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2009/03/30

10 Pet Peeves about Gay Men on the Internet

Note: I don’t feel like revealing too much of myself this week. I’m kind of sitting on the fence with my nose wrinkled up (like I’m smelling something stinky). I’m sure it will pass. As I sit here looking at the sky, I notice that it is indeed blue and the clouds present seem fairly distant, white and fluffy. So, I’m not depressed. Just pensive. Or in between phases (or personalities).

In light of my mood – here is a list of pet peeves about gay men on the internet. I think I will title it:

Pet Peeves about Gay Men on the Internet

1/ Referring to oneself as VGL

What the hell does that mean? VGL? By what standard is this measured? Have people been telling you that your whole life and therefore you assume it is a given? Who the hell are you to decide that for yourself? If beauty is in the eye of the beholder then you must be a major narcissist or one big deluded ball of self deception. Granted, all gay men have a shallow, self-involved side (as well as that part of them that is totally deluded) – why else are we sexually attracted to a body that is physically equipped like our own? But advertising yourself as VGL– well, that just makes you an asshole.

My favorite is when the extremely shallow try to justify themselves. I have a saying for them:

“When a shallow person attempts to be deep, they just wind up digging themselves a deeper hole.”

2/ Being over the age of 25 and referring to one’s self as: boy or boi.

If you are over the age of 25, you are not a boy. Yes, you can dress like one, act like one and enjoy thinking of yourself in terms of your boyhood – but it is unseemly for you to include boy or boi in your on-line handle. Role play is one thing. I have played the boy (yes, even now – with people much younger than myself). I have played Daddy. But I do not go around advertising myself as either. Sex should be sexy, not ridiculous. When you hang on to the title of boi for too long you run the risk of self-parody (think: Robin Williams) – or grotesqueness (think: Jane Hudson as played by Robin Williams). Twinks, generally do very little for me. Twinks with a 3’oclock shadow, fleshy man boobs, crows feet and bags under their eyes are… well, ridiculous - no matter how much time the spend at the gym, roller blading, biking and/or at the tanning booth - and hence, will be doing nothing with me.


3/ People who PNP and don’t disclose until you are in the act or after the act.

Okay, so people who PNP are not welcome in my world. I just hate that stuff. I’m not talking 420. I’m talking everything else. I’ve lost friends to that bitch, Tina. I’ve seen her destroy lives, loves and careers. She also makes for bad, bad sex; the worst, actually. If you are playing with Tina, please do the world a favor and announce that fact. Don’t entice me, set-me-up, have me travel all the way to your place, have your way with me and then tell me ‘oh, wow – I hope you don’t mind but….’ My response to that is always the same: Fuck You!

First of all – it explains why you can’t cum and/or keep it up. (So it’s not me.) Secondly – you crappy tweakers are the number one reason for the rise of syphilis in our gay community. (So fuck you.) And thirdly – now that you mention it, it explains so much: like why your apartment looks like crap, why you no longer resemble your on-line pictures, and why the sex we just had was so mind-boggingly awful. (Yes, it’s not me – it is, in fact, you, asshole.).

Party and play? Knock yourself out. No, really… just knock yourself out and leave the rest of us alone. We don’t want to be on that invite list. That way we don’t waste our time and energy on the likes of you.

4/ People who need to hook up RIGHT NOW. NOW!

What is it with these people? Are they friends of Tina? Do they think that you are Fed(s)Ex? Do you think you’re a pizza that gets delivered in 20 minutes or less or they get their money back? Hooking up on line takes time. So does preparing one’s body for sex. So does traveling a distance of more than five feet. Either you have time to hook-up or… you don’t. Don’t expect me to teleport myself to your location simply because your roommate is going to be home in 15 minutes.

Also… when answering my Craigslist ad – you may want to look at the time the ad was posted and then check the right hand corner of your computer monitor for the current time. Logistics… they take time and consideration. Nothing is going to happen of any quality unless you plan carefully and allow enough time. Same goes for prep time. You really do not want your bottom to rush the whole douching thing. Unless you like that sort of thing. In which case, that is something you need to negotiate up front. This brings me to my next pet peeve:

5/ People who lack reasonable hygiene.

I don’t mind a little fresh body odor. In the woods it’s like an aphrodisiac. I’ve had people tell me a fresh pit (mine) is better than poppers. I can even forgive a little poop sauce sloshing out of your recently douched hole provided that the emphasis is on ‘little’. Chocolate fountains belong in a different chat room entirely. But don’t expect me to be thrilled if you haven’t bothered to at least run a wash cloth over your stinky hole. If I’m blowing you, I am going to want to touch your hole (sometimes it helps put them over the edge), so it better not have any funky leftover residue. Uncut? Not a problem. Fromunda Cheese? Big problem.

