Three Years and Counting

In 2005, I purposefully chose to start this blog on my own birthday. That way, I knew that I'd never forget the blog-birthday. (Though, to be fair, I did forget to mark it one year.)

So, here I am, three years on, and the last year has been an especially trying one. I've come the closest yet towards feeling shame towards these traits that I'm usually embracing. I mean, I never have felt (nor will I ever feel) guilty over my enjoyment of all things sexual and the pleasure they bring. But the events last November and December really drove home how much I had been lying to myself over so many, many years, as to how much I was likely hurting people around me. Indeed, a hallmark indication of addiction, hurting those you care about without necessarily realizing it (or realizing it and just not acknowledging it). And on top of it all, I was let go from my job towards the end of February, largely because I wasn't performing up to par. So I've been dealt an emotional body-blow by all of this, and just have had next to nothing to blog about. An image I sometimes get in my head, is that of a multi-engine plane that has had most of the engines knocked out of commission... it can still fly, but it's going a heck of a lot slower than it used to, and it takes a lot more conscious effort on the part of the pilot to keep it from completely crashing and burning.

And indeed, as bad as I feel, as bad as I've felt these past months, I haven't completely crashed and burned. It may have felt like it at times, but there are plenty of people in far worse circumstances than I am. I'm just in over my own head, it's a relative measure. And it's been the motivation that I needed to get back into therapy and start trying to actually work some of these things out, rather than just perpetually running in circles. The new shrink is quite good-- that, or my decision to be 100% honest and not dodge or "creatively answer" any questions (like I have done in the past) is making a difference. Probably a combination of the two. Plus, she's much more experienced in dealing with people who suffer from Asperger's (she barely batted an eye the week that I noticed some minute detail had changed in the shelves of toys and games she keeps for her child-clients).

So, anyway, happy birthday to me (40! Freakin' 40!), and happy birthday to Dausa (a paltry 3 by comparison). And thanks to everyone who has commented on my various posts these past months, even the self-loathing ones. Thanks to those of you I chat with from time to time, those who send the occasional encouragement in e-mail (and especially thanks to the person who sent me the Valentine's card... you know who you are!). I'm not going anywhere, I assure you. And someday, hopefully soon, I'll be back to regularly posting naughtiness.

(In fact, I may even make an effort to get laid today. I mean, it is my birthday, after all, right?)

-D

Checking In, Checking Out

Things are still, well, still. I'm back in therapy, but I can't say that I'm any better yet (not that I have any unrealistic expectations, I mean, it's only been 4 weeks or so). I lost my job, due in large part to the negative effect all this mental/emotional crap has had on my ability to perform. Job-wise, that is. Hell, perform in general. The last couple of times I've been in bed with someone haven't exactly been my best form either.

Even though I'm trying to not let any real length of time go before finding a new job, part of me has a driving desire to get out of the bay area, even if only for a few days. But even that is complicated, as I don't know where to go that's both affordable and offers the promise of a truly stress-free few days. I can't go to Colorado right now... even though the friend who is angry with me would let me visit under the current (jobless) circumstance, I'm not ready myself. Part of me wants to go somewhere completely new, part of me wants the comfort of familiarity. I only know that I'm going nuts here, right now. I haven't slept in, well, a while right now. (I very rarely see 9:30 at all, let alone am blogging at such an hour.) When I close my eyes to try and sleep, well, I'm not really relaxed by what I see there.

It's been almost two months since my last entry. I do take some comfort in knowing that even if I'm not really any "better", I think I'm on track for it. It'll just take a little while yet, and I have to hope that I have the luxury of the time it needs. I dunno... I probably shouldn't be blogging on this sort of sleep-deprivation...

Break Time's Over

I needed a break after the 33 Days thing. I've got some material to write, that'll show up over the next few days (allowing for a brief trip down to Orange County this weekend). I didn't really get the sort of, well, "enlightenment" (for lack of any remotely better word) I had hoped the exercise would bring me. Fact is, I'm not really doing that well right now, but I don't yet know how to express it.

-D

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 27 - One Week From Today

...I'm gonna have the most powerful orgasms I've had since the day I discovered masturbation.

A little over two years ago, I took a class called "The Art of Living". I was extremely skeptical, because it sounded very new-agish and all. And it seemed to be very focused on the East Indian community, which I'm not exactly going to blend into very easily. But the person who suggested it was someone I trusted, and I went. It was a very positive experience, though like many things I've tried that had positive impact, I managed to fall out of the habits.

So today, I decided to get back into the habit. I went to a local weekly meditation this morning, where I stood out like the proverbial sore thumb; only white person there, and 5-6 inches taller than anyone else. It was awkward, as I'd forgotten a lot of the mechanics, but eventually I got back into the rhythm. The next thing is for me to make certain I go again next week. There have been so many things in the past that I've tried to do in the name of self-improvement, and to the one I always end up falling out of the habit after a few months or so.

