Total Pageviews

Friday, May 20, 2011

Vacation...Time to Go-Go

A week without you
Thought I'd forget
Two weeks without you and I
Still haven't gotten over you yet

Vacation - All I ever wanted
Vacation - Had to get away
Vacation - Meant to be spent alone

- Vacation – The Go Go’s

Yep, going on vacation. For a week. Looking forward to it, too. Not sure all that I will be doing, but it will have a lot to do with taking hikes and playing tourist. And staying off the internet.

I have made good on some of my promises. Managed to stay off all the hook-up sites I used to visit religiously. Managed to not get fucked for three weeks now. Have fooled around a bit, but kept it very light, mostly JO, body contact and kissing.

Seems whenever I go to the prairie and there are dudes about I get hit on. I purposely set my blanket out in the open, thinking those that are looking for a little something-something will stick to the woods on the perimeter. But those that know me, and there are a bunch, don’t hesitate to walk out to the middle to say hello. Sometimes that’s as far as it goes (with small talk, too – “how you doing”, “how was your winter”, etc.), but sometimes they lay down next to me, or crouch in front of me and show off their hard-ons. What can I say – I’m a sucker for a guy who can get it up. Sometimes I can just smile and play dumb. But other times, it’s just too much temptation.

I do like kissing. Making out rocks. JO is cool, too. Feeling a little bit guilty about putting their cocks in my mouth, though. That happened three times in three weeks.

Nice thing about my vacation? No internet access and little opportunity to get into any trouble at all. Not going to any gay hot spots or cruising area. So this could be a sex-free affair, unlike my last few trips - as previously blogged about on here:,,

I’m taking my pups with me, too. They ride real well in the car and this week-long trip is nothing if not an extended road trip.

I’ve made a lot of progress on that writing project I’ve been working on. Have been very disciplined about it. It’s been a real good focus.

Nothing else going on, really. Have been enjoying Zumba and my work outs. Have been trying to get outside as the weather permits.

Not sure if I will be writing anything next week. May just take a break. Depends if I get bored or not. Hope not.

Enjoy yourselves. And remember…

Be good to yourselves. Be better to others.

- Ciao for Now

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Perspective: A Minor Hair in the Salad of Life

Life is all a matter of perspective, right? When you think about it, you can justify and rationalize almost anything when keeping in mind all the things you have previously experienced, provided you’ve eaten a big slice of life.

So, I’m at work and short on time. I decide to drop into the cafeteria and grab a ready-to-go salad and eat at my desk. This is a little bit of a hassle, because salads always involve a little bit of work on my part; I have to cut everything up – not quite to the level of a chopped salad, but I basically refuse to risk getting salad dressing all over my face due to an over-sized piece of lettuce. I know, I know…when you consider some of the things that have been on my face – what harm could a little salad dressing do? But it’s something I will do my best to avoid, if I can. So I take my salad back to my desk and dump it into a Tupperware bowl in order to maximize the amount of room I have to work with. Soon, the salad is all chopped up, I’ve added the dressing, and am just about to dig in when… my eyes catch sight of a tiny, black curled hair hanging off a dressing drenched piece of lettuce.

It’s not mine.

It wasn’t in the bowl before I put the lettuce in it, either. No one else sits at my desk or uses my stuff, so I have to assume that the offending hair came from the person who prepared and packaged the salad which sits before me.

Now I have to make a choice. Do I…

A/ Walk back to the cafeteria and complain, possibly getting a different salad, only to return to chop and ready it all over.


B/ Remove the offending hair and eat the salad.

Hmmmm. What would Jesus do?

I know a lot of people would walk back to that cafeteria just to complain and feel that their voice was being heard. Good for them. Depending upon the magnitude and possible ramifications of a given error on the part of another, I, too, have chosen that route.

But we’re talking about one, single, tiny hair.

Think about. Think about all the times that you have eaten in a restaurant without being 100% certain that the entire kitchen and wait staff at that restaurant have carefully washed their hands before preparing or coming in contact with your food. The answer would be – all the time. We trust people who prepare our food to do the right thing and assume that our personal hygienic standards will be met wherever we choose to eat, at all times. But realistically? That’s not the case, and if you are a reasonable person, you know that’s not the case. Still, you continue to eat out. You even explore restaurants you have never been to before. We do that because we have faith in the system. That, and we don’t feel like cooking.

So given that, how is that hair in my salad that big of a deal? Because I see it and can do something about it? Sure, but what about all the unseen things that we have all consumed without knowing about it? Getting rid of that hair? Problem solved (and maybe throwing away that piece of lettuce it was stuck to would be a good idea, too).

And in my case? That piece of hair represents no big deal at all when I take into account all the little hairs belonging to strangers I have probably swallowed over my years as a total slut. When I think about the dicks that have gone down my throat and in my ass and rubbed all over my body – really, what is the big deal about that single black hair in my salad?

