Wednesday, June 27, 2012

In the Mood

A friend of mine once told me this: her boyfriend lived far enough away that they could only get together on weekends. You'd think the routine would be pavlovian and she'd be ready for sex on the weekends. But instead she found herself horniest in the middle of the week and uninterested on the weekends when he was available.

I'm the same way. There's a mental and physical disconnect, or maybe it's conscious and subconscious, but either way, I'm most interested when I can't act on it. Mornings when I have to get up and get ready for work are good example, but not in the evening when I'm ready to go to sleep. Any time I'm mentally ready—I've got some free time blocked out, there are no distractions, let's see what's on tap today . . .

You'd think I'd just opened the refrigerator and all I have is spam.

I was going to say it was like I'm married and the wife isn't interested, but really it's more like trying to get my own inner-self to wake up in the morning and get his ass out of bed.

Get up! C'mon, let's go.

Go away. Wanna sleep.

Nope, come on. Get up.

Leave me alone.

No, get up. You'll have fun. You enjoy this too.

That's what I said yesterday.

Yesterday we were stuck in traffic and we couldn't do anything about it—you know that.

I don't make the rules.

Now it's perfect. There's nobody here, nobody expected. I've got all your favorite stuff . . . .

I'm tired of it.

How about this DVD—you really liked that.

We just watched that the other day.

Okay, we'll get on the 'net. Check out the blogs...

groan It's all the same old thing. One naked girl. Two naked girls. Two naked girls with a strap-on.  One naked girl with a banana.  Two naked girls with a banana. . . .

You haven't seen these two particular naked girls with a banana.


All right, but don't come complaining to me tomorrow during a conference call.

And so it goes. The problem may actually be the sameness and the routine. For the most part you can distill sex into something very simply and accurately described. Let's say you're interested in vanilla sex, dick-in-pussy sex; after awhile it's all the same, it's which dick in which pussy. Sooner or later even that becomes generic, and no matter what, you feel like you've seen it all.

So what's left are all the kinks and variants, and at this late inning in the game, I think I've figured out which ones I like and the vast majority that I don't;when I was a teen it was all new and unexplored; now if there's something that rings my bell, I already know about it and I've burned on it. The idea of seeing someone tied up and spanked, or covered in latex, or participating in showers (you know what I mean, and if you don't—you don't want to know) or having sex with midgets—none of that opens any hidden doors inside me that lead anywhere that I want to go.

One answer is abstinance, but that really doesn't help a lot. I'm still young enough that I don't have to wait for the planets to align; I can still make things happen on demand. And I want to enjoy that while it's still the case.

I just don't want to have to demand it.

Saturday, June 23, 2012

Spread Again

Where I live there are a lot of furniture store commercials. They're always opening or going out of business. One store has been trumpeting its grand opening of a new store: I think it's been opening for about six years now.

I'd like to start with some kudos to myself for mentioning that I was shutting down to begin with. I'm amazed at how many blogs just end abruptly, like a film without a final reel. Imagine watching Goldfinger. James Bond has just arrived in Kentucky and met Pussy Galore. Then--nothing.

Or Butch and Sundance have just taken jobs as payroll guards, and they're looking for bandits. Strother Martin spits in disgust and announces, "morons! I've got morons on my team. Nobody is going to rob us going down the mountain. We have got no money going down the mountain. When we have got the money, on the way back , then you can sweat." *spit* "Bingo."

Then nothing.

There's a wonderful short story by Mary Ladd Gavell called "The Rotifer" (I highly recommend it), and in it there's a sequence where the narrator talks of being a grad student, going through a prominent family's old papers in the library. She's reading letters and gets caught up in a family drama from a century earlier. The letters abruptly end with no conclusion, and she's left hanging. What happened? All the participants are long dead and gone, and what survives is the record. She'll never know what happened.

It's the same with these blogs. What happened to the author? Did he or she die? Or in a debilitating accident? Did an important family member, friend or even an employer discover it and exert massive pressure to end it? Or was it that the person simply locked himself out of the account and cannot get back in? (Been there, done it, bought the t-shirt.) Or did the person simply lose interest, which is the most likely explanation.

The first example is the most excusable, but even then I remember an occasion where this sort of thing happened, and word got back to us so that we knew. For all other cases (except a lock-out), just a note saying "that's it, I'm done. I'm busy / have other commitments / spouse doesn't approve, etc." would be really nice.

It's bad enough when I find a blog I like that ended a year ago. But it's worse with active blogs that just suddenly end with no comment at all, because I keep checking back to see if there's a new post, and there's nothing, nothing, nothing. It's like being stood up on a date every Saturday night for a year.

So back to the subject at hand. My personal life has settled down again and I have the time and inclination to post here again. The schedule will be once a weekend; could be more, but that will be the least. That's my goal.

And for latecommers, the mission statement is that I'm simply using this to vent thoughts on a variety of topics. The subtitle says "things I wouldn't say in real life" and that's still true. But beyond sex and politics (and I'm largely apathetic on the latter, so not so much of that), I'm actually interested in a variety of topics, knowledgable about a few, and I can fake the rest.

I've been writing down things to post about on scrap paper. I've got something about being horny at inopportune times, debt culture, podcasts, the generation gap (that suggests how old I am. Maybe I'll post something about Hi-Fi equipment too) and targeted advertising. I had a couple more I didn't write down; hopefully I'll remember them soon.

So there it is. Welcome back. Miss me? And please, please, if you have a blog of your own and you quit updating it, spend 2 minutes and write a farewell so we're not hanging by our left nuts in suspense.