Unlike a lot of people, I can't change my habits, or create new ones, very easily. In fact, it's extremely difficult. Trying to change my diet in an effort to lose weight... trying to get up earlier so that I can exercise even a little bit... all of these are things that I sincerely want to do, but regularly fail to do. For someone as adept at software engineering as I've proven to be, I'm stunningly absent-minded when it comes to remembering new additions to daily routines.

In other news, last night I dreamed that I was once again able to, ahem, attend to my own needs. It's a wonder I didn't wake up swimming in my own fluids. It felt so real, I couldn't believe my luck (and upon waking, realized that I was right not to). I tell you, if I ever manage to get to where I can do that again, I may never leave my apartment. I sure as shit won't be trying any "33 Days" stunts like this one again...

-D

33 Days, 33 Posts: Day 6 - Our Relationship Is Built on Trust

It occurred to me today (and I have no idea why it only just occurred to me today, and not five days ago) that no one reading this is anywhere near me, geographically. Or, if they are, they're not someone I know personally, and therefore not someone privy to me life or having access to it. In the silly movie I referenced at the start of this (40 Days and 40 Nights, for those late to the show), Harnett's character's vow becomes the subject of a global internet betting scheme. His roommate and some of his co-workers are involved in the creation and maintenance of the site/game, so the roommate is always checking up on him (often with an ultraviolet light, to check for tell-tale spots).What I'm getting at is this: there is nothing preventing me from rubbing my dick raw, squeezing out as many orgasms as my gonads will support, and yet claiming to still be on The Program.

Nothing, that is, except an honest desire to see this through.

When it gets right down to the root of it, I'm doing this for myself, to prove to myself that I still have some degree of control over my actions and behavior. The rest of you are, forgive me for saying, just along for the ride as spectators. I need this. I need to know that I'm the boss of my dick, not the other way around (like it is with my cat). My dick has been nudging me more and more into dangerous territory, so I need to rein it in. And when I have days like today, where just breathing makes me horny, I have to let my conscious, deliberate side run the show. Even when it feels like torture, and like I'm completely alone in it. I mean, when a recovering alcoholic is jonesing for a drink, he usually has someone in his AA group he can call. OK, bad example, since there are in fact SAA (Sex-Addicts Anonymous) programs, and I could get into one and have a sponsor and all that. But that sponsor is going to want to see me go without for longer than any 33 days, and that's more than I'm willing to commit to right now.

Ah well, another day closer to my goal. Now, I worry less about obvious temptation and more about the subtle things. Like, for example, when I bought a new bed and new sheets upon my return to California I splurged on flannel sheets and a microfiber blanket. I'm extra-aware of their softness against my skin, these days.

-D

33 Days, 33 Posts: Prologue, or, This Is Gonna Hurt

In 40 Days and 40 Nights, Josh Harnett's character decides that his love life is out of control, so (despite being a very lapsed Catholic) he decided to give up sex for Lent. The ways in which this film becomes tedious and insultingly-stupid are numerous, and not worth listing here. But I mention it only as a point of reference. You see, I plan to go without for the next 33 days.

There are a lot of reasons why I choose this, and probably just as many (or more) why I shouldn't be doing it. First and foremost, while I may still cling proudly to the "unrepentant" banner, I have to admit that this is starting to seriously interfere with my life. I need to know that I can actually exert some amount of control over my own body, however small. In just under two months since returning to the bay area, I've done my "Craigslist Experiment" (which netted 3 different encounters), hooked up with two TVs whose ads I'd answered, and seen three commercial providers. I've been here since December 10. That's 8 different people in 7 weeks, and even for me that's a bad sign.

For me, addiction is best summed up in the statement, "you know it's harmful and destructive, and you do it anyway". I have no intention of trying to reign in my libido. I have no intention of becoming celibate for the rest of my life. In fact, part of the thinking behind the 33 day window is that it ends on March 3, my (and this blog's) birthday. And you can bet your soft, smooth ass that I'll be getting some form of nookie that day. Unless, of course, I've already failed in this effort.

Another facet of this, is to get back into the habit of regular posting. When I started, I wrote almost daily. Some of the blogs I read I can count on daily content, in particular AAG and Violet Blue. But I've been beyond lax in this department, and I strongly suspect it's cost me what little readership I had. The only way I know of to restore readership is to return to the regular writing of quality material. So, for the next 33 days, I shall be channeling all that energy that would otherwise be wasted on wanking into writing. One post per day. Not all of them will be quality, I accept. But maybe one or three will catch the eye of someone on some random search engine or blog-search somewhere. And maybe, along the way, I'll re-develop the habit of writing regularly again.

