The $250 Haircut...More If You Include The Wine.

So now I have something in common with a certain former Presidential Candidate (actually this reference is to a mean spirited canard the man was subjected to), and as always...something in common with a certain past President. I'll explain...

I had $$$'s burning a hole in my pocket and my perv light was glowing hot and red. Why I didn't just hook up with my ATF "Jaymee" or even "Jenny" I don't know. Well actually I do. One of the benefits to me of the "hobby" (a euphemism for consorting with hookers as a well...hobby) is that there are so many items on the "menu". Beautiful women I see at the Meet and Greets, gals that advertise on the Escort review boards in my town...even on the ever-dangerous and notorious Craigslist "Erotic Services" (Hey...I got this nifty utility for Firefox that will automatically open Craigslist pictures...handy!).

Not that I'm NOT getting laid. My FWB is most generous and enthusiastic. I wish I were "into" her more. I'm sorry I'm not, and I'm not leading her on or anything (yeah right). Yes, there are times of discomfort for both of us...but the sex is pretty darn good. I do feel that I may be exhibiting some signs of the sex addiction.

Off Topic Joke:
Heard about the 12 Step Program for folks addicted to 12 Step Programs?
It's called On-an-On. (Yuk, Yuk)

Yeah...like THAT would be something new for me. You NAME the obsessive compulsive behavior (as long as it's time-wasting to self-destructive, natch...) and I've done it or am prone to it.

So FWB went back to her town and I had an itch for a Craigslist gal. Now I am a PICKY (you're rolling your eyes...STOP that!) Pooner. Not just ANY ol' Craigslist gal is good enough for your connoisseur correspondent...oh no. It had to be THAT girl that was REALLY hard to reach (maybe she was LE and busy booking her latest captures...who knows). So not getting what I really (thought I) wanted, I further succumbed to the urge and went on a board and after a few tries hooked up with a well reviewed young lady and got out to the incall.

She also cuts hair and I needed a trim. Starting to see how this feeble mind works? Gads.

I have had two not so great experiences out of the half-dozen or so different women I've seen. The first was mostly a hygeine problem with a little bit of lack-of-chemistry thrown in. Frankly...she needed to have taken a shower before hosting. No delicate way to say it...smelled like ass. Major turn off for providers I'm told, and a major turn-off to this client.

This young (mid/late twenty's) person was clean, a little hyper, a decent barber (I'm bald so I'm easy), enhanced (with a nipple piercing, nice!) and eager...but I could feel no wave to catch. Even with my "Vitamin C". I've had my challenges in that department before and my Uncles Pfizer and Lilly have pretty much solved that problem for me. Better living through chemistry, eh? Oh, but CHEMISTRY...like the boy/girl kind...has still got to be there...at least for me. Or at least the illusion. And "Toni" was no illusionist. She had been a hard-core party girl a few years earlier...I saw pictures and heard stories and would be a blast for the free-fucking cocksman I always envied...like I can be, sort of, now...but not that night with that girl that time. So I re-robed and left.

Thus...the $250.00 haircut...with a side of rue. Oh...and the Past President? I can't stop when my cock starts talking to me either.

Have Love? Will...

...travel.

I commented over at Joe Flirt's place about paying a "pro" for sex. There are "Escort Blogs" and "John Blogs" and some of the folks in my blog roll are escorts and johns or sex workers of some type. The comments in Joe's post though, were from folks who didn't have any kind of experience on either end. I may get flamed for my comment on Joe's blog and the preceding remark, but let's go ahead and talk about it for a minute, and have at me if you want.

I have a number of reasons why I want to see a paid sex worker:

1) Variety. I can see a lot of different women. Folks would not really believe the disparity of looks and body types and personalities. The women rarely look like Julia Roberts or Audrey Hepburn. They're more likely to look like your neighbor Susan...who wants to lose 20lbs., or your Aunt Helen who looks like, well...an aunt helen. Sure there are 20-something hardbody's as well. Like I said, diverse.

