Will someONE, please write someTHING!
I've only recently moved from lurking to actually blogging. And yesterday, I added a counter, just to see if anyone other than me, Maddie, Jefferson, Marcus, and the mysterious "Anonymous" have been reading. And either the five of us are every bit as compulsive as I'm becoming, or there are others dropping by.
Which I find surprising. And flattering. And a little daunting.
I know, for me, now that I'm hooked on this whole blog world that 3 weeks ago, I didn't even know existed - I check, frequently - no, I check rabidly. I'm not yet foaming at the mouth, but I feel a bit crazy, because rarely does an hour of the day go by when I'm at home that I'm not checking to see if someone I follow, now including Jo and S, has posted anything new. And when no one does, I'm crushed. Well, crushed is probably too hot. But I feel the same way I do when the DJ follows something like Digital Underground's "Freaks of the Industry" with something like Neil Diamond's "Sweet Caroline." Also a great song, but not what I want when I'm busy shakin' my ass. That's a digression I'll come back to, though.
My initial point was, I hate it when there is nothing new for me to read. And I hate it so much when it happens to me, that I'll make my best effort to ensure it doesn't happen to YOU. So, I reckon I'll jump back on the train of thought that just about carried me away a minute ago, and pick up with my funky self and a sweaty groove...
Usually, when I'm shakin' my ass, I only want three things, either by themselves, or in some combination:
More ass shakin';
More booze; and/or
Paint peelin', bed breakin', neighbor wakin', ass slappin', necessary to be re-hydratin' sex with the young lady I've just been dancin' with - preferably in the nearest broom closet.
And "Sweet Caroline" kinda kills that mood. For me, at least.
I was gonna write about some sex that I'd had, but the story I meant to tell will take longer than I have right now. We've got company spending the night, and I still need to race to the liquor store to grab more booze, and get a few other things at the grocery story AND pick up some lottery tickets (which I refuse to believe make me mathematically taxed) before guests arrive.
So instead, I'll just ask anyone dropping by to comment on what kind of music you think transitions well from a sweaty dance floor to a night, or hell, a few satisfying minutes of delicious, spontaneous, potentially anymous FUCKING?
If you're kind enough to answer, please be specific with a song title. While I think most James Brown will do the trick, I think "Sex Machine" is about the best of his work. Much like it's hard to go wrong with Marvin Gaye, or Al Green in general.
Three that I like right now are: "The Way You Move" - OutKast;
"Ass Knockin'" - Bob Schneider; and,
"Rollin' with my Homies" by Coolio.
Anyone?
Really, I'm flattered...
but I'm gonna have to pass again on the very generous offers in the comments of the last post to, ummmm, blow me. Besides, I don't think it's fair for Madeline to offer someone else's services. Additionally, I'm not in the kind of relationship that allows me to accept such gracious gifts.
Even more importantly, the idea of a man with my penis in his mouth repels me. As attractive as I'm sure you are (not only does Maddie taste good, she has good taste!), it's just not my thing, really. I know, I know, blah, blah, blah, protest too much, yada, yada, yada, hasn't tried it, etcetera, etcetera. I haven't stuck my cock in a vacuum cleaner either, and I'm sure that's not for me.
Also for the record, and keeping in mind that I haven't seen this kid since he was, what, 12, at BEST? Andy would be the right one. I've no doubt he's grown up to be great lookin'.
But I also have to admit, even if he were a girl, of the same level of attractiveness, I don't think I could get it up for someone so blindly Republican.
And if that makes me less than open-minded, well, I guess that's just too fuckin' bad. I don't have any quarrel with Republicans in general. They're right about some things. Social programs need to be funded to be effective, and I don't always think the democrats do a good job of appropriately costing the programs they believe in.
But "towing the party line" because it's what Rush believes or your parents believe, or you just plain don't like the other candidate (and I think it sucks that America seems to be able to offer only two viable choices), is stupid. And I haven't been able to fuck the stupid since before I started college.
