Warning... this is an adult site. If reading or viewing things about what gay men do sexually with one another bothers you - you should not read this blog. This blog is a reflection of my adventures and thoughts. Some are fun, some not so pretty. I won't name names, or kiss and tell... but I will live to tell. And baby, trust me - I am gonna spill it all over your pretty little party dress. Enjoy!
Hump day? Well, I'll give you something to ponder.
Yes, it's time for Wednesday's Question Of The Day.
Each Wednesday, a new question to give you the opportunity to do a bit of self-examination. Think of it as a way of getting to know all about you and a chance to learn a little more about me.
That's right. You know me; spill that tea! For I am the king of over-sharing!
Oh, and please leave your responses in the comments section.
Why, think of this as a little blogging kiki!
Okay! Ready, set...
Here's today's question:
Have you ever revisited something (a book, a movie, etc.) and found it hasn't aged well? What and how?
Sex In The City (the series)
I was cat-sitting for my sister while she was in Japan for ten days. I had very little to do. I ran three miles every day. Wrote a lot. Ate super healthy. And cleaned her house.
I also started re-watching Sex In The City, which was originally shown on HBO.
My memories of it are very fond. I adored Samantha's sexual exploits and the candidness with which the women would discuss sexual matters. I adored Miranda's stubbornness, drive to achieve, snarkiness, and desire to remain independent. Charlotte was always problematic for me because I can't relate to WASPs. Her prudishness and disregard for reality, while playing well against her more pragmatic cohorts, left me cold. It would seem that the writers also had no idea what to do with her, for they took great joy in placing Charlotte in the most humiliating circumstances possible, something meant to be humorous, but now strikes me as passive-aggressively sado-masochistic.
And then, there was Carrie.
I used to think she was cute and adorable. Like a puppy, mindlessly bounding about with enthusiasm, in need of protection. I wanted to share her lust for life.
Carrie hasn't aged well.
She's myopic; everything is about Carrie. Carrie's latest crisis. Carrie's latest need. Carrie's romance. Carrie, Carrie, Carrie.
The bitch is exhausting.
After a point? I wouldn't be inviting her to join us for brunch anymore.
She whines. All the time. She makes excuses - it's always someone else's fault. She never learns. She never grows. There is a surprising lack of maturity and self-awareness hobbling about the streets of New York City on those Louis Vuittons.
The third time she strays back and reattaches to Mr. Big? You want to take her by both shoulders and shake her like a ragdoll. Honestly? What are you thinking? Have you no self-respect? Are you really this needy? This stupid?
And then there's her relationship with Aidan. The first thing out of her mouth is a lie and she simply continues to lie from that moment on. He's so sweet. He's like a cuddly, loyal yellow Labrador Retriever. And he can fix things! Carrie is a damn fool.
Then there's the matter of what these women actually do. Oh, they are all super-successful - owner of a successful PR firm, manager of a hip, cutting-edge art gallery, partner at a powerful attorney's, firm, and the writer of a popular, salacious newspaper column. But, what do we see them do? They go to restaurants. They go to bars. They go to clubs. They go to art gallery openings. They go to fashion shows. They go shopping. They buy designer shoes. Their homes are little more than places to sleep, have sex, and to store and change clothes.
It's a mind-numbing. repetitive existence.
They do walk the streets of New York City - in Carrie's case, frequently looking like a three-dollar hooker.
I don't fault the actresses. Or the writers, for that matter - although one can only imagine how scripts were written and story arcs determined without anyone raising the possibility that these women were capable of growing and evolving as human beings.
The thing which I adored about the series? The fact that these women formed this tightknit circle, one where everything was on the table. They spoke with a candor which I found refreshing, and still do. It's what I wanted for myself. It's what we all want for ourselves.
Well, that closeness remains evident. But, post-COVID, it strikes me as little more than a quaint idea, an ideal whose time has passed me by and been rendered a relic. I can't imagine spending that amount of time with the same three people. I now require a lot more privacy and alone time. My days of yearning to adopt a pack mentality have vanished along with my sense of personal safety, appreciation of technology, and desire to tell people what they need to do or be.
In a way, it's a shame.
Revisiting this series? It's as close as I'll ever come to going to a high school reunion. For the longest time, these ladies were my best friends, relationship archetypes I attempted to recreate in real life. Well, you can imagine how well that went, huh?
In the end? Watching this series again was exactly like going to said reunion. You find yourself surrounded by people you once knew intimately, relied upon constantly and appreciated greatly. But life moved on, and so did you. They're strangers to you now. And all you have in common...
