I know how unfortunate it is when someone receives different treatment based on this method of determination. If you belong to any class of person, especially a class that is a minority, you have been subject to heuristic.

When you meet someone, you are assessing them immediately. You ask them what they do, you learn their origin, you use their surface characteristics to know their interior. Their rolex or nasty case of gingivitis allows you to group them, to put them in the correct box for processing. You judge them based on very limited information, combined with previous knowledge of persons you've known, to arrive at your bias.

I'm tall, white, college-educated, middle class, male. This would be the power class, as most people see it. But I get treated differently because of it, without anyone knowing me beyond that. That's a prejudice. When someone sees a guy with spiked hair, sunglasses, ed hardy shirt, and ripped as hell, and calls them a douche (or a prick), that's a prejudice. In college, he was probably a frat boy, the one who has "bros" and "hos", and in high school he was popular, maybe a jock even, etc. He belonged to the power group, and received labels and predeterminations as a result.

Don't confuse this for sympathy, many of them are pricks, although I think they don't deserve judgment or different treatment before getting to know them. They receive a label and title to make the interactions faster. Some people might say seeing a guy like the one described would lead to immediate avoidance maneuvers.

No one deserves a pejorative and hateful label based on something out of their control. If you're a guy, you don't deserve to be called a prick just for existing. If you're a woman, you don't deserve to be called a bitch. If you're part of an ethnic group, you don't deserve to be assigned a racial slur for shits and grins. If you're homosexual, you don't deserve to be called an ugly name.

If you are a guy who thinks he owns the world and treats everyone like shit because of it, you deserve to be called a prick (or a douche, or whatever label you want). If you are a girl who wants dinner purchased for her, nags too much, and believes you're the sexiest thing in a 100 mile radius, you deserve to be called a bitch (or nag, or the dreaded C word). If you are a black guy who calls me "white boy" while we play basketball and act like a Michael Bay portrayal of the African-American male, you deserve to be called a racial epithet. If you are a dude who is offensively gay (and by offensively, I mean using your sexuality to terrorize everyone and become a martyr to everything everywhere beyond the reasonable person standard) you deserve to be called a fag.

The words are used to describe and label a person falling into a certain class of behavior. Like the douchebag in the ed hardy shirt, people will be categorized faster, more economically thanks to their actions. Being gay or black or a woman doesn't give you a free pass from heuristics and prejudice: act like one, and you can be called that. Don't act offended that I called you a stupid bitch.

There are things I am and take part in which make me a minority as well. Most people take part in things which classify them as minority. My plight doesn't compare to the oppressed classes I have mentioned, and I take part in these things by choice, and I always will have the privilege of being a white male and etc and so forth. Most people find themselves in the minority in some way, judged either as different or the same from the person in question.

This is how we operate, the scripts ease our world.

HNT: Rain comes and brings with it paddling

2010-05-19T21:08:00.001-07:00

This is an older picture of me paddling. My arms are naked, so it counts. It's raining like made here, so that means I'll get to paddle (hopefully) these next few days.

Currently, ish

2010-05-18T21:38:00.000-07:00

I just noticed that I use "ish" a lot. Anyhooser, I just graduated from college.

Hold the applause, cancel the parade, it was an undergraduate degree, and I am not a convicted felon or disabled person. College was like high school, with longer papers and more irrelevant classes and more politics in the classroom. It was NOT hard, it was NOT a challenge, and it was not that enjoyable. Not the time of my life, not the best years, not any of that.

Now I'm a college degree holder with absolutely no plan for the future. I don't know what career I will choose, I don't have any romantic interests (more on that subject in a moment), I still live with my parents. This is a popular sentiment, I'm sure.

I think most people who ask "So, what are you going to do now?" are just misguided and making small talk. For my entire life to this point, someone has told me what the next step is, what I will do. School was my life, my career, my identity. It was my obligation. Now I have nothing to define me. Thrown into the world with a college degree and a sarcastic mouth, and expected to know more than I do.

Don't mistake this for complaining, because I'm happy to be out of school. I did it for 17 years, and I'm glad it's over. Am I talented enough to succeed in graduate school? yes. Do I want to go? That's a mixed question. Something within me wants to go, but I think for the wrong reasons. The only reason I feel grad school would serve would be to delay having to make a decision and begin my adult life. I would argue there is a healthy portion of grad school students who do this, and I have a precious life to begin. (read sarcasm there)

So what DO I plan to do at this point? I am going to go get a waiting job: something at a chain restaurant like outback or tgi lick my pussy's. I can make 800 bucks a month, work 20 hours a week, and do what I want during the day. This is my immediate plan for the summertime, and I'll see what happens come september.

Romantically: SG walked right into me, literally, at graduation. It was a little awkward, because the last time we spoke, it ended poorly. I didn't write about this, I was pissed off and embarrassed, and it may be something to write about later. She is crazy, and hot, and I could have (and still may be able to) fucked her any time I desired. I didn't because of a lot of reasons, but that doesn't stop me from knowing how sexy she is.

A girl who has been vaguely mentioned before, and I are getting close. She lives some ways away, and plans to visit me over the summer. I'll call her Virginia. I'm excited to see her, but feel not completely committed. I feel like she entertains me, and we converse easily, but there are a lot of things I feel like I am missing with her. She's beautiful and fun and sweet and a bit of a freak, and I do like her a lot. Some X factor seems to not be there.

Two other people to mention in this heading are The princess (total daddy's girl with a chip on her shoulder) and the brag (she continually talks herself up like she's selling herself as a brand). The princess and I used to be very, very close, and I still like her a lot. She is sparks, she is reactive, and I really like it. It's a weird thing between me and her, as she is kinda hot and cold with me.

The brag is attracted to me, likes me more than she will admit, and is trying way too hard to impress me (I wish I could show you some of the things she says, it's like a junior high boy trying to out do another junior high boy). The kicker about that resides in the fact that she also doesn't want to admit it. She and a guy kind of maintain a relationship (they used to date, broke up, and still fuck), and it's a little too sophomoric for me. She's hot though, and a lot of a freak. Actually, all three of the girls here are freaks, in the same ways. Interesting

I want to Break free

2010-05-04T23:12:00.000-07:00

I want to Break free,
I want to Break free.
I want to Break free from your lies, you're so self-satisfied, I don't need you.
I want to Break free.
God knows I want to break free.

I've fallen in love,
I've fallen in love.
I've fallen in love for the first time. This time I know it's for real.
I've fallen in love.
God knows I've fallen in love.

These verses oppose one another. I sing the first to the mirror, to the man who kills my heart, who is so sure of what should be. I've alluded to a Jekyll/Hyde type relationship within myself, but I think this is different. I can see myself in a chair, with another me in a chair sitting across: I grab me and shake me and say, "Get over it, move on, stop with this, stop feeling like you do. Go seize what you must." But I can't let go of the fears, the anxiety, and the concern. I'm so afraid of things.

The fear in me has washed the walls of color and put me in a cell. I build walls to protect, they imprison. I build a tower to judge and scorn, it isolates. I build armor to cover, it pins me to the ground.

Did you ever feel like one moment in your day, one moment in your week, the month could change your life forever? Feel like you were searching for it every second? Like a movie, or a novel, or the mythos you worship in your mind, something or someone MUST come along and wash your soul over with experience that makes you the man you want to become! Every day is that day for me. I cannot see beyond this waiting, waiting, waiting. No one comes to me, nothing changes me. My stubborn will bends to none, and I am the master of my fate.

That paradox is ridiculous: I am the master of my fate who is waiting for something to happen TO me?

Know why a girl hasn't come along and sneaked into my heart? I look to keep them away, I find ways to not be around them.

Know why I am graduating college and still don't know what I want to do? I continue to not commit.

I capitalized Break. I want to Break free from myself. From the binds of my blasphemy. I cannot be perfect and flawless, to do so is to be God, or attempt to. I forsake my humanity and wonder why I can't feel. God damn if I haven't broken my own heart, over and over. Never good enough, never matching up to what I SHOULD be. I see my infinite potential and cannot love it, I have to destroy my inability to know and do and be and succeed at everything. Not mommy or daddy's fault, mine.

I have fallen in love with myself, in the past, with the grace and understanding of being human. My most real and powerful experiences have been so simple, so epically uneventful.

But life still goes on,
I can't get used to living without you by my side.
I don't want to live alone.
God knows I've got to make it on my own.
So, can't you see, I've got to break free.

I know it's been a long time, and I know most people aren't reading this anymore, but..

2010-04-18T13:35:00.001-07:00

I found it hard to blog over the past few months. Dwindling numbers, low drive, unappreciation for my attempts at humor, nudity, and thought provoking discussion kind of turned me off. It still has turned me off to an extent, but I thought it would be appropriate to say something to all you hardcore fans out there who've been looking for another entry like stoners wait for the next sublime album to come out (yes, I know that's impossible, but I heard a stoner say one time they wanted it to happen).

I graduate in a month.

Let that sink in

College has taught me a few things, and none of them are dependent on my major. Anyone who tries to tell you or people you know that your major matters is dead wrong.

I'm not dating anyone, I'm not trying to, I am still living with my parents, I am going to have to find a job soon, and I am a sexy bitch still. Nude pictures available on request.

If you read this/want to know more/want to see more, comment and I will be more prone to write more. Otherwise, Shakesperean au revoirs and lovelies, I'm out.

HNT: Thinking things, again

2009-12-31T11:41:00.000-08:00

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

Sexism

2009-12-22T13:00:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-12-16T11:21:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-14T12:56:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-09T21:03:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-02T22:58:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-29T21:25:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-19T15:47:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-10T22:37:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-09T15:01:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-07T23:36:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-11-03T21:11:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-01T22:33:00.000-08:00

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

2009-10-28T22:30:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-21T21:53:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-20T14:24:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-10-14T14:06:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-10-11T22:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-07T16:34:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-10-06T20:55:00.001-07:00

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

2009-10-04T23:01:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-01T15:16:00.000-07:00

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

I should know better than that.