You see… stinky and icky tasting does not sexy make. Granted there are lots of people who enjoy these things, but unless you disclose ahead of time and are in agreement, these kind of issues can be real deal breakers. People who are hooking up for run-of-the-mill vanilla sex do not like these kind of surprises.

What to do when faced with such a situation? I have in the past suggested that we start with a shower or that the person needed to go clean themselves up a bit before play can begin. But I shouldn’t have to. You should know well enough whether you’re diet consists primarily of garlic paste and whether a little Listerine would be a good idea before coming on over to my place for a little something-something. Want me to come over to your house? Wanna play house? Then take a shower, give yourself a whore’s bath, shave if needed, douche appropriately, and brush your damn teeth.

6/ Bottoms who don’t douche.

This goes with ‘Bottoms who want to be fucked outdoors, in the woods, but gee… they don’t bother to mention that they didn’t bother to douche beforehand and are in fact – ‘full of shit.’

Enough said. Don’t offer up your backside without a warning. A meek, “I may not be that clean down there’, will suffice. And NEVER grab my dick and shove it up there unless there is an agreement (and a condom) in place. Anal sex is never a given. It is like kissing - it is something negotiated and understood beforehand. Fucking is either on or off the table. (I like it any place. As long as there is running water nearby or wet wipes.) That way all parties involved can prepare (douch, bring condoms, inform CNN, etc.).

There is nothing worse than being on a hike, in the middle of the woods, with your jeans around your ankles and a coating of shit on your dick with NOTHING to wipe it off with. Offer me a leaf? Fuck you. Oh, yeah, that’s right – I just did and now I have poop all over my privates. Now… if you are smart (and I must confess – I have not always been so), you were wearing a condom and that helped make clean up a lot easier. And if you weren’t wearing a condom then… you kind of got what you deserved. Yes… another reason to convince your top to wear a condom… easy clean-up.

7/ People don’t confirm meetings, respond to emails or follow through with the pics they promised once you sent yours.

Okay… if we’re trading pics? Then you need to keep up your end of the bargain whether or not you’re interested. A promise is a promise. So follow through asshole.

Yeah, I know, I know. There are people out there who just want to jerk you around. They have no intention of hooking up. They collect pictures and get your hopes up. They crush your spirit.

But then there are those that can’t bring themselves to do the decent thing and simply type: Thanks, but not interested.

Once you let the other person know you aren’t interested, you are relieved of all further responsibility. They won’t bug you with further emails or IM’s. And they won’t worry about whether or not their email ended up in your junk mail. It pretty much takes care of it: Thanks, but not interested. Try it some time. It really works.

Of course it can also boomerang into another pet peeve of mine…

8/ People who take offense when you turn them down.

This is perhaps part of the reason that people don’t write back once they have decided that you aren’t the one. And yes, I was guilty of this…once. Just once. I wrote something awful to the shallow son-of-a-bitch who failed to send the pictures he promised me. Instead he just told me I was not his type. Which… sorry, guys… we really need to accept as enough of a response. They are there to hook up with the hottest person they can possibly snare. If you’re not on their level, not their type, or they can do better… let it go; especially if they have been honest enough to say so.

Look - I am not Zach Efron or Zach Braff. I am not Seth Meyers, Seth MacFarlane, Seth Green or Seth Rogen. I am just what I am… which is an average schmo who did not luck out in the cute department. So, don’t take it out on them… they are being honest with you.

Of course, they should send their pics as promised, just so you know what it is you’re missing out on.

9/ People with really, really old pictures of themselves which they pass off as current.

I’ve been on the net for years now. I visit the same sites that all horny fags visit. If you have the same picture you had on your profile three years ago… there is a problem. If you have the same picture on your profile that you did eight years ago, then who is impersonating you?

We all change. We get better, we get bigger, we get more muscular, we get older, we get worse, we get…. something. The fact of the matter is... shit does happen to us. Our personal photos need to reflect that. This is marketing people. You don’t show me a picture of a Mercedes Benz Sedan and then show up with a KIA Sportage.