2) I can have sex when I want/need to have it. I stated that I am coming off a broken marriage. I have never been a great "womanizer", and I won't lie to someone to get them in bed and "break up" with them a week later...or just not call...or any of the "fifty" other ways we leave our lovers. Besides most "sane" women won't go near a recently split-up guy for at least a year. Can't say I blame 'em.

3) Improbable sexual experiences. Example: I had a three-some. THAT would probably never happen. One woman was a for real porn star. THAT would definitely never happen. Both were drop-dead gorgeous. Again...under normal circumstances...snow-ball's chance in hell. OK...indulgent and decadent to an extreme, and kinda expensive...and unbelievably fun. It blew me away!!! So sue me.

There's more that I want to blog about on the subject, and I will, but I have met and had experiences with some really interesting people. Most of the women, and especially the ones I am drawn to are really, really bright, some are very accomplished, many are working professionals whose or un or under-employment led them to this occupation and almost every one I've seen cares and enjoys what they do. I think I can tell THAT...(the faking thing, maybe not so much).

Having said all that...OK, OK...there IS a real layer of artificiality as well. I am NOT going to find a girlfriend...it's not an audition. Rarely does a gal find a guyfriend from her client list. It does happen with famously mixed results, mostly bad. But no matter what happens, how good the time is, how good the sex is, how well "connected" we get...I go home alone. No wondering whether I should call the next day...no sweet churning in the gut when I'm looking at the phone.

It's just sex. For hire.

Update...

I'm going to pre-emptively strike something here and toss out the "gender equity as it applies to pay for women" card. It's disgusting that smart, effective, talented women rarely earn as much as their male counterparts...or have the same employment opportunities. I'm just sayin'.

You Can Have Me Anytime...

..one of my favorite Boz Scaggs songs.

On his GREAT album "Middle Man" the guitar solo was played by Carlos Santana. A VERRRY Carlos solo that still (30 years later) rips my heart apart in 24 measures.

Boz is very big in Japan and this was recorded there (isn't YouTube GREAT? I mean REALLY!). This guitar guy does fine. A great song is a great song is a great song.




So I saw an "escort" again Sunday night. Late. Too late. After running really, really hard all day. It was...well I was "a dud". We had a good time anyway. She was described by another "hobbyist" as a nut. And so she is. A GILF (you'd be surprised at how many there are), a fixture in the community, really fun to be with. But I wanted to fuck...needed to fuck...and it just wasn't going to happen. Of course when I woke up Monday morning everything was at attention. Wonderful. I'm working on the dating sites; AFF, maybe Chemistry.com and a local alternative paper. Nobody's beating the door down for a horny old old guy. One with mad skillz but they don't know that. Oh well...my job to ed-ja-ma-cate 'em, huh?

It's Not That I Don't...

...have anything to say, I just haven't been able to say it.

I don't think I'm going to get to get back with S4O. I don't know that I can. You see, I lied. I cheated on her with "Jenny", I knew I was going to do it, and I did it. I got hooked on "escort boards" and swore I was only a voyeur. Nahhh...I was plotting. I got caught being on some other kinky dating boards and although I didn't get anywhere with them, I probably would have if I could have. And I came up with the lamest of lame lies (are there any other kind?) to wiggle out of the scrutiny I was under.

There was quite a spirited discussion of "moral code" on some other blogs a while ago. Well my moral code got pretty A-moral pretty fast.

Liar and Cheat. That would be how S4O would see it if and or when she finds/found out. She don't roll that way...she doesn't cop to a lot of moral ambiguity, or any really...although she manifests plenty (but I judge no man) and I really didn't see myself that way either (morally ambiguous or even amoral) until I got a real look...and I had to get out on my own to do it.

I was asked by a commenter what happened to the marriage, and I didn't really answer, but if anyone is interested I'll answer now.

Sure a lot of it was about the kids, and the lack of privacy when S4O and I were fucking. And her son always (ALWAYS!) disliked and resented me for taking his mother away from him. Also as we settled in to our relationship...which started online and was conducted mostly long distance (the courtship part) and then resulted with her and two of her four kids moving to another State to be with me and to live with me and my two kids (THAT part actually worked out)...we grew well together and then stuff started coming up.

