Look Better Naked – Quick Check

In the quest to look better naked, Thumper and I are quietly tracking and encouraging each other via our Apple Watches and the nifty like circles that rank your day’s activities versus the overall goal. These track movement against calories burned, exercise versus a time goal, and standing more than ten minutes for at least 12 hours a day. Since we are both beta testing Watch OS3, it’s also now sending us updates to each other to be used in an encouragement yet peer pressured sort of way.

No, it’s not that technical, but I have learned I hate tracking that way, so right now it’s just enough pressure when combined with public posting, so, here we go.

Double Dick Down

Finally, a post about sex and chastity, right? Mostly.

So, it’s early in the morning on Friday (2am-ish) and I cannot sleep which is more a product of the dark and scary speech that was made tonight by the man with the scary hair and less because of the steel and titanium cage that surrounds my penis. Actually, that cage is making the bad parts about the week good, but more on that soon.

To go back a few days, I came home from a trip early on Wednesday morning for what will be five whole nights at home, a rarity for me. As either you have read or assumed, over the last few months Axel and I have struggled to find our typical normalcy of intimacy due to a variety of reasons including his physical limitations post surgery, crazier than normal professional schedules on both our sides, and just some regular hiccups in life that every couple goes through regardless of whether or not they have are trying to mix kinky things into their reality. While it’s been frustrating, it has not been scary because it was never “between us”  as it was just a “about us”. So, when I got home Wednesday morning, he happened to be home for a bit waiting on a plumber and we started talking about what exactly we should do about the eternity of the five nights ahead. Of course he wanted me locked since the available time was huge (yeah, I know, it’s nothing to the really locked guys and I would be with you if I could, I swear) and promised that he would make it worth my while if I did. And, of course I did, so the plan was set that before 7pm, I would be locked (I had a massage scheduled at 4:30) and we would not let anything get in the way of this.

With that fate sealed, I decided to push the envelope a bit and ask him to also lock up in the Holy Trainer V2 that we got him some months back (for whatever reason) so that we could test the horny factor of having two penises within one home with no access to either. My request was followed by a reward of sorts for him by me promising him that since I was not unlocking until Monday morning before my flight, that if he made it without any unlocking until 4pm on Sunday, that I would give him my whole self for the night for him to do anything and everything he wanted to do to me without question on my part and that I would even try my best to block out anything work related for the whole night. That did it and, because of his schedule, his time was set for 9pm and after that we would both be sporting new appendages.

I am proud of this for multiple reasons which I will get to, but probably the most is that as soon as we made that pact, the chastity gods decided to test us by throwing a ton of “shit” our way just to see if we’d break and I am proud to say we did not, though I missed my locking deadline by an hour due to a late arriving police officer. See, as we sealed our deal, there was a knock on the door and the plumber Axel had been waiting on had indeed discovered the source of the little dribble of water down our driveway and, well, it was not good news. The little dribble on the surface was a torrent underneath as a tree root had pierced our main water line to the house and by 5:30pm, our yard was a muddy pit as the tree had to come down and out, the main line, which was lead, had to be taken out and replaced  (damn code enforcement), and a corner of the drive had to be broken to be gain more access. This was one of those repairs that you have no choice in and one where your early cost estimate was going higher by the shovel, but you have zero choice in the matter so you just stand there and watch and hope they discover oil or diamonds or that your Visa has more space on it than you remember.

I remember thinking to myself that there was no way my mind was going to be right for locking and that I would simply have to just tell Axel (I get really uptight with unknown money out the door) but I thought to myself that I should relax and think kinky thoughts and all would be well. And it was.

When the work was finally done and I went to move Axel’s car off of the street beside the house back into the gate and the driveway (which had been blocked by the mud) (he wasn’t home but had been picked up by a colleague), part two happened. As I turned the corner my initial thought was “wow, he really parked close to that pole – good for him for using those cameras so well” and as I got closer my second thought was more along the line of “fuck me – he really didn’t use the camera” because I realized that some bastard had clipped his car and pushed it into the pole and didn’t bother to stop or leave a note  – which now circles back as to why I was late locking since I had to then wait on the police to arrive and arrange a tow, etc.