Worth Pouting Over

2009-09-30T10:17:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-28T13:26:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-22T22:31:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-14T14:02:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-09T20:26:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-09T13:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-09-04T13:39:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-31T15:06:00.001-07:00

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,

2009-08-27T15:49:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-26T20:24:00.001-07:00

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

2009-08-26T15:17:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-24T10:33:00.001-07:00

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

2009-08-20T13:28:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-19T20:37:00.001-07:00

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?

2009-08-19T12:59:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-15T10:33:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-12T22:11:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-12T21:53:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-10T20:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-08T20:29:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-08-04T14:14:00.001-07:00

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.

2009-08-03T21:10:00.000-07:00

This should have been posted on Sunday. Oh well.

Seven Deadly Sins

2009-08-03T10:30:00.000-07:00

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

Let's talk about Six

2009-07-30T13:45:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-29T22:54:00.000-07:00

It's Thursday, time for numero cinco.

Ya... It's number four

2009-07-28T20:05:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-27T21:56:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-27T21:49:00.000-07:00

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

The Second in a Series

2009-07-26T23:42:00.000-07:00

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

Welcome back.

2009-07-26T00:21:00.000-07:00

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)

2009-07-25T23:32:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-06-25T13:18:00.000-07:00

The middle of summer is upon me, and I am bored. I am bored with my job, I am bored with my daily activities, I am even bored with the internet (although relief exists).

I posted on cL a few days ago, and got nothing in terms of feasible responses except one. She backed out on me, and I am once again bored. She was alright looking, better than my last attempt at this. It would have been something to do, something to think about, and something to break the monotony. As an update on some other things:

SG is a crazy person. Throughout the past months, I have come to realize more and more that this girl doesn't operate like most people. It's like she loves the idea of me on the other end of a phone, but she gets intimidated with me in reality. She's not playing games (ok, well she is playing games) but not in a quit-playing-games-with-my-heart style. I have never let her know that I have any regard for her as a person. No compliments, no affectionate emoticons in a text. She and I hung out once or twice, and every time she was clearly very happy to be around me. I don't want to date her, I just want to fuck her. The vendetta grows every day I don't get what I want. We will see how this pans out, but I anticipate we will see each other again once school begins.

I haven't talked to PG, save a few texts right after that night. I don't really think about her, but I did want to close the story. A night right before school ended, she and I saw each other downtown, I played it cool and aloof. End of story.

The Winner and I continue to get closer, but I see it not going well. She has a lot of self-esteem worries, inadequacies and the like. I have an impatient need to not have any kind of actual relationship with anyone that I cannot physically see. Her naivety in thinking this to be ok hurts me, since I will probably be the one to prove it wrong. If she lived here, I would really enjoy getting to know her. That isn't the case, and once again distance disallows me from that. She and I are set to meet in a city close to both of us, but home to neither. I am looking forward to that, as it will at least give me something to do.

2009-04-26T22:27:00.000-07:00

I am suspending my blogging. My dozens of unfinished entries, my incredibly busy schedule resulting from finals, my ambivalence towards my original desire, and my apathy just dictate that right now I need to give it a rest. It's getting a little difficult to keep the drive alive, and I am having some reservations about some things that have come to my attention. Moreover, I feel different than I did when I started. My interests are not the same as they were. Standing in a different place while looking at the same things, the definition of maturation. I can't keep doing the same things, my world does not tolerate still. Still is ugly to me, I want to move, want to go, want to be in the middle of something motion, leave the eddy and touch the aerated water.

TMI Tuesday: This one is really grown-up

2009-04-20T20:08:00.000-07:00

1. Marriage and children aside, what has been your greatest accomplishment in life?

-Hahaha. Marriage and children aside, psh. As if I could simply set aside all 18 of my bastard sons. I suppose being who I am is the greatest success I have.

2. Aside from healthy and happy children, what is your greatest ambition for the future?

- Grow to be a great husband and father. Be great. A great man

3. If we were to enter your real name in a search engine, what would we find?

-A whole lot of people who have the same name as me. Blogs, Myspace music pages, even some Wikipedia articles

4. Who is the most famous person you ever met (not just in the same room as, but actually spoke with)?

-Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Brad thought my Borat impression was funny.

5. Parents aside, who is your biggest hero?

-It used to be Michael Jordan, but I'm going with George W. Bush.

6. Someone once worked out the sexual version of Six Degrees of Separation - Celebrity A slept with B, who slept with C, who slept with D, making as sort of connection between A and D. Are you connected to anyone famous through six or fewer bonks?

-I haven't asked all my partners who their partners were partnered with. So this question is not something I can roll with.

PG

2009-04-19T20:34:00.000-07:00

When I write posts in a flux of emotion, I usually want to come back and read them before I actually post them. Yesterday I didn't do that, I slapped it up there without letting it grow cold on me. Having experienced time away, I still think I made the right decision. She shared some things with me that I did not relate in my post, some things that I felt were private to her. While I understand that this blog is anonymous and she disclosed the information to someone she hardly knew, they still felt very secret.

We exchanged some texts the next day, basically as a means for me to give her my number. I don't really know where I want to go from here. It felt good to do what we did. My naivety, inexperience, whatever label you want to affix to it might be tainting my views, but it just felt natural. Carefree, fun, organic interactions. The time leading up to the bedroom were fun, and I had a really good time. I like her. I'm attracted to her heart. Broken and fucked up as it might be, I am drawn to it. Most likely because my broken, fucked up heart aches for the chance to fix someone else's. Her hotness is a factor, but I stopped short of having sex with her for a reason. My friends asked me at the party what my intentions were, and I remembered saying I just wanted to have sex. Something changed, and I changed my mind.

Right now I'm feeling really squishy about the whole thing. Squishy being the word I use to describe the softer side of me: the romantic, the vulnerable, the faithful. And here is what I wonder, do I feel squishy about her? Or do I feel squishy about the idea of a relationship? Watching a movie with her, talking to her in soft voice, telling her the blanket she's had since grade school is still ok to cover up with, all of this pulled at my squishy part. To be clear, I'm not in love with her, not really sure she's a stable or logical person. At this moment I am enamored with the idea of having a female I can share the softer moments with.

As good as those relationships are, I am not looking forward to being involved in one. I am a different person than the guy who made his mistakes with that girl, but I am not sure how different I will be once I enter back into that room. The exploration and understanding of another person, the honesty it takes, the bravery required, the challenge of discovery enthralls me. The sting of the backlash paralyzes me. So now the question is clearer:

Am I willing to love someone so that I can be in love, or am I too neurological to escape my preventative techniques?

I suppose, thinking back, that the good times are worth the bad, and all the stupid cliches you can dream up. Maybe, after a year and half, I can go do it again. If I get slapped down, I'll at least have a little more fun, and know a little better, and learn a little more. All my talk about the emotional intelligence of the college aged might be true, but maybe I need to be reckless with my heart for a little while.

I guess with her, I'll just play it cool and not text her, let her come to me, or not. I'll just buckle and call her and ask her if she wants to go grab a smoothie and talk for 20 minutes, or not. I would much rather never talk to her again, if she wanted it to be a single occurrence. I never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, want to be the fool. The feeling of being played, embarrassed, needy, desperate, out of power and control is the most aversive and despicable feeling in the world. And now that I've established how one crazy person is drawn to another, I suppose I'll shut up

Penguin is a very funny creature.

2009-04-18T11:26:00.000-07:00

I have no qualms about saying last night was the most fun I have had since I have been in college. The party I went to was full of people I knew, people I liked, and people I could have a good time with. People weren't just standing around working the 16 oz. plastic cups, the mood was light, and everyone was enjoying themselves. I got my mojo working early on, landed some numbers, pissed some people off, had a good time. The first girl was pretty darn cool, and had some nice teeth. I'm a sucker for a good set of chompers, what can I say?

As the evening progressed into the morning, I caught the eyes of someone looking at me. The room was dark, someone had turned on the black lights (classy, I know), and these ghostly blue eyes kept their gaze on me. We started talking, and we started having a lot of laughs. The blue eyes were coming from the hottest girl at the party, the hottest girl I've ever seen at a party, and, pending further input from respected sources, the hottest girl I've ever seen on campus. Blonde, dark tan, so petite she can wear kid's clothes, and a beautiful set of lips. Lips so sexy and perfect they looked synthetic. Not big lips, just the shape and pucker of them made me jump. I was playing with her a lot, teasing her, carrying on. She couldn't help but playfully hit, touch, lean in to, and all other forms of sophomoric flirting involving contact me. She kept testing me, trying to leave to watch me follow. I stayed firm, and she cam back. We danced, we kissed, we enjoyed the comfy ass leather couch at the house. When it came time to leave, she invited me and my friends back to her place to hang with her and her friends.

Cutting to the juicy stuff, I wound up in her room, with the lights off, so that we could watch a movie. Honestly, why even try to put up the façade? Just lay it out there, and let it ride. Before we could turn the lights off, I noticed the abundance of penguins in the room. We are talking a lot of penguins, everywhere: posters, books, figurines, beanie babies, and the stuffed penguins on the bed, each of whom were named. Without any hassling from me, she began apologizing and saying she was sorry for all the penguin stuff. She said she hoped I wouldn't think she was weird, and really became almost afraid. I told her it was ok, girls can get away with the penguin stuff. But in that moment, and a few minutes that followed, I felt like I saw her vulnerabilities. She seemed very lonely, sad, bereft of joy. Suddenly, I didn't want to hit-it and quit-it. I felt really, really sorry for her.