Caution...CAUTION...online lovers. There really IS more to the person when it turns into 24/7.

So yeah, some things were tough. And I could deal with the presence of someone who obviously detested me (her youngest son) less and less. And the general aimlessness and lack of organization and discipline and the sleep problems and the drama/trauma that followed those guys (and her ) around got to me. Call me weak, intolerant, or whatever you want but I didn't want to live that way anymore and the good stuff we had, the wonderful sex life and pretty good companionship (and even THAT was getting undermined by the Kid...she couldn't/wouldn't go places with me anymore 'cause she had to cater to his little whims. I finally stopped asking.) got overwhelmed by the powerful feelings that I DID NOT HAVE A PLACE IN THAT HOME ANYMORE. That I was pushed out...any space I had was overrun by the kid and that/their energy and I had no place to rest, relax, recharge, recenter, and love and live...whatever.

And the shit started coming out sideways. I would have cheated...with a real person, not "just" a hooker. I know I would have. I was getting sicker and sicker and believe me folks I know how to do sick, and sick behavior. FUCK! I had to leave. I was afraid that I was killing my spirit.

So the bright light of realization is raining on me. I am starting to see what and who I am right now...what I became and how it squares with who and what I think I am and who and what I think (and say) I want to be.

And I miss S4O. Every day. And I don't miss living there at that house with all of them and I don't miss a lot about living with her and maybe that will change and maybe it won't and maybe we'll get back together (stranger things HAVE happened, I hear) and maybe we won't and maybe she'll tell the little shit that he has to work things out with ME (Al) "Mano a' Mano" because she married ME (Al), married me for a reason...and I (Al) will be around (hopefully) after the kid is gone. "So Son, you're just going to have to deal with it." But she didn't. She put herself in between the two of us and it froze me out.

I'm sad right now...better than I was before I started writing (as usual...and thanks, guys), but sad none the less. I'm going to go through the feelings...I wasn't feeling ANYTHING for a while and stuffing it all into my body (like usual) and I can't and won't live that way anymore.

When I'm emotional, I go to the music...and I have a very favorite Elvis Presley song and it is a very sad song...and a beautiful song too...well written, well played, exceptionally well performed by the "Man" at the top of his game. So cry along with Al, kids...or not. But I'm just going through this shit now. Life. No more no less. Kick the shit out of me (figuratively I hope) if you have to, but this is the way it is.




P.S. I have a date this afternoon. Just gotta get back on the horse, ya' know?

What A Fool Believes...

...or "Hooked on a Feeling"

6/18/2007

Dearest Jay-mee,

So I know this guy, see…he’s a good guy. Regular, got problems like everybody, but a good soul. And he met this girl. This a-MAZ-ing girl, he says. He says that he’s “seen” her a couple times. I know what he means. He’s an adventurer, this guy…he says he’s on this “journey of discovery”. He wants to discover himself. He may not seem like it to look at him or to be around him, but he was really inhibited and repressed with sex all his life. He and I talk…about everything, really. Lot’s of reasons, he’ll tell you…like the time when he was at confession (he calls himself a “recovering catholic” I’m sure you know lots of those) and being a good little Catholic boy of about…oh…seven, eight maybe…he took the whole thing very seriously, the Church, the Eucharist, the Sacraments, altar boy, the whole nine yards…so he told this priest, this old parish guy, seen and heard it all…twice probably…and an alky most likely, sick of the whiners and adulterers and thieves and liars and self-righteous prigs…maybe banging an altar boy or a nun (or both) on the side…so this sweet little kid, my friend, he reaches down, screws up his courage…’cause he want to be honest, and he tells this old parish guy, “I-I-I touched myself.”

DEAD SILENCE from the other side of the screen. They had these screens in those days. And you could hear the murmur from the other side where another poor soul was spilling just enough of what they thought would save ‘em from the hot place (the priest was in the middle between two doors with this sliding wood thing behind a screen so you couldn’t really see who the priest was and when it was your turn, that old wood would scrape and the air would change and you’d start: “Bless me Father for I have sinned, my last confession was (and you say how long it had been since you asked God to make you clean again…so He and His Son could save you…’cause if you weren’t clean FIRST…you couldn’t be saved). And the old wood smelled like sweat and scared breath and folks afraid of what God would do to them for just being FOLKS…ferchrissakes.