In this, I'm creating some rules for myself, more like allowable outs:

1. I'm not going to whack off, and I'm not going to either troll Craigslist casual encounters or any of the commercial-provider sources I generally use (CL erotic services, Redbook.com).
2. In fact, I'm not even going to try and date during this period, because I have a knack for being in someone's pants by the second or third date. Heck, the last true relationship I had lasted almost a year, and we screwed each other nearly senseless on our first date. Man, I miss her, too.
3. That said, should an offer of (free, both as in beer and as in speech) sex were to, ahem, fall into my lap, I reserve the right to punt this "33 Days" crap and tap that.
4. Each day, I will write an entry, with "33 Days, 33 Posts" in the subject line, and "33 days" in the tags. But if something really cool comes along that I want to share with my readers (what few there are that remain), I may make other posts. I doubt I'll reach Violet's throughput, but then Violet is a goddess and I can't really hope to match that anyway.
5. If I fuck up (so to speak), I'll be honest about it. Part of this is for the catharsis, and lying about things ain't gonna help.
6. There is no rule 6.
7. I still get to read sex blogs and sex-related stuff. Albeit at my own risk. I've already made the conscious decision to put my porn away in a hard-to-reach corner of one of my closets. But choosing not to wank is one thing; not reading Fleshbot or Erosblog is a whole different personal challenge.

So, there it is. 33 days, 33 posts, 0 orgasms. At least, that's the plan.

Dausa

Not So Sure Anymore...

...that I made the right choice in coming back to California.

It's taken only a few weeks to lose all the positive momentum I had after I got my new place. A little longer after that and I was back to old patterns and habits. Not just the cruising-on-Craigslist, but also indulging in commercial providers. Which I've been forcing myself to abstain from for simple reason of budget. But still, I look and consider.

My friend back in Denver pointed out that even if I'd taken the job in London, I might very well be just as depressed there as I am here, maybe even for similar reasons. But last night, laying awake trying to fall asleep, something dawned on me: at least, had I gone to London, I could say that I did something. I tried, I took steps to make a major change in my life. It might not have worked out like I thought it would, but at least I would have had the assurance of having tried. Instead, I look around my apartment, around the bay area, and think to myself: "Didn't get far, did you? Moved 8 miles, into a smaller apartment. Well played."

Saturday night, I went up to San Francisco for Perverts Put Out. As used to be the case, convincing myself to dress nicely and leave the apartment was akin to pulling teeth. The event was stunning; I'll need to do a separate post just about it alone. Of course, once there, I was enjoying myself. But eventually it was over, and I had another Saturday night to go home alone. It was so tempting to go somewhere cruise-y like Blow Buddies or Divas. But I'd spent all the persuasion I could muster just getting myself out of the house. It was the first time I've been back to SF since moving back here last month (actually, the second-- the actual first was for the memorial service for a friend's mother, thus my mind was otherwise occupied that afternoon).

I haven't made any effort to revisit my "Craigslist experiment". There's a lot to be said for quick, no-strings gratification. But just because I'm an addict doesn't mean I don't feel any emotional needs or impulses (the lack of emotional expression comes from the Asperger's, not the addictive nature). OK, that was a weak joke. I don't intuitively form those sorts of connections like others do, but I still crave them. And the CL route was just teasing the appetite, not appeasing it. To make matters worse, there's fuck-all to choose from in terms of independent video stores in my general area (that is to say, those that are not Blockbuster or Hollywood Video). So I don't even have the kind of access to porn I had at the previous address.

(On the plus side, it was around this time last year that I broke my foot, so living a live free of crutches is worth being thankful for. I'm just already dreading the steady march towards Valentine's Day, and my recent attempts at dating haven't panned out very well.)

-D

Gay-Bi-Dar Before You Yourself Know

A short note, before I get to a longer post later on (probably tomorrow or over the weekend). When I was in college, I was in the marching band. In high school, being in band was a cause for scorn. But in college, the band was cool. And since it was cool, it was clique-ish, and I didn't fit in.

Like most my age, in a bass-ackwards place like Oklahoma, I associated accusations of homosexuality with insults and disdain. So, when I found myself regarding certain key members of the band (all male, all high in the pyramid of power) as most likely gay, I chided myself for falling into such a clichéd cycle. It's not like I would have known, anyway, straight and inexperienced as I was at the time.

