Weekend Teaser

Logan's on his way over, so I don't have a time for much text, but I thought I'd leave you with a few pictures.


This guy's been saying he wanted to be dominated since February of 2007. It took him until this morning to follow through.


If a guy doesn't mention "no pictures" among his limits, you have a dilemma: do you not ask, not use flash, hope he doesn't find out, and if he does, say, "You didn't say no pictures"; or do you ask and get better pictures with flash. I went with choice A for most of the session, but then it turned out that he didn't mind in the least. In other words: most of these pics are blurry because I'm lame. Oh well.


I finally got to use my clipper set today. But I didn't plug it in to charge until b&c was on the way to the airport, so I didn't really do a thorough job. Oh well.


This guy said, "That's a first" a lot of times. Most notably the first time I marched him, blindfolded and handcuffed, to the bathroom and held his cock while he took a piss. I ended up doing that three times: he'd had a couple of beers before coming over to relax him.


It was also the first time he'd had wax dripped on him. He handled it reasonably well, though he was screaming, "Fuck!" by the end.

Bonus: he liked kissing, and he was good at it. Woohoo.

Gobble

I'm not especially interested in writing about gratitude today. I'm keenly aware of how fortunate I am, but I'm aware of that pretty much every day of my life. I'm amazed at how much many people take for granted, but one day of gratitude doesn't change that. A lot of people are only giving lip service to gratitude, and they've forgotten about how grateful they're supposed to be by the time their brother takes the last of the Cool Whip.


Anyway, it was a pretty low key Thanksgiving around here. EFU's still in Guadalajara (8 more days until she comes home), and b&c went up to New Jersey for dinner with his mother and sister, so it was just YFU and I around our table. I'd received a couple of invitations which I would gladly have accepted, but I knew that YFU would be miserable going to the house of someone she didn't know, no matter how charming those people are. Plus, she always wants my cooking, and I really like brining and roasting a turkey.


The only things she's really interested in eating are turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and pumpkin pie. This is always the case, and EFU is pretty much interested in only the same things, but I usually make many more things because it's Thanksgiving, and harvest festivals are meant to be celebrated with abundance. In fact, when YFU asked for pie, I gasped and explained to her that since it was Thanksgiving, she was meant to eat far too much of the main course for her own good and comfort so that she'd have to wait until later -- after a suitable period of groaning -- to eat pie. She gave me a strange look, but she had more mashed potatoes, and she even ate some of the green beans. Covered with gravy. I also made cranberry sauce, because I love it and because cooking cranberries is fun, but after I ate a spoonful of it, I forgot to put it away, and it sat out all night, so I had to throw the rest of it away. Which, really, is no great loss. My cranberry sauce is very good, but so is everything else, and it always ends up sitting in the refrigerator until after Christmas.


Anyway, after a relatively short time at table, YFU retired to the living room to watch TV and to groan, then she had some pie, then she groaned some more, then she watched some more TV, then she went to her room to read, then I snuck out for a quick craigslist fuck, then I stopped by 7-11 for some Cool Whip, then she had another piece of pie, then she asked whether we could go see Twilight, and then we went and saw Twilight. I had already seen Twilight on Tuesday, when I took the day off, but I'd enjoyed it quite a lot, so I figured seeing it again wouldn't hurt me, and it didn't, except that then today I had to take YFU to buy the first two novels in the series, and then I didn't see her for the rest of the day, and when her mother came to retrieve her around 6, she was three hundred pages further along. For the record, on Tuesday, I also went to see Slumdog Millionaire (this time with b&c, who scoffed at Twilight when I gave him a one-sentence synopsis), and that was very good, too. And not just because of all the hot Desi guys.


Given that YFU spent almost all of today absorbed by a book, it would have been a good day for hooking up, but I couldn't host, so I was a bit off my game. It's not that I have anything against traveling, it's just that I'm not used to it. If I can't host, I won't post an ad on craigslist, so I'm reduced to answering other guys' ads, and it's just never as satisfactory to work that way. It's probably just as well, though. Even with a more modest feast, I'd managed to leave quite a mess in the kitchen, and we're having some friends over for dinner tomorrow night, so there was a lot of cleaning and some food prep to get through. Anyway, b&c's off to Bogota Sunday morning, so I'll have plenty of opportunities to hook up. And, believe me, I'm grateful for that.

What's Love Got To Do with It?

