Unfriends (2)

So I lost a couple more friends on the facebook not long ago. I know who it was: a few students I’d played for this past year. I don’t know if they unfriended me because of this blog, or if it was more of a spring (summer) cleaning, a general unfriending, as I won’t be around to play for them or even to say hi occasionally this coming school year.

The rate of my facebook unfriending has certainly slowed significantly. The first few months after I started this blog (and started posting it on the facebook) it was considerably more than a trickle. But not lately. And I actually sort of miss it. It’s almost like if I’m not offending somebody I must be doing it wrong.

Now, this blog isn’t intended to offend. But, just like I don’t try to flash people, yet I don’t mind if people happen to see me naked, I’m not actively trying to offend people, yet I don’t have a problem with it if someone is offended.

In fact, maybe people need to be offended sometimes. Certainly if it gets them to think then it’s probably a good thing. Although, I suspect most people who get offended just sort of shut down any analytical part of their brain and just ignore or go into rant/talking-point mode.

So...hey, here’s a picture.

Or two.

Yeah, two! Boom.

Feel free to be offended. 

rant (wish I had a better title)

I’ve mentioned the TV show, Skins, a couple of times before in this blog.

Something that occurred to me about the show is that no matter what these kids do, what happens to them, or what they bring on themselves—whatever trouble or drama or heartache they deal with—they have each other. They go through it all with their mates. They fight and cry and eventually laugh and have a few drinks with each other. The only time they get into really horrible, awful, terrible, life-ruining shit is when they aren’t together, when they keep something from the others for a long time—like, more than 2 or 3 episodes. 

I was thinking about this the other night, while lamenting my life, my lack of mates. (In fact, I started writing this the other night, while drinking. Now, in the sober light of day, I’m not entirely sure how this connects. It was quite clear before.)

Anyway...a few days back I was turned down (for dates) by 2 women in 2 days.

Yes, I asked a few people out. What? It’s not that surprising. I was thinking, enough of this sequestering, this hermiting myself. Okay sure, I’m leaving town soon. But I don’t have to just mark time until moving day.

(That’s what I’ve been feeling like lately: that I’m marking time or treading
water until I leave; like there’s not much point in trying to change my life
here now that I’m leaving.

Oh, and on that point...I’m thinking I may make a very small tour the first
week of August, between North Carolina and Mississippi. I need to go there
for a few days to look for an apartment, and I’ll need a place to stay for a
few days. Also, at least one night between here and there I’ll need to stop
somewhere. So if anybody wants to put me up, let me know.)

Well...maybe I do have to mark time. I can’t seem to get a date. I wasn’t even looking for anything serious—just thought it’d be nice to hang out with somebody. These weren’t random women I walked up to on the street or something. They were people I’d been chatting with, exchanging banter on the facebook.

(Sigh.)

I’ve not made a big deal about this move. I’ve told a few people, but not everyone.

My feeling about it is a bit like my birthday. I don’t really like hearing “happy birthday” from a bunch of people to whom I’m not close, because it just emphasizes my lack of connection. Where some people are “overwhelmed” by the “outpouring of love” from so many people on their birthday, I have the opposite reaction. If someone wanted to do something to actually make it a “special day” I’d love that. That would be awesome. But it doesn’t happen. And while I don’t like nobody saying anything about my birthday (pretty-much like last year) I think it’s not quite as bad as everybody saying it.

Anyway, the whole move thing is like that. I don’t really want people telling me “we should do something before you go” ‘cause that’s what’s been lacking here. And if they don’t say something like that, I’d want them to.

Yes, it’s fucked up. Yes, I’m fucked up.

I don’t know who said this but... “Some people build walls not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down.” I guess that’s me.

I remember once when I was in college, or maybe just after, getting drunk at a party and walking off sort of sulking, and then sulking even more because the girl I was interested in didn’t follow me to ask what was wrong. Well why would she? How is someone supposed to know the difference between when I actually want to be left alone and when I want someone to come after me? They both look the same, right?

Well, this has been a bit of a ramble. Well, to wrap it up, or summarize, I suppose...being alone too much can cause problems; I am and have been alone too much.

And...here’s a picture of me naked. You know, just in keeping with the theme of My Naked Blog.

lend a hand

Well... Good morning.

So yeah, this has been going on.