Years later, I had a brief relationship with someone who had been in the band a few years before myself (she was six years older than I, and she may be the subject of an upcoming post). She knew all of these people when they themselves were freshmen first coming in. Now, I didn't ask her about their orientation... it wouldn't have come up, except that she had married someone she started dating in band, and they'd divorced fairly recently when he came out of the closet. Through him, she learned that there had been a sizable "gay underground" within the band (though, why gays would feel the need to be underground in this group puzzled me, as even though we may have been in Oklahoma this ensemble was fierce in its support of the out gay/lesbian/bi members). And wouldn't you know it, almost everyone I'd mentally labeled as gay was in fact.

Did I actually exhibit gaydar that many years before I'd start exploring my bi side?

-D

Post Surgery

I realized from a comment by AAG, that I haven't updated to let people know how things are with the foot.

I had surgery on Friday (February 24th), and it was blissfully uneventful. Well, for the most part. The plan had been to put a single screw in place to hold to the parts of the broken bone together. That had to change-- there was a hairline fracture that hadn't shown up on the X-rays, that started to expand when they were drilling the channel for the screw. So I got a plate and three screws, for the price of just the one screw.

From my vantage point, it was in fact uneventful. As a chronic insomniac (check how many of my posts are as late as this one, or close to it), I find the thought of anesthesia very novel: I know that I will be unconscious in a matter of seconds, something I never have to count on when I'm actually in bed. Ahh, blissful anesthesia. The nice man put the oxygen mask over my face, and told me to breathe deeply and count the breaths. One breath. Two breaths. Oh look-- the recovery room. It almost makes me want to have surgery more often. Or date an anesthesiologist.

The foot itself is sore, still. I was a dumb-ass and didn't have my Vicodin scrip filled before surgery, so I had to do so afterwards. And since I was still numbed, I thought I was OK to walk around on it and get some groceries while they filled the prescription. That caused some unnecessary bleeding, and when they were to take the stitches out on Thursday, part of the suture area wasn't ready for that step. And only myself to blame.

I'll be on crutches another 3 weeks or so, and the franken-foot for a couple of weeks after that. But it already hurts significantly less in just one week. So I may yet run that Boston Marathon.

(I have no intention of ever running a marathon, unless I'm being chased by vicious carnivores with exceptional endurance.)

D

It's My Birthday...

(Yes, I'm back-dating this post to make it fit, because I was out with friends and forgot to write the post on the actual day.)

...and it's the blog's birthday, too.

I started doing this one year ago, on my 37th birthday. I'm 38 today, and when I look back over the archives I'm actually a little disappointed in myself. Mostly for not writing more frequently. But also because I see in stark terms how little effort I was able to put into sex, let alone actual relationships. I say "able", as if it were entirely the fault of my company for overworking me, or my (platonic) friends for hogging my time. But I have the lion-share of the responsibility, for basically laying back and letting things stagnate.

In my defense, the last 12 months have also marked a painful condition that required surgery. Some sexual function problems due in part to the health issues but also due to my letting my own general health and fitness decline. Then, of course, there was the breaking of the foot and the losing of the job (update on the break will follow this post).

But I did have some sex in the past 12 months, some of it just so-so and some of it really amazingly good. But I truly hope that the second year of Dausa is overall better. I'm about to embark on an exciting, new, scary chapter in my life as I leave California for England. When I moved from Oklahoma to Colorado, and from Colorado to California, I kept telling myself that this would be my chance to start over as a new me-- one that wasn't shy to the point of debilitation, one that wasn't still affected by the guilt and hang-ups that came from being raised in a fundamentalist evangelical Christian church. Of course, each time I moved I woke up to new surroundings, but I woke up as the same me.

So this time, I'm not fooling myself into thinking that moving to London is going to magically change me into the smooth, ultra-extroverted persona I often wish I could be. No, this time I'm going to go to my new home expecting to have to make all those changes manually. But I will go with the hopes for starting fresh, on a clean slate.

So here's to the next 12.

D

Someday I'll Get Back to Blogging About Sex

I have surgery on my foot in a few hours (can't sleep). The foot issue and the whole looking for a new job thing have just taken the libido right out from under me. I did have a great time with a local escort, and I've been prompted to write some entries on a particular theme (anonymous encounters) that already has me cherry-picking from my memories. I promise I'll be back to normal soon.

D

Brain-Sex Test

An interesting test of how your brain scales on the male-to-female spectrum, over at the BBC.

My results below the cut, as the output is pretty long-ish...

(Edit: This is "sex" as in "gender", not as in "yes please")

Part 1

Angles

This task tested your ability to identify the angle of a line by matching it with its twin. This is a spatial task, which looks at how you picture space.
Your score: 17 out of 20
Average score for men: 15.1 out of 20
Average score for women: 13.3 out of 20

What does your result suggest?

If you scored 0 - 12: You have more of a female brain. Scientists believe that people with a female brain find it more difficult to judge the slope of a line because they're not wired for spatial tasks. In past studies, 65 per cent of people who scored in this range were women.