Sometime last week, I was at the computer, and I got an IM from my buddy George, saying that neither of his boyfriends (he currently has only two, but I reckon everyone's allowed a slow year) could make it to the Tina Turner concert and wondering whether I could go with him. Hell, yes. He regretted that there was no ticket for b&c, but he figured (oh so correctly) that b&c would likely not appreciate Ms. Turner in concert nearly as much as I would.


The show was at 7:30, and we wanted dinner first. After some searching, I located indebleu, and the best reservation time I could get was fo 6:15, so we arranged to meet on the Bethesda Metro platform at 5:45, and we headed down there. The restaurant was great, and it was even better because the waitress informed us that all of their wines under $100 a bottle were half off that night. We were having fairly diverse items, so I split the difference and decided to get a bottle of a light red. There was a Spanish Mencia on the wine list, and I'd never had one, so I decided to try it. It was great, and it went well with everything. All the food was great, too. I started with a crepe filled with lentils and wild mushrooms, and then for the main course I had a crispy rare duck breast accompanied by caramelized pearl onions and a chile rellenos made with duck leg meat.


It's always fun to go to dinner with George. He's the only person who I hang out with who reads my blog, so our conversations are very different depending on whether b&c's along. Of course, that also means that he already knows all about my sex life, so I get to ask more about his, which is very entertaining, seeing how he has the two boyfriends whose combined ages just about equal his. Sometimes the conversation goes something like:
TED: So are you and your second boyfriend up to an hour yet?
George: No. He's like a machine, and he could go for an hour, but he's so sexy that I can only last about thirty minutes.
TED: Sucks to be you. How's boyfriend one?
George: Oh, he's fine. He's still jealous about boyfriend two. It's hard because I don't want to lie to him, so I tell him what goes on, but then he gets jealous.
TED: Doesn't he also have a second boyfriend, though?
George: Yeah, but he says that doesn't count.
TED: Why?
George: Because the sex isn't any good.
TED: He may have a point there. The sex with you and boyfriend two does sound pretty good.
George: It's amazing. But I'm the only guy boyfriend two has sex with. I sort of feel like I'm providing a service.
TED: You mean because you're the only one this uber hot guy has sex with? Your selflessness knows no bounds. You might not want to read the blog this week.
George: Why?
TED: Because I'm going to recount this conversation and make fun of you.


And then he told me that the dean at boyfriend two's business school has a big crush on boyfriend two, who has had to stop taking the dean's nightly phone calls. Now whenever the dean travels, he brings back expensive chocolates for boyfriend two, who, not much liking chocolate, passes them along to George. I'm immensely amused at this: older man buys gifts for younger student, who passes them along to his older boyfriend.


These days, George worries about his romantic situation. He's been with boyfriend one for nearly ten years, and he's been seeing boyfriend two for almost three years. He loves them both, and can't imagine giving either of them up. Since neither of them lives in Maryland, and since boyfriend two has visa issues, I think one of them will likely have to give him up before he'd ever have to choose between them, so I think he should just enjoy the situation for as long as it lasts. But I also recognize that it's difficult to love two people when those two people don't also love each other. Clearly, the answer here is for boyfriends one and two to spend some time together and to get to like each other. I haven't met boyfriend two, but he sounds like a splendid fellow, and I think boyfriend one would come to like him. I have met boyfriend one, and it's hard to imagine anyone not liking him.

Plus: threeways!


But I imagine that boyfriends one and two would both be resistant to the idea. And that's really too bad. I always figure that the more people you can love, the better. That's true for any sort of love, whether it's agape, amor, or eros. I can't imagine being in a three-way relationship myself, in part because I'm capable of friendly and/or erotic love with a lot of people, but it's very hard for me to find someone to fall in love with romantically. But mostly because I think it would be hard to explain to YFU, who's only twelve. George's kids are fully grown, though, so he could probably make it work.


Or he could just continue to enjoy the status quo of two hot boyfriends with occasional other guys on the side.

George used to have a third boyfriend, but his third boyfriend is now just his friend and tenant. Former boyfriend three has always seemed like a nice guy to me, but George tells me that he lacks character. He fell in love with a married man who also lacked character, but he finally ended it after a couple of years. The married guy was never going to stop being married, and he wasn't going to stop seeing other guys, either. In a perverse turn of events, former boyfriend three can now only function with men who are old and ugly. Neither George nor I can figure out how that came to be: before he broke up with his married friend, he was able to function with anybody, and his married friend didn't look old and was very attractive. Former boyfriend three, of course, is young and attractive, really the only kind of guy George goes for.


