It’s late on a Thursday night and I am sitting in the front row of the first class cabin on yet another plane ready to crawl out of my skin because flying on Thursday night is just miserable. It’s a combination of business guys like me trying to get home and families who are trying to start a weekend vacation a bit earlier. It’s always chaos and I really prefer staying and taking a 5am flight out the next day, but every time I book my trips I seem to not remember this because all I see is an extra night home with Axel. Of course, it’s almost always at this skin crawling level but, tonight, it’s worse because it’s raining in Atlanta and that means that everything runs on Hartsfield time, which, on nights like this is two hours behind real world time. So, I will get home around 1am, take a shower, (finally) eat dinner, and then crawl in bed with Axel for about four hours before he has to get up. Not really quality time, but it will count for something.

It’s been a heavy week. I am not going to say it was a bad week, but just a heavy week. One of the Scotts has been really freaky sick and in the hospital for a week which has caused Axel (and me) stress and worry (he’s going to be fine)(but cardiac things can happen to a fit thirtysomething), Axel and I have been arranging his surgery dates, care plans, and time off of work, which, for me means a lot of rescheduling since I am generally booked six months out, and, as you know, Thumper and I have declared a “break” which is essentially no more than officially labeling what, pretty much, was/is just our normal routine when we are not in each other’s presence. Add to this that I have, apparently, been labeled the destroyer of the environment because I often like to leave the TV on when I leave hotel rooms, and all that just creates the word “heavy”.

Anyway, a few days ago Thumper posted about the break on DT linking it back to mine where he likens this to Ross and Rachel and then goes so far as to even dare think that he is the Rachel in the situation. Perhaps this is part of that one sidedness showing, but I didn’t like that post much, though I adored the comments, and I can’t exactly express why, which bothers me further. It’s a topic he and I have not had enough time to actually discuss, so I am leaving this right here for right now and one day one of us will pick this back up surely.

As for the Scotts, they have weaved their way into our world in a way neither Axel or I expected, but I have to say we are delighted they have. It took a bit of time for the weirdness to go away, but Axel and I found a groove and I no longer feel any stupid jealous like feelings when he is with them at all. In fact, as I have mentioned, I have a bit of a crush on both of them which has been acknowledged in return, so that door is open now too and, as surprising as it is since Axel and I have said for years that we’d never play together, I can really see me stepping through that door one day fairly soon, which is both exciting and scary in that good way scary can be.

Finally, tomorrow the BEAUTIFUL “Axel”, which is appropriately named because Axel helped design and purchased it, device arrives between 3:15 and 5:15 CST. This device is likely going to make a significant change in our momentum and we are both quite excited about that, though we have put the cautionary brakes on anything “official” until around December as I will be traveling internationally again for two weeks starting next week and he is swamped during the holidays as families create chaos and people need counseling in a dramatically higher rate starting around Thanksgiving. But, that’s plenty of time for me to practice and adjust and we will likely have some goal based lock ups during this period that I will be writing about more in the coming days.

I’m almost home, so happy Friday.

Oh, about that god damn TV thing, FOR THE RECORD, I tend to leave the power on because at most hotels you have to go through about 27 menus and advertisements before you can get to the channels and/or I travel with an Apple TV and if the TV is off I have to then crawl behind it and adjust the inputs each time. It’s irritating and I am in a hotel room just enough that these small little annoyances can just make a bad day worse. Fuck, I have rented enough Praises (or is it Prii?), to offset that stupid amount of energy, dammit. Don’t judge me. It’s really just me being practical.

It’s been almost a month since Thumper and I publicly vowed to look better naked both here on this blog and here on Denying Thumper.

Today we closed our first challenge month in Fitocracy, the app we are using to track our workouts, assign points, and to report in to the Ferns Workout Crew (#fwocrew). I think I speak for him when I say we both had a good month. Plus, I had fun.

While I didn’t really lose more than a few pounds, I was able to use my type A competitiveness to make sure I stayed in alignment with him and a few of our other team members throughout the month. For me, that is a huge step toward the positive. In the past, I have always been my own worst enemy because I could easily talk myself out of any activity that involved not sitting down at the end of a long day of traveling. I used to joke that I needed a man with a whip to go to the gym with me for motivation, and, while I still have the position open for the right man at the right gym, this level of virtual accountability has been just what I was hoping to have to fill the gaps when my mind is swimming with laziness.