If you scored 13 - 17: You found this test neither hard nor easy. This suggests your brain has male and female traits when it comes to spatial ability.

If you scored 18 - 20: You have more of a male brain. On average, men outperform women in this task and those with more mathematical knowledge tend to score quite high as well. In past studies, 60 per cent of the people in this range were men.

Interestingly, men's testosterone levels fluctuate through the seasons and studies have shown that men's scores are lower in the spring, when their testosterone levels are at their lowest.

Spot the difference

This task tested your ability to identify which objects changed position. You lost points, if you incorrectly identified objects.
Your score: 43%
Average score for men: 39%
Average score for women: 46%

What does your score suggest?

If you scored between 0 - 33%: You may have more of a male brain. Scientists say men tend to under perform in this task. The corpus callosum, the part of the brain that links the right and left hemispheres, is a fifth larger in women. This means women can process visual and other signals at the same time more easily than men. There is also a theory that oestrogen levels in women give them an added advantage in spatial memory.

If you scored between 34 - 66%: You may have a balanced female-male brain.

If you scored between 67 - 100%: Those with a female-type brain generally score in this range. Your ability to remember where objects are may serve as an advantage to you when you're trying to find your way around places. You're more capable of recalling landmarks to get from one place to another.

Part 2

Hands

You said your right thumb was on top when you clasped your hands together.

Right thumb on top: This suggests the left half of your brain is dominant. Many studies have tried to establish whether there is a relationship between handedness and brain dominance. Some scientists believe that if you are left brain dominant, you would be more verbal and analytical.

Left thumb on top: This suggests the right half of your brain is dominant. Some studies theorise that as a right brain dominant person, you may excel in visual, spatial and intuitive processes.

However, these theories are debatable and leave much to be said about the small percentage of people who are ambidextrous.

Part 3

Emotions and Systems

This task looked at whether you prefer to empathise or systemise.

Empathising

Your empathy score is: 6 out of 20
Average score for men: 7.9 out of 20
Average score for women: 10.6 out of 20

What does your result suggest?

Empathisers are better at accurately judging other people's emotions and responding appropriately. If you scored 15 and above, you are very empathic and would be an ideal person to comfort people in a time of crisis. Women in general are better at empathising.

Systemising

Your systemising score is: 20 out of 20
Average score for men: 12.5 out of 20
Average score for women: 8.0 out of 20

What does your result suggest?

Systemisers prefer to investigate how systems work. A system can be a road map, flat pack furniture, or a mathematical equation – anything that follows a set of rules. A score of 15 and above suggests you're good at analysing or building systems. Men in general are better at systemising.

Scientists are keen to learn more about people who score high or low on both tests. They want to find out whether or not empathising and systemising are linked. Is a possible to make yourself more empathic?

Some scientists claim that our empathy and systemising abilities can be traced all the way back to prehistoric times.

Eyes

This task tested your ability to judge people's emotions.
Your score: 8 out of 10
Average score for men: 6.6 out of 10
Average score for women: 6.6 out of 10

What does your result suggest?

If you scored 0 - 3: Do you think you're good at judging how another person is feeling? Your score suggests this doesn't come to you quite so naturally.

If you scored 4 - 6: Your result suggests you have a balanced female-male brain and find it neither easy nor difficult to judge people's emotions.

If you scored 7 - 10: Your result suggests you are a good empathiser, sensitive to other people's emotions. Women generally fall into this category.

Professor Baron-Cohen at the University of Cambridge says that people usually perform better than they expect to on this test.

Men often think a person's eyes are sending signals of desire when that's not the case at all.

Part 4

Fingers

We asked you to measure your ring and index fingers. Your ratios came to:
Right Hand: 0.95
Left Hand: 0.94

Average ratio for men: 0.982
Average ratio for women: 0.991

It's thought that your ratio is governed by the amount of testosterone you were exposed to in your mother's womb. The ratio of the length of your index finger to the length of your ring finger is set for life by as early as three months after conception. Even during puberty, when we experience intensive hormonal changes, the ratio stays the same.

Men generally have a ring finger that is longer than their index finger, which gives them a lower ratio than women, whose ring and index fingers are usually of equal length.

Studies have found that men and women with lots of brothers generally have more masculine finger ratios. Find out what other things scientists think our ratios may tell us.

Part 5

Faces

This task looked at how you rate the attractiveness of a series of faces. The images you looked at were digitally altered to create slight differences in masculinity.

Your choices suggest you prefer more feminine faces.

Highly masculinised male faces possess more extreme testosterone markers such as a long, broad and lower jaw, as well as more pronounced brow ridges and cheekbones.

