Bipanflexible

Lorelei, aka Suggestive, answered a question that’s been on my mind over on her blog. To summarize, how are bisexual and pansexual different things? The questioner defined them thusly:

bisexual: sexually attracted to both men and women.

pansexual: not limited in sexual choice with regard to biological sex, gender, or gender identity.

Lorelei’s reply was pretty spot-on, I think (“bisexual” is an older word from before the concept of a non-binary gender existence was common plus it might be better shorthand than “pansexual” before you get to know someone if all you really want to do is say you aren’t straight). You can go read the whole thing. It’s good.

The part that made me curious was this:

Pansexual opens up bisexuality to include transgender people, intersex people, and like you said – people that don’t necessarily gender themselves. In other words, someone who is pansexual is more or less bisexual, but someone who is bisexual is not necessarily pansexual.

I’ve thought a lot about this in the past (more or less the first time I found out Buck Angel was a kind of person in the world, whenever that was). When I say I’m bisexual, I might really mean I’m pansexual as it’s defined above because I’d very happily have sex with both trans men and trans woman. Either someone presenting very masculinely but with a pussy or someone presenting very femininely (and maybe with breasts) yet with a cock1. Sure. I’m game. I like all those things and I don’t really think changing up the how they’re combined would be a bad thing at all. In fact, I’m sure I could even hook up with a non-gendered person. Probably. Well…probably.

This snuggles up to something else I’ve been pondering since I found it the other day. A few months ago, someone posted to imgur a set of charts that supposedly breaks down active FetLife users. Three charts in particular caught my eye.

First, the sexual orientation reported by all the active users:

This is a graph of the Sexual Orientation distribution of all Active users - Imgur

Wow, I thought, look at all those bisexuals! Plus all the others I’d probably lump in with bisexuals (and then get scolded for doing so if they knew I was doing it). How awesome, I thought. My people!

Then I saw this. Sexual identity reported by just the men:

This is a graph of the Sexual Orientation distribution of MALES - Imgur

Fucking hell. Really, guys? Sixty-seven percent straight!? Can we believe this? Is it really true that out of all those thousands of kinky people (57% identified as male), so many of the guys are dead-on Kinsey zeros?

Of course, this is how people are choosing to identify. That’s not necessarily how they are. I suppose if you’re a guy and you’re married or in an LTR with a woman and you don’t have a lot of interest in men sexually and no ability to pursue any anyway, then you’re straight. I also think there are a lot of straight men who have fucked around with guys, especially in their youth. I know because I was one of the guys they fucked around with. More than a handful of current men who, when they were boys, seems to enjoy my naked company and seem to all the world as straight (and at least one I can think of off the top of my head who’s made borderline homophobic jokes on Facebook).

My personal opinion based on my own experiences with men who identify all over the place is that they actually are all over the spectrum. How we identify has less to do with how we are and more to do with how we want to be perceived. Men are not given bonus points in our culture for calling themselves anything outside “straight” and, it seems, will only do so for specific reasons. Same goes for men who call themselves gay. They might have a tiny or more consequential yet still minority part of them drawn to women, but they get no bonus points for ever letting that show.

Of course, I’m talking about men here because that’s what I know best. Women actually are somewhat rewarded for not identifying as totally straight in our culture. The men like it, for one, but it’s also more accepted. This is shown by how they break out on FetLife:

This is a graph of the Sexual Orientation distribution of FEMALES - ImgurJust look at them. Not even a third say they’re straight. More call themselves bisexual, not even counting all the related flavors.

Who knows. Maybe all those guys really are super-duper straight and I’m full of shit. Maybe women just are more fluid sexually. But it doesn’t feel that way to me. I think a lot of guys aren’t perfectly K-0 but say they are anyway. Perhaps they confuse what they are doing with what they are? “I’m with a woman so I’m straight.” That would help explain why bisexuals are often called “formerly” bisexual with they settle down with someone of either gender. Who we fuck isn’t what we are, right? But maybe it’s a more prevalent perspective with men.

It’s also possible this is a generational thing. People my age were pushed to go straight or gay and neither side seemed to think something in between was valid. That seems to be changing with younger people. They’re inventing all kinds of interesting variations on the theme. And good for them. Bi, pan, flex. To me, they’re all essentially the same. But what they aren’t is fitting into anyone else’s conception of what’s “normal.” I’ll count that as a good thing.

1 And let’s not get started on the fact that other cultures have archetypes of feminine men in them like the Japanese.

Love and hate

Over on his blog, Drew wrote a post that was also a question. Basically, since he now has personal insight into outwardly-appearing “straight” couples and how they interact, along with his intimate understanding of how homosexual couples live and interact, he wondered how the two were different from one another. Gay couples are more often open than non-gay (apparently) and gay couples are often open with one another about their sex lives. Are “straight” couples the same? How are they different? And, of course, I use “straight” in quotes since that’s how Belle and I appear from outside.