We exchanged massages. Well, she walked on my back, the awesomest thing ever, especially when it's a person with small feet! I did give her a proper Shitzsu massage before we took advantage of the movie setting to make-out. By this time, it was really late. The sun would be coming up soon, and she said she needed to sleep. I agreed, and prepared to take my leave. Then she said, "Do you want to go to sleep?" I took the hint, and again saw the same loneliness I had seen earlier. This wasn't a woman ready to ravish some guy in her penguin-padded pad, this girl asked with shame in her voice. Almost like, "If I fuck you, will you accept me?" This maybe isn't the best wording, but I felt her sorrow in the question. I said that I could let her sleep, and that I had spent a great night with her, and I would see her again sometime. Then she reinforced my empathy when she asked if I would stay with her.

This girl is about my age, cosmopolitan beauty, an incredible body, and I'm sure has been pursued by many people who put me to shame. But at 4:30 in the morning, with her best friends a room away, she asked some guy she had known for 4 hours to sleep in her bed with her. Not to fuck, not to cuddle, not to make-out, to sleep. In the hours that followed in her bed, I didn't sleep. She clung to me like ivy to a wall. I wrapped my arms around her, encircling her, breathing with her. I could not stop hurting for her, for the pains she must have suffered, for the emptiness she felt. Maybe some of it was projection, but I think a great part of it was shock. This girl should never have to spend a second alone, countless men would worship her, but I think that's how she feels so much: alone. This completely broke my perspective on women. These incredibly beautiful women are valued for this gift they had little to do with, most likely (I don't know, since I am neither a woman nor beautiful) misled and deceived about the amount of love they are receiving, and then betrayed to find out they were not loved for their person, but for their face.

I finally got why women like this simultaneously adore, flaunt, employ their beauty while they resent, mourn, wish to be relieved of it. What a conflict that must be, and how lonely it must feel. I am sorry for her, and for any person who has ever felt betrayed by their own body. The night (morning would be more accurate) was uneventful, except for the inordinate amount of trips to the potty I had to take. The party was very hot, and I drank a lot of water, and I remembered every 15 minutes why drinking a gallon and a half of water before bedtime is a bad idea.

I wrote this post as soon as I could, to capture this sudden new view. Fact is, I may have misjudged the situation completely. She might have been a little tipsy, a little sleepy, and that's why I saw her actions like I did. But the progression makes sense to me, or at least it did at 6:30 in the morning when she was balled up on my body, and I was watching the sunrise through the window. Day broke across my face, and over the face of the penguin on the bed. A cold world like that would be nice to escape from in the warmth of caring arms.

This is a Silly Symphony, Walt Disney style, about penguins. I like the song, reminds me of her.

HNT: Hot Hands

2009-04-15T22:05:00.000-07:00

The back of my hands got sunburned recently. Only the back, as I was wearing something that covered the arm all the way to the wrist. Funny as it is, honestly who puts sunscreen on only the back of the hand? Obviously this doofus guy should've. I was walking around at school looking like I was wearing red gloves.

It was a task to take this picture: playing the piano, balancing the camera, and making sure it was properly aligned. Up until now my pictures have been a little provocative, but I have decided to remember my roots and take a more chaste snapshot. I had to capture the sunburn hands, and piano is the only way I could think to employ them in a meaningful way.

TMI Tuesday: It's better than thinking of my own idea

2009-04-13T19:34:00.001-07:00

1. If you could describe yourself through a dance what would it be?

-The ChaCha Slide.

2. What about describing your sex life through a type of dance?

-The Twist

3. What's one move on the dance floor sure to turn you on?

-Is this me turning myself on or....? I'm going with a good hip roll

4. Is there a dancer you would love to be with? (dancer can be used as loosely as you want)

-Tiny dancer

5. What moves do you pull out to impress someone new?

-I'm almost 6 and a half feet tall, white, and straight. I can dance pretty well, but I usually take advantage of my silly side when I want to impress. Now if you were to ask what I do to turn someone on, that's something I can handle. I don't dance to impress.

SG, an update

2009-04-13T13:34:00.000-07:00

As one of you already knows, the female known as SG has returned. Not in the "I'm going to text you whenever I'm bored" way, but in an interested and wanting way. She has been texting me all hours of the day, and I have been playing it surprisingly aloof. Surprising in that I have been able to remain very guarded, and not stick my big dumb foot in my mouth and surrender my power to her.

I think anyone dealing with college aged male and female relationships recognizes the emotional maturity this requires, and I will not disagree with this assessment. If you want to play ball, sometimes you have to play by the home court rules. Whoever can remain seemingly apathetic, confident, hide their neediness and desperation longest wins, so I will be sure to hold out.

As for the girl in question, she stands about 5'3, weighs maybe 105 lbs., has natural blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and is so hot she nude models for the University art classes (we are in discussion about how I can get involved, 9 bucks an hour to stand around naked ? Hell yes! I'm in). And good God she is silly! If I weren't so tentative about the things that have happened in the past with her, I would be more apt to be interested in her. For now, I just know she's hot interested in me, and forgets to be relieved of her cell phone when she gets drunk.

3:46 am: "I can't wait to be alone with you."

I was asleep by this point, she was out "with her girls."

3:56 am: "And I want our first kiss to be amazingly perfect. Yes that means I want to kiss u...My girls say it's gonna be awkward when we kiss, cuz you're like a foot taller."

Before this, no mention of us even hanging out had been made. It was just flirtish texts about nothing in particular. Later that day I got to hear about how she wanted to be in the shower with me. This girl has spent maybe 20 minutes with me in person. Anybody else think that's weird? I'm not saying she's a skank (she might be, I'm starting to detect some body image issues), what I am saying is that something is coming off strange to me. Maybe she's a girl that hasn't always been this pretty, so she has to prove her sexual power over men by being a bit-- more than a bit, a lot-- of a tease. Her personality tells me she's not always been attractive, she's way too goofy and willing to laugh at herself to be a hottie from day one.

I think we are going to hang out soon. Maybe tonight, maybe a few nights from now. I don't know exactly what to expect. Furthermore, I wonder if I should let go of the past with her and just live in the moment and be ok with that. What's the worst that could happen?

On a side note, and as a result of a huuuuuge help from mah girl X, I now have installed a better counter on my blog. Mainly I did it so that I could track customer satisfaction, buying trends, and advertisement for product placement. As a result I discovered that someone who has visited this blog is remarkably close to me. I mean, like freaky scary, 5 minutes away close. Does that concern me? Nah. If the person in question falls under the female classification, and is hot, I hope she hits me up. And to the fella that is now following my blog: Thanks. For some reason, I just feel very flattered by that. Female that is close to me, leave a comment. If you pay attention to the posts here, I'm sure you could see that you are around me

Separate Ways

2009-04-10T20:33:00.000-07:00

Journey's song, Separate Ways, came on my iPod during my drive through a national forest and mountain roads. I don't get up early enough to see the sunrise very often, but the solar watercolors leaked through the tree branches as the rays stretched arms across the landscape and into my open window. Temperatures in the 60's, a dew soaked breeze pulled into my lungs, and I scream out with Steve Perry the famous lines of the chorus. My voice finds better resonance a few octaves lower, but we all have moments of singing far out of our vocal range, and no one was around to be tortured. Serpentine zips through switchbacks of hardwood forests, with a power chord-driven heart beater blaring, a day in the river awaits me. The sun, what can I say about it? The warmth it provides escapes me too often. Radiated heat is nice, but the emotional triumph contained in the spectrum can only be described by those who know it. An incredible force, to be certain, pouring its gifts upon my spirit as my spirit pours its sentiments on the auditory environment. For in the sun, in the virgin air, in the grass, whipporwills, and the heartbeat of the river, love lies. Love in the perfection of our world, of our hope, of our faith, and in ourselves. If we are nothing else, we are creatures of an incredible habitat, worthy of value and awe in the creation we are. And in that environment, without expectations or scripts, that's all we have to be. In lieu of searching for clarity through complexity and understanding, I see the beauty in understanding simplicity. My heart opens, and beats as a part of something greater, my being transcends. I am a miracle, and that truth finds power in the world I marvel at.

"Someday love will find you,

Break those chains that bind you"

I know the song isn't about this, I know the lyrics aren't a masterpiece worthy of note, but it was the song that played. Those were the words I expelled. That was the sentiment I knew.

Kayaking bitch

2009-04-06T14:39:00.000-07:00

This particular entry began with no central idea in mind. I am a bit consumed by pouting at the moment. Something I wanted is no longer available to me: A boat, more specifically a kayak, that I really, really wanted has been sold. This sounds a little lame, but kayaks can be hard to come by, especially used models for people of my stature. Throw in that it was only an hour or so away, and I could have made some money off the deal, and I am moping with the fervent passion of a grade-schooler. My boat is fine and all, but this other boat offers more opportunity to do what I want on the water. Displeasing though it is, my hope lies in the future, and new skills I have recently come into. Hopefully I will be able to finally be challenged by some water in the near future, and see just how much I can make of those chances.

Continuing the same thought, kayaking gear can be quite pricey. Google it if you are bored some time, and you will see just what I am talking about. A piece of equipment I bought recently failed, despite my only having used it four times, and I called the manufacturer to discuss my options. I was told that the section that failed did not fall under their warranty coverage, and it was most likely my fault. The 300 dollar article of clothing had a piece of rubber tear, and somehow that can be attributed to me. The great news is, the manufacturer suggested I pay to fix it, which I think sounds really swell. God knows when I dropped the cash for it I thought, "Four good uses, and I'll get to replace the neck gasket!" Want to know why our nation is in a recession? How about your company not making a product for an extreme sport that can hold up to the rigors it will be put through? I am well aware that rubber can break down after exposure to water, Mr. Manufacturer. So why don't you cover that in your warranty, considering the stupid thing is supposed to keep my dry when I am kayaking in the....WATER!! Nice consumer confidence, way to lure more money out of me to stimulate this shit hole economy. The hell of it is, I don't feel like freezing my balls off next time I get in my boat, so I am going to have to pay to get it fixed. Unbelievable.