But, determined to not be swayed, I came inside, showered because it was 200 degrees here this week, and locked my dick as fast as I could, just to not be tempted to touch by the life drama. It was somewhat of a fuck you to those chastity gods I mentioned earlier. I was proud of myself but pretty much figured the buzz would be gone for Ax, you know, since his side mirror was on the table, but he arrived home, said something like “Oh. Poor car.  Where is my cage? Upstairs?“(try, just try, being married to a therapist, people – the lack of reaction is sometimes just stunning) and he went off to lock while I, being me, calculated the amount of bonus days I could get if we got his rental through my corporate account versus our insurance account, etc.

(Insert that TiVo fast forward noise here)

Fast forward a few hours and as we went to bed, both safely secured, the moment of the day or the energy of the lack of orgasm started and a cuddle turned into some inappropriate with anyone else (sorta – hi Thumper!) touching, some heavy kissing, and some just absolutely intense making out like we were Baptist teenagers sneaking away from a revival to “do it”. I don’t think we slept more than two hours the whole night because we were just that into each other, that in the moment, that connected that we had not been in years. It was this weird pent up energy, which really had not had any time to be pent up yet, that was just groovy as fuck and lasted all night long. In any other situation, one of us would have suggested jacking off or something similar and it would have been over in three or four hours tops (HA) but without mutual access to each other’s parts, we had a whole new playing field which was fascinated.

This level of “into-ness” actually carried on through much of Thursday through some suggestive texts and, well, daring pictures. It was madness and, even though I sit here terrified of the man with the bad hair, I am also just smiling still because we may be on to something.

Time will tell if the night of, well, errr, passion – which just sounds creepy – was the mutual locking, the fact he is planning what he is going to do to me (I asked him not to give clues) or if it was just the fancy soap I used in the shower, but right now I really don’t care.

Of course, if it was the mutual locking, that will bring all kinds of thoughts in my head, but, needless to say, we might be going back to Canada sooner than expected.


Sitcom Life

Good morning from Gotham. The pic above is my current view as I sit with about 700 of my closest colleagues at an industry conference. It’s crazy how exhausting being nice is, but, well, I am Southern so I just have to be. New York is New York and I love it here, but I have such a sense of uneasiness with the City that I have not had before. It’s mostly because I am in Times Square and there are thousands and thousands of people and, now, thanks to the world, military and police on every corner with just a massive amount of arms and ammunition. I know they have to be there and I do appreciate it, but I have not seen this since spending time in DC the week after 911 so it makes me weary.

I have often said I should write for a TV show because of the weird things that happen to me in life, but when I start thinking about it too much, I wonder sometimes if I am actually in one because of the many stupid things I do that would make a studio audience laugh and clap like mad men even without the “applause” light above my head.

Of course, this trip started in an odd state from the minute I boarded my first flight yesterday morning at 5am. See, about 16 years ago when I was a super seasoned 29 year old national Vice President for the company I worked for then, I had to fire my assistant who was, at the time, just like Jack from Will and Grace. He was a flamboyant man who didn’t really know he was and what he did was absolutely worthy of termination, but he didn’t know it. It was actually the first time I had to do that which probably meant I would have remembered it anyway (little did I know I would lose track of the numbers over the years) but he stood up and with his hand on his hip vowed that he hated me. All was good for 3-4 years and I ran into him at Macy’s one day where he proceeded to make a show that looked like a lover scorned while I stood there, but that was the last I saw of him ten years or more ago. Until yesterday. Apparently he has changed vocations and is now a flight attendent and was the lead one on my flight. Worse, I sat in seat 1C and, if you have ever sat in the seat you will know this, but that seat stares at the FA chair by the door and, since they sit facing the rear, we got to stare at each other the whole time. It was 5:45am and I had never been so awake with one eye never losing contact with him. It was a long two hour flight but nothing was ever said and, since I asked for the can of my Diet Coke, I knew I was fine. 