I think M/M couples are more open in both senses of the word. They’re more often open sexually and they’re more open with one another about it. My simplification of their experience would be that it’s easier for them because they’re all guys. In a mixed gender scenario, you have something like alternating currents involved. The differences in how the genders process sexuality and the associated emotions need to be negotiated and that, more than anything, is what keeps F/M couples from chatting too freely with one another about sex and relationships. Of course, some do. But many (most?) don’t. When the couples are divided and grouped into their component genders, talk of sex increases because the currents are all the same. But even then, there’s a lot of uptight straight people out there.

And, of course, guys are allowed to be slutty in a way society frowns on for women. When the sexual dynamics are all about M/M sex, there’s a lot more of it. I’m not saying men are simpler sexually than woman or that woman are too complicated or whatever, only that it’s very easy for men to have sex without consequences (and that’s multiplied by about 10 when it’s sex with another man). I think men are also socialized to more freely have no-strings-attached sex than women. If it sounds like I’m saying men are pigs, I won’t lie and say that’s not true, but I think women could just as easily be pigs if we were all raised outside our dominant “good girls don’t”/”monogamy at all costs” paradigm.

So no, Drew, “straight” couples tend not to talk about one another’s sex lives unless their participants are broken out into their gender groups in which case they might. At least, that’s my experience.

Two caveats. First, openly kinky people are probably more likely to have these conversations than the non-kinky or the closeted kinky. Second, I clearly have no idea how those in F/F relationships relate to one another. Zero.

Now, when it comes to actually being in an open relationship, I think there’s more of that going on in the “straight” community than is let on. It’s such a taboo (or has been) that even if a relationship was like mine and Belle’s, chances are quite slim that information would be volunteered, even to close friends. Therefore, I think it’s impossible to know how many couples are open in some way (whether that be swinging or “fine but don’t tell me” or a cuckolding thing or like ours or whatever — there are many available flavors).

I would encourage my readers to check out the comments to his post because there’s a lot of good stuff there. But there was also this from someone called Pat…

I really don’t understand why everyone is so casual about this. For the straight couples it’s cheating. Plain and simple. For the gay couples, I guess you could call it a form of cheating but since those marriages are soon to be voided, I suppose it won’t be.

I made a vow when I married my husband to stay with him and only him. This bow [sic] was to him but also to God. I like to keep him in chastity to make our sex life stronger, but it’s just for us.

Open and cheating are not the same thing. I can tell you that for a fact since I’m someone who has cheated and is now in an open relationship. Open is so much better. And, if you read my last post, you’ll see how open can also be perfectly casual. In fact, I have to imagine it’s at its best when it’s casual. If I was sneaking around with Drew behind Belle’s back, that would be cheating. Since I’m not, it’s not. Plain and simple.

Regarding the dismissive hatefulness of the rest of that first paragraph, all I can say is you’re on the wrong side of history. You’ll soon be relegated to the same bin we keep racists who hated interracial couples and religious fanatics who persecuted the left-handed. That makes me very happy. We’re leaving people like you behind. I don’t say that with hatred in return. It’s a simple observation of fact. You’re either on the equity bus or you’re under it.

Also, point of fact, regarding the “marriages will be voided” comment, the question being taken up by SCOTUS would not, even in its most damaging result to marriage equity, void any marriages already performed. Nor would it stop marriages in states, like mine, were the elected legislatures made it lawful.

Regarding the question of vows, I can’t imagine why we couldn’t renegotiate whatever we laid out to one another soon-to-be twenty years ago. I can’t imagine why one would let their younger, less experienced selves place them in such a rigid box like that. Funny thing is, opening our marriage has been nothing but good for our relationship. So if by doing so we’ve strengthened the marriage, how is that going against the spirit of our wedding vows?

Of course, you can choose to make promises to your imaginary sky friend, but I’d rather stay focused on Belle and me, thanks. In my estimation, promises to gods have resulted in immeasurably more suffering and pain on this planet than the opposite. They’re all too often used to shield and justify hateful, damaging, and abusive words and actions. I’ll have nothing to do with them.

Pat also went on to say…

I’ve recently started reading [Thumper’s] again now that it’s back to more he and belle and chastity versus the gay fantasies and his feelings for sex with you.

You will understand that hearing you say you’re happy to read my blog again now that you perceive it to be more about one part of me than another you find distasteful does little to endear you to me. If there was a way for me to blot out my words so you and people like you couldn’t read them or find any value from them, I would. You must take me as I am, all of me. Both my wife and my boyfriend (and his lawful husband). If you choose not to, then please stop reading me.

I chatted with Drew about Pat’s comment after she made them and how much more emotional things like that make me than him. His said something that made me profoundly sad. Of course, he’s used to comments like that. Words that degrade and dehumanize and minimize him and his feelings and his life. He’s accustomed to dealing with injustice, prejudice, and intolerance. I’m not. I have lived in my privileged “straight” lifestyle and have only recently been exposed to terrible people in such a personal way. Unlike Drew, I haven’t had the opportunity to build up a thick emotional scab.

I don’t want that scab. I never want to let words like her’s roll off my back. Whether or not she was intentionally hateful, she was and I always want to feel an urge to say, “FUCK YOU,” than not. Impolite? Oh, sure. But justice is often impolite…at first.

Apple, radius of falling from tree, etc.

The other day, my son let me know he was bisexual. He did it as an aside in a text message as if he was relating his dislike for capers while ordering something containing them at a restaurant. Real smooth-like.