Interestingly, women's preferences are said to vary across the menstrual phase. A more masculine face is preferred during the 9 days prior to ovulation, when conception is most likely.

A typical 'attractive' female face possesses features such as a shorter, narrower, lower jaw, fuller lips and larger eyes than an average face.

Part 6

3D shapes

This task tested your ability to mentally rotate 3D shapes.

Your score: 12 out of 12
Average score for men: 8.2 out of 12
Average score for women: 7.1 out of 12

What does your result suggest?

If you scored 0 - 6: Do you find yourself having to physically rotate a map to point in the direction in which you're travelling? This might explain why you scored in the lower range in the 3D shapes test. Twice as many women as men score in this category. Previous studies suggest that those with a female-type brain or with an arts background fall into this range.

If you scored 7 - 9: In past studies, 50 per cent of the people who scored in this range were women and 50 per cent were men.

If you scored 10 - 12: Are you an engineer or do you have a science background? People with these skills tend to score in this range. Past studies have concluded that people in this range have a more male brain.

Nearly a third of men who took this test got full marks, whereas less than 10 per cent of women managed the same.

Words

This task looked at your verbal fluency.

Your score: you associated 8 word(s) with grey and you named 9 word(s) that mean happy. We are assuming that all the words you entered are correct.
Average score for men: 11.4 words total
Average score for women: 12.4 words total

What does your result suggest?

If you produced 1 - 5 words: You are more of the strong, silent type with a male brain. You probably find it easier to express yourself in non-verbal ways, preferring action rather than words.

If you produced 6 - 10 words: Most people in this range have a female-type brain.

Women are said to use both sides of the brain when doing verbal tasks while men mainly use their left side. Studies have shown that girls develop vocabulary faster than boys. This difference in brain power is caused by levels of pre-natal testosterone.

Ultimatum

This task asked you how you would divide money.

If you had to split £50 with someone, you said you would demand £25

So far on the Sex ID test, men have demanded 51.6% (£25.80) of the pot and women have demanded 51.0% (£25.50), on average.

What does your response suggest?

Sex differences are small in this task. Demanding less than 60% of the pot (ie £30) is more typically female. Demanding more than 65% of the pot (ie £32.50) is more typically male.

Scientists believe that people with lower testosterone levels tend to take fewer risks so they are probably more willing to keep less for themselves. Those with higher testosterone levels tend to drive a harder bargain and are less compromising.

Men's testosterone levels fluctuate over the seasons and are at their lowest levels during the springtime. This is said to influence their bargaining power.

(Not sure if I agree with it all, but it was fun to take. --D)

Restless

I'm restless.

I'm restless in three distinct areas of my life. Fortunately, I have three distinct blogs, each covering (more or less) one of those three aspects. So I'm making three entries at (roughly) the same time.

I'm restless in my sex life. I haven't written in a while. A lot of the reason for that has been that I'm in a great dry spell, and since I'm not getting any sex, it's hard to get too enthusiastic about writing on the subject. And I haven't been being a very good addict, either, given that I've turned away possibilities (even if some of them maybe weren't as certain as I thought at the moment). I feel the need for some changes. Not so much that I give up the "unrepented" part of my chosen label, but changes all the same.

I feel sort of greedy-- I know what I want, but I don't know that it is reasonable to expect to find that in a person. Granted, I believe in polyamory, but worrying about a plural relationship is jumping the gun when I don't even have a basic relationship at the moment. I have generally felt like I could be just as comfortable in a monogamous or polyamorous relationship, provided that I found the right person. Heh... talking about my ability to be happy in a mono relationship, in the context of a sex addict's blog, that's pretty funny.

I don't think that sleeping with other people is contrary to monogamy, if the other half is aware and approving. And I don't call it poly unless there is an emotional bond with the other people. If I find someone to partner with for the long-haul, and we happen to like to go to the occassional swinger's party, I would still consider our relationship mono, unless we chose to model it differently. Women like this exist, but they are a highly sought-after resource, and thus very rare.

My libido hasn't diminished. I still spend plenty of time taking things well in hand. At least once a day, unless outside sources of stress slow me down. I just feel as though the way I currently pursue pleasure isn't as satisfying as it once was, and I need more. This is coupled with some strong yearnings to move from the bay area. Either back to Denver, or someplace new. LA, maybe, or even Seattle. East coast might make an interesting change. I'd love to live in England for a while, if I could get a job that would sponsor a work-visa for me.