That sitcom side of life reared it’s head again this morning as I woke up and took a picture of the beautiful view from my window outside to post on Facebook as I often do in the mornings. This one was uploaded and looked beautiful until a friend texted and said “Dude, WTF?” and attached said picture. Right there, riiiiight there, if you looked closely, there, in the picture, was a really tasteful reflection of me, absolutely naked, standing there taking the picture. Fuck. It had about four likes and had not been there long, but watching me try to scramble to get online and get that offline would have been a fun thing for someone to see. Though, now that I think about it, just four likes makes me rather sad. Hmm.

In addition, there are those moments too like last week when Thumper and I were trying to schedule a time to see each other in August. As we went back and forth between “no, I am being fitted for a plug on that day” and “oh, well, no, I have to take water ballet lessons that day” my mind flashed to all those Modern Family episodes where Claire and Phil are trying to make sure Luke gets a ride. It was a funny and stressful and, now that I think about it, I am not sure we finished. (One moment please…) Nope, I checked and we didn’t finish. Thump, the last date was sent to you so, “tag, you are it, my friend”. 

And then, anything with my Mom and Dad is a laugh these days. A sad laugh at times, but, often, it’s just precious like Saturday when they were on a trip and SOMEHOW turned the navigation voice in their car to Mandarin. I just had to laugh because, since the buttons were all in Chinese characters, they didn’t know which one was the “route cancel” and I couldn’t visualize it to tell them, so they drove about 3 hours with a Chinese lady screaming at them until Axel could go there yesterday to fix it. Can you just imagine two old people going too slow in the left lane blazing down the highway in a BMW while a this woman screamed at them?


Finally, changing subject slightly, has anyone watched Billions on Showtime? I just started it and find the way they portray the main character’s kinky marriage fascinating because they have to turn the (female) Dom stuff on and off much like Axel and I try to, but I find myself uncomfortable when she goes into “Mistress Mode” and can’t tell if the acting is just bad or if I am weird because I see her changing roles? I have told you time and time again I get wiggy for a bit when Axel shifts into that spot so I wonder if I am doing that with her too, though, again, it could be that she’s just bad at that part of the character. Anyone?

“Is Thumper Still Bisexual?”

“Is Thumper still bisexual?”

That was the question posed to me yesterday from a reader of this blog who was basically asking why I haven’t written about Thumper (or why he hasn’t written about me) much over the last few months. This guy caught me at a time where I was able to exchange emails back and forth and, for the record, I told him I was going to write this because that is one of the most stupid ways to look at anything ever, yet I am worried that he was actually serious.

So, for those on the edge of your seat, yes, Thumper is still bisexual. Just like the fact that my eyes are still green and I am still prone to sudden sunburns. I assume the guy who was chatting with me is gay so I posed the question back to him about whether he had talked to anyone about his gayness, written any blog posts about it recently, or used it as a way to introduce himself to waiters, cashiers, flight attendants or the like and, you know what, he said no. I asked him whether he was still gay since he had not done any of that and, you know what, he still was. I was enjoying pointing out these facts to him though I am not sure he enjoyed me doing so. Idiot.

But, as I have said many times here, I was never one in the bisexual thought camp until I met Thump because it was just not something that got my mind thinking. However, since I did meet him and, through this blog, have now met many others like him, it’s very clear to me that one can be attracted to both sexes without having to pick a permanent camp on one side of the river. But, for those who are lucky enough to be able to swim across, their lives all seem to be enhanced in some way by this dual desire. Of course, this is not to say that those who can’t swim are unhappy either, but I think knowing that they could if they wanted to is just enough for them to be happy on their riverbank.

