May 1st, 2007

A mind left alone is the most troublesome.

Having come home from the Spread Magazine Sex Worker art show opening, my mind is a flutter of thoughts.

I am at my worst when left alone to think. My brain can be so damaging to me sometimes... doubt, paranoia, questioning everything. It's really counterproductive to my overall goal of living happily.

Funny, that is the second time that I used "counterproductive" today. I wonder what that means.

See what I mean? It doesn't have to have a meaning!!!

I gazed the longest at dominicvine's photographs. I mean, I enjoyed the others, and they certainly had meaning that I could understand. But it was these photographs that were real to me. That represented the overall goal of the show.

It got me thinking about beauty. And what that is to me.

I remember always looking up to my father. When I was really young, I aspired to look like him. His ease at growing a beard and mustache. His body covered in hair. I always wondered when I would become as hirsute.

As I grew older, I became aware of his faults. I saw what life had done to him... how relationships in his life that should have made him stronger did just the opposite. I saw him as overweight. Unhealthy.

My fantasies for men changed. Maybe it was because of my new imagery of my Dad. Maybe it was because I never really had a childhood. That I was forced to be an adult at such a young age. I began to fantasize about boys. Men, but boys.

"I want my men to look sixteen and hairless" I've been known to say. I like 'em looking young, like a teenager.

Maybe the way I want to be.

I started looking through dominicvine's group of photos on Flckr. And I came across an image that struck me. Hard. It was my father. I mean, it wasn't actually my father. But... it was. He had the same grin. The same furrowed brow. The facial structure... the hair... the lips. The signs of age, and size, and hair... and...

And all these men commented on how beautiful the man was. Is. It was a photo that on any other day, I would have clicked right past. But I read those comments, and I looked at the photo again. And they were right, he was beautiful. Is beautiful.

Full circle perhaps. I don't know. My dick doesn't get hard at the sight of such beauty. Like it did when I was 11. But... I saw beauty again. Perhaps, I allowed myself to see it.

They should have a group for people who date sex workers. Yes, that was a non sequitur.

When my mind says write, I write.

My brain is telling me to write more. So I will. My immediate instinct is to apologize to all of you for this... but a very recent phone conversation convinces me that I shouldn't apologize for my thoughts. So there you go.

I have a problem with orgies.

By orgies I do not mean a large group of close intimate friends finding themselves in a situation where clothes are lost and sexual things happen. I have been in many of those, and I enjoy them incredibly much.

I mean orgies where you don't know the participants at all, where it is clearly all about the sex, and if you get the person's name, bonus points for you.

Some people reading this will be surprised by that statement. I have probably said several times that the orgy described above is one of my consistent fantasies. And it is on paper.

My problem is when I know I will see some of these people in the orgy again. Or if I've seen them before. Then I'm fucked... and not in the way I want to be.

In my youth, I used to do a lot of anonymous sex. Gay male sex. I sucked a lot of dick in 2 years. I used to go to the gay baths, to the seedy after hours sex clubs... my favorite situation was in one club, where I would be in a dark, tight room that had a floor, ceiling, walls of nothing but poured concrete. You could not move without touching a man, you could not breathe without touching a man, and not a word was spoken in the entire room. All fucking night. All you could hear was slurps, groans, moans, growls, and breaths.

It was wonderful.

It was wonderful because I could do whatever the fuck I wanted, and not give a flying fuck about what anyone else thought of me. I could suck as much as I wanted, and stop precisely when I wanted, without giving a fuck if the person who I was sucking was finished, or satisfied, or even happy. Because all he had to do was turn 20 degrees and there was someone else. They weren't my responsibility.

When it comes to people who I know, or might know, or have a reason to actually give a damn about, I need intimacy. I can't have the anonymous sex, so I need something else. Some desire, some wanting, some romance in matter of speaking. But do I really want that? No... what I really want is to do what I want. To reach out and partake, and be as nasty and vile and uninhibited as I want to be.

But at an orgy, I can't do that. I feel the pressure of judgment, the fear that someone will say things about what I did. I have the fear of rejection, real people finding me unattractive and not wanting me. In the sex clubs, men were cattle... if one turned there nose up at me, I wouldn't care because there were five others who didn't care just as long as my mouth was warm and wet. At a sex party, that's not the case. People will gravitate towards who they find attractive, and you are putting yourself at risk of being turned down when you make an approach.

There are orgies that are open to me. People who I love and like and respect go to them. I want to go with them and enjoy what they are enjoying. I went once. And I stood there like a wallflower - I was that dorky kid at the high school prom without a date. I was afraid to approach anyone because I felt unattractive. I felt like I was invading a space that was not meant for me.

I don't have any of these hang-ups when it comes to a SM event. There, I can walk in and flirt and seduce and have the time of my life. I don't fear rejection. I don't fear going up to a complete stranger and chatting them up and eventually going to play with them. It's when you make sex the primary object, as opposed to a SM scene. That is where I trip up.

I wonder if I'll get over this.