Off and on for a few days, actually. And, sadly, there’s no one around who can lend a hand with it. Or lend any other body part.

I’ve been told several times in the past several years by several people that I just need to go get laid.

But I can’t. I just don’t work that way.

Okay, I’ve never really tried to go out and meet someone in order to have sex with them. So, maybe I could do it. But I really doubt it. I just can’t wrap my brain around it.

Of course I want to have sex. It’s been way too long. But with many women, even if I find them physically appealing, when I get to know them I don’t find them particularly attractive anymore. I like women; it’s just that as I get to know them I find a lot of them to be stupid or crazy or shallow or religious (yes, I’m intolerant of religion) or conservative (also intolerant there). And mostly the ones who aren’t at least one of those things which I find unappealing are either married or otherwise “taken” or a bit on the young side.

Now, young might be okay, except that I’m 41, and I’m not sure that I want to get involved with someone half my age. And I get the feeling that when they know how old I am they don’t want to get involved. They just don’t even see me as a possibility.

There are some young women who’ve told me “age is just a number”. But, then again, no one who’s ever said that has expressed any interest in dating or even in just having sex with me.

Anyway, the point is that I’m just not really okay with the idea of fucking somebody I don’t know and don’t care about. Whether or not I could actually do it, I don’t really want to do it.

This reminds me of a brief, unsuccessful fling I had several years ago. It was with a woman I’d known for a little while. I think we were both just lonely. But some part of me—subconsciously or whatever—knew that it wasn’t a good idea, that I shouldn’t be with this woman. She was kind of crazy. Not like really crazy, just...I don’t know, having some issues at the time.

So, I couldn’t “be with” this woman. I mean, it didn’t work...my penis. So we never actually “did it”. I worried a little about it—that maybe it was symptomatic of a larger issue. But in other prior, successful relationships, I occasionally had some performance issues (to a lesser degree) when things weren’t going great in the relationship, that is, generally when I didn’t feel things were “equal” in the relationship. Like one of us was more invested in the relationship than the other.

It seems that for me relationship problems lead to sexual performance problems. Clearly it’s connected to my lack of interest in having sex with someone I don’t care about. As some people have suggested, maybe that’s a good thing. But, then again, there’s no one in my life that I care about and who is interested in having sex with me. So, maybe it’s not so great.

Ug.

So, I guess it’s up to me.

Well...Good morning

Oh! Hello.

Well...Good morning. 

One of those days, I guess.

Hey, it happens, ya know?

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   . 

Actually, morning erections are sort of... “life affirming”.

Okay, so this is maybe too much information. But I figure what the hell, if you’ve seen this blog, you’ve seen a lot of me.

I haven’t had sex in a while—too long, really. Like 6½ years. There are a couple of young ladies that I fooled around with in that 6½ years, but we didn’t actually “do it”...you know, fuck.

And I’m starting to feel a little hopeless.

I mean, certainly I’ve had sex with myself. But more and more that feels less and less satisfying.

I don’t even really try to meet women much at this point. I was never one to just go out to bars or wherever looking for women to fuck. That’s just not me.

The women I’ve liked are generally people I’ve met while working—in a show or whatever. Lately when I have become really interested in someone, it’s ended with a fair amount of pain and anger. It used to be that I found most women (and most men) to be stupid, shallow, boring...generally unappealing in various ways. Of course, now the longer I go without “getting any” the less that seems to be an issue, or the maybe the more I’m willing to overlook that. And I think that’s what’s lead to the pain and anger. Mostly it’s anger at me for allowing myself to get that interested in someone who’s clearly not right for me for whatever reason.

There was a woman I met about 3 years ago who I was just crazy about. I mean, I was just completely lost in my attraction for her. It was kind of insane. Anyway, she was the first person I’d really been interested in since I’d broken up with my ex a few years before (6½ years ago). Nothing physical ever happened between this woman and me. We just hung out together all the time. She was unhappily married and didn’t want to deal with it.

I tend to talk about stuff, put things out there on the table. But that didn’t happen, ‘cause she wouldn’t. So I got crazier and crazier. I wrote a bunch of songs and poems about her. Eventually I had to stop. Nothing was ever going to happen, and I just couldn’t be her friend. And it was making me crazy, obsessed. I had a rough several months after that. I just sort of went away, literally. I was sort of a hermit. I went to the beach for the winter, where I had no work and didn’t know anybody, didn’t meet anybody or interact significantly with anyone for 3 months.

