Another One In The Books

The Atlantic Ocean. My view from Ocean City, New Jersey.

It’s Monday October 11th, 2021, the day after I came home from my week long trip to New Jersey for another “Village by the Sea” with Vince, TJ, and James of Masculine Geek.

It was an amazing time. I smoked more cigars in one week than I have in probably six months. I drank more alcohol in that one week than I normally do in three months. I learned to develop a taste for coffee after years of giving it a shot and then giving up on it, and no, you dickhead, I won’t be drinking it black.

Photo taken by Vince LaRosa

We had long conversations that covered the gamut of interests. TJ was brief as usual, Vince is or was dying of throat cancer, and James was getting ready to start a new life in a new state. Sometimes the family you have is the family you choose, not those you are born into.

A few things I learned about myself on this trip:

I like my bed at home far more than other beds in other places. I have slept in some comfortable beds in my time, this Village by the Sea was no exception, but I really like my own bed.

What is old is new again. This isn’t so much about me, per se, but it’s what I’m realizing as I get older. Vince and I were both reading biographies about different guys in different time periods. One of the guys Vince was reading about goes back to the late 1700’s or early 1800’s if I recall correctly. It might have been earlier than that. The guy I was reading about lived in Great Britain during the late 1800’s and he died in 1963. Both guys talked about the political climates of their respective eras. Nothing has changed.

People were bitching about communism, at least in my book, feminism was a thing in both time eras and women were bitching about rights that they already had, and the majority of guys were chumps, much like today. Oh and people did a lot of fucking, and other people who weren’t fucking, frowned on those who were fucking. Apparently Puritanism and Hedonism haven’t gone out of style. It’s “evergreen.” Lots of people talking about the “coming crisis,” which ironically never came. Does any of this sound familiar?

Bachelorhood = bad because bachelors won’t “man up and marry that woman,” and they are “disruptive to society.” Of course they are. When you are single, you can come and go as you please, move from place to place on a dime, and you don’t need a lot of income to support a family because you aren’t supporting a family, and you don’t have as much to get taxed on and support the whole of society. Nothing has changed.

I’m pro-individual, specifically I’m pro Me. What do I want from this life? What’s in it for me? Some men want to get married and have children. Great! If that’s what you want, then go and do that. Some guys are “professional bachelors.” Maybe they got married or into a long term relationship and realized that it wasn’t for them. That’s my case. I’ve done both marriage and long term relationships where we cohabitated. I don’t think I’ll be doing that again. It’s much better for everyone involved if we keep separate homes.

Photo by Vince LaRosa

On one of the days of our trip, we were in downtown Philly. There were two weddings going on at the same building, at the same time. I remember eyeballing the brides and the bridesmaids. All of them young, probably in their mid 20’s if I had to guess. All of them happy and excited. All of them full of life and energy. Given half a chance, I would have banged them all. Not an overweight woman in the group. But would have I married any of them? No. It’s not for me.

I’ve also learned that I’m more “introverted” than I thought I was. What I mean by that is that I like my quiet time. I like silence occasionally. I like to be able to sit on a couch or in a chair and just read a book with nothing but the sound of the wind for company. There were a few times during the trip that I had to go and sit by myself in my room and not listen to the conversations that were going on around me. It got overwhelming to a degree. I don’t recall being like that when I was younger. Sitting here in my chair, typing this, hearing nothing but the click and clatter of the keys on the keyboard is soothing. There is peace in silence sometimes. I think I have truly learned what it means when you hear the phrase, “you can be alone without being lonely.”

I have come to understand that men in general are Idealists by nature. I believe that it is hardwired into us. A “feature, not a bug” or whatever buzzword that is popular at the moment. You want to have some peace in your life? You want to figure out where you want to go and what to do? You have to kill that Idealist. Or at least temper it like hell with a lot of practicality and pragmatism. It’s your idealism that causes you headaches and heartaches. It’s your idealism that causes you strife and conflict because your idealism will go up against other people’s idealism. It’s your idealism that will be your downfall eventually because your idealism is a fantasy. Always was, always will be.

I don’t say this out of bitterness, futility, or some sort of nihilism. I say it with relief and joy. You don’t have to like how things are, but you have to accept how things are. It’s from there that you make the changes that you can. It’s from there you influence what can be influenced. Anything else is just a part of that idealistic fantasy. It’s how things “ought” to be or “should” be.