I can’t say I’m very surprised. A little over two years ago, late on the night President Obama was reelected and the Minnesota Marriage Amendment (which would have defined marriage in the state constitution in the heteronormative way even though state law already said the same thing) went down in defeat1, he told me he was gay. The amendment had been topic number one for some time as the election neared and he knew I was vehemently against it. I suppose, in the light of that apparent support and open-mindedness about alternative sexuality, he decided to tell me about his homosexuality. He did so, with some emotion and trepidation.

Problem is, I didn’t believe him. Not for a second. I know gay. I am really familiar with gay kids, too, having been surrounded with them at one point in my life. I also pride myself on having a honed gaydar. None of that gave me the idea he was at all gay. But you don’t tell your kid who’s just done this emotional thing that he’s wrong. You tell him you love him as he is and always will and only want him to find happiness in the world. Then you hug him and tell him to go to bed because he has school in the morning.

After that, he demonstrated zero percent gayness. He dated a handful of girls, one seriously (and recently), and (as far as I could tell) no boys. We never discussed the gay thing again. Just left it out there, sitting. Then came the bisexual declaration.

I wanted to tell him he was doing it backward. Common practice is to identify as bi first then gay. Bisexuality is a station, not a destination. He was doing it wrong.2 But I didn’t. I didn’t say much of anything, really. Didn’t want to make too big a deal of it. He certainly wasn’t. Last night, he did it again for Belle with me sitting there. Kinda of like, “Did I mention the bisexuality thing? Or didn’t I?” Again, no big deal. No great unveiling. Just supportive recognition.

This is complicated for me. I’ve never talked to him about my sexuality, though I have blogged about it on my muggle blog (with its occasional tiny blip of readership) and he knows about that blog and may have read what I wrote there. He’s never asked. On the one hand, I feel like I need to tell him something. On the other, he’s already about 20 years ahead of where I was at his age. He’s out at school where I’m told it’s no big deal and now he’s out at home. No big deal. I recall how badly I wanted my dad to talk to me about his sex life when I was sixteen (read: NOT AT ALL), so even though he’s not going to follow the standard path and he’s apparently not going to follow my path, he is definitely on a path and is showing little sign of needing someone to show him his way.

Of course, this makes me proud of him. And a little in awe. I see a lot of me in him, but he’s got a lot of his mom, too, and the combination is formidable and more than either of us, I think. One day, he will lead people. He seems destined to do it. He will deserve to do it. I doubt he’ll ever be apologizing to anyone for who he is nor should he. Such incredible potential.

As it stands, I doubt I’ll talk to him about being bi for a while. He just doesn’t seem to need it. Of course, he doesn’t have all the answers yet, but part of being young is finding those yourself. There’s only so much listening to his dad any boy will do even when he isn’t talking about sex. Whatever Belle and I have been doing for him so far seems to be working.

I did set him up with his own subscription to Dan Savage’s Savage Lovecast.  He’s just sixteen but he’s a mature sixteen (looks and acts twenty) and I could only have wished at that age to have had a resource like Dan. I think it will be important and ultimately healthy for him to be exposed to the full breadth and depth of the human sexual condition that is regularly featured on the Lovecast. I can’t say that Saturday was the exact best moment to do it, but waiting until he was an “adult” would be far too long. There are so many things he needs to know and none of his friends are going to know them any better than he does and I doubt he’ll get much from the school other than the official line (and he’ll only come to me under extreme duress, I’m sure). In any event, I deemed him ready for it. Hopefully, he gives it a listen.

Now all I have to do is start steeling myself for when his sister gets to be that age. <insert wide-eyed and terror-filled emoticon here>

1 And which led to a Democratic take-over of the statehouse and, ultimately, marriage equity in the state.
2 NO, of course I don’t really believe that.

Starting the new year off wrong

I really didn’t want this to be my first post of 2015. I wanted it to be my review of the KHD X3 espresso 3D printed chastity device. I wrote the bulk of that yesterday but need to give it the final Thumperesque spit and polish before posting it. That was what I meant to be doing right now. Instead, I’m doing this.

Before I really get going, I’d like to warn you that if you’re the type who doesn’t like it when I rant at ignorant fucktards, move along. If you’d rather your new year start off with positivity and good will toward men, find something else to read. If you want to pretend like the world isn’t filled with hate and intolerance wrapped in the blessings of the “love of god” and that I should just let it roll off my back and move along, then you should. Because I’m fucking sick of it. And I’m pissed that the hatred of others has caused me to feel so much anger and hate on a day I’d rather not.

Reader Amy is back after saying she never would be with the following comment left on my last post (don’t bother looking, I’ve spammed it):

Happy New Year, thumper. I read you nonstop and want to say thank you. You’ve helped me keep my husband at a level he should be for 3 years now. I have to say I was one of the worried ones earlier this year when the blog went more gay, but very glad you are no longer talking about that stuff and that guy hear. I know this may be not be pc, but the straight people need you. Have s great 2015.

I was immediately offended by this comment but Belle told me to let it go. So I did. I ignored it. Then Drew sent me the comment she left on his site:

Just a note to say happy new year and that I hope 2015 is the year you find God and quit tempting men to change and cheat on their wives.