Using Fitocracy, Thumper and I have started another challenge for March and it’s simply who can earn the most points and bragging rights as we have other ways we can challenge each other at other times. And, speaking of bragging rights, because caring minds want to know, I would be negligent if I didn’t point out that I won our February challenge by about 500 points, although he has a larger total overall point balance than me. What’s funny is that, although these mean nothing in the scheme of the real world, I will admit it killed me when he pulled ahead enough that I would get my ass out of bed earlier to work out to bring our numbers closer together. For March, my goal is to continue the lifting pace I have already set, but add in a lot more cardio like running which I have never been good at doing. I used to say I wasn’t built for it, but honestly think I have always given up before I pushed myself.

So, all of this to say, thanks for putting up with our Twitter announcements and encouraging us as we move toward our naked pictures in June. If anyone is interested in joining us on this adventure this month, please send one of us a message as we’d love to have you in our virtual gym.

Finally, while it’s outside of the scope of this project to a degree, I have also promised Thumper that I will drink more water.

He worries.

Adding to my lists of first the last few months, I’m now sitting here writing my thoughts on bisexuality. Gay man style.

So, it’s no secret I have a bisexual man in my life these days. When we met, I remember thinking something like “Oh cool, he can see me naked and his wife naked and be happy all the time – neat” or something equally silly. In fact, I actually remember one point in my life wishing I could identify as bisexual because, that way, I could hide “the gay”, marry a bisexual woman and the world would be wonderful while I lived with my wife in the big house with the white picket fence. Of course, said house had a gate to my boyfriend’s fabulous house on the right with the BMW in the driveway and another gate to the very practical house on the left with the Subaru in the driveway where my wife’s girlfriend lived. You know, typical suburban bliss. However, I grew up – as did my thinking.

Now, thirty years or so later I really never thought about bisexuality much except for my pure hatred of the term “bi-guy”. They were just simply “those people” who, in my mind, had somewhat of a choice in who they went to, but not in the fact that they were attracted to them.

That thinking changed almost immediately after I met Thumper because we both had that question “could you fall in love outside of your marriage” thrown at us by our spouses, friends – both online and actual, and in our own heads too. It was a natural curiosity for all and is something that happens sometimes and it really opened my eyes to start thinking. For us, the answer simply was no, because that is not how he is wired. A relationship could exist, but not one that would ever threaten either spouse because, the way I see it is, his level of bisexuality is purely about the sexual attraction and not about the “need” that I, as a gay man, have of wanting to deeply nest with another man who I also have sex with while we build a family together. He has those nesting feelings, but his are and forever will be for a woman.

As a side note, I want to make sure I clarify that a need for friendship with a man is outside either sexual parameter and was something we evidently both needed. It’s like one is the cake and is one the icing as they can both exist on their own or blend nicely together when the time is right. One is sticky. One is sweet. Oh the metaphoric journey I could go on with this, but I won’t.

I note that I know most of you already know that story, but that happened months ago and is now a non-issue with the four people involved, however I brought it up though to introduce why I have been thinking so much about this lately. As I have been attacked by a few of the Amy’s of the world, I have thought more and more about the level of unfairness everywhere. Now, some of you may disagree, but I one hundred percent believe that sexuality comes from your genes and nowhere else. I used to joke with a few of my really, really effeminate gay male friends that they “got more of the gene” than I did, but now I wonder if it really was a joke as I have met bisexuals who really do feel like they could nest with either gender. Did they get more sparkly embryonic fluid than Thumper did? Who knows. One day, when science justifies my feelings of gay by birth without question, I hope they get right to that next question.

But, here is where I want to stand up for the bisexual men and women because, I never really realized that it has to be as hard, or even harder, for you to “come out” to yourselves and others as it was for me and I apologize for being so flippant about it in my youth. A thought I have had of late is that once I was out it was, in some ways, over. I married a man, started a family, grew my life and, aside from those random professional questions of “what does you wife do?” or “what is your wife’s name?” I don’t think about it that much (as a side note, I used to get the “why don’t you and your wife have kids?” question so often that I developed the ability to get a tear in my eye when I answered about how “we tried and tried but medically it just could not happen”. I miss that question).

Anyway, there is a general lack of respect for the bisexuals and I want to do my part to change that, some how, some way. As a for instance, I told my best friend about Thumper. Yes, that involved me telling him about the open marriage thing first but I luckily didn’t have to also come out to him as “straight – but only once a month or so”. That sucks for the “bi-guy” (I disgust myself even typing it). In addition to that, I suspect many have to deal with the unjustified feelings that others may have that they “just didn’t have the courage to be all the way gay” or that they may love their opposite sex partner but not lust after them the way they would for a same sex one. That is complete bullshit because I can see a look in Thumper’s eye when he mentions Belle’s name that just shows how much he WANTS her in every way possible and how much she completes him. I also see that same look in the eye of a female friend who is bisexual but married to a man. I kid you not, I hope and pray that Axel makes those eyes when my name is discussed because we all deserve that and for anyone to even think that they made a choice of love over lust is stupid (noting that I recognize many people, gay, straight and sideways do “settle” in some way, but that’s not today’s topic).