Maybe only going for old and ugly works out okay if you're without character. Former boyfriend three is quite materialistic, and God knows there are plenty of rich older guys who are ugly, so former boyfriend three could kill many birds with one stone. Both George and I still feel sorry for him, but I figure it's something that will pass. Indelible sexual preferences tend to get imprinted on people at a very early age. The proclivity for older and unattractive men is more likely a situational sexual preference, and when he's fully over his married man, he'll likely return to a more balanced range of attraction.


The Tina Turner concert was great, by the way. There's no getting around the fact that when someone's almost 69, you grade them on a curve, but Ms. Turner would be doing pretty well even if you graded her against 40-year-olds. As you might expect, the show was very high energy, with lots of pyrotechnics and a dance team. I thought, however, that the very best part of the show was right after the intermission when, instead of cavorting on and above the stage, she sat on a stool and sang a non-traditional arrangement of "Help" followed by a thoroughly traditional arrangement of "Let's Stay Together." Awesome. And, of course, "Proud Mary" deservedly brought the house down. I'm really glad that I got to see it.

More Fun with Married Men

Last night, b&c had a volunteer gig ushering for a local theater. They're undergoing a renovation or something, so he had to go all the way to Crystal City, and he didn't feel like driving, so he was going to drive to the closest Metro station, take the Metro waaaaay over to NoVA, take people's tickets, watch the show, take the Metro back to the closest Metro station, and drive home. Metro doesn't run its trains all that frequently on Sunday evenings, and he was going to have to switch lines, so I figured he'd be gone for about five hours. Prime opportunity for a craigslist ad. So I threw up a standard request for submissives.


I got plenty of responses, but they were mostly from guys who wanted to play another time. I was about to retire to the bedroom, with a video, for a long masturbatory session, when I got something more promising:

Hery - just saw your ad. Nice cock. I am 6' 165 45 and 8.5" cut. WMP VGL fit athletic type. I want to be spanked and funcked - I want you to force me to swallow your cum.

I have a cool scene if you are interetsted. I am in [nearby town] - will travel to you.

Well, why not? If there are guys out there needing to be funcked, then who am I not to funck them? I figured it was only polite to inquire about the scene.


He elaborated.

I come to your house - lights are out, door unlocked. Porn is on tv. I walk in and no one is around. I sit down and you come up behind me and ask what the fuck I am doing - you are naked and hard. You blindfold me and the order me to remove my clothes and do as you say or you will call the police for breaking into your house. I pull off my pants and you bend me over the couch and give me a damn good spanking (use a belt of spoon - a good spanking, hard, hurt, but not over the top. You then feel bad, rub some cream on my ass, then lick my clean asshole real good.

You then turn me over, stroke my cock (give it a suck if you like), then you put your cock in my mouth. I resist a bit at first, but you keep feeding it gently into my mouth. You tell me suck it or you call the police. I suck it damn good - you turn me over, and gently fuck my tight ass. You pull out and cum in my mouth. You then leave the room and tell me to get dressed and get out of your house.

The idea had merit. I needed to make a few adjustments, though. The best place to watch porn in our house is in the bedroom, so it would be hard to appear from behind him without having to hide under the bed. Also, I don't like to get naked before my guests do: it just seems rude. Anyway, I pitched as an alternative my more standard scene where the guy walks in, partially disrobes, puts on the blindfold, and then I take charge and work him over. He went for that, but then he asked whether I'd be willing to suck him off after I'd fucked him and fed him my cum.

And, you know, it's not that I'm not willing: it's more that I don't know whether the question is a trap. Maybe he wants me to suck him off, but maybe he's just testing me to make sure that he's the only cocksucker in this scene. Maybe if I reveal any inclination to be anything other than total top, it destroys his fantasy. Plus, I'm not all that into giving bj's, but that was really only a minor issue: guys like this cum fast. So I emailed back that if he was really interested in oral, I'd do it provided that he was likely to shoot very quickly. He said he would, so we made arrangements for him to show up soon. I gave him my cell number, but he seemed fairly certain to show up, so I went ahead and gave him my address.


Now, as it happens, slightly earlier in the evening, I'd gotten an email from someone whose address looked familiar but who didn't come up when I searched my gmail. He asked whether I'd gotten multiple replies to the email, and -- this being prior to the response from Mr. Blindfold -- I told him that I had but that none of them was available that evening. I also asked why he wanted to know, and he told me that he'd been to my place once before when I had a group of guys over. He said that he'd only watched because he's very shy and nervous. I knew immediately that he was the shy guy who only watched during a small orgy in February. I told him that I'd love to have him over, but that he'd be the only one there. He said that he thought he was too shy, but he asked for my cell number and asked what would be the latest time I could play, in case he got the nerve. I gave him the info, but there were no further emails, so I forgot about him.