The one positive thing about that whole experience—meeting that woman and how I felt about her—was the fact that, at almost 40 (then), when I’d sort of felt that I might never meet anyone I really liked again, I did. I REALLY liked her...loved her.

Similarly, the fact that I can still get it up means that if I do meet someone else that I like, I can still, you know, “do something about it”.

...at least for now. 

movie poster

I'm thinking about going to see a movie later today. Well, tonight. I looked to see what's playing around here.
Jack and Jill, J Edgar, Puss in Boots...those I've heard of, but not these movies. And there's The Muppets, which I'm not sure I'm in the mood for, and Twilight-whatever, not gonna happen.
And then there's a bunch of others which I don't recognize the names of at all. I'm a bit out the loop of current pop culture, as I don't have a TV & I haven't been to see a movie since maybe this summer.

So I'm just not that eager to go see any of them. I mean, I found something at the cheap $1(!) cinema.

What those movies I've never heard of need is something to immediately grab my attention. Something like this:

It's a poster for the new The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo in English. Now, I'm probably not going to see that film. I saw the version in Danish or Swedish or whatever. And a friend recommended the book as being better than that film. I happened upon a cheap copy of the book at a thrift store a month ago, so it's sitting on my shelf to get to eventually.

But otherwise, that poster would definitely get my attention. Would bare breasts alone get me into  a theater? I don't know. I guess it depends on my mood when I happened to see it.

I did see Showgirls when it came out, not because of any hope I might have for the story, etc, but because of the "scandalous" NC-17 rating thing. There was a great little theater, The Capri, where I lived then that showed films you wouldn't see elsewhere in that area: art films, older films, foreign films, small independent films, occasionally older films. Well, I don't think anyone else in town was willing to show Showgirls, so this theater did. They had one screen, and normally played one film, 1 or 2 showings a night for a week. Well, they held over Showgirls for 2 extra weeks, and it was the huge money-maker for the year. People wanted to see naked ladies.

I know it was not a great movie, however I liked it. It was hilariously bad. Years later VH1 aired it--a lot--with those computerized bikinis covering all the breasts and genitalia, which sort of added to the ridiculousness of it.

The Vagina Monologues

I support being against violence toward women. (That's an awkward phrase.) 

I’ve read The Vagina Monologues and seen a production. Maybe two? I think so. Well, I think one of them was a reading. It’s an interesting piece.

But I ask this: why no “Penis Monologues”? “My penis is like...some phallic object...” Or better yet, “My cucumber is like a penis..."

My screwdriver is like a penis..."

My TV remote...?”

Why no “Penis Monologues”? Because every other play being done is about dead white men and their penises.

...okay, maybe not.

What do men have to say about their penises? I’m not sure. Men? Chime in.

As for me, my penis is like...a penis.

(Yes, a rare moment: another penis on my penis-blog. Ya know, 

it’s not easy to find a decent picture of a normal, non-erect penis.)

Anyway, guys talking about penises would probably deteriorate into a list of “dick-names”. (Yeah, I kinda made that up, but feel free to use it.)

Reminds me of a suggestion that someone made that I write a “schlong song”. I replied that the idea strikes me as a bit more vulgar than something I’d do. She said I could probably make it something clever, but nah...it’s just not me. Again, it seems like it would end up as a list of penis names. You know, dick, cock, peter, willy...that sort of thing. Who’d want to wade through that?

(If you want to wade through that... here’s a list... ‘cause mine’s not that long. ¡Ha, a penis joke!)

I’m just not much on using creative or funny names for the penis. I typically say “penis”. Similarly, I typically say “breasts”. In fact, while I love breasts, I don’t much care for “tits” and even less for “boobs”. They both sound like a stupid person. (Probably because both words can also mean a stupid person.) Granted, some breasts may seem kind of dumb, but I don’t really want to use those terms for breasts in general. And to make them cuter or whatever by adding “-ies” is worse still. I don’t actually talk a lot about vaginas. I'm not sure why. It just doesn't come up much. So, I’m not quite sure what word I use. It depends on the context, I guess.

Well...back the whole vagina/penis monologues thing.