Another myth I debunked for myself is that being bisexual and bi-curious is the same thing. I know many people who have tried sex with the same gender just to scratch a little itch and then never went back because that one tryst was all the benedryl they needed. Frankly, one day I may do it simply so I have the experience, but, for the record, only with someone who was completely in the know. For the truly bisexual, the itch doesn’t go away and for those who don’t have the courage or ability to admit it to their partners, I am sad for them.

But even for those who do admit it to either themselves for their partner, finding that right person to “help scratch” has to be hard (even for the ones who don’t have penises encased in steel) because, well, it’s a pretty unique niche and the Grindr’s and Scruff’s of the world don’t have those categories.

I have rambled here, I know, and I am sure by this point you are all expecting Sally Struthers to pop into the post to ask you to give money for the “sexually starved bisexuals”, but she’s not. I am, I guess, just asking everyone to be more aware (as I have been proven wrong before in thinking that anyone reading this would already be aware) and to always think as broad as possible as we go about our lives representing our kinks and our sexualities.

However, since I did mention Sally, I guess I should close with something like, “if you could just lend one bisexual man your penis for just one day, you could save a marriage. Won’t you just think about it?”

“Mr. Winkie must die”. The sorta-phrase heard all day yesterday in various forms from Axel and Thumper.

Evidently, neither liked the fact that in the previous post about my one week of healing that I referred to my penis as “Mr. Winkie”.

It’s “not sexy”, they say. “You’re a grown man”, they say. Yadda. Yadda. Yadda, they say.

Actually, the bigger thought was that such items should not have names. I find that sad, but also see a point, so in an effort to be a better husband and boyfriend to the boyfriend and husband, I have vowed that my penis will no longer be referred to by any name other than cock, penis, dick, or monster, you know, all the technical terms. In my defense, it’s not like I would saddle up behind either and say something like “get ready for Mr. Winkie”, but, I do see their point and I will do my best to make sure that it shall no longer be named.

While this post has absolutely nothing to do with chastity, sex, or anything kinky (damn me and my vow as I have now I missed my chance since that rhymes so well with Winkie), I laughed all day about how these two men who have not (yet) met both picked up on the same thing and both gave me hell about it in the same snippy, yet endearingly sarcastic ways. Actually, it was an unintentional threeway of sorts as they also each added in there that I tend to give inanimate objects a gender assignment and that it should stop as well. This was just once, after recently referring to my truck as a “he” and they thought that was a bit silly too. So, I will kill Winkie, but not sure my truck will understand just yet.

I kid, of course, as it was more just fun for me to see that they both freakishly united in this “request” at almost the exact time and in the almost exact way.  Just odd.  (as an FYI, Axel does not read the blog, but I have sent him the PA updates as he has a vested interest and wants to know those)

In addition, while I am writing about nothing in particular, I want to give an update on Axel as I am not sure I painted a fair picture of him last weekend when I arrived home with my freshly poked Mr., errrr, cock. A few of you have told me that you felt sorry for me over his reaction and that he could have reacted better, been more excited, and such. For those who said that, I agree 100 percent. He should have. But, there were many things about my arrival home and the weekend that I could have done better too, so in this case,  it truly is what it is or, well, was what it was. As a bit of background too, Axel’s workload almost quadruples in December and he’s working more hours than me without the benefit of the occasional first class seat and kettle one and cranberry. Stress levels are high this month and always have been, so I really should have known better than to expect much more. In fact, one of the reasons I chose to have myself modified in December was due to the fact that intimacy, kink, control, and any of the other fun words that belong in that sentence are quite improbable during these weeks, so it made for a good time to temporarily render oneself impotent so that I’d be back and roaring when Axel wakes up from his much needed nap a few days after Christmas (after we return from his family and I wake up from the self medicated induced coma I typically have to put myself in for survival too).

I am in Los Angeles tonight and will be heading home for almost three solid weeks tomorrow and have promised him he can touch the steely cock as much as he wants, now that doing so will not send me through the ceiling in pain like it would have this time last week. While I intend to stay in my half self imposed/half healing imposed state of device free chastity for at least another week for the internal healing, the touch is something I have missed dearly and am looking very forward to feeling when I get there.

As a nine day update, I am healing quite well and the burning has slowed, though it is still there at times. Mentally I no longer “think” constantly about my dick, but the new vibrations and sensations are still rather, um, thrilling.

Happy weekend.