Mr. Blindfold had said that he'd arrive at 8, so when I got a call at 7:50 from a guy who said he was on his way and who asked for some directional clarification, I figured it was Mr. Blindfold calling. I abandoned my game of Word Challenge, (and I was kicking ass, too) switched off almost all of the lights, turned on the porn in the bedroom, put the blindfold on the railing in the entryway, and waited at the computer. I saw lights in the driveway, then I heard the door open. A few moments later, I heard clothes dropping, then the sound of Velcro, and then he said he was ready. I went out, grabbed his ass, gave it a couple of smacks, and then marched him up the stairs. When we got to the bedroom, I slapped his ass through his jeans a few times, then I lowered the jeans and leaned him over the bed. I pulled my belt out of my jeans, looped it, and ran it under his nose and over his torso. Then I raised it and gave him a few easy whacks.


After taking a moment to get his jeans entirely off, I lowered his boxer briefs to reveal his very smooth ass, and I began spanking with more force. Enough to make him shake a bit, but -- per his request -- nothing over the top. I kept that up for a while, and I threw in some talk about not breaking into people's houses. I reached around him a couple of times to tweak his nipples, but mostly I spanked him. I took a short break to spread his cheeks and lick his ass a bit, but then I spanked him some more before shoving him down on the bed and eating his ass in earnest.

My cell phone had rung just as I'd begun spanking him, and then it rang three more times. Finally, I grabbed it, excused myself for a minute, went into the hallway, and answered it. It was Mr. Shy, asking whether he had the right house number. I said, "Oh, shit. I thought you were the guy who's here already." "Can I watch?" "Yeah, ok. The door's unlocked, but be quiet." Oops.


I don't think Mr. Blindfold heard or suspected anything, and I figured Mr. Shy was good at skulking around, but just in case, I turned the porn up and shoved my tongue in. That seemed to be enough to distract him.

I was still eating ass when Mr. Shy appeared in the bedroom. I'd turned the porn up pretty loud, so I was able to pull Mr. Shy out into the hallway and tell him to be sure to keep quiet. He nodded. The next time I saw him, he was back in the bedroom, minus his pants and underwear. I took a moment to play with his ass. He was stroking himself. Then I went around the other side of the bed and told Mr. Blindfold to get on his back. I pulled him across the bed until his head was hanging off the side, and then I started to feed him my cock. He had pretty good oral skills.


Blindfold's cock was pretty hard when I started to fuck his face, and it got a lot harder when I reached down and twisted both his nipples. His body contorted as if he wanted to get away, but his cock was swelling, and he wasn't audibly complaining, so I kept on doing what I was doing. Before long, Mr. Shy had disappeared. Oh well. I felt bad about having messed that situation up, but I was too busy to really dwell on it.

I pulled Blindfold into a sitting position, then I lay down on the bed next to him, and I guided his head down to my cock. I was trying to pull him around so that I could eat his ass at the same time, but he wasn't getting it, so I finally told him: "I want to eat your ass while you go down on me. And don't stop sucking my cock." I pulled him around and slid myself around until I was between his legs, and then I spread his cheeks and started to eat his ass some more. He kept sucking my cock, and I wrapped a leg around his head, just to be sure. It was feeling pretty great, and he seemed to react even more when I slid my hands up under him to twist his nipples.


We did that for a while, and I was just getting to the point where I was going to pull him off me and push him down on the bed and fuck him, when he very abruptly pulled off me and said that he was about to cum. I told him not to, but he apologized and said he couldn't stop it. And I could see him trying, but he came without touching himself. I very quickly grabbed a condom and told him that I was going to fuck him anyway. He didn't object until he actually felt my cock entering his ass. His ass was tight, but it seemed to be accommodating my cock just fine, but he started to wince and move away, and he said that he couldn't take it. I told him that he could, and I got about halfway inside him, but it became clear that he really wasn't prepared to handle it. He apologized again. I pulled him down beside me and stroked his cock for a minute until he said it was too much, then I wrapped one arm around his neck and twisted his far nipple with my hand while I began to jerk myself off. He apologized yet again, and explained that he was very green at mansex. I asked him how many times he'd been fucked, and he said "Only once, and it really hurt that time, too."