As flamboyantly heterosexual as I am, I'm more rigidly attracted to intelligence. Or unattracted to stupidity is probably more accurate.
And like Forrest Gump, that's all I have to say about that.
For the anonymous poster who thinks Jefferson sounds like an "arrogant ass," can you please be more specific? Because if you can't, then when you inevitably point out that I can't correctly use punctuation, I'll just assume you mean that I overuse ellipses, when I'm sure I'm committing far more egregious errors. But I'll still reply "I am rubber, you are glue, what you say bounces off me and sticks to YOU!" Which really, isn't much of the enlightened discourse of which I believe we're all probably capable.
Stay tuned! I'm almost certain to solve the problems of both the Middle East and Northern Ireland soon, and when I'm done with that, I'll start working on race and religion here at home...
Now, would someone more qualified than me really GET back to the fucking and stop just teasing me?
Close your eyes, eh?
Maddie has suggested that a blowjob is a blowjob - and if it weirds me out that I might enjoy one from a guy, that I should just close my eyes.
So, Maddie being my friend, and smart, and thoughtful, I have to consider this idea. And as I'm considering it, all I can think is, "yuck." So I stop what I'm doing, and sit quietly in a dark room, free from distractions, which I how I do most of what I think of as my "important" thinking. It's much easier for me to stay focused on a single thought this way.
It occurs to me that since girls don't get "blowjobs" they get "head," I should be consistent. So getting head is getting head. I'll admit that I think probably guys do a better job of giving head to guys and girls probably do a better job of giving head to girls. Having the equipment your servicing, I think, lends itself to a more qualified knowledge of how to make that machine hum. And I can live with that. Still doesn't make me want to have a man go down on me. I can live with a little less in the area of expertise and "coach up."
But I wonder if Maddie really feels that getting head is getting head, if she could close her eyes and still enjoy the experience if it were one of her brothers...
Because I think it's different. Closing my eyes isn't enough. Knowing is the problem. And if that makes me somehow less evolved, than I'll apologize and hope to someday be enlightened. I understand the reasoning behind her arguments. But I know what I want (at least in this sense), and it's girly. Soft. Tender. With tits and ass. Pussy. Yes please!
Maddie? Comment?
Oh, shit.
I think the cat's outta the bag.
I just commented on a post that Maddie made, regarding a comment that someone named Jack made, and in so doing, I think I "outed" my blog to Maddie.
I hope she gets me well enough to understand when she reads what's written to date that when I suggest her online boyfriend is "smug" that I think it might be my own inability to project my insecurities on to him that I find unsettling. Or that I want her to tell me he's not, so that I can be as enthusiastic about Jefferson as she is. Because even though that's how he sometimes "reads" to me, I'm thrilled for her.
I think she does.
I hope so.
Of course she does.
Wow. I think I'm out. I hope that doesn't change things.
Please to meetcha. Won't you guess my name?
O.k., so here's something.
I sat down to do this earlier and had... nothing. Except apathy. So I couldn't really get started. Then I talked to Maddie about a comment she received on her blog. And her response. Which made me think I should just read her response. Which I have now done. And decided to respond.
So I guess I'm in the water. More than just my toe. I think this, my secret blog was dipping my toe in. Now I've responded with my gmail address. And probably soon, Maddie will somehow find this on the web and read it. Or maybe someday soon I'll tell her. And then she can link to my site, and this "Jack" person in Austin can read my account of our (Maddie's and mine) story. That, of course, would mean that I had to write down my version of what happened. Except it isn't any damn different. So I don't know what the point would be. On her blog, my history with Maddie falls under "Stop the World" and "Melt with You." And I wouldn't have it any other way. And recapping it, would either expose me as a talentless hack, as my version would inevitably suffer by comparison, or well, mostly it's that. Actually, I think it's all that. And that I'm too lazy to write something that's already been written better than I think I could write it. So I won't. You want to read it, go look it up.