Even though I keep this blog focused more on sex than relationships, I'm just not sure that the scene as it exists here is quite right for me. I might feel differently if I lived in SF instead of the south bay. Or if I lived in the LA area and had connections into any sort of scene there (since I don't see myself as having the kind of cool that gets me invited to parties in Porn Valley). Part of it is the general sense of neo-puritanism that is slowly creeping across the country-- hence the musings about England. I wouldn't be so worried, if I saw more people trying to stand up to the Religious Reich. Oh, there are people out there taking their stands. But they're fewer in number these days (or at least, so it seems). I feel less and less welcomed, even living in California. But I don't want to make this into a political rant, so...

I have to re-discover excitement. That may mean moving, it may mean taking a radically-different tack on dating. Part of what makes me so restless is the fact that I don't know for certain what direction I should be looking in. It wouldn't suprise me in the least if I were to find it right under my nose, yet just out of my line of sight.

Dausa

Today's PSA (Public Snarkiness Announcement)

(Alternate title: "You're So Vain, You Probably Think This Post is About You")

If you are reading this blog, I do appreciate your time and attention. I know there are hundreds of thousands of websites you could be spending time at, other than here.

That said, please keep a few ground rules in mind:

1. Don't assume I'm writing about you. I'm probably not. In fact, if I'm going to write about a specific person with whom I'm still in contact, I'll get your permission first.
   
2. If you want to comment, I welcome your feedback. But if you are going to take a pot-shot at me, don't do it anonymously. If you don't want others reading your name/handle/whatever, e-mail me privately using the link on the right.
3. If you don't want to say something snippy in a fashion that let's me know who you are, don't fucking bother saying it at all. In fact, if you are that bothered by what I write that you need to snipe at me anonymously, don't read me. Period. Re: hundreds of thousands of other websites. Go find one.

Geez. High school was a long time ago for me. And I really don't miss it that much.

D

And I Call Myself an Addict?

I mean, I wonder sometimes.

For the second time in less than a month, I'm turning away a sure thing. Someone I know I could have (almost literally) with a snap of my fingers. And I'm doing it for all the wrong sorts of reasons: consideration, maturity, and an annoying sense of honor.

In both cases, the person is totally ready and willing. Neither represent cases of hard-sell or manipulation. But I choose not to pursue, indeed to prevent. Mostly because I don't want to deal with the emotional fall-out. And yet, I have the nagging feeling that I'm doing it in part because I know that it's the right thing to do, in the compassionate sense.

I mean, what's that all about? I'm a little old to be suddenly getting all mature...

D

Every Velvet Glove Fits Differently

Over at Overworked & Underf*cked, she asks her male readers (or lesbian readers, if they want to participate), to talk about their feelings on the feelings from within a vagina. How can I turn down such a request?

(She also wants us to focus on the vaginas, not the women attached to them. I'll try my best.)

Be it mental, physical or (most likely) a combination of the two, there are few sensations that stand out in my memories like the feeling the first time I penetrate a new lover. It's like the breathlessness you get from the first kiss, combined with the electricity you feel the first time she takes your erection in her hand, added together then raised to an exponent. From the first grazing of my glans on her outer labia, to the first full, balls-deep thrust, my nerve-endings are sending to my brain a series of memories I'll treasure long after the relationship itself (if there was one at all) has ended. This isn't to say that I remember all of my nearly 90 first-times (though to be fair, I also count oral-only encounters, so not all 90 or so qualify anyway). Truth is, not all of them were that memorable. The majority of the ones with sex workers weren't. But there are some that bear relating. Because the sex of an aroused woman is like a warm, velvet glove that grips with the most exquisite of caresses, and no two gloves are (or were) the same.

ML was my first, ever. And being first, there was nothing before her to use as a basis for comparison, so my memories of that glove are highly romanticised and wholly intertwined with the memories of her. Still, I remember every detail and aspect of that evening like it happened yesterday. From the angle of entry, to the embarrassingly-short time it took me to finish. She was on the pill, and AIDS wasn't a household word yet. I have the (now) rare priviledge of remembering my first time without a condom in the picture.

LL (see the previous entry), I remember very well. I didn't know she was a virgin at the time, but I do remember feeling a wonderfully strong grip. I naturally go slow on the first entry, just to prolong the joy, so luckily I didn't go in too hard or too fast. I like to savor the feeling, from the tip past the head down the shaft to the base, until I'm fully in. That first time, I remember her muscles clamping at the base when I bottomed-out that first time. LL had a stronger grip than I remembered ML having. I was more experienced, so I didn't orgasm in the first 30 seconds, but not for lack of opportunity. The gentle-but-insistent clasping around me could have finished off a lesser man in mere seconds.