I'm a Toys 'R' Us Kid, Continuation

2009-03-29T22:40:00.000-07:00

The fun in her laugh as she jumps like a youth infect me, my grin turn to laughs of my own. I can't jump on the bed without breaking it or the ceiling, but I can wrestle her to the ground. Pillows are sacrificed, the pawns in our epic conflict for bedroom supremacy. My size and strength are useless, she is making me laugh so hard, my muscles turn to useless weight. We tumble and turn and roll and squeeze and bite and tickle and laugh. The laughter is honest, guttural, mirthful.

Eventually I win out. My abilities overcoming hers as we wind up in a breathless heap. I pin her and announce my victory in her trademark fashion. The Winner immediately starts touching herself, rubbing her moisture on my body, making me taste what she had been vicariously teasing me with all day. It's so unfair of her to do. She is fully aware that tasting that will garner the response she is looking for.

I make my way down to her knees, out of reach of her devilish hands, and I rest my face upon her thighs. As I catch my breath, she continues to rub herself, and I continue to take in the view. Eventually, my self-control and feigned disinterest fail. I place my strong, able hands between her knees and make room for myself.

The scent is the first thing to assault my senses. Full, round, individual, and incredibly arousing. My eyes find hers while I collect the wetness making its way down her thighs. My tongue glides across her skin like raindrops down a window. Silent and effortlessly I make sure to enjoy every possible moment of teasing her. Coming closer and closer with every pass, I pull with lips and teeth as my warm breath rolls over her waiting lips. I take my time, slowly migrating towards the center of all things.

I push her legs in opposite directions until they will go no further, and I look at what I will soon be enjoying. A woman, in all her complexity and intricacy, shows her vulnerability before me. The pads of my fingers begin rubbing on the outside of her lips, keeping their grip despite an abundance of lubrication. I open her to the waiting lips and tongue. A full and deliberate breath rains upon her, followed by a pulsating flat tongue.

Using concise and firm pressure, I begin manipulating my mouth around her clit. While my tongue makes its presence known, my hands remember the skin I enjoyed earlier on her breasts. The taste is intoxicating, each moment of enjoyment causing its own pulse within me. After making sure to suck, flick, lick, and all other verbs known to a pussy-enjoying man like myself, her clitoris, I shift my oral attention further down.

As much as she enjoys what I had been doing up to that point, she prefers to feel my tongue as far inside as possible. I am for that as well, since it gives me the chance to taste her at her warmest place. I start slow, tracing the diameter of her as I make my way in. She draws breath more quickly as my pattern of attention follows a progression inward. Eventually I enter her fully with a pointed tongue that presses upwards. As my nose and lip exchange places rubbing her clit, I look to her with my eyes and see the pleasure spreading in her countenance.

I want her to cum. Not for me, but for her. To feel her pussy be rewarded with release while I taste and engage with the most tender part of her. I close my eyes and keep my face in place as her thighs press my head. The vice holds me, her back and hips pushing into me, I push back with the effort I can give, and her moans grow more audible. Fingers grasp my hair, nails digging into my scalp, and I am now at her mercy as she is at mine. Tightening around me, underneath me, I can feel the orgasm travel through her.

I make my way into a more intimate position as she enjoys the warmth of my body holding hers. She kisses me deeply, and giggles. It's not a laugh, it's a giggle. I ask her what's so funny, and she cannot seem to help herself by responding with more giggling. Eventually she manages to tell me that she had won again, and that she had done a good job of getting what she wanted that morning. Just like a little girl tricks a little boy into doing what she wants, I had fallen victim to her games.

I don't wanna grow up, though.

I'm a Toys 'R' Us Kid

2009-03-29T21:57:00.000-07:00

When I was a young fellow, being a toys r us kid meant you didn't wanna grow up. As Peter Pan as that sounds, it makes sense. I still haven't grown up, and I am not in a hurry. There are grown-up aspects I possess, but I don't ever want to really grow up.

Talking with the Winner the other night, I realized how cool it will be to be and adult male who can come home to a woman at their residence. It sounds silly, I know. Think about it, I implore you. As a child (or someone living under someone else's roof), you never know that feeling of someone being in your house waiting for you to come home and have fun with. I'm not talking about playing with your dog, either (although that will be cool too).

As a professional business person, I would enter the house in my full suit. Losing the jacket at the door, I would take a breath and absorb the comfort of being home. All day I would have maintained my sanity and control while remembering just how soft her skin felt that morning. How her cherubic hair fell like a river delta, flowing and nurturing, across my chest as I woke up. The way she grabbed my hand on my way out the door, trying to tempt me to remain in bed with her for the remainder of the day. Now I would be home, in the place I had made for myself, and for her. In that thought, a man can take pride.

My shoes would not allow me to sneak up on her, but I would try nonetheless. As I track her singing down to the kitchen sink, I devise my strategy. She greets me without turning, without looking to see that I was up to mischief. She should know better, I haven't grown up that much. My steps get closer and closer, and upon her finally looking to see what I was doing, my hands would be on the bottom of her shirt, pulling it up without hesitation.

She doesn't wear a bra around the house, especially when she just got out of the shower and is waiting for me to come home. The temptation is her fault, those supple, bountiful pieces of her have been in my vision every time I closed my eyes today. The shirt off, my mouth on her breasts, teeth drawing closer to each other upon her exquisite nipples, hands tactilely consuming the skin about her sides and back. She really enjoys having her breasts cared for, and I really enjoy our mutual pleasures. Skin is skin, but the soft, virgin skin of a woman's breasts stands distinct from its integumentary companions.

She begins unbuttoning my shirt while I rise to kiss those lips that had called me at 3 to remind me of how unfortunate my departure was earlier, how the articulate hands unfastening my collar had been forced to give pleasure intended for me to the only person still in bed. The tie is pulled off in a hurry, and I stop her wandering palms to pick it up off the floor. Now she can finally remove my shirt, which is thrown onto the counter, and begin the effort to return my torso to its natural state. Once we both find ourselves in a state of northern exposure, she starts removing my pants. Belt, clasp, zipper, in order, before my very aroused reminder of a long, throbbing day makes its appearance.

The tie in my hands is placed around her neck, with either end covering up her nipples. A woman in a tie is so sexy, and there is something I find irresistible about the idea. Taking the initiative to give her a nice windsor knot to wear around her neck, I make sure the length of the tie is just right. Now when I unbutton her jeans, the chevron inverts itself in the most directive of places. We spend a fair amount of time pressed against the sink, the feel of her skin and the silk of my tie pressed against my body. My height overwhelms her at times, and I make an effort to ease the bend in her neck by changing my body's position.

Eventually the tie is taken hold of, and the woman is led to her bed. As I remind her of the turmoil she caused me throughout the day with her explicit communication, that little girl appears in her smile, in her eyes, in her body language. The woman then removes her jeans and gets on the bed. Her form in the bed, a woman on the pedestal, is worthy of note.

"Model that tie, sell it for me."

She shows me the sultry, Calvin Klein advertisement. Curved back, fierce stare, carnal communication. I ask her for fun, cute, All-American girl. Her blonde hair, blue eyes and picturesque smile respond. She jumps to her feet, and jumps on the bed, letting her hair dance around her in the most honest way. I think I am sold on the tie, I'll buy three.

To be continued...

In response...

2009-03-27T10:08:00.000-07:00

I wrote that post quickly, I wrote it in the moment. In stream-0f-consciousness style. There were places that were reality, were true, but the majority of it was my effort to submit to the idea. The I want's were my roleplaying, my pretending, my empathizing with people who do sexually assault others.

There are some women who enjoy the idea of all of this, who want to experience a situation like rape. Protected, controlled, safer, with a partner they trust, but experience it nonetheless.

Everyone contains human emotion, or the capability for it, on a wide spectrum. Everyone holds the power to be dark, poisonous, hateful, an abuser. Everyone. Denying that part of yourself is unhealthy, is repressive, is dishonest. I am exploring my feelings, all of them. I want to know myself, know my heart, know who I am. People unwilling to understand themselves live in fear.

Since Richard brought up Freudian psychology, an outdated and empirically lacking approach, I'll phrase it in said terms: Everyone contains a Thanatos, our lives are full of repressive powers minimizing our most basic drives. The ego regulates this issue of mediating between the darkness and the social expectations on us. Freudian therapy requires one to come to terms with these repressed desires, the catharsis easing the conflicted feelings inside.

I take exception to the notion that I flirt with psychopathic tendencies. F. Scott Fitzgerald said, "The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function." Without my ability to see something as someone else sees it, I am nothing.

There was fantasy in my post yes. However, the true intent remains the same. To everyone who has been a victim of such a terrible thing, I feel for you. And that's what I want, to empathize with the assaulted and the rapist.

I have been assaulted, sexually. Multiple abusers, multiple times. I can't even have relationship-free sex with a consenting partner without feeling terrible. Fact is, I'm not psychopathic, I'm not a wicked person. Instead, I am willing to search for the parts of myself that scare me. Sorry for the apologetic post, but damage control seemed necessary.

Rape me

2009-03-27T00:52:00.000-07:00

Nirvana doesn't qualify as one of my favorite bands. They had good tunes, and changed a lot of stuff in music. I don't swing from Kurt Cobain's nuts like Rolling Stone magazine does. But I do like this verse of this song:

Hate me

Do it and do it again

Waste me

Rape me, my friend

My father, truly the smartest man in the world, tells me that denying the ability to see or understand something is lying. The lie protects me from facing the dangers I perceive in that thing. The buddhist thing to do is to present myself at the feet of this thing and submit to what it has to teach me.

Sexual assault is something that disgusts me. Real sexual assault, real rape, real harm. But in the spirit of the buddha, I decided to approach it with willingness to understand.

I want to rape a woman. Not really. Maybe really, I'm not sure. No, I'm sure, I don't want to hurt anyone in such a way. I do want to hurt a woman. I want to slap her, I want to grab her by the hair, throw her on the ground, and completely overpower her attempts to resist. I want to pull down her pants, and fuck her without concern for her feelings, for her pleasure, for my performance. I want to make her suffer, to let my full weight squeeze the breath out of her.