But I think that brings me to where we're at now. Maddie and I, I mean. I absolutely adore her. I like her whole family. Her folks are great. Seriously - how many parents do you know that would NEVER have made you feel bad for leading her daughter to be arrested at 13? I can say I was terrified the next time I went by her house after that episode. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
After that summer I did go to college. And then Maddied moved. So we didn't see each other again until I was crossing the country on my way back home. That part's been covered already. After THAT, the last call I remember getting was about her fabulous new boyfriend, whom I believe she refers to as "Craig" on her blog. She told me he was MUCH older (which was funny because I'd always thought of myself as MUCH older), and that he was smart, and amazing in bed.
I was disappointed, of course, that I hadn't been better in bed when I was with her, but was really happy that she'd found someone that she could be excited enough to travel back and forth across the country to spend time with. Then, nothing...
Until she e-mailed me, which, again is covered in her writing. And again, pretty much exactly as I remember it. We speak a few times a week, and she tells me about her life, and I bitch about mine, and I'm frequently amazed that this girl, this fragile, little, wannabe vixen, who was trying so desperately to be grown up and tough when she was 13 has so fully come into her own. She's made choices, and very hard choices at that. And accepted the consequences, and decided what's important to her, and chased down those things that are consequential in her life. She's had two beautiful boys with someone who seems too dumb to realize how good he had it - or was incapable of believing that he had it as good as he did.
In short, she's better in real life than she appears on her blog. So much so.
And I'm not worried. I don't think I COULD be worried about her, because she's so, capable. Having said that, I'm conflicted about even writing the next few paragraphs that want to come out of me. But, having written that, I'm sure to write them.
I'm concerned. Not about the sex. Again, she's terrifically capable. And responsible, as I have found single mothers to be. I know how much Jefferson means to her. I also know she feels strongly about Marcus. And I know the geography of all of it is really just a detail. The connection that has been written about is much bigger than a continent, and I get the sense they all respect that. I haven't read Marcus blog. I'm sure he's got one, but I know it's Jefferson she wants, even though it's Marcus who can travel and will spend the weekend with Maddie on the plains.
I know that Jefferson is smart - and I'll give you a HALLELUJAH! if that fella hasn't worked out a sex life I'd be happy to step into. Other than the bi part. Hell, I might as well cover that now... True, I did kiss a boy the last time I saw Maddie. And in recent discussions with her, she's tried to convince me that I'm a "top" and probably bi. I've confided that under the right conditions, I could probably let a guy go down on me. And might even be able to fuck one.
But I'm not sure that's true. I WANT to be openminded enough to believe that the gender of the person I fall in love with wouldn't matter - but I just don't think it's true. I like women. All the ones I've met anyway. And could probably have slept with even the ones I found personally abhorrent. Just because a girl is a bitch doesn't mean she's unfuckable. Being stupid kind of guarantees that I won't be interested, but being a bad person doesn't. But a dude? The idea of a penis in my mouth is just repellent. I think that's why I'm so thrilled with getting blowjobs - because I'd never give one. And I'm dying to try anal. With a GIRL. I love eating pussy. I can't wait to try Jefferson's technique, as I've read it for G-spot massage. But a dude? I don't see it. I don't even want to.
And that makes me feel a little less open minded. Which I don't really like about myself - but it IS honest. So that's how it is.
But I've digressed, which I imagine if you're still reading you've noticed I do. I'll probably continue to do so, because it also seems to be who I am, as distracting as I'm sure it "reads." Sorry. Anyway - I was getting to the point about which I wrote before I wasn't sure I'd be writing down.
I'm not completely sold on Jefferson. And it's not jealousy. Of COURSE I'm jealous that he's fucking Maddie and everyone else and I'm not. But that's o.k. - I have a girlfriend that I love, and have chosen to be with knowing that would preclude me from Maddie's bed. It also means I won't be having any kind of sex with anyone else while we're together. And I'm o.k. with that even if it means the rest of my life. I think. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm o.k. with it. I'm definitely o.k. with it today.
But I'm not sure. I know how she feels about him. And I am so genuinely excited that she gets to feel that way. It's about the best thing in the world, in my opinion. That hope. It's better than sex. It lasts longer anyway.