The other point I had to make about this is that I was just amused by the fact that a seemingly educated person would or could deduce that a sexuality had changed by the lack of it being discussed. That is so stupid that it’s funny but now has me wondering if I were to write “Thumper is bisexual” over and over again in my notebook how many times would I have to write it before he texted me wanting to come suck my dick? (Thumper, fyi, I do have a new pen AND notebook – just sayin’). Blog writing is not witchcraft.

By the end of our chat I think my new (and now likely short lived) friendship with this guy had been able answer his question, but sheez. Really?

Finally, as I have written this I just realized I don’t know any bisexual men who are in a primary relationship with a man but have a woman on the side. How odd. I do have multiple gay friends who had marriages/relationships with women but changed teams after some years and none of them want to go back to anything intimate with a woman, but, also, none of these guys identify themselves as bisexual now either. That’s just a curiosity of mine, now. Hmmm.


Thank you Mr. Savage

This week, one of Dan Savage’s  Letter of the Day winners struck a particular nerve for me. As you will see, this man is writing in about how his wife has a chronic condition that causes her pain and, as a result, he doesn’t find the pain to be a turn on and their sex life is suffering. He then goes on to say what a generous lover he is and how much of the other tasks of life he has had to take on because of her condition in an attempt, of sorts, to get us on his side, so to speak.

Though he comes off as an awful man in this letter and in many ways he likely is, there is a part of me that does understand where he is coming from and how one small thing, you know, like debilitating pain, can change the sexual attractiveness of one’s partner, from both sides I suspect.

There is a second part to this regarding some old cock sucking pictures of hers which he’s being a complete twat about, so for the sake of this post, we are just going to talk to the first part.

Dan responds lighter to this guy than I would have expected but left it to the commenters to really skewer him. And, as commenters often do, they did.

For the newbies here, my husband, Axel, had a massive surgery five months ago that was a replacement replacement for an infected 3 year old metal on metal hip implant along with the partial replacement of his femur bone and an additional nine 7″ screws directly into his sternum. To do this, they had to make a significant incision through all of the thigh and hip muscles and all of this together left him with a pretty long recovery period, of which he is still in. This letter hit home for me in multiple ways because, I realized that I could be that guy and, I will fully admit, there have been a few times when I have had to get a small level of something akin too resentment in check because whatever has happened to our sex life, and, to be fair, our regular life, because of this is certainly not Axel’s fault.

But, to the letter writer, I get it. Things are different and, like him, I am completely turned off by Axel’s pain – though admittedly no more so than Axel himself is – and the idea of knowing that he is going to be hurting more because I want sex is enough to make me not want it at all. It’s funny, I have gotten used to the fact that he’s going to hurt if we go to dinner or if he’s cooking or if he’s running an errand or _________, and I am getting used to that and no longer try to jump up and shield him because I realize that he has to move and do things and that me trying to save him only sets him back.

With sex, it’s different because it’s like my mind sees that as optional in some ways and the idea that I will make him hurt more or that, God forbid, I hurt him more, just makes the dick go soft right there because, for me, my pleasure is not worth his pain (which is so funny because with Thumper my pleasure IS his pain- right???). Could one say I am less attracted to him now because of that? Maybe, but it’s not that type of non attraction that is anything more than temporary and I liken it to the time in 2000 when we were going on a trip (ironically to the same place we are now) and he showed up at home the day before with platinum blond highlights in his dark hair looking like he had just driven a Camaro with T-tops to Miss Truvy’s Salon and said “make me look trashy”.  THAT went away quickly and I know this one will as well.

That’s just regular sex, but when you add in any type of additional BDSM element, it complicates things more so in my head that really causes more and more pushing and pulling in my brain about whether that fun or that reality is even worth the trouble. It’s a thought I have not really wanted to face and have been easily able to say that work had me busy and I didn’t have to think about it, but now I can’t hide that any more and wonder if we just officially pause any kinky activity so he can focus solely on his recovery though, of course, that is counter balanced by the fact that this might be our new reality and, if so, we just should figure a way to make it work. I think these things have led to me not posting as much because thinking is hard and nothing with this is an easy fix, so why write about it?