Digital pictures are so… inexpensive. If you have the equipment to take one… you have what it takes to keep your profile photo current. Current – as in: a reflection of your true self. Yeah, I know, the odds of actually taking a decent digital photo of yourself is slim. My body is okay. My face, not-so-much. I have yet to take a decent face shot. But hey… let the buyer beware. False advertising? Never a good idea. Leads to disappointment and you run the risk of having doors slammed in your face.

And speaking of false advertising: HEY! Be honest and complete with those stats. Shaving a few years off your age? Not a bad thing. Shaving off a century? Not cool. Shaving off ten pounds on your weight? Forgivable. Telling me you have a football player’s build when, in fact, you are seriously obese? Not cool. Adding a half inch to your dick size? Understandable. Not mentioning the fact that you’re hung like a four-year-old. Not cool. Also… 5’ 10” is never going to be 6’ 3”, even if we spend most of our time horizontally.

For the record: If someone asks for your stats be sure to include (at a minimum): age, height, weight, waist size, dick size, cut/uncut and a general, accurate description of your body.

If they want more information than that, they will ask for it. Yes! If they want to know ANYTHING else it is THEIR responsibility to ask (and your prerogative to share).

And, for now, finally:

10/ People who have no sense of humor.

A sense of humor can help take the edge off of on-line hooking up. As in: don’t take any of this shit personally. It’s a crap shoot. It’s cyberspace. It’s bullshit. You never know who you are dealing with on the other side of that IM… so man-up and keep your sense of humor. Don’t let them get to you. Remain bigger than the net. Remain human. Laugh at them. Laugh at yourself.

Always keep this in mind: People who go ape shit over nothing on the internet do not get laid. EVER. So don't go ape shit. EVER.

Well… that’s all I have for now. We’ll probably revisit this. But ten is all I have in me today.

Besides, I need to check my email. This guy promised to send me pics of himself if I sent my pics to him first...

2009/03/19

The Ghosts that Hover in my Haunted Head

I’ve been hitting the gym five days a week since late November of 2008. In that time I have seen a vast improvement in my body’s physical appearance.

I begin each session with a warm-up that includes: stretching, 2 sets of 40 standard push-ups, 100 standard crunches on a half ball, 100 twisted crunches on a half ball and 30 V-ups.

Each day I concentrate on a specific area of my body: Lats/Delts/Back, Legs/Glutes, Shoulders, Arms, and Chest. I do 3 sets of 8-10 reps of 8-10 exercises using dumbbells, barbells, and various exercise machines. I concentrate on using good form, while pushing myself weight-wise.

I also mix in Chin-ups (narrow grip), Assisted Chin-ups (wide and narrow grip) and Dips, and Vertical Leg Hip Raisers.

On occasion I will spend time on an elliptical machine or treadmill.

I listen to my I-Pod, wear long-legged warm-up pants, a cotton T, and a cap, and always shower afterwards.

My pet peeves:

People who do not wipe down the equipment after use (for this reason I wipe down the equipment before and after use)



People who bring CDs in and loudly play them on the common sound system (Want to listen to bullshit rap metal? Get an I-Pod.) (I listen to bullshit dance/club music on mine.)


People who never smile at the gym


People who consistently use really, really painfully bad form while exercising


People who don’t return equipment (dumbbells, barbells, benches, etc.) to where they got them from


People who don’t shower after strenuous exercise (seriously – this one guy puts on a three piece suit after working out without benefit of a shower – he also never smiles)

For these reasons, I always go during off-peak hours. I avoid people. If someone else is there, I am friendly. I smile and am courteous.

That all said, I’m at that point where I’m getting a little bored. The gym I go to has no pool. So swimming is out of the question. I don’t find the elliptical machines or the treadmill very interesting. I could go run outside, but that brings up all sorts of fear/safety issues due to past instances where I was mugged and beaten.

So I try to concentrate on the long run goal of being able to feel really confident this summer if I should choose to go hiking without a shirt on. I love the outdoors, and would like to hike with as little on as possible. I hate my legs, so I will probably always wear a pair of long-legged jeans, but getting by in a tank top or no shirt would be hot.

During the first few weeks of working out I felt sexy. Now, not so much. I continue to see improvements. I have the beginnings of a set of six-pack abs, I can actually see my lats coming up and my triceps are popping.