I'm reading his blog, though, and loving the idea of the parties, and the descriptions of them and I'm glad that he can be a good dad, and is managing his relationship with his ex-wife, and daughter's mother and his job and still manages all that sex. Amazing. It literally gives me hope.
Sometimes though, and this seems so unfair. Let me discuss why I think what I'll eventually get around to saying seems unfair first. Maddie and I had this discussion on the phone today, in fact, about the guy in Austin commenting on her post. I've been told, or read somewhere that 80% of communication is non-verbal. So when someone is reading something like this, it's hard to be sure you're understanding exactly what is intended. Especially if you don't know the people. A lot of this confusion is mitigated when the writer and reader are both very articulate. I believe all the people I've discussed in this post, including myself are not just very articulate, but probably substantially more so than most. For my part, on standardized tests, I regularly score in the 99th percentile on the verbal sections. From reading them, I believe Maddie and Jefferson are probably more articulate than I am. It's possible that I'm just confusing that with their being better writers, but I am confident that at worse they are AS articulate as I am. And it's still a strong possibility that I misinterpret some of their writing.
Having said all of that - here it is. Sometimes Jefferson reads kind of smug. Or maybe it's faintly elitist. I don't know. A specific example is in a discussion he has at a dinner of some kind with an attorney. I've read his whole blog, and am too lazy to try to find it now, and I admit that. As I remember reading it though, it seems he was anticipating what the attorney would say. It also seemed that he felt the attorney was going to try to paint him into a corner with regard to politics or some similar nonsense, and more than anything I think I didn't like the presumption that he knew it all. Exactly where the conversation would lead, etc. Another is how he deals with May, who does seem to be a needy pain in the ass. I don't think I disagree so much with him about what she wants and his being clear with her.
I think he sometimes writes as if he knows every damn thing. And even if he does, literally know EVERY thing, I think I'd like him a little more if he could pretend he didn't. Of course now I'm thinking someday he'll end up reading this, and responding with something like "No, it's not that, it's something else" that will make perfect sense, and I'll feel like a schmuck. And the sentence IMMEDIATELY preceding this one is me doing exactly the kind of thing that I don't like when he does.
So who the fuck do I think I am? I know who I am, actually. And who that is, is someone with some flaws that I think need working on. And I think that I've finally figured out what it is that keeps me from really giving the fairly easy "Colton seal of approval" to Jefferson - even as I'm aware that nobody really needs it. It stems from my belief that no one is perfect. Not from that idea that if I'm not, no one can be. Not at all. More from the idea that there is always something that one can be working on. I'm still trying to be as honest with myself as I am with my friends. I'd also like to care a little less (and I don't care much, but I think I'd like not to care at all) about being liked. And more than anything else, I think, what I'd like from my very dear friend's online boyfriend is to suggest that he's not perfect.
Which I realize is of course, stupid. It's his life and his blog. And he doesn't even know me. And before I was all wrapped up in monogamy, I'd have LOVED to be invited to one of his parties, even if I'd have felt out of place as the token "straight guy."
I think I'd just feel he was more "real" if I could hear about something he was struggling with. And not something ultrafabulous like "I'm struggling to divide my time between helping the homeless poor and ending hunger in Africa."
I don't know - does any of that make sense?
I'm still here
Which is a bit surprising, even to me. Good habits take, what? Seven times? 22 times? I don't remember. But I'll go with doing something between seven and twenty-two times makes it a habit. I don't know where I'm getting those numbers - but I seem to have a really good memory for assorted errata. Like "errata," for instance. I think it means "really random bits of information that are probably no use." Which makes "assorted" redundant in the sentence. But part of the way I'm attempting to DO this writing, is not editing, so while I'm aware it's redundant, I don't think it's a good idea for me to go back and change it. Because it's not a habit I want to get into.
My idea for this is to try to give whoever ends up one day reading it, a glimpse into my head. And write or wrong, understandable or not, I'm doing a pretty good job of staying stream of conscience. That looks spelled wrong. I used to be a much better speller. Don't imagine there is much I can do about it.
