Lets talk about sex

The views and opinions expressed in this blog are solely that of its creator, and do not reflect the views of greater society.
For my more tender readers, this one may cross your line of comfort.  Please know up front that I'm not going to apologize for that, but also know that it is not my intention to offend.  If you ARE offended...that's your choice.

Before I really get started on this one, please be aware that I'm not bitching.  This is not a complaint blog, although I'm sure at times it may sound like it.  I'm the type of guy who, even in the midst of my own frustration, can step outside of myself and point and laugh at me.  I do love the humor, and as anyone can tell you, all the best humor is born out of the worst pain.

The problem with being an emotionally unavailable man who's still interested in the more base and physical joys of life, is that we are in far too great supply, and there is pretty much no demand.  I'm a dime a dozen.  And by dime I mean penny.  And by dozen I mean millions.  There's an incredibly valid reason why there is a stigma attached to even the idea of "single man".  I've been told that there actually ARE women out there ready for the throw down, you just gotta put yourself out there, or go to the right places, or something something...I don't know.  I stopped paying attention at some point, because my interest was completely lost.

Therein lies my other problem.  I hate...I mean really HATE, meaningless sex.  I've done the one night stand thing.  The forget about names, lets get down to business thing.  It really wasn't for me.  Oh sure, there was some initial excitement.  There was the raw aggression of it.  Ultimately though...in the end...it was just so...meh.

I don't ever want my sex to be meh.  I can handle bad.  I can handle embarrassing.  I can even handle regrettable (mostly cause I don't regret anything).  I just can't handle meh.  I'm quite certain I've BEEN meh.  I don't much care for that either.  I make no claim to be the worlds greatest lover...I'm certainly not exceptional in any way I'm sure...but I'd like to think I've at least been enjoyable once or twice.

Sex is never so important as it is to the person who's not getting it.

When questions of my personal sexual orientation come up I like to reply that I'm mostly straight.  This usually gets a few laughs.  Raises a couple eyebrows.  Adds more questions to the original question.  I like that.  It's also mostly true.  I kinda wish I was bi.  I wish I could go that way.  This is how I've become absolutely convinced that sexual orientation is absolutely NOT a choice, because I would choose bi.  I honestly would.  Its seriously the best of all worlds.

Its not necessarily that I'm attracted to guys, although recognizing beauty, physical or otherwise, in people of either sex is incredibly easy for me.  I just have this weird thing.  I see some poor confused young guy who's obviously gay, but because of religious, social, or family reasons hides it from everyone...or even worse...hides it from himself, I just have this overwhelming urge to grab him by the dick and lead him straight out of the closet into a glorious new world.  I want to just...I dunno...fucking destroy them.  I think because through the destruction, they may be able to build something beautiful in the aftermath.  As I've thought about this more and more I realize that its, for me, not even about sex.  It's about honesty.  I hate the idea that anybody...anywhere...ever...has to live, or rather, waste this one fucking life they get, sheltered inside a painful lie.  Break the rules.  Break the boundaries.  Break the mold and breathe the reality.

So although I have no philosophical or intellectual problem, no moral dilemma, I still have one problem with that little bold fantasy.  I just don't have the physical capacity for it.  It wouldn't work, because well...I wouldn't work.  Things wouldn't happen, because some very necessary things wouldn't happen.  So thus it follows, I'm mostly straight.

And boy am I.  You see...

I love...
I love...

I fucking LOVE...women.  In fact if it was really my desire to be bi, then I love women to a fault.  I've never been secretive about my joy of all things boobs.  All the best things are made out of boobs.  Or so I've been known to say.  Once or twice.  But since I'm here now, and since I'm writing all this shit in my brain out onto the screen in front of me, I may as well go all the way.  There is...oh god...so very much more.  I love all the things about women.  I love the higher register of their voices.  I love how their skin is softer and smoother.  I love that, their eyes are always...always...more beautiful than any guys.  I love that they are so much more connected to their emotions.  Faces, eyes, hair, neck, stomach, tits, ass, legs, and of course...the holy grail of it all...the thing we're not supposed to talk about because it makes us uncomfortable...the holy grail...the promised land...the ever so wonderful vagina.