One of the idealistic fantasies that I see going on around me in real time, at least on the internet, is the idea that men are communal. That we are going to “get together” and effect some sort of “great change.” No we are not. We never have and we never will. We are mostly disagreeable for the most part. I know there are times where I don’t say anything because it’s not worth the time or effort, and the fact that one man can’t tell another man what to do, but there’s been plenty of times, even during the trip where I wanted to say to one man or another, “Dude, you’re full of shit.”

No sense in saying it though because it’s not my circus, not my monkeys. Experience will be the ultimate arbiter for them. And hey, they just might be that outlier, who knows? Who am I to judge? When everybody is an outlier though, nobody is an outlier. Sometimes you have to let a child touch the hot stove. Sometimes you have to let them burn.

Another pleasant observation that I had, especially while I was in Philly:

The women there, for the most part, were height/weight proportionate. That was across all age groups, races, and backgrounds. From college coeds to “cougars” in their 60’s if I had to guess. The great majority of them were height/weight proportionate. The majority of them were not wearing masks either. Apparently they didn’t get the memo that there’s a “gender war” going on either. And this is a “blue town.” Very liberal in their leanings, and yet the women were pleasant and pleasant to be around. Further proof, at least for me, that guys need to get the fuck off social media and go outside their homes. All the nonsense you see on social media is coming from a vocal minority and nothing more. It’s all posturing. It’s all smoke and mirrors. It’s all bullshit. And this is coming from a guy who grew up in conservative Salt Lake City, Utah, a “red state.” Or stay locked up in your house, stay on social media and feed on the outrage. Drive yourself crazy. I don’t care.

Whatever you seek, you’ll end up finding. It’s our nature.

Photo by Vince LaRosa.

The Price Of Admission

It’s Friday night and I’m sitting with the windows open, listening to the thunder and the rain as it falls. I’m letting the evening air circulate in my stuffy house, cooling everything down. As I’m writing this, I’m thinking of a few things.

I’m thinking about tonight’s Red Evening with Jack Napier. I have no idea what the topic will be. Not that we ever really have one. That’s what’s fun about doing the show with Jack. We don’t usually have an “agenda.” It’s more, “how was your week?” and then we just roll from there. I’m a little sad though. I’m sad because I don’t think Jack and I can be friends anymore. When you say that Lord of the Rings is better than Star Wars, dude…I just can’t even. The real shocker was seeing Vince from Masculine Geek pandering to Jack and siding with him. Vince, I thought we were Brothers, man. I’m finding out who my real friends are apparently.

I’m also texting with my Bosnian girl as I write this. She’s been burning the midnight oil recently with her work projects. She’s an architect and a damn good one from what I understand. She really enjoys her job.

My teacher/belly dancer is going camping this weekend. As far as I know, she’s up on the mountain as I type this. I hope she’s enjoying herself and having fun and I hope that she takes care of herself and is safe. I guess I’ll find out what adventures she had on Monday evening when she gets back into town.

I’m going to Wendover with my “Girl Who Likes Pain” on Saturday afternoon. I’ll be with her until sometime Sunday. She booked a room at the Rainbow Casino that has a private jacuzzi in the room itself. She’s bringing all sorts of “toys” with her. I’m pretty sure that drinking, steak, and debauchery are on the menu. She’s crazy about me.

That’s not a brag or a boast, it’s just a statement. She’s crazy about me. She’s not the first woman to basically obsess over me, and for all I know, she won’t be the last. My ex-wife obsessed over me. Teriyaki, at least in the beginning of our time together, obsessed over me. My Costa Rican girl from a couple of years ago, obsessed over me, and there was an Indian girl from India that I knew back in the early 90’s that obsessed over me for several years. She was a great “friend with benefits.” And there was the psychopath who was 5’11, had short brown hair, glasses, and farted in the restaurant, loudly, multiple times mind you, while we were on our date. She obsessed over me and became a full blown stalker for a brief period of time after I called it off. But that’s a tale for another time.

Why am I bringing this up?