I also hope you’ll realize marriage is between a man and woman and not Adam and Steve. Please quit saying you are married as that’s just not right.

Peace to you and I hope you find your way.

Even on a good day, this would piss me the fuck off. But today wasn’t one of those days because I’ve been thinking a lot about this:

fakedansavage_2014-Dec-31

That’s from the suicide note of a transgendered teenager named Leelah Alcorn. She wrote that and then threw herself in front of a semi. When I read things like what Amy wrote that some would tell me come from a good place because they mean well and others suggest I should just delete and let go I think of kids like Leelah. The hundreds of thousands of kids like Leelah, some whom will kill themselves but most of whom will live in pain and misery because of their parents who speak from the same place as good old Amy. Her and others like her doing real and serious harm to innocent lives every fucking day by cloaking their ignorance and intolerance in their selective reading of a mythical fairy tale we’ve all agreed has some significance and isn’t the wholesale manufacture of a group of old men trying to control the actions and lives of pretty much everyone else rather than the word of god as they told us it was. The ignorant and hypocritical people like Amy who decide one part of the bible means something really important about homosexuals and people of non-standard gender identification but choose to ignore the parts about rape being a perfectly valid pretext to marriage and all the pro-slavery stuff and how we shouldn’t eat shellfish or mix the fibers we wear and on and fucking on because it doesn’t really matter what the book says as long as you’re using it as your cudgel as you hew through young lives and sit in abject judgment of others whose only crime is trying to live in love and find happiness. Because fucking GOD.

Once upon a time, I was one of those kids. I was living with my dad and his wife after high school and my on-again, off-again boyfriend (the one I’ve mentioned who has the wonderful cock) slept over and he fucked me (and guess what, Amy — I liked it A LOT). My dad heard and maybe even saw that without my knowledge and confronted me with being a homosexual shortly afterward. I denied it on a technicality. I didn’t think I was gay. Not like the boy who fucked me. Not like my father thought when he said the word. So I said no, I wasn’t.

My father, being a god-fearing, bible study teaching fellow who — if you pressed him — thought the gays deserved their AIDS, suggested we do family counselling at his church. I didn’t want to but I had nowhere else to live (my mother was out of the question at the time) so I figured I’d go along with it in hopes we could address other issues in our relationship. However, after a half dozen sessions or so in which he and his wife didn’t show up, it became clear to me this wasn’t family counselling, it was Thumper counselling. I’m fortunate that I was already an adult and the counsellor at the church was an OK guy and I wasn’t an underage kid like Leelah and the church wasn’t full of radical Christians with a piss-poor comprehension of the sciences of genetics and psychology. So I stopped going. Soon thereafter, I moved out of my dad’s house and our relationship was seriously strained until I became engaged with Belle. Perhaps he thought, like most Christians, that I “chose” to be with a woman rather than men.

The other day, I quoted something Dan Savage said in his recent Playboy interview.

In countries like Uganda, leaders have this easy way to assert their moral superiority: hating gay people in the same way shitty, fucked-up Christians in America do. Putin is very blunt about this. It’s how they prove their moral superiority to the West. They don’t have to take better care of their citizens, they don’t have to have a functioning democracy, they don’t have to have a decent environment, they don’t have to have a justice system that works. They just have to hate gay people really hard and they’re better than the United States, better than Canada, better than France. It’s exactly like the Christians. They don’t have to stop masturbating, stop having premarital sex, stop drinking, stop getting divorced and remarried. All they have to do to be good Christians is hate gay people. “I don’t have to keep my dick out of anybody; I just have to hate you and where you’re putting your dick.”

Emphasis mine.

Reader Deadrody replied:

This: “…like the Christians. They don’t have to stop masturbating, stop having premarital sex, stop drinking, stop getting divorced and remarried. All they have to do to be good Christians is hate gay people” is nonsense. I’m actually about 100% sure that there is no such person on earth. Anyone claiming anything similar to that, is not remotely a “Christian”.

Making a caricature of 80% of the American public is not useful, helpful, or true.

I’m sorry, Deadrody (and not only because you’re dead), but look up. It’s not a caricature. Those would would carry the banner of “Christian” in this country are exactly as Savage said they are. They’re like Amy. They’re like my dad. And, might I add, as someone who very much does not count themselves as a Christian, if you don’t like the caricature, do something about it. Fight it. Call it out as the intolerant ravings that it is. It’s all done in your name and if you choose to be silent on the subject then it’s perfectly understandable that people like me would assume you’re all the same absent evidence to the contrary. Unfair? Maybe. Prejudiced? Perhaps. But you don’t need to be an African slave in Mississippi or Native American on the North Dakota plains to understand their instinctual fear and suspicion of the white man. It’s just human nature.

So, to conclude Amy, Drew is not tempting me. I advertised for someone like him. I did. I started it. All he did was raise his hand. And I’m not cheating on my wife. She knows all about my relationship with him. She approves of it. And “marriage” is a legal construct, not something you get to define in your narrow head, and right now in the majority of the country, Drew and Axel’s marriage is as valid as mine and Belle’s. Get used to it.