BUT, while I did relate to the man in the letter, I am very happy to say I am not that man in the letter but thank Dan for posting it because it certainly was a wake up call, of sorts, to me that I cannot ever allow myself to because him. Axel’s recovery is no where near done but with realistic sights I believe he and I can make it work, though I do have to have the sex talk with him because, I suspect, my fear of making him hurt is translating to him feeling unwanted sexually and I have not really realized that in such a frank way as in the last two minutes I have been typing this. For that, I will do better for sure.

One more thing though, to the man in the letter, I also realize that my husband’s issue can and will get better and that doesn’t seem to be the case for you, so that makes me feel your pain even more and makes me understand why you would write what you wrote. That said, I do hope you get some professional help for you, as this is going to be a long road ahead.

So, no real revelation here aside from yet again being thankful to Mr. Savage for showing me there are always people in the world far more fucked up than me.


Relaxed Faced Emoticon Here


FullSizeRender 4


Hello from Paradise – other wise know as Hawaii – one of my favorite spots on the planet. I feel like I start so many of these posts with “sorry I have not been very active” so I won’t do that, but all is good, life has just been crazy winding up so I can now wind down.

In the kink world, I have been locking more, but there is not wild sex or nights locked in a cage in the garage to report about and no in depth details about the depths of Thumper’s ass or any of that fun because timing, yet again, sucks. But, I have no worries that all of this will sort itself out pretty soon and I have been enjoying getting to know a few new dominant friends and a few new submissive friends and when the time is right I can see myself taking some significant steps toward both of those directions.

Axel’s recovery is not where it should be and he is still in pretty constant pain, so his job this week is to explore some alternative therapies while my job is to relax. I am not an in-the-water-person and I will turn bright red in 5 minutes even with 100+ SPF, but part of relaxing for me is writing, so I hope to catch you all up very soon.

Until then, E pili mau na pomaika`i ia `oe.


Dear Hunter:

Dear Hunter:

I have been angry, sad and confused this week over the shootings in Florida and, as you know, I wrote this semi-lovely piece about what’s it’s like to not be able to comfortably hold my husband’s hand in public. As I wrote that, the voices in my head – both the professional (the clean) and the personal (the smutty) – were screaming at me to stand up against this, to be a stronger guy, to hold Axel’s hand proudly, and to show the world that we, two boring balding middle aged guys, were strong, proud individuals who were not afraid of anything. I felt good about that until I failed 26 hours later. Miserably.

I failed over a kiss.

An airport kiss to be exact.

In an odd twist of events, I was home on a Tuesday and Wednesday and was flying out for two days of work at the end of the week followed by a drive to Montreal where I am going to spend some time with the chastity God, Chris, from Steelwerks. What’s different here is that Axel is meeting me in Montreal and we are going to have a few days of “us time” along with time with new friends, so he took me to the airport so we would not have to have two cars there when he leaves tomorrow.

To be honest, I would almost rather hand over all of my body to the man versus the key fob to my truck because he tends to do things like scrape wheels on the curb and leave protein bar wrappers and random peanuts in crevices, but, nonetheless, it was easier to let him drive me in mine. We were laughing and talking on the way to the airport and as we drove up for him to drop me off, he went right to the Delta/American door and, even though he went way too fast toward the curb for my liking, he pulled smack up right in the middle of all the people in an effort to make it easier for me to get my bags and get inside.

As I gathered my things and went to exit, I was about to offer him my traditional “thank you for loving me and caring for me and I will miss you so much” pat on the leg, but he foiled that and HAD THE NERVE to lean in for a kiss. A KISS. Right there in front of all of those people, he wanted to kiss me inside my black truck with a black interior and tinted windows. I mean, it was just like we had a spotlight on us in that shrouded blackness and everyone was going to turn and look while pointing. My head raced because, I was scared, I was aware of the people, and I was very uncomfortable in those 14 seconds this was taking. Why the fuck couldn’t I just do the leg pat? I really raged in my head for a second and, then, I kissed him.