And why is that I wonder?  Why can I talk so openly and brazenly about breasts, and people laugh, and get behind me, and its all in fun, but if I were to talk the same way about the pussy as I do about tits...people all of a sudden get uncomfortable?  Why is it offensive?  Why is this part given more gravity than another?  I have my theories...but I honestly don't know.  Why is it when I write the word cock, no one thinks twice, and continues reading, without the slightest thought or hesitation, but when I write the word pussy...for some...I have crossed a line?  Thoughts to think about. End train derailment.

 I love how women think.  It's so much different...and yet so much the same as me.  I could wax on all night about all the things I love and never even begin to scratch the surface of all the things I love.  So I won't.  Suffice it to say...in my universe, my perspective, my orientation, my whatever the fuck it is that seems to matter so much to so many people...women trump men.  So that mostly straight part of me that is slightly bent...well...damn it all, its not bent quite enough.

Another one of my problems, as I've mentioned once or a million times before is, I'm stuck in my own head. I analyze and over analyze.   I am not enough viscerally connected.  I'm not driven my my instinctive passion.  Oh its there.  Its inside me to be sure.  But its so easily bypassed with thought.  Both of my longtime exes, probably much to their disappointment can attest to that.  The flip side of that though, is that through all the physical shit I am usually so ready to talk about...nothing turns me on more than a woman who can stimulate my mind.  My cock is easy.  Nearly anyone on the planet can do that...at least to some degree...but if you arouse my brain...well then...you're something pretty fucking special.

I don't really have any fetishes.  In fact I'm actually, probably pretty vanilla.  On the other hand though I'll try anything three times.  I think three allows for fair assessment.  Once isn't enough, because the first time you do ANYTHING...sexual or not...you're going to probably suck at it.  At least I am.  I have to figure shit out.  I have to learn.  I have to be allowed to fumble around, and make mistakes, and find out what and how works.  The second time is for comparison.  How did I do this time as compared to last?  Now I can figure out if this is something I enjoy.  If its something my partner enjoys.  If I'm doing it right...or at least better.  The third time is for analysis.  Now I've done this, and done it again.  How does it feel?  What does it accomplish?  What sort of reaction or response does it elicit.  Do I...does she...truly enjoy it?

So why am I writing this?  Now?  Why have I gone the easy way, and delved into the baser nature of things?  Simple really.  It's all I can fucking think about.  All the time.  I thought I had grown out of this stage of lower mental function...but alas, it appears that I was mistaken.
See you get an itch, and you try to scratch it yourself, and it sort of works for a while.  Takes your mind off of things, and you move on.  Soon the itch appears again, and as before...you scratch it.  Each time you scratch, it feels good.  Relieves some of the frustration if the itch...but each time, the itch comes back stronger than before, and pretty soon you realize that scratching that itch all by yourself is an exercise in futility.  After a while you can't concentrate on anything BUT that itch.  It becomes the only thing you can think about.  And all the little distractions in the world, that are typically pretty easy to notice, and file away, and pay no attention to...become all of a sudden consuming.  It's really quite annoying.  So in the hopes of getting some of this shit out of my head, I'm writing it down.  Hoping beyond hope that I'll be able to focus on all the other stuff I like to think about once it's out of my system.  I'm guessing it will be an unsuccessful attempt, but by god I gotta try something.

I'm guessing that I'll actually have this particular itch for a while, because as previously mentioned, not just anybody on the planet can scratch this itch...but its a delicate balance for me.  Its gotta be a person who I know, like, and care for a great deal, but on the other hand understands that simply because we share some naked mutual enjoyment, does not necessarily mean that I want to spend the rest of my life devoted to them on an emotional level that quite frankly, I'm just not willing to give.  Some would postulate that such a person does not exist.  I however know from experience that they do.  So I'll hold out for that.  Unless it comes to a point that I simply have no choice but to find the first available wet spot.  Thank god I'm nowhere near that point yet.

I have a whole lot more to say about current contemporary sexual attitudes.  I have an entire blog in my mind about slut shaming.  Guilt attachment.  The false sacred attachment to the act.  Polyamory.  Cheating.  Outdated social codes.  Monogomy.  And in all honesty...a whole lot of other things related to sexual attitudes in 21st century America.  I'm not going to go into any of it now though.  Right now...

I got an itch to scratch.