I'd have talked with him more, but I was very worked up and getting very close. I sort of forgot that I was supposed to feed him my cum, but it's likely he wouldn't have been all that post-coitally receptive to the idea anyway. When I was about to shoot, I got up, straddled one of his legs, jerked myself a few more times, and then sprayed him with a couple of long squirts that went all the way up to his face. A few moments later, I grabbed a towel and handed him one. He kept the blindfold on, and I handed him his jeans. I thought maybe he'd leave his boxer briefs behind, but he remembered them, and I handed them to him. He got on his underwear and jeans and stepped out into the hallway. I was already stripping the bed when I heard him take off the blindfold and walk downstairs. By the time I had all the linens up, he'd gotten dressed and left.


I don't reckon I'll hear from him again, but you never know. He certainly had fun, but he also seemed very ashamed at not being able to keep from cumming. I, of course, didn't mind at all: it was a fun time. After I started the laundry, I sent an apology to Mr. Shy. I reckon I might see him again sometime, but it'll probably be a while.

Scenes from a Weekend

I neglected to plan ahead this weekend, so I almost didn't take advantage of either of the times when I might have fucked around. It didn't occur to me until late Friday afternoon that I didn't have to pick YFU up from her ballet practice until 8 and that I could have set something up. So I tried to get in touch with a couple of guys, and they both said yes but then flaked on me. They're both guys who've said in the past they wanted to hook up, and they were both on my way, but neither of them followed through in the past. They're off the list now, I guess. Sometimes, though, it's so hard to remember who was on the list in the first place, that when someone falls off, it doesn't really have much of an impact. Once again, I am hamstrung by my failure to maintain an adequate database.

I was considerably more fortunate earlier this evening, but that story can wait for another post.

B&c finally got around to reading Swish. He liked it, of course, and that was a good thing. It did, however, spawn the following somewhat awkward discussion.

B&c: I thought it was very funny, but it's hard for me to know what stuff he made up.
TED: Well, I guess. I think it's obvious when he's exaggerating for comic effect, don't you?
B&c: Yeah, but. Well, maybe I'm just out of touch with what's going on, but are there really people who write about their sex lives on their blogs?
TED: I'm pretty sure that was one of the things that he just made up.

We were just about to head out to hear the NSO (Dvorak, Mozart, Schmidt) Saturday evening when I experienced a total systems crash. Because of that, I was up pretty late Saturday night, and it was difficult to sing on Sunday morning. I was singing the Bass I part, and I had to hit an F, which is not so much in my range. I couldn't get it in practice, and rehearsal was kind of bad all around, but the choir sounded great during the service. As we were walking out after the postlude, the choir director grabbed my arm and said, "Thank you for holding the bass ones together during rehearsal. I smiled and said, "I was just too tired to panic."


By the way, when I say that I experienced a total systems crash, I mean that the nut holding one of the table legs on had, apparently, worked its way loose, and when I got up to get my shoes on to go to the symphony, my leg pushed the table leg loose, the table collapsed, and the entire system crashed to the floor. It was a real mess. I righted the monitor, which appears to have sustained some very minor damage, turned off the CPU, and unplugged the power strip. There didn't seem to be anything else to do at the time. When I got home from the concert, I untangled everything, sorted through the mess (and the dust: also bad for the voice), found the nut, reassembled the table, hooked everything up, turned it on, and everything was fine. The incident did make me think about buying the extended warranty, however.


I spent hours yesterday afternoon with YFU, trying to find her some skinny jeans and a pair of fuggs. Fuggs, so I'm told, are Uggs-like boots (fake Uggs = fuggs) in a less expensive brand. After two hours, we were successful on the skinny jeans front. The retailers really are pricing their merchandise very aggressively this year. YFU couldn't decide whether the boots we found were sufficiently Uggly to be fuggs, rather than something less satisfactory. As a result, I promised to take her to DSW today. When I tried to get her up this morning so that I could be at church for rehearsal, she said she wanted to sleep in, but then I told her that we wouldn't be going to DSW if I had to come back home after church, and she leaped right out of bed. The power of shoes: I must be sure to use it only for good, never for evil.


When we were at DSW, where we were successful on the fuggs front, I saw a pair of Sketcher boots that I really wanted. They were harness boots, but lower than the pair I already have, plus they zipped up, so I could actually take them off to have sex. YFU, who didn't know what I wanted them for, said I shouldn't buy them because they didn't look very practical for walking around in the snow. In the end, I decided that I really don't have what it takes to carry off harness boots, even when they're on sale. Anyway, workboots give pretty much the same effect, and they're much easier to either take off or to fuck in.

Un

I'm certain that I had something particular to say today, but I can't remember what it was. My memory isn't what it used to be, but I chalk that up to the accumulation of so much data. Or as I tell my friends, "The processor still works at full speed, but the hard drive's been full for a while now."