I have something wrong with my right arm. It’s troubling. I think it may be arthritis - I have a searing pain that on the top inside of my arm. It is very sore on the inside of my elbow and radiates all the way down my forearm. I seem to trigger it when reaching and using the mouse on the computer or when picking up dumbbells or barbells. My pinky finger frequently locks when flexed to grip something and recently I have dropped several items. On occasion I also have no sensation, little sensation or a distinct lack of power when gripping a barbell while doing hammer curls or curls. Any type of twisting motion with the weights will set this pain off. I just work through it. It’s not due to bad form – I’m really careful to use good form and will reduce weight if I find that my form is suffering due to my having a less then enthusiastic day at the gym

I work hard. I concentrate on my breathing while exercise, but work out to a degree that I become winded. It’s a great feeling and I love finishing, hitting the locker room, stripping off my work out clothes just to catch a few moments of myself in the wall-to-wall mirrors. I do this discretely and only when no one else is in the locker room.

But I’m getting bored. I can tell.

I was thinking of going when there are more people about. I often pick-up new exercise ideas to enhance my program by discretely observing others in action and then validating what I’ve observed on the internet. I also appreciate eye-candy. It can be inspiring. But I doubt I will go when there are more people there. I am such a lone wolf.

Well, I will keep you informed of my progress. Being disciplined is hard in the face of a lack of enthusiasm. I will just plow forward and hope inspiration and exhilaration return.

I was going to end this post right here. But there is more to this.

The reason I work out and am trying to be so disciplined about it is because it is one of the things I can do to improve the way I look. I keep my body fit in order to make up for my face. I’m not a good looking man. I have come to this conclusion based on a number of observations. People who have seen my pictures get all excited when they see my body or dick pics on the net. But the moment I send them a face shot, it’s frequently over. I become ‘not their type’ or they just stop talking to me. Yes, I frequently find myself upset by this. Yes, I want to strike back – but why bother? What’s to strike back about? It’s not like I’m going to change their mind. And yes, I will tell myself that I have no idea why they stopped talking or lost interest or didn’t reply – maybe they had to rush their dog to the vet. Maybe they’re just fishing for pics. Maybe they’re total jerks. Maybe… they’re just not that into me.

Yes, I’m horribly insecure.

It could be that I am not photogenic or haven’t found the means to take a good face shot. I mean, I have had people tell me I am cute, or that I have beautiful eyes, or something along those lines. But I know that I’m not handsome, good looking or even average looking.

I look like an egg head. I look like an alien being with large ears. I look like a void.

I am bald. I compensate for this by keeping my hair buzzed to an eighth of an inch in order to not draw attention to it.

I moisturize my face twice a day. I buzz my eyebrows and trim the hair in my ears and nose. I have started to buzz my body hair and shave my ass. I use mouthwash (Listerine) 3-5 times a day.

I dress nicely. My clothes are non-descript, with classic lines, color coordinated and either solid colors or featuring discrete patterns. I like to wear a dress shirt, tie, slacks and dress shoes for work. I wear blue jeans, t-shirts or sweaters for day wear. For the most part I avoid advertising logos or brands – with the exception of a well-worn Chicago Bulls T. I like my jeans to be well-fitting – but not tight and avoid those baggy hip-hop jeans. I avoid trendy jeans. I want something that looks good with hiking boots.

I think about going into therapy for this. Maybe this is why I am a sexual compulsive. Maybe this is why I can’t return to the stage or have issues singing/performing in public. Maybe this is why my life has become stilted and stunted and lacks momentum.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

No answers… just maybes.

Keep in mind that I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about this. But it is probably one of the themes underlying my choices and reactions on a daily basis.

I don’t know how one overcomes insecurity. I don’t know how one overcomes self-doubt. I don’t know how one gains confidence.

I’ve overcome fears. I’ve overcome adversity. I have bounced back after some really harrowing experiences. I bounce back. I just refuse to entertain the alternative.

But these insecurities: the ones about my looks, the ones about my worth, the ones about my talents – they haunt my world.

I fear that they are at the heart of why I make such bad decisions and am unable to perform or utilize my talents. I can’t escape it. Around ever corner they lurk.

They hover like ghosts in my haunted head.

Boo!



Now what?

2009/03/13

It’s In His Kiss – Curse of the 20 Minute Fuck

Romance has definitely suffered in the age of the internet hook-up. There’s something very mercenary and mechanical about the whole process that renders real intimacy highly unlikely. Perhaps it’s the fact that electrically charged computer chips are arranging what chance encounters, fate and physical electricity used to create. Or is it akin to that instant gratification we receive from consuming fast food; a choice that seems like a good idea pre-consumption, but an act we almost always regret post-consummation?

One thing is true: something magical is missing. I think it’s in his kiss (or lack thereof).

