It's Simply Sex

Notice I didn't title this post "only" sex, or "just" sex. Because that would be a misnomer. I hope sex is never "just" anything to me. Sex was, is, and hopefully always will be something that can be exhilarating, magical, beautiful, life affirming, and yes downright deliciously filthy and animalistic. Sometimes all at once. But I got the idea about writing some of my general views on sex recently, when my young step-niece followed me on one of my social media accounts which is devoted solely to porn. I became alarmed. My first thought was how did she find me? My real name isn't even on it. But thats the insidiousness of technology these days. All of these accounts can be easily linked, sometimes without even realizing it. My second thought was Holy shit my account avi is a big close up of my cock! and how that was a great deal more than any family member ought to be seeing. So I sent her a message. "Please stop following me on here as I only use this account for porn. Thanks." Short and sweet. A few days went by and she didn't stop following me (which I still don't want to think about the implications of). My third thought was Well maybe she's just very fond of cock like I am. But I don't want to be a purveyor for her, so I blocked her and continued about my merry way, alarmed that she had found me but otherwise unmoved. It was shocking enough for me to want to tell my friend, however, who was supremely embarrassed for me and surprised at just how blase I was about the whole thing. "Aren't you upset?" he asked me loudly. I shook my head. "It's a little weird. But its simply sex. Its not like she doesn't know it exists." His eyes bulged. "I wouldn't even want my parents knowing that I have a porn page! You definitely have a more comfortable attitude about it than I do."

And I had to smile at that. Because I had never really thought of myself as having a particularly comfortable attitude about sex. But after I thought about it for a few moments I realized that there is a marked difference between being comfortable with your body and with your own sexual prowess than there is with your attitude about sex in general. And I was glad, for once, that I hadn't come up short. And to be honest, I didn't come to that attitude easily. It was hard fought and won. The first sexual interaction I had was so traumatizing I'm surprised I ever wanted to touch my dick again. But c'mon, it IS a dick after all. There's no leaving it alone. Unless you're dead. And maybe not even then. We just haven't seen those particularly inclined zombies on The Walking Dead yet. But when I was 6 the little neighbor girl and I asked each other how we went to the bathroom. Since we didn't really understand, we decided to show each other. We were caught butt naked with me whizzing away by our parents, who proceeded to scream and shout so loudly that we both became shrieking, inconsolable messes. There may have even been some slaps. I don't remember, honestly, I just remember her Dad carrying her, half-dressed and still screaming and crying, down the stairs and out of my life. I never played with her again. I often wonder if my Mom remembers that and if she worries that it might have "turned me gay" as some confused parents often do. Its silly, but writing that now I realize just how negative that situation was. Not that I'd let my kids experiment unfettered if I was a parent, but there was certainly a better way to handle it than getting physical and terrorizing us both. But perhaps thats why I am so comfortable with sex in general. I learned from the mistakes of my elders. In any event, 4 years later we had moved to a new house and both my parents worked a lot and I had found a new cute little female neighbor willing to get undressed for me so we could examine each other's private parts. Outside yet! In the front yard! I was comfortable but I obviously wasn't smart. I guess its human nature though. And as a male, lets face it, if we can find something that our wiener will fit in, no question that shit is getting filled. Not that I had sex with her. I was inquisitive, but I wasn't a little lothario. Its funny that all of my early experiences were with girls. I often wish I could go back and tell my little 9 year old self to own up to who he was because it would make the next decade a whole lot more fun for him. I'd already begun having lustful thoughts for my male friends. And a certain Jim Morrison poster that I bought in a head shop on the Wildwood boardwalk the following summer would turn a switch in my head that, even though I didn't acknowledge it publicly, made me very aware that girls were not in my future, at least in a sexual sense.

But there were many frustrating, closeted years ahead. Until finally, inevitably, I admitted to myself, and slowly but surely everyone else afterward, that I was gay. I think a lot of that wasted time fighting against who I was inside is partly what drives me to be so comfortable about it today. Life is far too short to worry about something natural. Even when some kitchen utensils or a Mickey Mouse costume is added to help make it sort of unnatural. Its simply sex. We all do it. When I find out that people AREN'T doing it I usually believe THEM to be unnatural. So I don't worry, as my friend does, that my mother might find out I have a porn page. I'm not going to invite her to use it. But I wouldn't deny it either. I have to say, however, that I'm pretty much over family members following me on my porn pages. Once was more than enough for that circumstance.

The Black Hole

There is a black hole. You may not see it. But it is there. Trust me. Some days it will keep its distance, allowing sunlight to coat the surroundings. But it is never far, and always within reach. At times, I can hear voices beckoning from inside. Sometimes they are cruel, reminding me of every foible and every fumble I have ever taken. Other times, they are comforting, assuring me that they only offer help in healing what has been broken. I want to listen to them. I would give anything to make the pain dissipate just a bit. But often it is hard to concentrate on them. I will find myself humming a lovely new song. Or laughing with a friend. Or smiling as someone who has touched my heart takes hold of my hand. And the voices grow dim. And the black hole becomes shadowed as sunlight shines brightly but ever briefly. But always before long, the black hole will return to prominence just beside me. It is a cunning sycophant, constantly offering an end to suffering. But sunlight and music and love are powerful motivators. They bolster me. And mostly keep me smiling. But it has been a long struggle. And I have grown weary. And often I find myself pondering the ease of simply closing my eyes and falling backward into the ever waiting black hole. It is the one thing which will always be there for me when everything and everyone else might be taken short. And there is something to be said for reliability. For the moment, I am looking into the sunlight. It feels magnificent on my face. But the voices are quietly noticeable behind me. And my eyes are growing heavy with despair. I leave it to them as to who is a more powerful ally. Just a few moments to rest my eyes. I can still feel the heat of the sun caressing my cheek. For now.