Most people who complain about memory difficulties are significantly older than I, but I figure that it just took them longer to notice. Also, they seem more upset about it than I am, even though it doesn't seem to affect their daily lives any more than it does mine. It's not like I forget that I have children or mistake b&c for a hat. It's just that I'm no longer the sort of person who would dominate on Jeopardy. And nowadays I usually make grocery lists.


I don't believe that most information is ever lost: it just becomes more difficult to retrieve. I'm very good with Google, so retrieval is not a problem for items of a factual nature. It's more of a problem with words. I used to be a walking thesaurus, and while I am still the go-to guy on matters of word choice, I sometimes find myself consulting an actual thesaurus. I know that if I see the list of words, I'll be able to pick out the best one, but the list itself sometimes eludes me. Still, I figure if the worst thing that happens to you on a day is that you have to look at a list of synonyms, then you're still having a good day.


Ideas, alas, are the most elusive things of all. I keep telling myself that I should carry around note cards so that I can write down all my good ideas, but then I forget to buy note cards. But, like I said, I don't think anything's lost. I reckon that if I have a good idea once, it'll float around the crowded file rooms of my mind and pop up again, eventually. I sure hope that I'm right about that.


Anyway, of late, maybe my memory's been lacking because everything else is crowded out by thoughts about sex. Most readers realize that I think about sex a lot, and I don't make any apologies for that, but over the last few weeks, I've been mildly obsessed. I attribute the increase to b&c's being home and the accompanying sexual exclusivity. (On my part, that is. He's home all day with nothing to do but cruise the Internet for cock. Yes, I'm jealous.) It's kind of like being on a diet: you want what you can't eat. I mean, you've decided to go easy on the fat and sugar for a couple of weeks, and then you see Paula Deen making deep fried butter on TV. Deep fried butter is the sort of revolting concept that you'd never consider making under normal circumstances, but you're on a diet, so now that deep fried butter looks so good that it just kills you that you can't make and eat it. And you don't even own a deep fryer. (Do you? I would love to have a deep fryer, but I don't think I'd ever use one, so I can't justify buying one. I'd ask for one for Christmas, but b&c would go nuts about my wanting another appliance, even though when I asked him what he wants for Christmas, he piped right up with wanting not one but two stove-top espresso makers [different sizes] and a big clunky corkscrew. Whenever anyone asks me what I want, I can never think of anything, so it's great that he knows what he wants and that he wants things I can easily order -- and have already ordered -- online, but pot, kettle, black, you know? I think that not being able to think of appropriate presents for myself was what I was originally going to write about. I'm pretty sure I can't ask my kids to give me gift cards for The Leather Rack.)


So it's been like that. I'm having a perfectly reasonable amount of perfectly fine sex with my partner, but it's kind of like sitting down to yet another perfectly seasoned skinless boneless chicken breast. Only instead of staring at the extra crispy dark meat chicken at KFC and saying "I want!" (and drooling) I'm staring at the cute Latin guy -- dark and perhaps chicken, but not extra crispy -- taking the orders and saying the same thing (and drooling). And, really, you know that when anything in a KFC, or in a KFC uniform, looks good, you've got it bad.

(I'll leave it to y'all to decide what sort of sexual fantasy is analogous to a sudden craving for deep fried butter. I'm pretty sure that your imagination in this area is not as fertile as my own, but have to.)

All About Politics

I don't know what the world's coming to, readers. I'm going on something like two weeks of sexual exclusivity. I mean, if you don't count my fucking Nike on Friday night, and you really can't count that since I'd had sex with b&c earlier in the evening and since b&c was in the next room and since I invited him to join us and he turned me down. Don't get me wrong: the sex has been very nice, especially this evening, when I got home from the office and found b&c napping, so I hopped in the shower and then got under the comforter and sidled up behind him and, well, it was just great. Then we had steak for dinner, with the last of a very nice bottle of Cabernet, followed by the start of another bottle that I found rather too tannic for my tastes, but there's no pleasure without pain.


Anyway, it's not just that I miss the thrill of the chase that accompanies bedding men other than my partner. And it's not just that I miss shoving my tongue up hot asses (b&c has no interest in being rimmed, and, really, if it doesn't drive the guy crazy, what's the point?). There are plenty of other indicia of a world gone sharply awry.


Case in point: we just had a major election, and I didn't even think to check the craigslist missed connections ads on Tuesday night or Wednesday morning to see what sort of lameness and tomfoolery had been evoked by a major historical event. I fancy myself a pretty good amateur sexual anthropologist, but I feel like I've lost a step.