A great man once said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” I think it bends a bit faster when the simple and narrow minded either don’t procreate or do so in an environment where their children turn out better than their parents anyway. The arc is bending fast on this one, Amy. Faster every day. And all I can hope is that words like mine will help it bend just a tiny bit faster.

Even if, it won’t be fast enough for Leelah. And not fast enough for the thousands of other kids who are burdened with parents like you right now, today. Until the day comes when every person in this country, child or adult, is free to live and love the way they were born to without worry of people like you, Amy, I will NOT let your kind of bullshit roll off my back. I will NOT let it go. It’s evil. It hurts people. And it’s everything that is wrong with our world.

Follow-up for Kerri

Hmm…

I keep thinking back to the note I replied to yesterday. The one from a reader named Kerri who said, in part, “I cannot tell you how grateful I am for you to share your journey so publicly because I have found a lot of comfort in knowing that my desires aren’t necessarily singular, alone or deviant,” and, “…I don’t want to bare my soul to anyone who is likely to think I am weird…” and “[I] am so terrified of losing my husband, I either need to not feel how I do, or ask him to be what I need.”

Thing is, she never really came out and said what she needed or what her kink was. Did she want to carry a key? Or be locked? Or something else? Top? Bottom? No idea. But really, that doesn’t make a difference and it’s not what I keep thinking about.

So, I’m going to take another pass at her situation, but this time from a higher altitude. She said, “I either need to not feel how I do, or ask him to be what I need.” I can tell you right now, Kerri, you will not be able to stop being and feeling what you are. That bottle may stay stoppered for the rest of your life, but those feelings will never just evaporate no matter how far down you stuff them or how hard you will them to. They’re yours to keep. They are who you are.

No, you don’t necessarily need to act on your feelings/urges/whatever. Not everyone does (and, just between you and me, not everything you think is sexy ends up actually being that in real life). But I’m guessing that since you took the time to write me, they’re pushing at you pretty hard.

The second thing you said — “or ask him to be what I need” — is equally fraught. He may be what you need. That would be like drawing a straight flush, though. More likely, he is what he is and perhaps he can act like what you need him to be or what you both are has enough overlap to work. That’s the best case scenario, in my opinion. It’s also possible he can’t even think of being what you need him to be. That’s a scary prospect, I agree.

I don’t know you, let alone him, but you fear losing him and destroying your marriage and breaking up your family because of the kind of sex you want to have. Only you know him. Is that really likely? Or are you shaming yourself for being who you are? Are you inflicting fear of rejection and loss as a kind of punishment on yourself for being unlike who you think you need to be? I would know from that as I did it. Many times I felt like a complete freak and, even after leveling with Belle on all my various kinks and desires, making our sexual relationship work often felt too hard and I knew inside it was all my fault. Because I was not normal.

What I know now, and what I want you to hear, is there is no normal. There’s different. There’s compatible and incompatible. There are things each of us like and don’t. But nobody on this earth is normal. Not you, not me, not your husband, not the fucking Pope or President of the United States. People act normally (or, what they think is normal), but I think we all have our little kinks and peculiarities. We’re all kinky little fuckers deep down inside. And none of us are to judge what turns someone else’s crank (as long as it’s all consensual and practiced ethically, etc.). Not even ourselves.

So, please please free yourself from that guilt. Of that dread. You deserve to feel as you feel. You deserve to be happy. There is nothing wrong with you.

I know I’m incredibly lucky. I have a wonderful and supportive partner/friend/wife/keyholder who has made the realization of my sexuality not only possible but also rewarding. And it’s because of her support that I know how empowering it is to feel outside the shell we can make for ourselves when it comes to walling off whatever sexual feelings we have that fall outside the bullshit cultural paradigm. You need to break out of that shell to feel whole. You need to face who you are and give your husband the benefit of the doubt to face it with you.

This advice shit is tricky. Like I said, I know nothing more than what you told me in your note. Your husband may be a dick and maybe you already know he won’t be supportive. In which case, I wonder why anyone would want to live like that. But I’m making the assumption he isn’t. I can’t map out all the moves for you, but I can tell you how great it is not to be living with an important part of you hidden away from someone you love and who loves you.

Sure, do the things I mentioned yesterday. Buy the book, go to FetLife, maybe find a local group of like-minded perverts. But whatever you do, start the conversation with your husband. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but make the commitment and start working towards it now.

And don’t forget: We’re all kinky fuckers, every last one of us, in our own special ways. And it’s great.

Moist mishap

This past holiday week was not unlike having two and a half weekends all mushed together. And, as such, we had a fair bit of sex. Belle wouldn’t let me out of the Steelheart on any of the occasions I was allowed to get her off, though, and even though I’m still kinda getting over the two orgasms she let me have a week ago, that cranked me up pretty good.

I had that “orgasms aren’t that bad, maybe we should let me have more of them” thing going on but that’s since receded. What didn’t is the crazy intense urge to be inside her, especially after being given the chance to play with her pussy as much as I did. Serious teeth-grating kind of intensity. But she wasn’t having any of it.