You can argue that people who hook-up on the internet are actually seeking the polar opposite of intimacy, and I would agree. Intimacy with a total stranger, no matter how long you have teased each other with witty, clever double entendres and emoticons on-line, is not likely to happen. It does on occasion, but you have to be hooking up an awful lot for the odds to be in your favor.

Most internet hook-ups – and when I refer to hook-ups I am addressing the type where you go to someone’s home for the sole purpose of having sex and not those that begin with a relatively chaste meeting at the local coffee shop in the hopes of a long term relationship – resemble the machinations of romance, but lack its emotional substance. This is part of the appeal of such hook-ups for some and for others, the reason they remain unsatisfying. In a way, they are the physical/social manifestation of porn – we go through the motions without involving emotions. And like the situations found in most porn – people just show up on your door step, shed their clothes and have sex with you. What’s not to like about that?

I rarely regret a hook-up while the ball (or balls) is (are) in play, but once touch-down is achieved, the after burn can reverberate with more of a sting than a warm glow. What makes the difference? Great after care on the parts of both parties – this after care requires a little time, consideration and the participation of both parties. We’re talking about lingering looks, bodies touching; the kind of cuddling where breath and kisses are exchanged. Nothing says the party is over like one partner immediately springing up from the bed (or the garage floor, or the sofa, or …) and immediately heading for the bathroom and/or retrieving his clothing – all the while making horribly stilted small talk and avoiding eye contact. Hey – don’t get me wrong – I am just as guilty as anyone and have committed this post-coital faux pas numerous times. But in my defense - it is rare (and usually only after an episode of really bad sex or pity sex).

Overall, I think 50% of all hook-ups end awkwardly due to buyers remorse on the part of one partner or both, 10% due to catholic-jewish-religious guilt/shame and 40% due to either I-just-don’t-give-a-fuck or lack of a fucking clue. In any case – proper closure is not brought to the event and this leads to a general feeling of dissatisfaction. After such encounters I frequently ask myself – I douched and cleaned out my ass for this?

Then there is the timing factor. I must confess – I’m a clock watcher. Not during the actual act, but by the very constraints of a hook-up where punctuality is frequently an issue I am always patently aware of when the actual hook-up begins. I also take note of the time as I am leaving, usually due to a quick glance at the digital display in my car as I’m pulling away from the curb. I have discovered that the average sex act takes about twenty minutes from start to (hopefully, big) finish. This is true for any hook-up where there is no pretense of social interaction planned or implied. This is also true for any hook-up that does not involve 420 or (god forbid – and I do have a loudly broadcast moratorium on her presence during my lifetime) Miss Tina. This is also true of any hook-up that does not involve mind-blowing, breath-robbing, lip-throbbing kissing.

The twenty minute sex act (The 20 Minute Fuck) can include any and all of the following activities and/or kinks: kissing, oral, anal, rimming, armpits/feet worship, and role play. Any of these activities alone or in combination can easily take up the allotted time and result in both parties achieving orgasm (or as I like to think of it – everyone getting their cookies.) Twenty minutes is usually only enough time for two individuals. Menage a trois, group activities and gang bangs generally take a lot more time (keep in mind that in these cases there are incrementally more cookies to bake and that frequently requires more prep time).

Unfortunately, what the 20 Minute Fuck (sounds like a cookbook written by Rachel Ray, doesn’t it?) offers in the way of efficiency, it sadly lacks in intimacy. Yes, it is indeed in his kiss. Good kissing takes time. And quite frankly, I’d forgo the arrival of my cookies for really great, lingering, succulent kisses. (No, I wouldn’t. I’m such a liar.)

But kissing is the best. And it is romantic. And I wish everyone was good at it, offered them freely and frequently, felt the same as I do about them and was not stingy with them in the slightest or resented those that request them. That said – hypocrite that I am (aren’t we all?) there are people I don’t WANT to kiss (see: pity sex). But they are rare. I’ll mack with just about anybody. Provided they’re good at it. Oh, how I wish everyone was good at it.

But they’re not. Which is why the average hook-up only lasts 20 minutes.

But they’re not. Which is why the getting of the cookies trumps all.

But they’re not. And – in the course of your average internet hook-up - you only discover this once the ball(s) is(are) in motion. Which is too late to make a big deal out of it or do anything about it. (Not true. You could leave. But what about the cookies??? For god’s sake, won’t somebody think about the cookies! Honestly – when do we think about anything else?)

Good kissing. Why do so many lack this basic skill? In the case of most bad kissers, surely someone before me has pointed their glaring inability to them? If not, we all need to start doing our civic duty and point out such deficiencies experienced firsthand. Surely it is something that can be learned? (Perhaps I should teach an adult education class at the local Learning Annex?)