It's an important time to be watching, too. I'm very happy about the Obama victory overall, but I can't help but think that our sex lives would all have been better under a McCain administration. Think about it: you can see McCain (pumped up with enough Viagra/Cialis/Levitra/whatever the kids elders are using these days) really taking advantage of his office in a thoroughly Clintonesque (Bill, that is) manner. No intern would be safe, and it's not like Cindy would have cared. But you really just can't see any infidelity on the part of a President Obama. He's just too disciplined, perhaps literally. I'm not saying that Michelle cracks the whip, but who knows? Even I can recognize that she'd look great in a black leather catsuit. Anyway, Obama just seems like the type to be entirely happy at home. In a top down society, when the commander-in-chief fails to embrace infidelity, what hope is there for the rest of us? Like I said, I've hardly had any outside activity since the election. I suppose it's worth it to avoid having a nutjob like McCain leading the country towards collapse, but I just hope America appreciates my sacrifice.


Anyway, I was feeling very remiss about not being a more careful chronicler of our fall from promiscuity, but then another opportunity arose. There were anti-Prop 8 protests in many locations around the country this past weekend. I don't entirely see the point in holding election rallies a couple of weeks after the results are in, but far be it from me to bring around a cloud to rain on anyone's parade. Making fun of the missed connections postings of the protesters, however, is fair game.

Interestingly, news reports put the number of protesters in DC at only a few hundred. By contrast, there were approximately 4,000 protesters in New York. That's a ratio of about 10:1, but when you check out the MCs, you find roughly the same number of ads in both locations. I reckon that means that DC gays are about ten times as likely to be lame as NYC gays. I would not have expected that margin, but then I get my impression of each mostly from reading blogs, and, as you may have noticed, if you get your news from blogs, you'd be excused for thinking that this weekend's protests rivaled the civil rights and anti-Vietnam war protests of the 60s and 70s. NOT THAT I'M JUDGING.


Well, ok, I am judging, but I'm only judging the missed connections ads. One might have hoped that the newly politically aware would have had the balls not to need the MC ads, or, at the very least, that they'd have come up with more interesting ads. But one would be disappointed. There were two ads from DC. First:

prop 8 protest - m4m - 24 (dc, after the rain)
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Reply to: pers-922058511@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-11-16, 10:18PM EST

i was talking to you for a min after most the ppl had left.
you were like prob 20-25ish...
we were talking about palin and her creationism. then my friend came over and said that i needed to save him from "some daddy who looked like the before picture from a pro-active commercial." you gave me your number but i didnt save it (i do that sometimes with this phone) "Cancel" is on the right, and "Save" is on the left, so i hit cancel by mistake all the time ....im so mad at myself :-(

OK, so on the one hand, let he who has never lost a phone number cast the first stone. On the other hand, if you lose enough numbers, maybe you would eventually learn not to? Or at least learn to take your lumps without complaining. Anyway, Mr. 24, you're young: you can find (another) Mr. Right at your next political action.


Also from DC:

Cutie signing at the Prop 8 protest - m4m - 23 (Lafayette Park)
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Reply to: pers-921240419@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-11-16, 10:52AM EST

You were so adorable, signing for your friend who couldn't hear the person speaking, though it was so loud out there you were having problems hearing too. Later, you were by us walking back toward the metro and my cute girl friend asked to see your shirt.. I wished you had gotten onto the same train as us, but it just didn't work out that way.

Lets go grab some coffee or something? E-mail me with what your t-shirt said so I know it's you...

Oh, dude. Your "cute girl friend" gave you an opening (after you put her up to it: I can read between the lines), and you didn't take advantage of it? Not only do you not deserve the boy, but the girl should dump your sorry ass, too. Thanks for protesting, though!


The first NYC ad was one of those category errors that I find so annoying:

To ALL who attended the Prop 8 Rally at City Hall - m4m (New York City)
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Reply to: pers-920791990@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-11-15, 8:03PM EST

Thank you to all for your show of support by your presence and voice at the Prop 8 rally/protest. I was fortunate enough to be on stage and see the many, many faces. It made me feel good. We were all on stage for the whole world to see; that WE will not allow our rights to be taken away from us. We are the new civil rights movement and we will not back down or be brushed away. Equal rights is something that has been guaranteed each and every one of us. "Second class citizen" is not in the American Dictionary...nor will it ever be. Stand Fast and stand strong.