Sunday morning it was unclear anything would happen since so much already had. Turns out, she was willing to let me have a fuck. And only a fuck. She didn’t even take her top off. It was very transactional. Like she was rolling her eyes and enduring what I wanted as a treat for good behavior. There was a time when that might have bothered me, but I was so horny and needing to get the penis wet, I dove right in anyway.

And it was pretty fucking great, to be honest. She didn’t let me do anything to get her juiced up so it was a tight, dry fit at first and normally I’d be worried about her but, you know, she told me to so I let myself get off on the feeling. I was doing really well and enjoying the lack of impending orgasm that sometimes happens when I know we’re not trying to make her come. I can just fuck and fuck and never get very close and that’s what it was like…until it very suddenly wasn’t.

I don’t know what happened. I think I got so into it and the feeling of it and how wonderful it was and how I wasn’t thinking about coming at all that when I realized it was all of a sudden and quite freakishly right fucking there that I froze. And just in the nick of time, too, because while I spewed forth all the seed that had been frustratingly collected over the past week and through all the sex, etc., I didn’t have any of the other orgasmic symptoms. I didn’t feel like I had come. Except in one particular way: The penis immediately and completely went limp.

“The worst thing in the world for you,” Belle said immediately after, “Something you can’t categorize.”

Funny. But it was kinda true. Such a weird thing. In retrospect, I’ve labelled it a ruined orgasm. The rapid depressurization of the penis tissue was, I think, caused by being freaked out by getting so close to coming and not having been able to feel it approach until the very last moment. But I was still pretty damned horny. Horny enough to drool over the Tumblr and feel more of that molar-grinding kind of frustration later in the day while the free penis meat moved around distractingly inside my pants.

And I’m still out. Belle said she was feeling lazy and left me free until we arrive in NYC tomorrow. Don’t know which she wants me in, but I’d vote Trainer 2.0 only because the plastic will make the various metal detectors tourists sometimes find in New York less annoying. And, since I’m basically on my own for the first several days we’re there as she does work stuff, I don’t know why she’d care. But it’s her choice, not mine. I can work around the steel if that’s what she prefers.

Finally, I want to wrap this by clarifying something that I think a significant number of you (though not a majority) appear to think is the case regarding Belle and me and the openness in our marriage she’s allowed. Namely, some of you are apparently of the opinion she’s being victimized or taken advantage of by me, her sex-crazed maybe-homosexual and apparently insensitive lout of a husband. Or something like that. Trust me, nothing could be further from the truth. I have been very careful to check in with her and get a sense of her well-being through this entire experiment. I continue to do it even now. She doesn’t post here so you have to accept I’m telling the truth and haven’t left her tied and gagged in the closet (which is my thing anyway), but it’s true. She’s perfectly OK with what’s happening as long as it happens within the bounds she’s set up. Really. And having those boundaries is a very normal part of open relationships. Look it up.

Second finally, it’s honestly shocking to me the comments I continue to receive here (let alone those on Drew’s blog) from those who have a problem with men having sex with other men. Or, even more unsettling, men falling in love with and marrying other men (as is the case with Drew and Axel). Please, if you feel that homosexuals should not marry or, if they have already done so, are not really married because they’re gay, get the fuck out of here and never return. I honestly hate you and it pains me to think you would gather any value from my blog. People like you are part of why this world sucks for people like me who are not part of the standard of normal, let alone for the millions of loving gay people who are just trying to have a fucking life. You are the worst.

And with that, I shall bid you adieu. If you’re a cool cat who lives or works in NYC and wants to hang out, eat something, or imbibe a beer or two, let me know. I’m pretty much a lone spirit until Thursday afternoon. I have some stuff I want to do, but my schedule is pretty open. Also, know that as an avowed introvert, placing myself out there like that makes me really freaked out. But I’ll try and be normal anyway. As long as you are. And aren’t planning on trying to kill me or something.

Dawning appreciation

Sex at Dawn didn’t so much show me how others live or reveal to me some mystic, hidden secret about human nature as much as it put form and structure around things I had already figured out about myself and human sexuality. It has left me thinking and feeling things more deeply than any book I’ve read in a long, long time. Maybe ever.

Cheating on Belle was certainly the most colossal screw-up of my adult life. I don’t see Sex at Dawn as a way to retroactively create for myself a pass on that in any way. But man, do I wish I had read it before all that went down (not that I could have since it was published about two years after those events). So much of how we human monkeys are put together I intuited from that and subsequent experience, but it’s all laid out in the book. It all makes so much more sense now.

The affair was about more than sex. It was about connectedness with another human. It was about feeling alive and vital. And in becoming involved with The Other Woman, I felt things I didn’t know one could feel for more than one person at a time. Not the same type of love I feel for Belle. But affection and interest and many similar aspects of how I feel for her. Nothing that detracted from Belle’s place in my heart. If anything, I felt more in love with her. I wonder what it would have been like had I been honest with her and all the feelings of significant guilt and fear hadn’t been clouding the picture.

But that’s in the past and it’s what led to the present and the present is good. I regret the choices I made, but not the consequences.