So dead silence…and the old guy was counting the beads of sweat popping from the little fella’s brow…the old guy knew…he could hear ‘em. Then he said, in his low voice, heavy with practiced gravitas…”I’m trying to figure out whether this is a mortal sin or not.” Then he went quiet. And he waited for the words to sink in…MOR-TAL SIN. The sin (for Catholics) that would send you straight to hell. STRAIGHT. TO. HELL. For ALL eternity. Of course the poor kid, my friend, was scared shitless. And of course this old asshole priest knew just exactly what he was doing to this poor kid and another brick in the wall of the Legacy of the Catholic Guilt was laid. Now my friend, he loves to tell this story. And he doesn’t attribute all his sexual fucked-up-ness to the incident…but it was a lot of stuff like that and what he learned about sex from his Mom…who is a WHOLE ‘nother story…and him being a little passive, not so assertive with the girls, when he was younger, and then his whole “cock problem” thing like he calls it, where he used to feel like he didn’t have one, ‘cause maybe he needed a little more chemistry with a girl or something…but even if he REALLY liked or even loved her he had a (not so) hard time. But he says vitamin “V” pretty much fixed that. He actually says “Uncle Pfizer gave him his cock back.” Fucking Big Pharma’s good for something after all.

Anyway...This girl..He says he never laughed during sex before. He never had a great time getting his cock worked on like she did to him. He says he was laughing so much that she was wondering what was going on. He said he wanted to talk more but he was having, and he said this; “So goddamn much fun.” That he didn’t talk like he usually does…he likes to talk, he says…and he was so happy with playing with her tits (he says they are amazing and I believe him, I mean, he’s seen ‘em, I haven’t) and he just went on and on and on about her pussy and how responsive she was and how he hoped she wasn’t getting bored with all the fun HE was having and that he didn’t even get to get to the kink he wanted to try (‘cause he says he gets pretty creative) and that maybe they could get to that sometime. And I started to get a little concerned and well, I said…”Wait a minute there, Cowboy…you can’t be getting’ SPRUNG on this gal. She’s…uhhhh…well, ummm…she may LIKE you, but not in THAT way, capiche?” My friend, he gets pensive…”Yeah,” he says “I know. From where we started, and for how we “met” and what we “do”…that’s just not something that ends up happening, or even being a good idea.” “But stuff like that happens, doesn’t it?” “Oh yeah. Guys get the signals confused all the time. It’s easy, really. It’s easy to misunderstand or “forget” what’s going on. Happens a lot. Sometimes…rarely…it works out. Once in a Blue Moon, they say. Mostly, though…not a good idea.” “Does she know you like her?” “I HOPE so. I mean she said to call and email whenever…I think she’s sweet to say that, and I think I know that she knows that she likes me pretty well, and I’m glad. I really like how we get along and what we do. But the other…you know, I’m like 20 plus years her senior…she’s got lots of “friends” and a busy life. She sounds pretty happy about who she is and what she does.” “Oh so you think maybe she’s thinkin’ that you’re thinking that you and her…?” “Yeah, maybe that…” my buddy says “Man…I hope not. Not like I wouldn’t, and not like we don’t get along, but…no. I wouldn’t want her to think I think that. I mean she IS really amazing, man, she’s like my sexual muse. I have never, EVER been like that…and I have been having so much fun that I haven’t even gotten to MY kinks…” “OK, OK…we’ve been there already…” I interrupted…”we’re pals and all…BUT…” “Yeah, OK…” He says, “but man, I think about her and I just start laughing…she says she wants my dick to get hard when I think about her and me...did I tell you that? Well guess what?” And this biiiig grin lit up his face. Now I have never seen him grin like that, and I’ve known him a long time. He’s just been through a real bunch of shit lately and it’s great to see him so happy.