I want to choke her to keep her from screaming. Regardless of her protests, I want to fuck her in whatever usable hole I find desirable at that moment. If I have to clutch the back of her neck to get her to bend over so I can rape her unwilling ass, I will. My hands will squeeze, pluck, pull, twist, bind, and otherwise curl her breasts and nipples into any uncomfortable position I can think of.

My fucking will not be anything beyond that of an angry, feral, hateful organism. She will serve a purpose, and once I cum, I will grab her by the hair and throw her out.

It's very late, and I wanted to share that exploration. I agree with it. I would not do any of this against her will, truly. We would have our safe word in place (I'm thinking Nevada). Or maybe we wouldn't.

Am I a bad person? I do not care too much, since I believe some women need to be treated like warm holes, good for nothing more than abuse.

Whoever this happened with would most likely never see the most extreme, terrible person I choose to contain. And I would surely precede and follow this act with the tender, warm person I usually am.

But for those moments I was free to be that man..... I am afraid of what I could be.

Morning lights shine brighter

2009-03-24T22:48:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning feeling better, feeling ok. I read last night's entry, and it is pretty melodramatic. I'm not really too happy with it, and I am thinking about taking it down. Might be a violation of the "spirit" of this blog experiment I'm trying, but I refuse to be a bitch. Especially for any amount of time past the original emotion. In today's clarifying perspective, I see I wasn't really attracted to her enough. I was just being impetuous and foolish. Not my style, not my form, not me. That, plus my mental turmoil made it difficult to get it up, and once it was at 75 % or so, made it difficult to maintain. Still a bad decision. I just need to get a girl that I like being around, that I can screw around with, and not make it a big deal. Kind of a sentimental friends with benefits arrangement?

Who knows

A good reminder

2009-03-23T21:56:00.000-07:00

4 or 5 years ago, I experienced my one and only NSA encounter. I felt terrible afterwards, I pledged I would never, ever do that again. Well, I did. Tonight, an hour ago, I had sex with a woman I had just met. I couldn't feel any worse.

I thought time had passed, I was older, wiser, more mature. I could compartmentalize, set feeling aside from pleasure. I was wrong.

From the moment I walked in the room, everything about my heart said "Run, get away, leave." It had nothing to do with her, she was fine. My mental discord just split me in two. It wasn't fear, or maybe it was. I believed that if I just pushed through it, I would be fine on the other side. I thought I just needed to conquer it and go on. I was wrong

In the spirit of honesty, I will admit: I was so uneasy, I couldn't even find the spirit to stand up and do my job. I am such a fucking moron, talking about how I want something, how I need it. No better than a 5 year old wanting a BB gun or a 15 year old wanting a dirtbike. When it comes down to it, it wasn't right. My morality killed me. I thought that I had divorced my shame, my embarrassment. I was wrong

With some oral persuasion, I got the motivation to get my erection. Then I did what I was asked to do. On my pride I rested as I drilled her face into that pillow. It was the only thing I could find footing in. I stayed to prove to her and myself that I can come in, and please a woman and leave. I came in to prove to myself that it was ok to do that. I did not run so I could prove how strong I was. I was proven wrong.

And now I am disgusted with myself. Feeling the antithesis of what I expected to feel, what I wanted to feel. I could not be any more shamed. I am a fool. Tonight was the worst decision I have made in the past 12 months. My pride put one foot in front of the other into that room. My shame lit my tail as I streaked away. Guilt and shame and resentment and self-loathing are back. And the only solace I have is in myself, the only face I can look to for comfort is the one in the mirror. Never again, ever. I am a terrible person for becoming the man I swore to be better than. I lied to myself, and I have to live with that distrust. Disgusting.

I love you man

2009-03-23T13:46:00.002-07:00

This weekend I saw the new movie with Paul Rudd. Funny, real funny, and refreshing to not have a villainous woman to have to push against. In the light of the bromoerotic title, I had to share this magical occurrence:

I felt like spring air might infectiously lift some other people's spirits over this week, so I posted on CL last night, with the hopes of striking while the iron is hot. Of the 17 or so responses I got, at least 12 were guys. Some of the 17 were guys wanting me to get with their wives or girlfriends or whatever, but the 12 others were gay. I have gay friends, bisexual friends, and have been around a lot of LGBT people. I don't have issue with it. Disclaimers given, I don't like dudes in that way. Nothing about a dude is erotic to me. When some guy says something along the lines of:

"hey bro, I know you're straight, but I was wondering if you wanted me to suck you off. won't be gay, just give you head and you leave. How about it?"

There is so much wrong with that. So much.

I am so sorry, women. For all of the idiots that try to talk to you about this kind of stuff. If those 12 gay dudes hit me up like that, I can't imagine the pain you must suffer.

Please accept my gender's apologies.

America, it's worth fighting for

2009-03-19T13:19:00.000-07:00

I have a few cousins and relatives who are members of the military. My older relatives fought in the wars in Vietnam, South Pacific, and Europe. Every day like today, I mentally thank them for their efforts in securing my life as an American boy. When I was in high school, I had a football coach unafraid to say what we were all thinking. One April afternoon a 17 year old girl walked into the weight room (do Penthouse letters start like this?) and delivered some sort of message for the teacher she was aiding for. Her shorts were testing the dress code, and she had enjoyed plenty of UV baths. My coach looked at us after we all slackjawed stared, and said,

"Boys, it's shit like that that makes this country worth dying for."

As I walked around campus today, the weather was warm, and legs were starting to come out. Tan legs, little flip-flops, pedicured toes, and shorts. Boobs or ass man, that's a little bit too simple, a little too outdated. I like a lot of lady parts, but the waist down can earn my respect without fail. Petite feet (I suppose all feet are small comparing to the skis at the ends of my legs) strapped into the foam sandal, flexing the taught tendon connecting to that shimery skin on the calf. Connective areas in the body are so great. When the hamstring runs into the back of the knee, it just calls your attention to the rest of the muscle. Following that up, one is next forced to look at the shelf.

Most "ass men" know what the shelf is. Where a butt hangs over a thigh, the place that requires you to curl your hand in the same shape and say "Boop!", that's a shelf.

Every pair of sexy legs and ass I see makes me suddenly start clenching my jaw. To have a girl lying on her face, legs straight, and to put my teeth right on the seam and bite. I have to find something better to do than stare, because I will start proposing marriage if I don't turn my attention. MMMM MM MM MMM MMMM Tasty.

Let me have a taste of that, and I'll go fight Kim Jong Il. Right now. *America, the Beautiful begins playing, a fanfare*. And I'll look that commie bastard right in the face and say,

"Listen you jowled grease ball. The U S of A doesn't take shit from any punks with a few long range missiles and a chip on their little shoulder. Everyone knows you guys got the 38th Parallel thanks to the Red neighbors to the west. But my United States is here to protect the world from trash like you. So go ahead, enrich your uranium. The second it goes weapons grade, we'll be crawling up your ass like Sadaam down a spider hole."

God bless America, and those lovely girls' asses.

SALUTE!

Why I rule

2009-03-17T15:08:00.000-07:00

SG worked in a business that I frequented in the past year. She and I would exchange pleasantries, talk about school, and the crap that seems to be the topic of all meaningless conversation. She is very much my type, if I were forced to list one: Short, natural blonde, blue eyes, petite. One day I came in to the business, where her coworkers, who also all knew me, told me she was hiding in back and wanted me to ask her out. I had not really thought too much about it before then, I was not too confident, and not too interested in putting up with the dating thing. One may have fueled the other, but I digress.

Once she presented herself, we exchanged numbers and made plans for the middle of the week. She had something come up, but she did call me that Friday to ask if I wanted to take the rain check Saturday night. I agreed, we set up the details, and agreed to see each other in 24. The next morning, while I was working, she texted me to let me know someone she had been seeing had asked her to be exclusive, and she was sorry. That was the text verbatim.

I'm not one to get upset about rejection, but I was pretty bewildered as to what had just transpired. The thing that cooked my McNuggets was that it was a text, not even the courtesy to call. I deleted her number, since we apparently didn't have any more business, and moved on. I saw her at the frat party, after I discovered that the inside of my pants contained enough friction to start a fire for Tom Hanks on Castaway, and she decided to play it cute with me.

Since I had seen her last, I have changed. A lot. I am mostly an ass to women, since they respond positively to it. I don't Chris Brown them, nor do I maliciously insult them, but I do relentlessly jab, bust, poke, expose, and in all other ways make fun of them. It's immature, it's predictable, and it's thoughtless. In communication class, one is taught to shape the discourse to build rapport with the recipient. So I don't feel bad, considering my audience.

I was trying to watch Sports Center when she approached. She started talking to me, pulling her sorority sisters over to say "This is the guy I was always talking to you about", and otherwise interrupting my attempt to catch basketball highlights. I humored her, disregarded her, and let her talk to herself before I realized something: I am still mad at this girl. So in the spirt of revenge, of my recent emergence as asshole, and of getting some vindictive action from her, I turned it on.

I busted on her about being fat (she weighs maybe 100 lbs.), about being a nag, about being maternal, about it all. Girls that get this stuff, and see that I am having fun, respond well and see that it's cool to bust back. She didn't get it, which made it all the more fun. Eventually she started talking about a friend of mine, how she dated him, how they had made out, and then she comes out with this gem: "He even wanted to cheat on his girlfriend with me."

With a straight face, and no hint of sarcasm, I responded back in a monotone, "Does that impress most guys?"

"Does what impress most guys?"

"What you just told me"

"It was just a statement, you don't have to be an asshole about it."

"It was just a question, you don't have to be a bitch."

She texted me Saturday morning to apologize for being a cunt (her words, not mine). She also asked if I wanted to go hang out sometime this week.

I haven't said anything back.