Obviously this kissing-thing is important to me… so why am I so resigned and willing to pursue an orgasm without it?

Because the getting of the cookies trumps all… it is the most basic of our base sexual needs.

There’s something so wrong with that.

Maybe I’m wired incorrectly (well, differently to be sure). It seems that my most basic sexual need should be grounded in intimacy. The intimacy found in deep, sensuous kisses.

Oh, if wishes were true.

I’d curse those cookies – but I know better. I’d rather have my bread buttered than have no bread.

I wonder what Rachel Ray would have to say about that?


(No, I don't.)

2009/03/06

Crossing the Line: Sex Addiction

I worry that I may be a sex addict. I know that one of the signs of addiction is when the activity involved has a negative impact on your life. I do find myself contemplating whether or not sex and the amount of sex I have is robbing me of something.

I freely admit that I use sex to fill up something lacking in my life. My career trajectory has been off course for so long I no longer consider myself as having one. It is something I have given up on. I have a BA in business and graduated in the top five percent of my class. But corporate America has yet to embrace me on any level and my general disinterest has prevailed to such an all encompassing degree that I am putting a lot of energy into convincing myself to accept my lot in life and just ride it out.

As far as theater is concerned, again, a palpable air of scorn and derision, followed by a wistful sigh for what might-have-been-but-never-was is all I can muster. The same is true of music, save for the church choir I still remain a part of. At this point in my life I am no longer willing to put up with all the drama implicitly present whenever a group of people gather to create what, for better or worse, I loosely term art.

I write. That is a solitary pursuit. It also requires a discipline that I don’t seem to possess at present.

The only activity, other than attending and performing with my church choir (which I do out of some warped sense of obligation and for the general joy that being part of something larger than myself affords) that I do on a consistent basis is exercise. I do that because I can do it during work hours and it eats up some time on the clock. I also really get a kick out of pushing myself and my body. The results are well worth the effort. I also enjoy the quiet time – it’s just me, the weights, the machines and my ipod filled with dance favorites (and, of course, the occasional, irritating gym neophyte exhibiting bad form and poor gym etiquette).

It also has a significant positive impact on my ability to get laid.

My personal life and relationships are few and quite complicated. I have no friends – none that I speak with or see on a regular basis. Some are once a year event friends and some are friends I see in spurts of planned activity. My family, on the other hand, is very present in my life due to certain circumstances that require more of my attention – which is a good thing, ultimately.

I am basically a lone wolf. I like being alone. I like solitary activities… save for sex, which I spend way too much time and energy pursuing.

So do I feel bad about it? Yes.

Does this activity cause me to worry about health issues such as STDs and crabs? You bet.

Do I find myself in situations where I am doing something I really don’t want to do or immediately regret doing in the aftermath/afterglow of a given instance. Oh, you know me so well.

And I do. I know myself pretty well. Well enough to know that this is a topic that I need to examine from time to time.

For me, the ultimate question regarding whether or not behavior constitutes addiction is: Are you doing something you no longer enjoy doing?

Well, it is sex we’re talking about. And I almost always have a great time. I always find something to get off on. Call it creative writing in action – I find an angle - I make shit up as I’m going. My imagination serves me pretty well when it is called upon. In fact it’s become part of my current on-line marketing – what I lack in looks, I more than make up in imagination and drive.

This isn’t meant to be the final entry on this topic. I think it is something to contemplate and revisit on an ongoing basis. So there are no finite conclusions to be drawn by me at this time.

Am I a sex addict? Probably. Most definitely.

Am I ready to do anything about it?

No.

Every time I visit this subject it brings to mind a movie quote that I have long dragged around for a long time now. “If it hurts to get love, then it’s not love you’re getting.” Confusing sex with love is not something I have done in ages. But the equation is correct and adaptable for this topic. And as of this writing – I’m unwilling to acknowledge whether my pursuit of sex and the frequency I have it or the sex itself can be categorized as hurtful.

I know it causes some of the people I love pain. It removes me from them. It takes up time I could be spending with them. I know it hurts my job, because I constantly put it at risk by making sex a priority. I know it hurts my creative output, because it robs me of time, focus and energy that I could be putting to better use.

But I’m unwilling to change.

What would it take? At what point and degree do I admit to myself that I have a problem?

I don’t have an answer, except to say – as I view my life in general – stay tuned and find out.

We’ll be right back, after this commercial.