Yeah, I know… this is gross. But then, so is sex, when you really think about it, especially sex with total strangers. I used to think people were just being prudish when it came to anonymous sex, but from a hygienic perspective, I can see their point. Just as in the case of my pre-packaged salad or any meal prepared in any restaurant - you don’t really know what you’re buying, and may never.

So, I guess it all comes down to faith. We trust that people are always going to do the right thing. We trust that they will always put the safety, needs and expectations of others first. We go to a restaurant we expect the employees to wash their hands after using the bathroom. We expect them to wear hairnets and take reasonable care in order to prevent foreign objects from falling in our food and befouling our plates.

And when we have sex with strangers and they tell us they are drug and disease free, we, wanting to have sex, want to believe them. That’s a form of faith, too.

But people lie. All the time.

So, the results of my complete STD drug screen came back this week.

Negative. All good. No problems.


Yeah, I know, I have a hard time believing it, too. Especially after the many men my body has been exposed to.

But it’s true.

Part of me is relieved and part of me still doubts. And all of me has decided to make some changes.

No penetration. No unsafe sex. Lots of showing off. Lots of masturbation. Maybe some masturbation in the presence of others. Maybe some frottage – jury is still out. Maybe some kissing – jury is still out.

But no penetration - with or without a condom for awhile. Not sure when that ban will be lifted, but that decision has given me a sense of ease that I have not felt in a long time. It’s like all that pressure is off. I only have to sculpt those parts of my body hair that I want to sculpt. The douching thing is off the table. The constant worry about STDs – over there on the other side of the room for now. I can breathe and recapture my mojo. Maybe. I can definitely breathe. The mojo part? Age and gravity may have something to say about that.

My workouts have gotten better since I stopped having compulsive sex. I feel stronger. I sleep better – especially now that I’m not on those hook-up sites any longer. Something about being on the internet to that degree causes my brain to become over-stimulated, like a kid on a sugar high. I’m also more relaxed about some things…

…like finding a hair in my salad.

I can’t make any promises to myself or others. At this point, it’s one day at a time and I realize the only person I am going to disappoint if I don’t keep my commitment for awhile is me. So, we’ll see how it goes. One day at a time.

As for that salad?

Oh, yeah, I ate it.

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Coasting into Summer

I continue to coast along in the same mode as last week. It’s surprising how much time I now have on my hands – now that I’m not pursuing sexual encounters 24/7. I am a bit irritable, as can be attested to by the other drivers who shared my morning commute today; lots of middle fingers and lane changes, to say nothing of the stream of four-letter words that accompanied it all. My bad. But never get into the passing lane in front of me and then apply your brakes. Not a good idea.

In the past few days I have done a few things that I feel good about:

- went in for a full STD screen
- talked to my doctor about my many sexual activities
- went on-line and altered all my hook-up site profiles
- resigned from all those yahoo picture sites that sent me wonderful sexy photos every morning

The changing of the hook-up site profiles is quite significant. I erased everything remotely sexual, including certain stats and preferences. I replaced all my pictures with a recent one of me in a nice, tight fitting, long-sleeved black shirt and a black cap – featuring me from the waist up and including a clear shot of my face.
My profiles now all read:

This item no longer available.
Please see catalogue for similar items.
Be good to yourself.
Be better to others.

And so, life changes. I morph into something different. The timing is odd, but I was thinking that maybe the delay of summer has been a good thing. It gave me time to make the changes necessary. I am already mourning my days at the prairie… but there comes a time (and an age) when a player needs to leave the field.

And this is mine.

I don’t know what I’m going to do with all my free time, but I am already negotiating what I can do and can’t do. I am going to refrain from sexual activity for a little while, just to make sure that it’s not that big of a deal to do so – as a means of proving to myself that I’m not a sexual addict. In the meantime I will try to figure out what kind of sexual contact would be okay for me. I’m through with the type that leaves me feeling damaged and less of a person. Satisfying an itch is no longer enough of a motivation or justification. A real relationship is out of the question, so it’s not that I want more intimacy in my life. If anything, I want to push people further away.

So, does this all mean that I have to give up sunning myself at the prairie? Honest answer: yes. I shouldn’t even go to those places where I know sexual activity takes place. I’m too much of a pushover to say ‘no’ consistently. I also plan on staying off those hook-up sites long enough for people to actually miss me. Really, I can’t go back to any of my usual haunts until I have determined for myself what kind of sex works for me at this point in my life. The warehouse? Definitely off limits.

And this blog? What does it become? Not sure. I might continue the Acquired Taste series, picking up where I left off – but only if I’m excited about it.

And that’s at the core of this recent change, folks. When it comes to sex, I just haven’t felt very excited about it.

So, I’m going to concentrate on the following:

- Decluttering my life – cleaning out my house – donating stuff I don’t need
- Walking the dogs
- Double up my efforts on an off-line writing project I have been working on for about 10 weeks
- Working out
- Mowing lawns
- Ironing clothes
- Playing guitar

And masturbating. Something tells me that will come into play again sometime soon.

As I was shaving this morning I came to the following conclusion:

Men are like razor blades – by the time you get truly comfortable with them and trust them, they’re too dull to do the job.