All day I thought I had failed myself because I had that fear in my head. I thought I was weak and I had cowered. I thought I should be ashamed of myself for even worrying. I thought about the fact that when Thumper drops me off he kisses me and that I am often proud of that and why that might be different for me and decided that it just is because, with Thumper, there is an “in your face” feeling I have because I could, if asked, just say “he’s my friend and we are affectionate – fuck off” but when it was my husband I would have to tell my whole story and would have to come out, yet again, in that brief moment exposing myself to whatever that could be.

As I write this, I realize I did not technically fail because, I did kiss him, but it was sadly not  what a kiss should be remembered as being. But, I did it.

As I flew, I had thought about what, if anything, I wanted to write about this because I am really wanting the world to get back to naked pictures and Thumper’s “dick” pics, but, I decided I would process that a bit and see what I felt like that.

Then, as I arrived at my hotel last night, I got this as a response from you to my ramblings about the shooting the day before and you literally made my day.

Screen Shot 2016-06-16 at 6.25.12 AM

You were a first time commenter and, when I got it, I wanted to almost cry because I felt for you as I remembered being a youngish gay man too. But, you also validated me and my feelings as well, because, well, just because. I don’t know your kink side or how you found me, but to realize that someone is using these things as guidance makes me incredibly happy and I hope that when you become a non-youngish man, like me, that these feelings of fear will go away.

To go back to the kiss, I feel like I should point out that I made it 1,273 miles from home and not a single person pointed their finger at me and giggled because I kissed a boy. But, the shear fact I still have that in my head tells me I have a lot of work to do on myself because, thanks to you, Hunter, I realize that these things set a tone for the next generation and that my actions now can determine perceptions in the future.

Thank you for commenting on this and for helping me stay in check with where I should be on these issues. As a youngish gay man, you have an incredible future ahead of you because, even though we are focusing on these negative things these days, the world has literally opened up to us and for us during our actual lifetimes and every single day someone is having their awareness raised.

I you do need a real like role model, message me directly, but, the fear and all of the other things you mentioned are real and will likely always be there for some degree, but you don’t have to give into it, EVER. Just be aware and continue to move gayly forward.



P.S. – Axel (and likely you Thump, if you deserve it), get ready, cause I am kissing you both in a wide public place (perhaps in shade though – you know, baby steps).

The Father, the Son, and the semi-automatic assault rifle

And now a word from Thumper who spells out a lot of what I could not find the words for earlier today.

Denying Thumper

I’ve been struggling with what to say about Orlando. I have so much sadness but it’s mixed with so much anger that I can’t tell them apart. They taste the same in my mouth. I need a word for that. A word that means, “sorrowful rage.”

I hear this massacre isn’t an LGBTQ thing. It’s about mental illness or religious radicalism or easy access to firearms in a country awash in them, but it could have happened anywhere. A movie theater or a coffee house or a sports arena. It’s distasteful for gays to make this about them. But it didn’t happen in any of those places. It happened in a gay nightclub because it was a gay nightclub. Of course, this event is about mental illness and religious radicalism and too many guns, but it’s also very much about being LGBTQ. The hatred for LGBTQ people is the thread…

View original post 1,080 more words

The Twitter Tussle

I guess I should preface this post with the fact that I left my hotel at 3:17 this morning to catch a 5:45am flight and had to go though immigration and customs, so I might be cranky. However, if you follow me on Twitter, you will see that this morning I jumped into a word battle between three people who I have always immensely respected when they spoke on topics or life. Now, one is Thumper and the other a friend, and I am on their side of the “battle” against someone who probably won’t talk to me again after this post and, by knowing this in advance, I have to be okay with that even though I really don’t want that to happen because I actually like this guy a lot.

See, to sum it all up, he has basically been saying that the Orlando shooting had nothing to do with the fact the people were gay and everything to do with the fact that the shooter was crazy, because, why else would a non crazy person do such a thing? I agree that there was likely some mental instability, but the murderer in this case held a pretty normal life up until he pulled the trigger and that does not typically define crazy. From what we know, it was his hatred toward two men kissing that enacted a rage within him, though new evidence might suggest he was raging against his own thoughts.