Since The Vagina Monologues is generally seen as a piece dealing with female empowerment and often specifically dealing with rape, incest, and violence against women...

...to actually write a “Penis Monologues” seems a little anti-The Vagina Monologues. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be, but the concept itself might be offensive to many feminists. I imagine the idea that men would need “empowerment” is foreign to most folk.

But I think that “male empowerment” is something worth exploring. I was chatting with someone not long after starting this blog, and I mentioned my feeling that male nudity or male sexuality should be explored. Whoever I was chatting with suggested that it has been, but I don’t feel that way. Maybe the stereotypical, aggressive, macho, male sexuality has been explored plenty. But that’s certainly not me.

I can't imagine exploring my "maleness" by going out in the woods, sitting around a fire, and grunting, yelling & banging sticks on the ground. Sitting around a fire having a conversation? Absolutely. But no sticks. And no grunting.

Okay...what is my point? (I often loose track of my point, don't I?) I guess my point is: I’m a male; I have a penis; I am a sexual being; and I have feelings about all that. As much as I’d like to think I’m open and articulate (or at least willing to write about stuff), I’m not always sure what my feelings are about all this stuff. 

National Coming Out Day 2011

“...I’m coming out. I want the world to know, got to let it show...”

"I'm Comin' Out" video:

I don’t mean to steal anybody’s thunder...or to diminish the social pressures facing gay, bi-sexual & transgendered people. However, it’s generally considered unacceptable to be naked most places, and often illegal. And when you appear naked, other people there—even casual passersby— know right away.

I know some may argue about people “becoming” gay, when that happens, etc. But, I can confidently proclaim that I was born this way. And I challenge anyone to say I wasn’t.

"Born This Way" video:

(heh-heh, just kidding)

actual "Born This Way' video

So, I hope I’m not stepping on anybody’s toes here, but I’m going to embrace National Coming Out day on a more personal level than usual and post this blog a little wider today on the facebook. Don’t worry: I’m still not gonna post to minors and a few other folks.

Anyway...

I’m straight.

I’m naked.

Whoo-hoo!

I even have a flag.

Sadly, it’s damp & cool today, or I might be sitting outside typing this.

Anyway, I’m just gonna copy (& edit) & paste a couple of things I wrote last year on National Coming Out Day. It may be a little long. 

A couple of years ago I worked for one semester at a private Baptist University, where the head of my department asked me to not tell the students that I was not a Christian.

... As the semester dragged on, I found it harder and harder to not talk about my lack of faith. Only one person, other than the head of the department, ever asked me directly about what I believed. I told her the truth. I’m agnostic. But there were so many other times when I could tell that people were assuming that I was like them, that I shared their faith... I was in the faith “closet”. There was something about me that was rather significant, and I knew that most everyone else around me was not “that way”, and they assumed that I was just like them and not “that way” either.

... My being asked to not reveal that I wasn’t a Christian was a symptom of the larger problem of a focus on the appearance of things at the expense of the substance... That attitude is in direct opposition to my feeling about life, how people should communicate with each other, and... teachers and schools ought to be encouraging students to examine things and explore the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. I think this is a general problem in “the church” and the reason behind so many church/minister scandals. They’re busy working on the appearance of right-ness or righteousness and not dealing with the substance or truth of things.

... Before that experience, I knew that I considered it important to tell the truth. It’s something that I value. But I now know that it’s also very important for me to not not tell the truth. Not telling the truth about something feels just like lying, which I hate.

... The whole experience of feeling “closeted” in that way was just dreadful. And I didn’t even feel any shame about being agnostic. How horrible would it have been if I thought it was bad or evil or sinful or unnatural or just plain wrong to be the way I was.

It’s not wrong or evil to be agnostic. Sometimes it can be difficult. But there are people out there who are like you and others who aren’t but will support you and love you and not think that you’re bad because of it.

And it’s not wrong or evil to be gay. Sometimes it can be difficult. But there are people out there who are like you and others who aren’t but will support you and love you and not think that you’re bad because of it.

In college, after a friend of mine came out, I decided to do an “experiment”.

I went around to lots of people I knew and did the whole spiel: “There’s something I want to tell you; my family and some friends already know, but I feel I’m ready to let everybody know; it’s not anything that has to change our relationship, I’m still the same person, but I just wanted you to know that I am a heterosexual.”... With most people there was a moment mid-spiel when they realized what (they thought) I was going to say.