The most interesting reaction I’ve had to the book is how it’s colored my opinion on marriage. Not being in love with someone and wanting to spend a really long time in their company (up to and including the rest of your life). Not on being committed to them and pairing up and building a life. But absolutely on what I think is a government sanctioned perpetuation of the myth of one-man-one-woman monogamous bliss. I think that’s bullshit.

Monogamy is expected. It’s assumed to be the natural order (just like heterosexuality). But it’s not and everything about us says that. Our physiology and psychology are both hardwired against it and constantly fighting it. This is obviously so. And yet, when we succumb to our innate drive to be promiscuous, we either do so duplicitously and hurt those we love or we do it with their (or one another’s) consent and are judged harshly for it by others. The stock assumption is because relationships that are open to other loves or other sex partners are complicated that they’re wrong and should be avoided. This is the same kind of thinking that makes people avoid anything other than standard, married, boy-girl missionary sex and it’s just as wrongheaded.

All human relationships are complicated, it’s just that we have more experience with some than with others. There is nothing innately bad with being in some kind of affection dynamic with more than a single person. There is nothing intrinsically immoral about having sex with more than the one person you’ve decided is the one you love more than any other. Because we have all been culturally indoctrinated to believe we are a certain way and to reject dynamics and realities that don’t align with that paradigm, we react negatively. We recoil and feel uneasy and fearful. We are afraid of who we are because we don’t know who we are.

And that’s why I think state-sanctioned marriage is bullshit. There are many ways for people to find happiness and love and commitment. It’s no one’s place to judge and it’s not the role of the state to pick winners and losers. Conservatives like to say that gay marriage will lead to the destruction of “traditional values” and I hope to fucking god they’re right. People can be happy and children can be lovingly raised and the world and our society will be better for it once we get out of the way of who we are and how we need to be, both on the scale of us as a species and the scale of us as individual people.

Of course, those who choose monogamy are free to do so. Just as those who choose to have their junk locked up by their spouses are free to do so and those who want to be tied up and beaten are also free to do so. Just as any consenting adult is free to do anything else with another consenting adult (or group of adults) that results in no harm to any other uninvolved person. Is there any better definition of freedom than that?

Reading Sex at Dawn has crystalized a lot of things I was already thinking. It’s given form to feelings. I don’t think I’ll ever think specifically the same way again. And that’s a really good thing. If you haven’t already done so and are sex-positive and open to new experiences and want to better understand what it is to be a sexual, loving human being, read it. Just read it. If you’re not those things…what the hell are you doing here?

Born to fuck

Belle says to me last night sort of out of the blue, “I’m really glad you’re not polyamorous.” She’s making the correct distinction between having multiple loves versus multiple sex partners.

I’m about halfway through Sex at Dawn and it’s rocking my world. Pretty much everything the popular culture wants us to believe about human relationship is wrong. So much guilt and shame and bullshit piled up in an attempt to hold back how humans evolved to be. Not act. TO BE. It’s a remarkable read and I’m sure I’ll say more about it when I’m done.

But the thing that I keep thinking about is the difference between polyamory and promiscuousness. Humans are designed to be promiscuous, but are they designed to be polyamorous? Belle’s right that I love only her. And I do it deeply. But could I love someone else at the same time? I don’t really know. I suspect that if I did it would have a different texture than the love I feel for Belle. I suspect that multiple loves take on unique qualities based on the unique combination of those involved. I know I can’t feel anything like the love Belle gets from me for a man (as we’ve already discussed in length), but another woman?

I doubt it if only because I’d know how it would make Belle feel. Not that it’s going to happen, of course, but the merest whiff of the potential to hurt her would cause me to immolate any other potential affection dynamic. The term “affection dynamic” is interesting to me as I think about love in the context of what Sex at Dawn says about us as primates. The entire concept of one-on-one exclusive and eternal love might just be part of the big lie that I talked about. When Belle says she’s glad I’m not polyamorous I hear fear that if I was I might leave her. As if love is binary. I will never leave her. I will die with her. Period. But that fear based on the idea that one person is always with another single person is pervasive.

She said again it’s why she’d never want someone of her own on the side. She’d be afraid of developing entangling emotions for them. I would be shocked if she didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think she should if she wants to. I don’t fear her leaving me. I know what I am to her. Of course, if such a thing were to happen and I needed to find a way to share her, that wouldn’t necessarily be a straightforward process for either of us, but I do not fear it.

I’m just spitballing here. Not making any suggestions or saying anything will happen. But I am trying to process where cultural conditioning ends and real human behavior begins. If anything, Sex at Dawn makes me angry. Angry at the powers and individuals who are invested in and part of the industrial complex of enforcing the dominant paradigm of human relationship in Western culture. Angry at those who are judgemental and rigid and think my business (or yours) is theirs. Angry that we are so fucking hung up on sexuality that we can’t talk about it. Not the average reader of this blog. I’m sure we’re relatively OK talking about it. But all of them. The ones who have been taught that sex and desire are things to fight against. To resist. To minimize.

We are sexual monkeys. We were born to fuck. Perhaps even to love. But we traded that in for what we have now. And that makes me angry.

I’m too annoyed to even come up with a title

The recent series of posts has elicited some less than inspiring comments. At the prospect of Drew…

I just want to say that I am less than excited about your romps with another man than I am about your interaction with your wife.

