The Husband: “I didn’t want you to have to worry.” That was the explanation for why he didn’t tell me that he was leaving his job until the evening before his last day. Swell, & worry I did, but then I am a worrier. This was at the end of April, & I have become quite adjusted to the change, & I accommodated the his new life as a househusband & a freelancer. But, I have rarely been alone.
Anyone in my circle accepts that I require & yearn for time to myself. I am an only child of 2 working parents, & at 6 years old, I would walk home, let myself in to our home with my own key, & would then have 3 splendid hours with the house to myself. I still seek the solitude 50+ years later. For me there nothing so perfect as a rainy late autumn day with no agenda, no obligations & no company. The Husband has been working a day here & there as a design associate with a lovely designer friend. They are doing 16 condos at Government Camp, on Mt. Hood. I arrived home at noon to find myself with the place to myself, with notice from the Husband that he was “at the mountain” & would be back in time to go to happy hour at the neighborhood watering hole. An afternoon alone! Just me & my shadow. Me, myself & I’ll go my way by myself. I was unaccompanied, unaided, unassisted, unattached, unattended, unescorted, & unhinged. I immediately set out to behave in the manner that pleases me most & the Husband not so much. The Husband likes the TV on, not just to view his favorite shows, but just on from waking to bedtime: old movies, HGTV, Ellen, Oprah, Joy Behar. He will be working on a house project or in his studio, but he finds comfort in the world of TV sounds. I am often around for the ride. When I am on my own it is no TV; I listen to music. I listen to “my music” & I play it loud. On my solo afternoon I behaved just as I wished. I turned off lights & lit candles. I cranked up the stereo, I danced around in my underwear. I sang along to the music. I ate half of a pot brownie & got seriously turned on, up & around. I spent time at the computer blogging, reading blogs, doing research, & because I was alone, I took a peek at some porn from that internet thingy.
I am really not a big porn guy. We have maybe 3 DVDs, & no magazines. In the1st 5 minutes of porn viewing & become powerfully aroused & supremely stimulated. At minute 6, I become soundly tired of the tease, blasé & disinterested. For me, porn is just pink, pink, pink, in, out &, in & out. Yet being alone, I felt I should fit in another activity that I have neglected since a certain someone is almost always on the premises. I made the decision to make love to that special one. Yes, an afternoon of self abuse! I would catch up on some long neglected whacking, knocking out the one-eyed champ, wrapping the presents, feeding the chickens, answering my bone-a-phone, blessing the alter boy, cranking the shank, Eberting my Siskel, doing the hand jive, holding the sausage hostage, making the bald guy puke, clapping with one hand, shooting without scoring, slapping the chubby, tossing one off, waxing willy, whitewater wristing, playing yahtzee, or my favorite- Uncorking the Champagne.
I checked out just a few more moments of some German Prison Porn, undressed & slipped under the duvet. It was considerably cold in the bedroom & I began by hugging & rubbing myself to warm up.
I placed the most depraved image in my brain & let the libido take over. I awoke to the gentle sound of the Husband’s greeting 4 hours later.
As if I am so boring & undesirable in bed, that I fell asleep at the 1st moment of foreplay. Even I don’t want to have sex with me! I indubitably feel rejected by myself. I patently promise myself to give me more attention & affection & try to recreate that voodoo that I do so well. I will start the titillation by sexting myself this afternoon. I never know when I will have an hour to myself again.
Great songs about masturbation: My Ding-a-Ling- Chuck Berry Darling Nikki- Prince Orgasm Addict- The Buzzcocks Dancing With Myself- Billy Idol Blister In The Sun- The Violent Femmes Praying Hands- Devo Turning Japanese- The Vapors She Bop- Cyndi Lauper Pump It Up- Elvis Costello Beat It- Michael Jackson Thinking About You - Radiohead Touch Of My Hand - Britney Spears With My Little Ukulele In My Hand - George Formby Ramrod- Bruce Springsteen Miss Me Blind- Culture Club Hit It- English Beat Sugar Walls- Sheena Easton Let’s Hear It For The Boy- Deniece Williams Jack & Jill- Classic Nursery Rhyme Oh, Come All Ye Faithfull- Tradition Carol
I am a mid-20th century gay man still trying to get a handle on how to live life with meaning. I live in Portland Oregon with my husband/partner of 32+ years & the terriers: Lulu & Junior.
As an actor I have been in over 150 full stage productions, 12 films/TV, over 50 commercials & voice overs.
Our home & garden in Seattle (1981-2001) were published several times & were featured in a "coffee table" book- Flea Market Decorating by Meredith Press. That garden was on the Seattle Art Museum's Tour Of Artists' Gardens in 1999.
We moved to Portland in a fit of middle age anxiety in 2001.
We spend our time & money working on our house & garden in a working class bungalow, in a working class neighborhood.
The old-ball-& chain & I are thought to be a little nutty. ME:
cocktail drinker, tree hugger & seeker.
Kinsey 6, Myers-Briggs ENFJ, Capricorn/Snake