JB was the first glove I got to enjoy for a protacted period of time. Our first time was nervous and circumspect, as we were in her mom's house at the time, not entirely sure mom wouldn't get home early. We didn't plan well, and no condom was used. After our second time, I came to my senses enough to ask her if she was on anything, and we started using condoms from then on. JB had a very slender, almost boyish figure and I think that contributed to the feeling of her. With her, the pressure from the glove was pretty much the same from just inside the opening all the way up the cavity. When she gripped me, the feeling was consistent along the full length of my cock, from the head down. Only at the very opening was there a stronger grip.

The next truly notable was PC, the person I ended up with for nearly five years. She was far and away the most experienced lover I've ever had, and it really showed in her muscles. She particularly liked to be on top. She wasn't the first lover I had to be on top, but she really knew how to use it. PC is unusual in that I don't remember the first time so much as the set of really stellar lovemaking sessions. She could literally make being inside her feel like you were getting blowjob.

Once I moved to California, as I've mentioned before, I discovered the joys (and convenience) of commercial sex. Few of those were worth recalling, at least in this context. Some of the women really rocked my world at the time, but didn't plant the kinds of memories I'm thinking of now.

But then EW came along. We ended up fucking the night we met. Not the first time that's happened, but the first time it happened and the relationship actually lasted. What I remember most about being inside her, was that she got wetter than any woman I'd ever been with. (She's since learned how to have a female ejaculation during sex.) All that moisture made the glove feel much softer and silkier. I also remember that my usual effort of going slowly for the initial entry was foiled by her grabbing my hips and pulling me in hard and fast.

So, out of the scores of gloves I've tried on for size, it's no surprise that no two were alike. No doubt that a good part of my addiction is simply addiction to the feeling of having that softness, that silkiness, enveloping me. Some gripped like a hand, some clamped like a vise. Some gently coaxed my orgasm out of me, some ripped it hungrily. The only thing I know for certain is that in order to make a definitive judgement, I must have more research.

(And in case anyone is wondering, I am in the market and mood for a new first encounter...)

Dausa

Defining Unrepentant

When I fell off the wagon a little while back, a couple of respondents to that post reminded me of the "unrepentant" part of my self-identification. To them, my irritation at myself seemed to go against that.

Well, just to clarify, there's a difference (for me) between unrepentant and being angry at having gone against my own standards. I'm still all about feeding my addiction whenever I can (within reason). Sex is great. Sex is fun. But that wasn't the point.

The point was that I'd decided to go off of commercial sex, at least for the next 8+ months while I get my finances ironed out. I'd even made a point to go back to a provider I'd seen before, one whom I knew would provide a good "retirement" session. I needed to lay off of this.

But I went back. I didn't just go back, I went cheap and got a bad experience for it. It's not that I'm not unrepentant, I was just pissed at myself for spending the money against my wishes, and ending up with squat to show for it.

It's one thing to realize, post-coitus, that you've just fucked someone you didn't particularly like just for the sake of an orgasm. This felt more like self-sabotage, self-betrayal.

I'm still very unrepentant. And very horny these days. Maybe I'll try using my right hand, for a change.

D

Always Start from the Beginning

Call me Dausa. It's not my name, of course, it's the acronym of the title of this weblog. I like that it works out to a pronounceable word. It's also a district in India, but I digress.

I am a sex addict. This is the first time I've actually admitted this in so many words. I've more or less copped to it in conversations (read: arguments) with one of my exes, but never have I just come right out and said it like that. Thing is, I'm not actually looking to "cure" myself of this, at least not at this stage. I'm more interested in getting the rest of my life to function around it. Hence the "unrepentant" part of the title.

I came up with the idea of this blog earlier this evening, while having sex with a prostitute. In true sex-addict form, by the time I was actually in the midst of the act, I was already thinking ahead. Only, there isn't much for me to think ahead to, right now. This will likely be the last time I do the commercial-sex thing for a while. I've fallen on some hard financial times (ironically, not related to my addiction) lately, and I just won't have the budget for it. But I'm an addict, so I had to have one last spin before giving it up. And in the midst of it, I thought maybe now is a good time to start looking at it in a different way. And what better way to explore something personal, than a blog made readable by the masses?

I'm 37 as of today (the 3rd), and I figure I'm just a few shy of 90 sexual partners. For those counting at home, that would be just under 4 per year starting at age 15. Only I didn't start at 15, I actually only had one partner before age 18 (oral sex only, but unlike certain past presidents, I count that) when I more formally lost my virginity. So that's more like 4.5/year on average, but the reality is that about 3/4 of them have been in the 7 years since I moved to San Jose, California. So now we're at 9.2 per year over that period. Not bad for a guy who's actually debilitatingly shy, huh?

I have tales to tell (but no names to name), and I have "the issues" to try and resolve. Whether you stick around for it is your choice. Do understand that the way ahead is fraught with strong language and seriously adult content. If this offends, I suggest you may find other things on the web to look at.

Dausa