So, to try to pick up a bit from where I dropped off yesterday, or maybe not at all: I got a call back from the place I had an initial phone screen with. Which is very good. I think it's a job I can do, and the call back was to arrange an interview for Thursday and even though I'm scheduled to work then, I think I can get it covered, so I think Thursday it will be the day. I think I'm actually speaking with the decision maker. I need to spend some more time learnng about the company.
This is a very big deal. For any number of reasons. I can't even point to the biggest reason because they are all friggin' HUGE. I owe Jennifer probably close to 10k by now. That's one reason. I haven't had a "real" job since I got RIF'd in 2001. That's another. I managed to run up $40k in student loans pursuing one of the more employable graduate degrees. I finished that almost a year ago. Then moved from the bottom middle of the country to the upper left, leaving behind my "network." Jesus, I'm sick of using quotes. But that's how those words sound in my head. As if someone should be making the "air quotes" around the words I've enclosed within them.
Probably need to go into some more depth with the whole process of deciding to go to grad school, what happened there, and what's happened since, but I just don't think I have time today. I need to be doing some research on what I REALLY hope becomes my new company because I am very ready to get over needing those jobs to cover my loans and cell phone bill. It would be nice to have some financial stability again. And to actually have to think about my work, instead of just busting my ass to do my job.
So I hope no one is terribly disappointed that I didn't cover anything sexy, or relating to a relationship or anything else. I guess I'm being selfish and discussing what's on my mind, and today sex was definitely on my mind, but right before I sat down to write, I got a call back from the recruiter so that was that. Make no mistake, though, gang. I'll get back to the dirt soon.
Hope all of you are getting lucky.
First Time
O.k., so fuck it, I guess. I've been trying to think of something special to initiate this - but like many of my girl friends have told me about their first time, I'm bored with waiting for something to happen. I'm gettin' in the mix. Who knows what will come of it, but really, what do I have to lose anyway?
So I'm Colton Johnson. Well, I'm not really, but in the interest of protecting my privacy, it's who I am. Maddie already called me Colton on her blog, and Johnson, well, I've got one. A big one. Or so I've been told. But how the hell would I know? I mean, it's not like I expect a young lady to say "Wow! Small dick!" It could very well be just a throwaway compliment that everyone gets. And does it matter, really? I mean, if I were a woman, or girl or whatever, I think it would matter. But I'm not. I'm a man. Or trying to be. And part of what I'm sure this will end up being about is how I define what it is to be a man, and a good man at that. And I don't want to gloss over the distinction between "girl" and "woman" either. I'm not sure I know the difference, myself. I think, like the difference between being a boy, a guy, or a man, it's probably the state of mind of the individual. It's definitely subjective.
I don't think I've always done a terrific job of being a man, even though I'm 37 and was married. Like many of my friends, I seem somewhat stuck in "guyville." Being stuck there probably wouldn't be so bad, if Liz Phair were there.
Yeah, I know, I'm kind of all over the place. It probably makes this fairly hard to read. Sorry about that, gang. I'M kind of all over the place, and I've always been told to sound like myself when I write, so it shouldn't be surprising. I hope it's not off-putting.
So anyway, I'm writing. It's a start. And I don't know what will come of this particular "set" of writings. The stuff you find here, I mean. Maddie will probably figure out that I'm writing at some point. And I've alluded to it in a discussion with another girl/woman, that I haven't made up a name for yet. O.k., now I have. I'll call her "Linda." We kissed once. And we've always had this really good sexual energy that's been bubbling under the surface, but for that one night we kissed, when we discussed the energy that we had, and decided it would be best if we didn't act on it.
And this isn't really going at all the way I planned. I've already mentioned two women. And I think, for now, I'm going to just fudge the difference and let you all know that until further notice, I'll just be using the terms interchangeably. I don't know - I guess I'll just stick with the thought that I was on, and if it's not going where I wanted it to, or thought it might, I'll just try to have some faith that eventually I'll cover what it was I was going to get to. And now I'm ending sentences with prepositions. Mrs. Thames would be spinning in her grammar library I'm sure. Oh well.