...is the thought of what you used to think used to be.
Hump day? Well, I'll give you something to ponder.
Yes, it's time for Wednesday's Question Of The Day.
Each Wednesday, a new question to give you the opportunity to do a bit of self-examination. Think of it as a way of getting to know all about you and a chance to learn a little more about me.
That's right. You know me; spill that tea! For I am the king of over-sharing!
Oh, and please leave your responses in the comments section.
Why, think of this as a little blogging kiki!
Okay! Ready, set...
Here's today's question:
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
My anger.
It stems from frustration. The little things that add up throughout the day, or the crippling disappointments.
I want life to be simple. I want things to go smoothly. I don't like bumps in the road.
But I can't do anything about any of that. That is out of my control. That? Is simply a part of life.
And most people deal with it really well. They laugh it off. They take it with a grain of salt.
Me?
I overreact. Constantly. Like a big baby.
I read somewhere that the average person swears 90 times a day. Well, for once, I am way, way above average. Those angry little words which simply fuel more anger? They have become my go-to words. They fly out of my mouth with such poisonous ease.
Thing is? Until I was like thirty-six, I never swore. I thought it was bad and classless.
Now? Oh, honeys, I will take on any sailor and win hands down. Piss me off? And my mouth becomes lethal.
I spent a couple of years on medication to tame it down, because I didn't want to lose my job. Turned out the job and the atmosphere I was working in was most of the problem. I moved on and eventually found a place where the work environment was not an issue. No need for meds.
But these days? It does not take much to get me going. And that's sad.
It's hard on those around me. They literally fear asking me to do something out of fear that I will react badly. And I do. I feel put upon and react badly.
Or, something goes wrong while doing something and I just lose my sh*t. Heaven help those that have to witness it.
It makes me feel terrible. Like a bad person. And after, no matter what good intentions I might have had, I feel like I can never fix the damage I've done.
It's a self-defeating cycle.
It's about lack of time. It's about too much to do. It's about wanting to get something done as quickly and painlessly as possible. It's about doing things I don't want to do. It's about something being asked of me.
And I'm tired.
But why?
Like my time is so important? Like I have so many other more important things to do?
It's my way of being careless with people. It's very immature and it sucks.
I don't want to be a big baby.
I want to be a grown up.
And the fact that, at this point in my life, I have not achieved some type of calm and found my center from which I can navigate life with ease?
Oh, for the number of times, in my younger years, I told myself the exact same thing.
Denial is a powerful thing - a sort of super power.
In the case of a possibly terminal illness, it can actually pay big dividends, convincing your body to not give up, to heal itself.
It can also have deadly consequences, as in the case of those who refuse to get vaccinated for Covid-19, thus putting themselves and others at risk.
But it can also simply delay the inevitable, allowing our minds the time needed to absorb and accept.
It took me 27 years to accept the fact that I am gay.
Me? I had a lot of baggage to unpack, so I needed more time. Everyone's journey is different.
That one statement had such a big impact on my life. Not only was I ready to accept who I was, I was also prepared to take on the challenges my declaration would bring. I had used those 27 years of denial as a time of preparation. In many ways, that declaration was the beginning of my life as an adult. Before that time? I was busy hiding, merely treading water.
Yes, I saw the crescent... but waiting for me, out there, was the whole of the moon.
So, I'm grateful for my rather lengthy gestation period.
Thanks to that time, messy and confusing as it was, I was able to finally begin my journey to become the man I am today.
We all need to take pride in who and what we are - it's a kind of imperative, if we are to find joy - which is one of the hallmarks of a successful life.
I look at my life, today, and realize that by the standards of others? It may not seem much.
But it's mine.
I built this house.
I am responsible for every choice made since that declaration so long ago.
In addition to it being Masturbation Month, as celebrated big time over at Big Whack Attack, May is also an opportunity to rejoice and appreciate our older Americans.
Given that ageism remains rampant in, not only society as a whole, but in particular, our gay community, I thought I would share with you a small example of the beauty to be found among our more mature members.
Now, all of these men hardly qualify as senior citizens, but given the gay porn community's overbearing obsession with youth, I felt that anyone over the age of 40 qualified for today's post.
Personally? I think we all share a responsibility to be as inclusive as possible. By sharing a diverse palette, we open ourselves and others to new perspectives; a fresh array of tantalizing, alluring natures and body types.
So, open your minds and enjoy this bounty of cultured, seasoned flesh.
