From The Ashes ...

There's some heavy shit goin down.

Not with me, really, thank goodness but with others around me. People in my employ and such. But since this is such a fragile new baby blog I don't wanna get all bogged down in cereal-ness right from the jump so I'm gonna table the other people drama for now (but remind me, if I don't tell you about it in a couple of days. Be like, "dude, what about all the other people drama from the weekend?" at which point I won't answer you 'cause I hate it when people refer to me as "dude") 'cause I got other things to say. LA-LA-LA *skips happily through the flowers*.

I'm thinking of hiring a hooker.
To be precise a hooker/masseur.

I have many reasons why I think this is a good idea. First and foremost, I haven't had sex in over a year. If that's hard for you to believe imagine how I feel! I wasn't sure at first but then an anniversary came up and I was like, FUCK! (I haven't been!) I quit smoking a year ago in February, the day after my birthday. Right after I reached the one year mark something came up to make me aware how much time had passed. (Probably the next birthday) It was then that I realized that I had been looking forward to swapping spit with someone with my ash-can-less mouth and it hadn't happened yet. Then I thought, well surely I must have done it as a quicky or something and forgot but no. Now......... as I've been writing this I just remembered that I did make an on-line love connection where it ended up that I invited this neighborhood guy over. He plopped his naked butt in this very chair while I got down and "serviced him". A practice I can totally get into but wish there was a better name for. I like the idea of pleasuring a man. I get off on making him get off. Sometimes. Anyway I THINK that may have happened this year but I don't really know so for all intents and porpoises I haven't gotten nothin. I wish I could tell you why exactly. I wish that there was one particular reason I could cite that prevented me from getting my ass rimmed and royally fucked but as always, in my life, it's layers upon layers. A simple issue won't due when I can ball it up and tie it to six other issues. Only a small part of it has to do with my current, one-sided love affair. (thanks again, Dad) I can still get on all fours and stare at the pedestal at the same time.

A lot of it had to do with me spending the last year on the long road back from crazy. Even if other people would say that crazy is too strong a word and after all I managed to run a 2 million dollar a year business and keep a roof over my head. But I know what was going on in my head and I know how much every day was a struggle and I know that if other people glimpsed an occasionally slipping facade on the outside on the inside, total collapse was taking place. I went crazy. I was a phobic, cumpulsive, anxiety filled mess. Mostly I was scared.

Some of it had to do with the fact that, even in the best of times, I have a basic disconnect with my body image. I'm totally aware of what my body is doing on the inside all the time. But I have no idea really what I look like to others. Towards the end of my mental deterioration ( around the last year or so) I not only drank my 1/2 bottle of vodka a night but I also basically stopped exercising. I ocassionally made a half-assed attempt to keep at it but when you're afraid of some of the equipment in the gym (not kidding, wish I was) it makes it hard. In an ideal situation my perception of how I look is suspect. As I hit bottom emotionally I bloated and put on weight. Not fat by anyone's realistic standard but enough that even when the possibility of meaningless sex with a stranger came up I took a look in a mirror and decided to jerk off instead.

So I'm thinking that if I go pro for my first time back that will sort of eliminate the whole "does my belly look flabby, does he dig shaved pubes?" part of my brain from kicking in. Besides, I want to know how my ass looks these days. I've always had a great ass. In fact I did go see a massage "with release" guy (that needs a new term as well) once a couple of years ago. He was supposed to be the non-sex type but once I got naked on the table my ass inspired him and he asked if he could fuck me. It's that kind of an ass. An ass that makes people do things. Or it was. I want someone to tell me if I still have a nice ass. my hot bootay.jpg A hooker will do that for you.

Besides all that, I really could use the massage. I've been working out very regularly for a while now so I'm frequently sore. On top of that, I carry all of my mental stress in my body, specifically my back and shoulders. I can't tell you how many times I've had a massage (with or without "release") where the guy doing it has been like "Damn! You got big rocks where your back muscles belong!" I know, I know what can I say. I'm a tense individual.