Dancing with no underpants.... ing

2009-03-16T21:22:00.000-07:00

I don't wear underwear. Excuse me, I rarely wear underwear. The only pants requiring underwear on my part are those slacks that are so sheer, a lack of bloomers would amount to indecent exposure. Plenty of people choose to abstain from the shackles of underwear, but I am always asked why. Here's the best explanation I can muster:

External organs do not agree with underwear. I have tried them all. Boxers have a seam that tries to separate my fellas, briefs feel as though my testicles are in a vacuum-sealed bag for dry winter storage, boxer briefs do a little of both.

When I do wear it, it's boxer briefs. Compression shorts work well, but they can get a little aggressive, so I tend to use them sparingly.

Men in countries around the world, and throughout history, wear skirts. Rugby dudes in the UK wear kilts, Japanese samurai wore sarongs, the Polynesian linebackers wear lava-lavas. Why can't guys here be manly and wear something as incredibly comfortable as a skirt? I'm not going into the socio-cultural discussion on here. But I would enjoy to let the boys have a break every now and then.

This prefaces the story. I went to a house party the other night. It was fun, better than a frat party (which I went to later), and a little more my style than a club. I talked to a girl, we danced. Talked to another girl, we danced. Lather, rinse, repeat. Finally, a girl and I danced in a more meaningful way. Of course I mean the thing we do that looks like standing sex with clothes on. I got really hard dancing with her, and she obviously knew it. Her hands found their way to the goods more than a few times. Every time she had the chance, she would pull away slightly to spiritedly return to my crotch with her hips.

This all sounds great. It was. But here's where the underwear discussion comes into play. Jeans are reasonably forgiving without underwear. No zipper debacles or anything of the sort. But when skin is pressed by means of hemodraulic force against them, they can become quite uncomfortable. When ass presses said jeans against skin, which is pressing against jeans:

Newton's laws plus biology= Ouchie weiner.

Blue balls, raw skin, and muscular atrophy. When I get an erection lasting for a considerable time, and if any guys read this please agree or tell me what happens to them, the flesh of my penis and the connective supportive tissue holding it to my body gets SORE. Like get some ice for my unit because I did one too many cock pushups sore. It was a bittersweet experience. Or maybe a sexy ouchie experience.

Crushes

2009-03-15T20:43:00.001-07:00

Britni Shameless posted a link on Paul Rudd, who she digs, (and who I man crush something Fierce). This is the perfect opportunity to post some of my crushes.

Eva Mendes. Even though she has been in so many movies that feature her beyond hawt, I think what I dig about her is how versatile her looks are: sexy, dirty, sweaty, cutey, booty, pretty. Great actress, strong.

Twofer. Elizabeth Banks: She's so cute, and real, and down to earth. Any woman that can play Laura Bush, and Beth the crazy girl from 40 year-old virgin is pretty sweet.

Kristen Bell: Forgetting Sarah Marshall, mmmmmm.

Brianna Evigan.: Have you seen Step-Up 2? Holy crap!

That's all

Lame car/sex reference story time: Can you handle a stick

2009-03-11T13:20:00.000-07:00

Everybody that has had a good time with someone in a Biblical sense has probably had to navigate steering wheel and center console. Broad, sweeping generalizations in mind, Ms. Inconspicuous inspired me to recall my most indulgent car ride. I was a junior in high school, involved in a few extracurricular activities that I shared with Priscilla. She was dating another member of these activities, a young closet case gay guy. Everyone knew he was gay, he just hadn't revealed his fondness for playing catch yet. Priscilla was in need of some sticky loving, and I suggested in semi-jest that she buy a dildo. Her response was warm, and I thought it would be fun to push her to see how far it would go. Eventually I figured out she wasn't joking, and she wanted to go get one. Not wanting her to embark on such an adult journey alone, and seeing as how I was so experienced myself, I promised to accompany her to the nearest retailer.

The day came, we went to the store, and I was amazed at what I saw when I went in. Sex shops are wild, especially for a Midwestern kid who had spent the first 14 years of his life baptized in the beautiful sexual honesty of a Protestant church. A whole wall of cocks and knobbers, hehe sounds like cops and robbers, along with the shelves of clothing and videos assailed my eyes as I took all of the debauchery in! I think the best part were the condoms and penis-shaped gag gifts. Something penis shaped used as a gag gift? I love that shit.

It took Priscilla about 30 minutes to pick out the one she wanted, while I spent the rest of the time giggling like a high school boy at the hilarity of a penis pump demonstration video being played. She called me over to ask my input on which one I thought was best. If anyone else realizes the issue with this, I'm glad I'm not alone. She made her purchase, and took her military-grade-plastic encased phallus, along with a 76 inch toy, back to her car.

The sexual flirting that had taken place up to the point of getting back in the car was playful, cute, silly even. Door shut, music down, it's biznass time. Palpable tension in the air, and that awkward we-just-came-out-of-a-sex-shop silence enveloped us. We've all been there-- two high school kids in the car trying to decide who the hell is going to put the included Double A duracells in the toy. It's a pretty common thing. What isn't common is, after removing the Joe Cocker from his wrapping and providing it with current, my sudden notice of how savvy she had been. "She's wearing a skirt," my mind recognized. As she started to drive, her hands found their way to my trousers. "Her nails have been Frenched up", my mind recognized. At the nearest stoplight, her mouth met mine. "She's wearing a fair amount of lip gloss and smells damn good," my mind recognized. I have since figured out that these things are buying yes's. I was naive, that's my only excuse.

"Priscilla, why don't you take your panties off?"

"Okay," her sheepish voice responded. For a girl who had gone a long way to make sure things were conducive to the act about to take place, she sure sounded tentative.

As she and I made the trip back to our meeting place, I was impressed at her ability to focus on driving. Despite the stop-and-go traffic, despite the men in utility trucks looking into the window at the girl with one foot in the seat and one hand on my hair, and despite the humming sound hokey-pokeying its way in and out, she was able to safely navigate the roads back to my car. I remember the visual of her hand on mine between her legs as she grasped my hair with extra zest. Thankfully, she waited until we came to a full and complete stop before she washed my hand with her orgasm.

After exchanging pleasantries, drying off some skin, and making jokes I got out of the car and went home. I couldn't believe I had done that, and I still have problems understanding how everything had escalated so quickly.

The extracurricular activities we shared at school? We were both in a musical.

I played her father.

Polar Decision Making

2009-03-10T10:09:00.000-07:00

I find that decisions in my life can become black and white for me. A friend of mine said boiling things down to dichotomy makes a choice simpler, cleaner. That sounds correct, since I am a master of mental gymnastics, I have been prone to rearranging my mental world in order to relieve anxiety. The difficulty lies in the outcome, the effects. If I choose A, then A's consequences will be D. If I choose B, then the consequences will be C. There is no middle ground, no DC hybrid. Not everything receives this this treatment, but many of the bigger decisions I make are part of this thought process. My latest choice comes out of sexuality. In the past I have been sexual with people, some of whom I was in a relationship with, some of whom I was not. The just-for-funs (friends in fornication, to borrow from a blogger I love) have been wild, off-the-wall, crazy stuff. Every time I see them now, I feel pretty ugly. After I did what I did with them, I felt pretty ugly. Although I leaped ahead sexually with these people, I feel like I suffered psychologically. Maybe that's what some sexual interactions do. I know that many women, most female friends I know, have suffered sexual trauma of some sort. But these sexual acts I took part in were consensual, and I was old enough (according to the state) to make the choice. The overwhelming noise in my head, trumpeting over my sexual desires for just-for-fun encounters, tells me to avoid the pain; avoid the ugly, terrible, dark feelings. As for my relationships, the encounters do not merit discussion. I know that when I see those people, my guilt and shame does not find its way into my head.

So here's the dichotomy:

If I have sex with people for fun, without the commitment and stuff, then I am going to feel the cesspool of disgusting feelings.

If I have sex with people I am committed to, then I will be at peace with my choices.

Obviously the answer is, "Just have sex with people you're involved with and shut up!"

Here's the wrench in the whole thing: I want to just-for-fun fuck. I don't want a relationship. I want to experience my youth and virility.

Thus the polar discourse within me begins. My biggest question has to do with psychosexual health:

Do all people experience the shame and ugliness, or do some people escape that?

Obviously anything I do at this point will affect me less than things I did earlier in my life, but is that because I have been desensitized to it? Or is it that I now have the emotional maturity to deal with it? Again, the thought comes out as black and white. It's most likely both.

Perhaps there are things in me that enjoy the shame and guilt. Those emotions might be comfortable for me at some level. Sex is something to be ashamed of, in my mind. Having sex in a committed relationship gives a get-out-jail card, in my mind. Maybe that's where the polar express starts. Within my most sacred emotions, I subscribe to the idea of right and wrong. I went to a Christian school and attended church, boo-hoo, woe is my psychological well-being, you've heard it before. Maybe I have to stop being the judge of my own behaviors, and just live in the way I want to live. Maybe I need to just do something and see how I feel. Maybe I should stop being an introspective vagina and start being extroverted penis I was born to be!

Inert

2009-03-05T13:45:00.000-08:00

Without all the musings into soul and mind, I don't know if my desire to blog would be as keen. Knowing that it can't be all heavy-worded explorations, today's entry is going to try to spare that. Some goings on for me:

I am wearing what could be the most awesome shirt in the world. This is the kind of shirt that doesn't belong in normal settings but is best left for the June days spent at the lake (for you coastal residents, the beach). Today has been warm, almost hot, and I just can't help but think of my fondest memories of summer.

The rain will start falling soon, an event a man of my interests looks forward to. The rains come down, and the floods go up. While that spells soggy basements for others, to me it means I get to paddle. Hopefully this season I can earn some legitimate injuries and war stories, since that's an automatic membership into the panty-dropping extreme sports club. Haha

I have been in school for the past 15 years of my life. That's a long time, and I can't believe some people actually punish themselves by remaining part of the educational system well into their late 20's. Everything I learn is just retained long enough to regurgitate onto a test, then quickly disposed of. I'm sure college meant something to someone once upon a time, but I have lost interest. If I wasn't being paid to go, I wouldn't. Ok, maybe I would. But honestly, why did I spend the first two years learning things from high school all over again? Jesus/ God/ Muhammed/ Abba, or as most of you know him, President Obama should focus on why that is.