Umm, yeah. We kind of did allow our rights to be taken away from us, though, and I'm a little bit upset about that. I mean, all I did was give a little bit of money, but still, being upset about it seems as valid a response as denying the reality of the situation. But if it makes you feel better to sing "We Shall Overcome," then go for it. But then I always want to say, "Really? When?"


The other NYC ads were more typical:

At City Hall Rally today - m4m - 28 (Financial District)
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Reply to: pers-920766426@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-11-15, 7:37PM EST

you are blond with a nice thick beard. You were standing with a sign that have the number 2 in it, but i forget that it said. We did triple takes of each other when i passed you by. You were standing on the railing of the gate.

Me: dark hair with a beard. we both smiled, i came back to get your info but u were gone.

Well, OK, as MCs go that one's not bad. I mean, it could be a lot worse; it could be this:

Guy up in the front at Prop 8 Rally who needed someone to marry - m4m (Downtown)
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Reply to: pers-921045177@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-11-16, 2:24AM EST

You were the guy against the fence up in the front by the stage at the Proposition 8 Rally today at City Hall with a bunch of friends. You got interviewed by a couple of different camera crews and said something to the effect that you needed to find a guy to marry you first. I was the guy a couple people to the right of you, also with a friend and also up against the fence, in a blue jacket and holding a sign...and I was basically telling the camera crews interviewing me the same thing! So, what the hell...since we're in the same boat, would you want to meet for coffee or something and see how it goes?

I would sort of think that the one silver lining from the whole Prop 8 debacle for this guy might be that, being single, he wasn't in a position to get married anyway, but whatever. I mean, what could be a better basis for a relationship than mutual desperation, right?


I'm often accused of East Coast elitism, and I'm sensitive to the criticism, so I decided to check out the MCs in Seattle. Seattle police estimated the crowds at about 6,000, so you'd expect to see about half again as many MC ads, but Seattlites are a more sensitive crowd than New Yorkers, so perhaps it wasn't surprising to find more than twice as many Prop 8 MCs in Seattle. Lamentably, they weren't any better. For instance:

prop 8/ rally - m4m - 29 (West Lake)
------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-922230155@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-11-16, 11:44PM PST

I think your name is Nathan. You were singing with the SMC at the rally. I was there with a friend and he said that he thought you might be seeing someone. B4 I come forward all the way. Are you? I was the guy that marched behind you in a hoodie, while on Bway. Then I lost you... I think you are super cute. Are you out there?

The mind boggles. I'm unlikely to relocate to the Pacific Northwest, but if I do, perhaps I'll stick to Portland. Here's more from Seattle:

Prop 8 Rally- I think your name is Gannon - m4m - 28 (Volunteer Park)
----------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-921952342@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-11-16, 5:40PM PST

You have wavy salt & pepper hair and a beautiful smile. You were there with a group of friends, a few of them wearing very distinct cloaks, near the sign making table.
I was with a group of my friends, wearing an arc'teryx jacket.

We've met before, but don't have eachother's contact information. I was just about to leave my group and head over to ask you for your number. And then the march starts and the crowd dispersed and you were gone. I have no idea if this will work, but I had to give it a shot.

Gannon, if you read this, or if you're a friend of Gannon's. Shoot me an email.

If you're a friend of Gannon, you might want to check with him first before emailing the stalker. It seems like a sensible precaution.


A few years back, there was a lot of talk about how upward inflection has begun to infect non-interrogatory sentences, thus turning what was meant to be a declarative sentence into something confusing. This guy's managed to work that into his writing style:

Protest Prop. 8 rally - m4m - 35 (downtown)
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Reply to: pers-920835782@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2008-11-15, 5:51PM PST

Hey.

Saw you today at Prop. 8 protest rally with your kid? U were wearing black shirt? Have grey shirt. Also saw u on seattle mens chorus and saw u helping the poor guy who collasped on westlake rally.

U winked at me and smiled at me. Tell me what was on my sign and what I was wearing so I know its for you. U are hot.....

I will be at cuff tonite.

Well, at least he ended with an unambiguously declarative sentence. I don't have any idea what cuff is, but I'd be surprised if they have on-premises childcare. Still, you could do a lot worse than declaring your interest and saying where you can be found. On the other hand, you could do a lot better. Like maybe giving the guy your number when he winks at you.

There were plenty other examples from Seattle, but they're just more of the same. I went and looked briefly at the Prop 8 MCs for San Diego and Chicago, and there were some, but I just got bored. Clearly my amateur study of sexual anthropology lacks academic rigor. I blame Obama. It's going to be a long eight years.