It’s the price of admission when you date a lot. It’s the price you pay when you get to know women and their nature. Again, it’s not a boast. In some ways it can be a “curse” of sorts. You spend enough time getting to know women and you learn what AWALT (All Women Are Like That) really means. Of course each woman is unique and brings her own unique life experiences and thoughts to the table. Every woman is different. And yet, all women are like that. You learn that they are all neurotic to some degree, and I mean all of them. You learn that even the most secure woman is insecure, way beyond your average guy. You learn that when you don’t give a fuck, they do. You learn that they will bend over backwards to please you, if you just let them. And you’ll learn that they’ll leave if and when they get bored.

Can men obsess over women? Of course they can. It’s what we call Oneitis. I’ve obsessed over three women to one degree or another over the entirety of my life. My first Oneitis was when I was 18 and she was 16. She was my first real relationship and she was the one who took my virginity. That relationship lasted about a year and a half.

My second Oneitis was when I was 23 and the woman was 27. I met her on the job. She had Michelle Pfeiffer eyes and long, almost to the middle of her waist, blonde hair. She was my first blonde. She was also the first woman to ever give me head and make me come from giving me head. No woman had been able to do that before her.

My last Oneitis was my girlfriend from after my divorce. She was the one that was 20 years younger than me. I loved her harder than any woman before or since her. She truly fired all of my “switches.” No woman is perfect, and God knows, I’m no saint or perfect either, but this woman was about as close to perfect, at least for me, as you could get.

Before I met her, I was “spinning plates” and she was one of them. We did the monogamy thing for a couple of years and I even moved her in. Things were great until they weren’t. And that’s how life goes. That’s how relationships can go. I’ve met plenty of women since the end of 2018, slept with many of them too. And all women are like that.

Maybe I’m a bit jaded at this point. I’m not cynical by any means and I do enjoy the company of women. I’ve just seen the patterns, I’ve seen the trends. They happen like clockwork almost. It doesn’t matter their background, their age, their life experiences. Some obsess, some don’t. All of them want to know “where is this going?” eventually.

I’ve done enough dating to realize that I don’t have any “obsession” left in me anymore. Maybe there is a limit to how many times a man can obsess and get hung up on a woman and then he realizes that, “Oh! They’re all like that.” Maybe it’s also that you can only have your heart broken so many times before you just don’t have that in you anymore. I still feel “pain” and disappointment when a relationship ends, it’s just not devastating anymore. Why is that? For me, it’s because there is always another woman.

There’s a young guy talking to me via my DM’s on Twitter. He’s 21 and he’s dating a woman who is 31. She is his first when it comes to losing his virginity. He’s got Oneitis for her. He’s afraid of losing her. In a way, he’s obsessed with her. I feel for him, I really do. I remember what it was like when I was 21 and young and inexperienced with women and the world. I don’t want to sound cold and compassionless to him, but I do want to tell him, “Dude, your fear of losing her is what is going to drive her away.”

“If you are afraid that she is going to break up with you, break up with her first. It sounds crazy and counterintuitive, but seriously, break up with her first.”

“The best way to get over a woman is to get under another one, and keep getting under new and different one’s until that Oneitis is gone. Get enough experience to realize that women really all are like that. Pay the price of admission. It sounds bad, but it really isn’t. Each woman you meet and have some sort of relationship with will teach you about her, about you, and about women in general. You’ll realize eventually that they all are really like that and when you are up inside them, they all pretty much feel the same. Realize that there is always another woman. It’s like getting off of a bus. You get off one and 20 minutes later, another one shows up and you get on and go on an adventure until you decide to get off or the driver boots your ass off for whatever reason. So you get off and wait around for about 20 minutes or so, and another one shows up. And that’s life pretty much.”

Pay the price of admission and you learn that there’s no real reason or way that you can take any one woman too seriously. Because they are all like that.

Pay the price of admission. It may make you somewhat jaded and it could even make you somewhat cynical, but honestly it’s worth the price.

Why Not All Of Them?

Why not all of them?

Back in early 2015, when I decided to divorce my now ex-wife, I remember my Mother and I were going to go and have lunch or something. I remember sitting in her car with her and she asked me what was going on. She could see that I had something on my mind. That’s when I told her that I was getting divorced.

She told me she was sorry to hear that and then I told her it was me that wanted the divorce. She asked me why I wanted out. There were multiple reasons that I wanted out, some of them I could name, some of them I couldn’t at the time. I just knew that I wanted out.