Politically, I am unaffiliated and uninterested. It's mental masturbation, like religion. Why don't people just grow up and get the job done instead of talking about who did what, and whose earmarks add up to more pork. The founding fathers counted on our politicians to perform on behalf of their honor and integrity, read the Federalist papers if you think such things are wishful thinking. Washington was a unanimous selection for President, turned down the offer to be king, and bowed out after he did what he came to do. Nut tuggers like Harry Reid and Roy Blunt should remember what their role is, and not what they want it to be.

Tomorrow I have a question to discuss, but on a scrumtrelescent Friday such as this I had to be more light.

Like a Twitter cluster fuck

2009-03-04T14:42:00.000-08:00

I don't use twitter, and I love the term cluster fuck. It's beautiful outside, and when I say beautiful I mean sun out and painting the southern sky. I mean the breeze of an equinox blowing over remnants of snow from a week ago. I mean nature's exotic dancers at work: the plants begin to shed dead, brown, dry, crusty reminders of fall and reveal incredibly matched sets of underroos. Green grass is like, what I presume to be, an Irishman looking at his favorite bonnie lass in only the least clothing possible, on St. Patty's day. And he's drunk. And somehow potatoes and the Catholic church are involved. I went for the racist motherload there, and I am excused since my ethnic heritage is like a pound puppy's. I am not a pagan/wiccan/whatever the accepted vernacular is for it these days, but I see very easily the comparisons drawn between earth and woman. The fertility in my nostrils is driving my hypothalamus insane. I swore around mid-January that I was suffering from Seasonal Affective Disorder. While I am a psychology student, well aware of the truth in such disorders, I had always thought myself above such easily cognitively conquerable afflictions. Turns out I was wrong, and it's not just easy to step out of. I lost all kinds of pleasurable drives: food, sex, laughs. But right now, I am about to go gorge myself on clamburgers (that's my new favorite vaginal euphemism) and fried food. Gawd almighty the spring serves an incredible purpose. Maybe I should sacrifice a goat and dance around naked in the back yard like our Druid friends. On the twitter cluster side of things, some thoughts: When there are double doors, and you walk squarely out of the locked one, do you also feel like a horse's ass? Sometimes when I am extremely riled up, mad or horny or excited, it helps me to put the biggest knuckle of my index finger in between my teeth and bend it as I bite down. Maybe it's like a pussy version of cutting, the pain a way to control and express inner conflict, or maybe I'm a freak. Lastly, when you meet someone for the first time, do you feel like you're in a job interview? I always get the following questions, usually in this order: Where are you from, What's your major, What do you plan to do with that degree, Are you in a frat (sorority girls love that one). I don't get why those questions are accepted as the most pressing issues worthy of being noted by a stranger. If I were a girl, meeting potential mates, I would think better questions would be things like Ever been arrested for a sexually violent crime? Do you drink to the point of belligerence? Is your car reliable? Do you want to just have sex and skip the bull shit and hurt feelings?

Is that just too simple, or am I missing something

A lot

2009-03-03T10:33:00.001-08:00

I never realized how much I had to say to people who won't judge me until I started talking. I know people aren't reading this blog as much as Ms. I or others, but the thought that someone might is enough to keep me interested. So much I want to say consists of things that happened in the past, things that never passed my lips to anyone I know. I am trying to stay current, trying to talk about my life as it happens, so I will save those stories for a day of bore. My online perusing of ways to take part in intimate encounters seems to take me to a new place every day. Craigslist is supposed to work for people, but I don't think my city is large enough for there to be any quality/real ads on there. I have tried long and hard to find one, and last night, for the first time I found a real person. Unfortunately, she does not look to be up to my standards. Beggars can't be choosers, I know, but I am not necessarily a beggar. Moreover, I am always going to be a chooser. The fact that a real person responded to me was astounding-- I never post my own, and have mailed my fair share over the past months. Ashley Madison also earned my interest (and my credit card number), but I think my location has hindered me. Not only do I live in the Bible belt, where dreams are made of fairy tale shame spirals and guilt showers, but the city just doesn't have a population necessary to support a wide selection of people. I am in my early 20's and single, so I understand that many women on AM would be hesitant to consider me an option. If I could put aside the heuristic most women hold of a male my age regarding our emotional, intellectual, and sexual maturity (which is pretty accurate, but not for me); I would still have to battle the stigma of being single and young. Both of these factors appear to increase the risk in women's minds: I have less to lose by not staying discreet, I may become attached, I may do something stupid and expose them, etc. I do not know whether these fears are founded, since I have never been a boytoy for some married woman. I do know that I am exceptional. The belief that men, especially young ones, are concerned solely with their own pleasure does not hold true for me. It has been my experience that I enjoy going downtown Georgia brown on a girl more than I enjoy having sex with her. This may speak to the quality of my sex (that's a different story), or it may be a reflection of my deep-seeded need to earn a woman's affection. Does the motivation matter to the female with her hands in my hair and legs warming my ears? I would say no. The belief that men, especially young ones, can not hold an intelligent conversation does not hold true for me. I am a smart, charming, witty fellow. Chalk it up to a career in bs-ing, a pretty high IQ, an overwhelming need to please women, or just that I am literate. The belief that men, especially young ones, are sexually retarded (in the clinical sense, not the "that's so retarded" way) does not..... well maybe it does. I am not experienced, am not sure of my ability, and would rather not be shown to be inadequate. I have the book knowledge, I have the smarts, but does that translate to practice? That was an incredibly lengthy (that's what she said, Michael Scott says hi) tangent. Fact is that I want to find the correct venue to express myself sexually.

Poll

2009-03-01T17:58:00.000-08:00

If you are a woman older than me, looking for a man to make you feel great (in whatever way that means) where do you spend time? This is my poll question. Answer if you would, please

Tick Tock Tick Tock

2009-03-01T17:30:00.000-08:00

Seconds dripping. Minutes crawling. The wait has been long. I have tried different things, taken steps, whatever means I could find. I just recently became old enough to give my patronage to bars and clubs (thanks to my Puritan city's decision to outlaw all of those under 21 from entering such an establishment. Quick two questions: House Parties aren't dangerous? and I can go to Iraq and be shot at, but I am not old enough to decide whether I can handle some liquid?), so that is now an option I can explore. What am I looking for? Any woman capable of challenging me mentally, emotionally, and physically. Keep in mind that I, despite my shortcomings in the area of confidence with women, am still an incredibly strong young man. Females often lose my interest merely on the basis of being boring to me. My self-inflicted celibacy is the result of this. My brother's on and off girlfriend threw herself at me a few times over the past year, and I let it go a little while before I quashed the notion. Other girls who are just far too predictable fell short of holding my interest. Would I go home and make good on all my poetic musings with a girl who is incredibly hot? Hell yes, I would. That's a challenge, physically, and who said we were getting married. Would I spend some time getting to know a female able to bust my balls, rival my wit, and keep me on my toes? Most likely. The combination of the two might just dirty up my knee with a marriage proposal. Not really, since that woman only exists in the space between my temples. I'm rambling now. Here is a list of things that enter my mind when I am desiring amorous companionship:

1. An older (late 20's all the way to 40's) woman with an above average body. Someone looking for a young, good-looking guy like myself to make her feel great again. This woman would expect nothing of me beyond the things she wanted most. Perhaps she is with a partner, perhaps I can fulfill a need others can not, perhaps she just wants to escape and feel free of temporal reminders. I am not to decide, but this is my number 1 fantasy.

2. A female (I use this term in regards to those members of the fairer sex not yet women who have matured past being a girl) worth my time. Someone I can invest more than intimacy in. Emotion, feeling, love, lust, all of it. Not a girlfriend, since I don't really believe in those. (Sarah, you understand).

3. A girl (in mind, not age) that is physically incredible. For one reason or another, this trades positions with number 1 depending on my mindset at the time. This has been a girl I have feared most of my sexually-mature-enough-to-care-about-females-in-that-way life. My self image has always been that of an ugly exterior with a sparkling personality, and I always feel inadequate to hook this type of person. Lately, I have been wanting to find this girl and to crush her. To snare her with emotion, to have her thirst for my every drop of attention, to deceive her enough to find vulnerability, and then to tell her how shallow and weak and meaningless it all was. Vengeance for all the girls that did similar things to me in reverse fashion, perhaps. Perhaps it's just my way to feel powerful over them. I doubt I could ever have the psychopathic ability to do such thing, but the thought has not been anomalous.

And thus, I feel my young life ticking away. My desire, ability, and want to find these different types of partners dwindling. I know I am still very young, but for a person who has waited quite a long time, relatively, this seems inconsequential.

On a side note, if you know of someone that fits this bill, and is looking for a person like me, my email can be accessed by speaking to my secretary.

Dateline Special

2009-02-28T13:35:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I walk into a room, an establishment, a party, or the like and I think, "This looks like the opening segment for a news magazine on TV." More often than not, it's the sparsely populated dance floor that sparks it. Combine that with guys wearing too much hair product, too much cologne, white adidas below stonewashed jeans; in addition to girls who've spent too long trying to change the color of their skin through UV bulbs and "natural" foundation sporting their crispy hair cigarette stained fingernails; all topped off with the incredible lights and sounds of overplayed ass-shaking hits. Last night I was honored enough to babysit a friend as he got his drunk on, so we went to the only club in this entire city. I was not disappointed to see exactly what I expected. Some things I find socially intriguing: what are men supposed to do if they aren't dancing with a girl? Do we dance (which, if you weren't a member of Step Up 2, you probably shouldn't be doing all alone) and wait for a girl to come around? And when they do happen upon us, we can't really ask to dance, but I perceive it as rude to just begin grinding up on some girl. And when girls are dancing in groups with their cells in one hand and drinks in the other, it's impressive how well they can protect one of the members from an intruding penis. The seamless choreography keeping the female covey free from intrusion was just astounding. Even more impressive is how quickly people want to put their mouth on a stranger. The end of the night approaches, leveraging people out of their shells. Napkins and cell phones come out, grabbing numbers of people you'll never call. It's incredibly predictable, and a little gross. Maybe gross because it seems so seedy to me.