So anyway, after we decided not to kiss, and then did, and I liked it, I was invited back to Linda's house for more, something. And I really, DID want to go, but didn't. Here's a clue as to who I am - that I have to recognize as such, I guess. I didn't go because there was no way I could without hurting my friend Michelle's feelings. I love her, Michelle, and always will, and I'm definitely not going to be writing today long enough to discuss my relationship with her though. But for now, we were kind of something for a while, without really knowing what it was, or at least I didn't know, and there was always a sense, again, at least for me, that it couldn't work because fundamentally she has faith in something greater than herself, and fundamentally, I don't, and that is the most important thing in her life. Anyway, instead of some kind of sex with Linda, who I still have this amazing sexual tension with, I hung out with Michelle and May and went home alone.
And the truth is, as much as I don't even want to admit it to myself, if I could have thought of a way to leave without Michelle and May knowing, I'm sure I would have. Even though there were other reasons to not go - at least I remember there being other reasons. Thinking back, I'm not sure of the timing, but I might very well have been in an exclusive relationship - yeah, I'm sure I was. And I honestly can't say that if I couldn't have gotten away with it, if I wouldn't have still gone. I'm glad NOW, I didn't. Even as I'm wondering if I could get together with Linda the next time I'm back.
Right - sorry, all this happened before I moved up and to the left. I'm planning on heading back there at the end of next month for a wedding - and I've hipped Linda to Maddie's writing at this same site and I think Linda will find it arousing, and probably find an outlet before I get there. But she's not seeing anyone, and she's sexy and won't lack for company if she makes up her mind she wants some. So probably, by the time I get back it will pass, and I'll be "good" again, more by default than by actually putting myself in a position where I have to choose. Which clearly isn't as good as I want to be.
Because here's the thing. Well, it's one of the things anyway. O.k., it's something - by which I mean, "more than nothing." I absolutely love my girlfriend. Jennifer. And I should - but I would even if that weren't true. I mean, even if it weren't true that I should. I'm doing a really terribly bad job of saying I don't love her exclusively because I should, or think I should.
Could I be any worse at making myself clear?
I'm becoming more and more frustrated with Jennifer though, as I'm not getting nearly enough blowjobs. O.k., any. Which, having already been married, I've proved I can live without. I DO think a bigger issue is that Jennifer hasn't yet chosen who she wants to be, or decided what she wants for herself. And I'm getting tired of waiting, even while I'm starting to wonder if I'm not preventing her from having to make those decisions. And because I understand that side of the equation less, I'm abandoning it for now to go back to the other thing. I'm reading Maddie, and Jefferson, who has become her svengali, and they both write so well, and now, of course, I'm acutely aware of how different, stylistically, I am as I force myself to not edit, and try to be honest with myself and you about my thoughts. And on top of that, they're having gobs? Oodles? Tons? Acres? I don't even know what the right measure is, but I'll go with LOTS, all caps of paint peeling, on top of the coffee table, in the closet, out of the closet, bed breaking, neighbor waking, all hours of the day sex. Threesomes, fivesomes, usually bi, occasionally straight, always beautifully written sex. All this while I'm feeling lucky to get lucky more than twice a month.
It's not that I'm not attracted to Jennifer, either. She's beautiful. Stunning. Tall. Thin. Beautiful, perfectly shaped breasts. Equally perfect ass. Model beautiful. Face of an angel. But so completely unaware of her sexuality.
I've got a LOT of other stuff to do, gang. I can't make any promises that I'll come back to this any time soon. Or even that I'll be writing soon. I'm going to try to make a habit of it. I think there are some things that I need to work out. And I'm cracking myself up with this "gang" thing. I KNOW no one is reading this. And might never. But please forgive the pretense, if in fact someday, someone, somewhere stumbles across this. As you forgive my typos. I'm sure they're there.
I've gotta go, though. I hope to be back soon.