“So what now, man? You aren’t really…” I can’t help it. This has got disaster for this poor sucker written all over it if he gets all...well if he doesn’t “understand” or “get” the situation. “Well, I just really like her. Not as a “girlfriend”, ‘cause I know that is not gonna happen. Probably SHOULDN’T happen even if it could. I mean, for myself…I don’t want a primary exclusive relationship with anyone, anyway. I just don’t think I’m built that way anymore. I can probably do poly. I want to try it. Maybe I can find a bunch of like minded and like-hearted folks…I kinda don’t know where to start, but the CPSC may be a good place. I want to participate in the “lifestyle” in a more “out” way, I think. I’m easing into it. Besides…I’M very busy, I’m so happily single I can’t stand it sometimes, and I want to drink in whatever comes my way.” So this journey of his, it looks good on him. He does really like this girl…and he really doesn’t want to “insert” (her word, not his) himself where it’s not appropriate or wanted. Oh..and he says he would like to be kind of a “regular”. I knew what he meant. I’ve wanted to do that myself. I hope it works out. One thing about my friend, he’s very sensitive about keeping stuff where it ought to be. But he’s decided that he doesn’t want to miss out on anything, either. No regrets for not doing something he wanted to do…but didn’t.
Wow…long story, huh? Sorry about that, I get a little carried away. This guy, he’s a good guy. He says this gal is “aces”, too. He said a couple times how besides how much he liked her, he respected her for what she does…ALL the stuff…and her commitment and ambition. He’s a big fan of people, this guy is. He’s in it to have fun (he seems to be REALLY having fun), keep good boundaries and communication, and respect the “parameters” of the “relationship”. I don’t know WTF he was trying to say, but I guess he said it, didn’t he.

In For A Penny...

...in for a pound.

Or in my case...ALL in.

I am tired...and sad and apprehensive (I'm changing offices...nothing like shaking EVERYTHING up) and I'm trying to work out the rest of the "Jenny" story. Thanks for your patience.

And I miss S4O. Very much. I wonder if I should go to her and at least put it out there that I miss her terribly and could she consider getting back together somehow. I don't know. Unlike a lot of blogs I read...we, she and I, got along great. Better than great, actually. I don't know.

Later guys. I'm too tired to ponder the big questions right now. They'll keep until tomorrow I'm sure.

Jenny - A Dangerous Liason...

...a friend of mine confessed to me a long time ago that he hired girls to fuck. He had some stories too, about when he was really drunk and coked up and getting tied up at knife point...erotic or felonious...who knows. I haven't brought that up since.

So a while ago the same guy and I were talking about financial stuff and he mentioned that he had a big credit card bill to work off. I asked what it was from. He doesn't drink or drug anymore, hasn't for some time. he likes to travel, and I thought maybe that was it, but he said no, it was because that year he had spent $10,000 (actually probably more) on escorts.

I was floored. I had been reading the escort review boards by that time and I quickly calculated that he really was going to town with the gals and I said so, expecting him to get a little sheepish and say what a great time he had.

Well beside the fact that he's not the light hearted, easy going type he was somewhat rueful about the whole thing. When I asked who his regular was he told me (I knew who she was) and he said she was a "nut" and I couldn't tell if that was a pejorative or not. Then I said I'd like to "consort" sometime (I had not done so yet) and he said, rather emphatically, don't do it. He didn't amplify on the comment and I didn't press the issue. As time passed I would ask and he would tell me whether he had or not (he was working on NOT "using a girl") and we would discuss the matter with as little judgement as possible. Still his comment struck me.

So this week I had a date with the redoubtable Jenny. She is well known, well reviewed and REALLY good at what she does by all accounts including now, mine.

Now I have all this messy, crappy, exhilarating and depressing stuff going on in my personal life and when I moved out of my house, away from my (soon to be I guess ex-) wife, into my own apartment I was filled with rebellious energy so I booked Jenny, asking her to be my celebratory playperson. She agreed and as the date was more than a month out, life went on.