Those little red panties they passed the test...

2009-02-26T14:31:00.000-08:00

The Winner and I talk often. She lives in Chicago, and is a few years younger than me. Of all the people I've had phone sex with, she has the sexiest voice. It's feminine and soft and petite, almost squeaky. She also can be quite insatiable. Last night I set out to fulfill her, to coax all the orgasms she wanted from her. For most females I make sure they peak before me, hopefully more than once. Last night was no exception. She and I talk a lot about a possible visit to Chicago, and oh the places we would see. Last night it was about a hotel room. While most people associate it with the trysts and interactions mostly forbidden, I tend to think about it as an arena for crazier activity. Call me lame, call me whatever, but I live at home with my parents. I am still in college, I go to school 15 minutes from home, and it saves a HUUUUGE amount of money. Why would I pay when I can get it for free? Plus, my parents are pretty cool, and I am close with them. So there.

I guess I'm saying the same thing, maybe crazy activities are forbidden since I live at home. Whatever, back to the story.

She arrives at the room and knocks on the door. Since I can usually be found relaxing in a pair of basketball shorts without a shirt on, that's how I answer her call. The door opens and she is happy to see my attire, quick to make herself comfortable against my chest. Females are nice in their ability to be so damn soft: the smell, the hair, the clothes. Even their bodies are designed with an uncanny softness. I hug her back, wrapping my larger body around her frame. The anticipation of waiting for her, and finally seeing those mile-long legs climb up to her cute ass, and the feeling of her statuesque stomach and breasts pressed against me have pulled a rapt attention from me. My shorts do a poor job hiding it as she makes her way into the room, as I shut the door behind me. She wore the little jean shorts she brags about owning. She was right, and I am hooked. I don't allow her to sit down before I approach her from behind and begin kissing her neck, in all the intersections and creases. Below her hairline, behind her jaw, down the side of her neck to her collarbone I proceed with lips and teeth. The biting gives the chance for her to feel a small pain in contrast to the tender warmth of my affection. My hands on her sides lift her soft little t-shirt and cami (she is adamant that I use the right word) off her warm skin. They follow the natural lines of her muscle to the front of her body, rolling back and forth between the inside and outside. My mouth reaches her cheekbones as her hand pulls my head down towards her mouth. My soft voice rumbles in her ear about how I want to see her panties. The Winner tells me to take off her shorts so she can show me. My fingers make their way inside the waist, and trace the circumference of her hips. I release the first button and unzip (why girls even have those inch and a half zippers on their pants is beyond me). I instruct her to pull them off without turning around. The feeling of her barely-covered rear inside her little red boyshorts makes my flesh sing. My hands reach to the front of her and pull her as close as possible. Standing with her body against mine, my hands on the meeting of her panties and skin, I want to make her cum. My deep voice resonates in both our chests as I question when the last time she was fingered without having her panties removed. The Winner says it was junior high. "Exactly," I thought. My deliberate movements bring my three greatest fingers to light on the wet spot developing on her boyshorts. The first two joints used as one consolidated unit are quite effective at applying firm and constant pressure where needed. The right hand may be busy on the fabric, but the left wastes no time in pulling her leg open. My touch seems to facilitate a clenching of the thighs that makes access a difficult issue. I continue undulation, allowing my hard excitement to rub against her little red boy shorts. As her breath is drawn faster and faster, my stimulation moves in turn. More and more pressure, accelerating pace, pushing myself into her more and more. Her voice begins reaching out. She's getting close and I push through the pain in my wrists so that the ultimate pleasure will be hers to express to me. She approaches. I wait in selfish anticipation. For the second her breath comes in without going out and her neck stiffens, I see complete exposure. Beautiful. Then she releases. And I am so happy.

On education

2009-02-25T13:39:00.000-08:00

I am a student professionally. The value of texts, lectures, discussions is not lost on me. Entering into any kind of performance evaluation, be it simulated or real, without preparing to the best of one's ability reflects a lack of resources (time, materials, etc.) or, more often, concern. Up to this point, the best schooling I have had in regards to romantic encounters has been my own experience. So, as a studious seeker of the best possible information, I have decided to educate myself on such things. I began by reading some blogs on casual sex encounters--maybe my first interest wasn't education, but come on, can you blame me. My schema of sex up to this point has been very dichotomous, blame my religious schooling, my hot and cold maternal relationships, my inexperience, a combination of all three or just the Freudian theory you are most comfortable with: Women are not sexual beings, men are the aggressors, the great desirers of sex. Men show their terribly uncontrolled souls at every opportunity possible, always being the perverts and uncontrolled hedonists every one knows them to be. As a male of morals, integrity, and honor it would be out of line and disgusting for me to use women, to enjoy women, to enter into a sexual adventure with a woman for pleasure's sake alone.

I am escaping this. The blogs I have read, and people I have spoken to have turned my beliefs upside down. Much like a class can change everything you once held true about a subject, I am finding more and more that women and men are similar. There are hots and colds and pinks and blues among both genders. If anything, it appears women can experience better sexual pleasure, in more ways, and with more frequency than men. So logically, who would be more likely to go to a restaurant? The patron who could choose from a large variety of the best meals, eating and never tiring? Or the diner who can choose only from a limited number of dishes that all taste about the same, but only able to enjoy for a finite time? Maybe too simple, maybe too metaphorical, maybe too unfair. Makes sense to me, though.

Now I have gone a step further in my education efforts. I bought a book on how to increase my romantic ability. Not intimate ability! Romantic ability. My pride is far too important to cliff notes my ability to enjoy the most satisfying part of sex for me-- pleasing a woman. This book, I hope, will bolster and sharpen the skills already in place. I know I have game, I know I have skillllz, but often it's a confidence issue. I think this book will reassure me, will help me avoid some of my handicaps, and will be something to boost my confidence. I was afraid to buy it. My pride is something that drives me to succeed and causes nausea each time rejection is around. It's also the thing that has kept me sex free for months now. So I bought a book on how to help me attract females. I want to meet women and have sex....ual interaction with them. And I eventually realized I wouldn't try to do a job without reading the training manual, or take a test without listening to the professor, so why would I be stubborn and not increase my knowledge before I went trolling for cooch?

PS If you think I really refer to women as cooch, you are right.

Some of the time.

Some history, maybe some mystery

2009-02-24T18:31:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of beginning, it's only fitting I open with some events that led me to where I am now. I grew up in a semi-small town in the Midwest. I can hardly go anywhere without knowing someone, and I graduated from high school in a town not too far from my college. My freshman year of university was spent wrapped up, nose to toes, in a girlfriend. I did not live on campus, I did not join a frat, I did not do anything but devote. It took a few months of my sophomore year for her and I to break up. She cheated, I forgave, she cheated again, I forgave.... you understand the picture. In defense of my dignity (which I suppose is like defending Sadaam Hussein: no hope), she was my FIRST girlfriend, we had met during high school, and all the typical crap. She eventually crawled back, but thats a different story, maybe for another time.

How does this lead to where I now reside?

As already evidenced, I have not chosen to partake in many of the activities of my peers. Do not mistake me, this is not some judgmental soapbox I use to crash on others. As you will see, my vices are not underrepresented, just directed differently. Since I am reasonably inexperienced in romantic matters ( again, my choice, the opportunities have been there, I just find myself not interested), and without a great deal of social network, I come to the place I am now.

And for the first time I have to examine, as objectively as possible, that place.

My vices are sexual. I do not drink, I do not do drugs (see above if you think I'm judgmental or pretentious, because I think it's all the same). I have desires that equal most people my age, but I do not have physical avenues to take to express them. Again, the chances have been presented, but I have not done anything for one reason or another. More often than not, I am just not that interested. In short, it has been a while since I have touched anyone. I blame myself, and no one else.

Still having desires, and not wanting to play tennis with a brick wall all the time (if you don't get that reference, watch American Pie. Jim's dad is a cool guy, and the scene with Nadia is still quite exciting all these years later), I wanted to find ways to interact with others sexually. I got on the internet, and I found the answer. Different sites offering different things, and all the stuff that goes with that. At first, it was going to be something to boost my ego, to get me going after the break-up. But it's become a safe thing, a risk-free thing, and was a pretty satisfying thing for a long time. I have met a lot of people, and learned a lot. This blog will explore some of those interactions, some of those people, some of my feelings about it, some of the dangers of it, and my life as I see fit to discuss here.

Beginning

2009-02-24T17:23:00.000-08:00

I don't know exactly how to say this but......

I have been reading other people's blogs: reading about the adventures, the whims, the rants, the politics, the harmonics, the sodomists, the hedonists, the follies, the dripping lips of QWERTY. The purpose of this blog is to tell someone about my life, the Jekyll and Hyde (and another side I can't find a clever name for) that exists. I want to just let it happen in a natural way, and to be honest with it. Perhaps the first step towards finding reality is acknowledging its presence after the fact; seeking it out in a way impossible at the time and reconciling it with what you perceived. The marriage of the two may be growth, may be truth, or just may be inane existential ramblings of a college-aged, over-thinking, male. Does it really matter enough for me to question?

Obviously, or else I wouldn't be writing this.

The name comes from something I read on a door. Something that, at the time was incredibly perfect. When I least expected it and when I most needed to hear it, these words scrolled across my perspective:

Everyone is Waiting

For you to be as Great As they always knew you were

Be unafraid