One of the biggest reasons that I wanted out though was, I didn’t want to have sex with my wife anymore. We hadn’t had sex for months by this time, and I was perfectly fine if we never had sex again. The thought of touching her and having sex with her actually repulsed me.

But I wanted to have sex, just not with her.

I told my Mother this. Her answer was interesting to me, to say the least.

“Oh honey! You’re too young to stop having sex! You need to find someone that’s compatible with you and keep doing that.”

That wasn’t the interesting part so much, it was what she said next:

“Your Father and I haven’t had sex in over seven years.”

Seven years. No sex.

I can’t even imagine. My brain refuses to go there. Even now, over six years later, I still can’t fathom that.

I knew that I wanted to keep having sex, I just didn’t want to have sex with my ex-wife. Masturbation wasn’t going to cut it and I knew that I would eventually go out and find something extramarital given enough time. That wasn’t the only reason that I got divorced, but it was a big reason.

I found this out after the divorce when I hit the ground running and started dating again. I thought my sex drive had “dried up.” That it was something that happened when you got older. I was wrong. My sex drive didn’t “dry up,” it was just dormant. The first time with a new woman, an enthusiastic woman, was like when I was 18 all over again. I could go for hours. I wanted it daily, constantly. I could drive nails through solid oak with my dick because that was how hard I would get. And nothing has changed in the last six years.

Why am I writing about this? Why am I writing about it now?

Here’s why:

That’s a screenshot from a conversation with my teacher/belly dancer girl. I went out with her on Friday night and ending up spending the night at her house. We ate great food, got drunk, made out, had sex multiple times, and finally passed out around 5:30 Saturday morning. By that time I had been up for over 24 hours. Fuck it, I’ll get plenty of sleep when I’m dead.

Side note: One of the funny things about my teacher/belly dancer, she’s big on preventing STD’s and pregnancy. So every time before we have sex, she brings up not wanting an STD or getting pregnant because she’s already had all of the kids that she wants to have and she doesn’t want any more. So she’ll ask me if I have condoms with me, which I do. We always start off with me wearing a condom, but by the end I’m going at her raw and she’s the one wanting me to come inside of her. Every single time. The only thought that I have about it, that I’m never going to voice to her is, “Why the charade? Why beat around the bush? Every time we fuck we end up going at it raw and I come inside of you, so why the pretense and why the show? Why not just accept that you like unprotected sex and I’ll not bother with the song and dance of condoms?” But to each their own. If that satisfies her hamster, I’ll play the part.

I know now that I’ll never remarry. I don’t need or want the State getting into my personal affairs. That’s not to say that I won’t have some form of long term relationships or even monogamy at some point. I might do both of those. But for now? No.

I like sex. I like sex a lot. I like sex with different women. It’s me chasing the dragon. I know this. I’m good with it. It’s who I am. We all die alone. But we don’t have to live alone unless we choose to. I’ll keep my place and you keep yours. We’ll have slumber parties. I’ll come to you or you’ll come to me, it really makes no difference. And in the morning, or later that evening? One of us will be going home. That’s my foreseeable future with no end date in sight.

One of the “benefits” for my women when I date multiple women? I don’t get complacent or lazy. I bring my “A Game” to every encounter. They get the “best of me” every time. And that’s not just sexual. That’s attention. That’s affection. That’s planning and paying attention to detail. It’s all of it. And then I go home or they go home and the next woman shows up and the process repeats itself.

The thing that can wake me up in a cold sweat from a deep sleep is the idea that I’m with somebody who either doesn’t want to fuck me, or I don’t want to fuck them anymore. That’s what can keep me up at night. That’s my “existential dread.” That’s my version of “living a life of quiet desperation.” I want to fuck and keep on fucking until I can’t anymore, and for me that means variety. That’s what keeps me young, that’s what keeps me hard. And do you know what the most absolute beautiful thing about it is?

There’s always another woman.

As a parting note, I’m sure there are plenty of people who will want to argue with me about all of these things. They will bring up all sorts of “can’ts” and limitations and delusions and whatever it may be. I have only a few things to say to them.

It’s my life.

Argue for your limitations and sure enough, they’re yours.

Go away.