In the meantime, I popped the cherry on my apartment with the aforementioned "girl who was a nice lay" (my, my, my...such crass talk) and I hired my "companion" after the brutal week, so the bloom had faded a little and I thought about calling the appointment off, but really guys...do YOU think 'Ol Al would really DO something like that? Well???

Those of you who muttered "No fucking way" are right. No way was I missing a date with a loverly girl who was going to happily take her clothes off for me and energetically turn me out. No Effing Way.

So the day of the date arrived and even though I wanted to have an easy day and relax before the "date", I was running around and busy just about up to the minute of Jenny's arrival. I had booked a multi-hour appointment. My first experience with her had been anxiety ridden for a number of reasons...really I was scared shitless...and although it was not a disaster, I didn't have the greatest time. Not her fault. She worked hard to get my motor started but to not much avail.

So the date was to consist of dinner (nice local steakhouse "On me and on the clock" I had explained), and some relaxed play.

I wish I could say it went well. If it only went well it would not be the problem I can see it becoming.

3/5th Of A Mile In Ten Seconds

For the 5 or 6 of you that "get" the title of this post..."What A Long, Strange Trip It's Been", and being, huh?

So I've just had a dramatic melt-down of nuclear (NOT NEW-CEW-LAR, you fucking MORON!) proportions and I am now...

...on my own, banished from my home, MY choice, and fucking happy about it. Sad too, at the same time, you know how it is. All the stuff that went down...I'll get to in more detail, or not so much...I don't know just yet. Suffice it to say that Ol' Al's a free agent once more. Yippeee!

I am so looking forward to sharing flirting, fucking and romantic adventures and inevitably MIS-adventures with you, my blogging pals.

So...I'm back. A little worse for wear, but ready for action, Jackson!

I Read The Boards

"Escort" boards, that is.

I look for controversy. I read for personality. I got busted a while ago by my dear SO and she asked me why I read them. "Because it's fun!" I said. So it is.

Entertaining.

And completely fabricated and fictitious. Delightfully so actually. Unless it's not.

Snarkilicious!

Cont'd.

A real piece of work here...me, that is.

Anyway...I was a kind of a pussy about it. I convinced myself it was going to be FBST. A nice rationalization I used...and gee, it'll be CHEAPER and not REALLY cheating.

Yeah, right.

So I get there...the suburban incall. I felt like the guy in "Deacon Blues" "crawling like a viper through these suburban streets." 'Cept she was neither languid nor bittersweet. I had seen her provide a more "public" type of service, one for an audience. I have yet to see a person more comfortable with herself. Her energy level was high...she was engaged. I was scared shitless.

But I started getting my "massage". It was an OK massage, clearly not her forte. We talked about stuff...I heard a story about someone's childhood, it may have been hers. Actually there was a reason I wanted to book her. There is a wholesomeness in "Jenny" (not a real name of course...never real names here. Maybe not real stories. Maybe just "realistic" stories...or not) that hasn't been beaten out of her by her business. Tough? No doubt. Tough minded? More than me, for sure...but there was a tenderness and an empathy, too. My projection? Ya' think?

Anyway...then the tug with the hand around my ribcage signaling "the flip". Bodysurfing, teasing with wonderful tits (she has a smokin' body), on with the cover (by mouth, natch), then great cbj and she moved from perpendicular to me to straddling me with her covered kitty in my face.

She is VERY athletic...it's a trademark of her service (and well known in this community). I wonder if she was into gymnastics at one time. Would have been too tall to pursue it...but she HAS talent. Maybe she practices hatha yoga now....but I digress...she does a somersault(!) to flip off me and at the same time peels off the thong. A complicated maneuver requiring impressive coordination and muscle control.

Really a fine show.

I Guess I Am Bad.

Yup.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

I was curious, so I booked time with a "provider."

Did I say I was married?

Happily?

Man-n-n-n.

Why? Curiosity. Danger. Excitement.

The things that make a blog a blog.

An...tissssss...i...pay-shun! (As in "I see you quiver with...")

Wanting to be bad. Mid-life crisis. Shit I don't know. I might do it again. She was nice. A real pro, she was.

Now I'm WRITING about it.