I am not sure what’s wrong with men.  (I accidentally typed “me” instead of “men”, but I’m 99% sure that I’m okay and they’re not.)  I went to a munch earlier this week and met a friendly, submissive-switch guy.  We hit it off well enough to chat for most of the evening about kinky things and mull over the possibility of playing together.  I have to be honest; as I’ve written about before, my interest often stops at the mulling stage, and I’ve learned not to be distressed that others actually want to act on their impulses.

What distressed me a leeetle was that when the guy went to leave, he asked me for a ride to his car, which was, by his choice, parked nearly a mile away from the bar hosting the munch.  It was bitterly cold, so I did the nice thing and drove him, although I would liked to have lingered longer.  When we got to his car, I figured there might be a peck on the cheek or something.  (I’d told him about Robbie.)  Instead, he turns to me and says, “Well, a kiss seems a little inappropriate, so how about I masturbate and you watch?”

Yeah.  No.  No thanks.

I informed him that the kiss was about 10000000% more appropriate than jizz would be, and so he gave me a very nice, sweet kiss.  Chalk up one for me in the “articulating my wants and desires” column.

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I’ve started a few other writing projects in other places, which is distracting.  Every morning I get up to work on of the 15 short essay-lettes I have planned, and every day I end up staring at the computer screen jumping around from thing to thing to thing.  So, lots to say here, and hopefully I can pick up the pace a bit.

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I had a huge lunch today at a famous restaurant and it really wasn’t that good.  (Don’t go to this famous restaurant whose name you don’t know, if you’re ever near it.)  I’m feeling ginormous post-holiday and I really, really want to get in better shape.  It’s a new year cliche, but I’m really hoping I can make some changes there.  I will never have legs like this woman–although I did once get to fuck a woman who had legs like this–but it’s not really a contest.  Feeling better in my own body is where it’s at.

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Blah blah blah me.  Okay, well, that’s pretty much a post.

Cool pics by Franklin Obregon.  And if you really want to know, I steal most of my stuff from Sex in Art (as in this case), or ponyXpress, or the like.