... I remember one guy—and he was the type you might expect to come out one day (I once described that type as the north-Alabama youth pastor type: a bit flamboyant with no overt sexual interests and very much in love with God/Jesus and his mamma)—who just seemed to be listening, not reacting, until I got to the end, “heterosexual”, and he exclaimed “Chris, no!” Like many people, he picked up on the context clues and his brain heard me say “homosexual”. I just remember his reaction in particular, because his voice got high-pitched ... and he seems so upset that I could be gay. It went against his Southern, religious upbringing.

... I would like the moral of this story to be something else, something like “support your friends and loved ones and strangers who come out because we’re all just people who need love”. But I realize the story doesn’t really support that. I guess the actual moral is that “most if not all of us make assumptions and judgments that may not be true”.

It’s National Coming Out Day, and that’s my coming out story. I know the day isn’t about doing informal social experiments on your friends. So let me say this: stop the hate; stop the condemnation. Those attitudes are based in fear. But you don’t need to be afraid of homosexual people. The “gays” are not out to get us “straights”. Sure there may be the occasional individual who threatens you somehow and happens to be gay, but there are scary straight individuals too. Straight guys out there, if some gay man really wants to have sex with you, then you should feel flattered that someone finds you attractive even if you don’t reciprocate. Or, if he’s really making unwanted, inappropriate advances, now you have some idea of (the beginning of) what a woman might feel when men make those advances toward her. You can feel better about yourself, &/or learn something. Isn’t that a win-win? Well, maybe not.

Anyway... If you have a religious objection to homosexuality, here’s something for Christians: stop focusing so much on a few passages in the Old Testament and the letters of Paul, etc; look instead at what Jesus supposedly said, you know, the “red-letter” words in some of those Bibles. He was not all about hate, and hell-fire and damnation. He was not all about “don’t”. he was really quite radically about “do” love people and “do” help people and “do” forgive people...even the ones you don’t like or maybe who you don’t think deserve it. Now, if you’re Muslim or Hindu or something, I can’t help much. I just don’t have much background there. Sorry.

In conclusion...love and support your people, no matter their gender preference/identity. 

Yeah, that's still the conclusion. 

Also, your naked friends need love and support too, not fear and avoidance.

Thinker

A friend of mine, in talking about this blog, mentioned that sometimes women, after having been an exhibitionist, feel like they’ve given something away—a part of themselves. It wasn’t an idea that really resonated with me. But I was thinking about it this afternoon.

(hmm...)

I wonder if it’s a difference between exhibitionism and nudity.

What I mean is that you might think of “exhibitionism” as a sexual thing. In other words, showing your body to people as a sexual expression, or with a sexual agenda, or as part of “being sexy”.

So, if being naked in front of people is a predominantly sexual thing, I can easily see how someone might regret their past exhibitionism, or perhaps feel they’ve given something away.

But nudity doesn’t have to be about sex. Think about a model in an art class. Or, there’s this:

(if you haven't already...or go back and revisit your favorites)

Yes, of course some nudity is sexual. And there may be those reading this who view this blog as sexual. If that’s you, and you’d care to discuss it, leave a comment or send me a message.

Also, you can have sex without being nude. And I’m not talking about teenagers dry-humping. But to me, that only makes sense if you’re really in a hurry to “git ‘r done” or if you’re trying to be discreet with your “dogging” (if you don’t know, look it up).

Many Hollywood movies would have us believe that women generally don’t remove their bras or even their shirts when having sex—even 2-people-alone-in-a-room-with-no-likelihood-of-someone-walking-in-on-them sex. I don’t get that. Every time I see it, my brain is violently shoved out of the story, the film, the TV show, whatever is it, to wonder why that is.

Okay, maybe you’re not willing to show bare breasts, but you’re willing to show people fucking? I don’t get that.

There’s also the whole thing of one person completely nude and the other completely clothed. It’s a little odd, but that seems to be about exhibitionism/voyeurism and a whole power-dynamic thing.

Anyway...what was my point?

(uh...?)

I’m sure it was something about how, even though they overlap, sex is not nudity and nudity is not sex.

(if you can't actually read this, click on it...it gets bigger

. . . . . . . . 

yeah-yeah, "that's what she said")