However, that is a moot point to me because I really don’t want to give the shooter more thought than I have to but there is zero doubt in my mind that he targeted those people because he assumed they were gay and that they were embracing, living, and loving in a gay club. This one hit me particularly hard because of the targetedness of it. In other mass shootings, there was a randomness of the victims or the acts that I used to wash it away in my head versus being scared to go to a movie or eat in a cafe. In the specific shootings like Columbine or Sandy Hook, it, in my view, seemed to be an act against the system versus a hatred of first graders, though one could argue the bullied kids did seek specific victims. So while those hurt me as a human, they didn’t strike me in my soul like this one did.

What got me the most was that inside all of these words about the mental state of the shooter, a subtext came out about those of us who feel this pain making the victim’s pain about ourselves that basically said we had no right to take this so personal or to link this to our own lives. In addition, there was also the point made that I should never define myself by the words of others because I would never be happy and, while I agree with that, I do have a point to make.

First, attaching myself to this is possible, in my mind, because I am a card carrying double gold star wearing member of the homosexual community. I celebrate with the community as a whole when we have wins and I grieve with the community as a whole when we are stepped on. I have every right to take this personally because that man shot my people for being just like me and that makes me angry, sad, and, frankly a bit scared. The gay community is huge, but it’s also small in some ways because, as an example, I live five states away and am far older than most of the victims, but one of them was a dear friend of a friend and my friend is now grieving the loss inside my world. No, I did not know the victim at all aside from seeing a few Facebook posts, but the connection being just one away made me feel a bit more vulnerable and brought it that much closer.

To me, this was a further realization that, even though we are legally a couple, I will likely never have the chance to hold Axel’s hand in most public areas or to kiss him when something makes me happy because of the fear of the repercussions. See, for me, I used to say that because it was the fear off someone seeing me as who I am and those repercussions and now that I don’t give a fuck about that, it’s for a different kind of fear all together.`

Finally, on the part about the words of others. As a gay man, I have spent 45 years listening to strangers say who I am and how I love is wrong. I am one of the lucky ones in that nobody in my life who mattered ever said that to me and I was strong enough to rationize the words of others and not take it too personal, though there was always a bit that stung. Last year when the US made marriage legal, I thought maybe then the negativity would go away, but in the last year it’s harder and harder to watch the news when states are now creating laws to invalidate me and my rights. I have always been able to brush that off and rarely has it ever been said to me, which is mostly, I assume, because I look like everyone else to them. It still sucks and, if ANYTHING good of this can happen, I hope American’s will finally see this is more than about you where one puts his penis. 

Again, none of this shocked me, but the fact that it came from a fellow kinkster stung especially hard because, as a group, who the fuck are we to judge anything?


This will be brief, but timing being what it is, this morning I posted a post about looking better naked and all that jazz just as the news was breaking about the horrific Orlando shootings. I have a rule that I will not delete something I have posted (thanks to Thumper for that) but feel like I have to say that is weighing on me heavily because of the 50 people who were killed and the hundreds whose day to day lives have forever been changed, how I look naked matters not.

I have been to The Pulse club and, though it was so long ago that I still had sweeping hair, the idea that these people were killed for being who they were in a place where, for some of them, was the only place they could be who they were, just saddens me to a level I am not sure I have felt in a long while. No, as far as I know, I didn’t know anyone there, but, that does not change my feelings.

Further, to see Mike Huckabee and Ted Cruz “praying” today when just three months ago they attended rallies where a preacher wanted gays “put to death” is also horrific to me. Follow that up with Trump taking congratulations for being right about Islam and, I just want to scream. However, I am on an airplane and would likely be arrested, so I write in silence.

To all of those who have been affected by this massacre in ANY way, shape or form, my energies go out to you and I wish you peace.