After hearing that I had been with him…

Well hopefully for her sake you used protection or will be tested for hiv.

And after I posted his POV of our first encounter…

Is this going to become a gay blog now?

The overwhelming majority of comments have been positive and supportive and, for that, I am grateful. Thing is, since this is a blog about kinky sex and other perverted diversions, I would have only expected comments that suggested my readers were open-minded when it comes to sex of all kinds. Apparently not.

With regard to what kind of blog this is, it will remain what it has always been: A journal of the sex and relationships I am part of. I don’t make this shit up. It’s not a “choose your own adventure” novel. And, to be honest, it’s not like my interest in having sex with another man is something I’ve never mentioned before. It’s interesting to me that all of my several posts about me playing with my own ass were passed over without criticism but when another human of my own gender does it, the peanut gallery starts chirping (and all I did was say it happened, I didn’t even talk about it in my typical level of gory detail).

And seriously, who the fuck thinks it’s OK to pipe up with their narrow-minded and frankly ignorant opinion on a blog about a real person doing real things in real life? Do you confuse me with a source of entertainment for you? Do you suppose for a single goddamned minute I give a shit if what I say offends or fails to give you a chubby?

I have spent too much of my life worrying about how others would judge me because of who I am and how I feel and what makes me happy. I still struggle with that today. If you find anything I discuss here (you know, the real and factual details of another human’s search for satisfaction and happiness) offensive, get the hell out. Just go the fuck away. Are you doing me a favor by reading my words? Do you think so much of yourself that you think your comments criticizing my relating what happens to me should, in any way, change how I live or what I write on my fucking blog? Get over yourself.

For the record, OF COURSE we had safe sex. I’m not a 16-year-old. For the record, I don’t give a shit if you don’t want to hear about me having sex with other men in between loving my wife. And finally, if you don’t approve of the direction my blog is going (which is also the direction my life is going, not incidentally), let Google be your friend and find yourself some other source of masturbatory inspiration.

Three comments is not a lot, I know. But I assume that they may represent the views of a chunk of people who come here on a regular basis to absorb the peeks I give into my private life. If that’s you, then I respectfully ask you never come back and delete your bookmark to my site. Life is too short for us to interact.

The Day

Today was The Day with Drew.

He was originally going to have a brief layover in town that only would have allowed an hour or so of getting to know each other in person time but then had a delayed flight that would have caused him to miss his connection so all of a sudden he was here overnight. The plan morphed into picking him up at the airport and spending some time together, though not too late, but then that new flight was similarly delayed. All of a sudden, the one hour visitation was potentially a lot more since his flight didn’t leave until the following afternoon.

I’ll admit, this was stressful to me. On the one hand, I didn’t want Belle to necessarily be aware of the The Day, as I’ve said before, since I didn’t want her to have to think too hard about it. I didn’t want it sitting out there. Before, The Day was in December. But now, it was now and she was aware and would be and I felt stress about that. She, though, showed none. Zero. I would go so far as to say she was bordering on encouraging. It wasn’t until last night when I was able to see her face to face that I was able to say how I felt as succinctly as I could. I never want to hurt her ever again. Not like I did. Not anything like it. And so much of my stress was that I would, inadvertently, do that. She assured me that she didn’t feel like she was going to be hurt. So that weight was lifted.

I was also stressed because Drew really wanted to see me and I wanted to finally see him and things kept shifting and I kept having to balance the desire to see him against my desire to be respectful and mindful of Belle. I didn’t want to disappoint him. So as things finally seemed to gel, I realized I could see him all morning today if I cancelled and moved some meetings. Me, being the boss, was able to do that and so I cleared my morning for him.

So, I’m not going to get into the sordid details here. Let’s just say today was, in fact, The Day.

As I’ve gone along in life, I figured out a while back that one of the main reasons I couldn’t be gay was because, once done having sex with a man, I didn’t want to be anywhere near him. I wanted to get as far away as possible. Super unfair to the other guy, obviously, and not a good way to build a relationship. I figured in the case of Drew (or whoever might have taken the bait on me in my condition), this wouldn’t be an issue because I’d never come. But, I realized after I dropped him at the airport, I felt a little taste of that old feeling. I am that guy gay’s seem to hate in bisexual men. Fuck and then gone.

I’ve told Drew this as I always want to be as honest as possible, but I don’t think it’s a real problem. The fact that he lives far away and won’t be in town really often means I can just leave when it’s over. And in the time he’s away, my interest in him can rebuild. It’s the perfect arrangement, I think. If he lived here, I don’t think my inherent assholish attitude toward men would allow me to be a very good partner in this scheme.

Also a funny thing, I didn’t feel this way until he came. Even with him, I have developed the tendency to feel certain aftereffects of orgasms I don’t have. It’s really weird.

The other thing I found interesting is, at some point, I realized I really wanted to be with Belle. Like, really. I craved her company. I do like Drew very much and had a swell time with him (which, as I said, we won’t be talking about here in detail), but Belle is the absolute love of my life and nothing is ever going to change that. I can’t wait to be with her tonight.

No matter where I am or what I’m doing, I always want it to end with me being back in her arms. Even on The Day.