I just don't get it...

As I stumble through life, I happen upon things, situations, people, that I don't quite comprehend. I have always prided myself on my ability to empathize and understand things that are outside my personal realm of experience. However, this ability fails me at certain times. For instance:

Leather - I like it for shoes, pants, furniture and the like. Things that people in general can use. I fail to understand leather as a 'lifestyle'.

Role play - What the fuck is this? If it is what I think it is, I couldn't do it with a straight face. Come on you guys! Oh I know, whatever floats your boat, but I can't help thinking what my reaction would be; I'm sure that whatever it would be, it would be a mood killer anyway.

Personal philosophies - If I was forced to think about it, my personal philosophy would be something like 'duck....'. I have had enough life experience to know that life just happens and you can't plan for it. On gay 'dating' sites, I see young guys, between 18-22, who have extravagant ideas that life is: short, a journey to be shared, something to be lived to the fullest and so on. How can someone who's total life experience is a result of primary and secondary school life, have such grandiose ideas. Wait a minute, I think I just figured it out.

Couples that play - why bother being a couple? I always thought that when you entered a relationship, you were monogamous. Apparently not. I respect them for the honesty, but personally, I would think this is an awkward situation. I guess we all have different definitions of what constitutes love.

Feet! - suddenly, everybody is into feet. This, is puzzling

Life changes

Okay, so I made the decision to go back to Windsor. It was a surprisingly easy decision to make, considering I had been avoiding it like poison for the last 23 years. But, looking at it from a common sense point of view, it makes sense.

Since I am now disabled, albeit recovering I hope, and I'm living only on pensions, a free house makes sense. I can pay the bills and save some money. I just have to put up with my sister's interference in my life. She means well, but doesn't get it. Unfortunately she never has a silent opinion. *sigh*

This move is not forever. I only want to stay long enough to literally get back on my feet, get some retraining and go back to work. Then, get the hell out.

Wish me luck.

Who knew?

My sister says I'm lucky.

I've never really understood that. In my mind, I've been through a fuck of a lot in my life so far and I wouldn't call it lucky. Sixteen years ago, I was struck by a motorcycle when I was a pedestrian. I sustained two broken legs and closed head injuries. I died on the way to the hospital and they revived in the elevator on the way to surgery. I broke my left femur in seven places, within a four inch span. This injury alone could have been fatal. I broke my right fibula and had edema of the brain. They drilled four holes in my skull to relieve the pressure; I can now honestly say that I have a hole in my head. After being in a coma for 2 days, I did come to and was told I'd never walk again without some kind of assistance. I was told I was 'lucky to be alive'. Yep.

At this point, as with almost everything, I had a choice. I could become a victim and look forward to life with a walker, at best, or a wheelchair, at worst. I decided to be a survivor. I fought for every incremental improvement. I had to learn how to talk and write and feed myself again. I weaned myself off painkillers within three days, because they are highly addictive. I had to learn how to stand, let alone walk again. I had multiple operations on my legs, because they kept fucking them up. Anyway, it took me over ten years to recover. However, I got to the point where I was running over 40 miles a week and working out 5 days a week. I was determined to not just recover, but to improve my physical being. Mentally, I have short term memory loss and some word search problems, but I can cope with that.

Now, a short three years after returning to my life, I was diagnosed with a rare auto-immune disorder called 'Myastenia Gravis'. It is loosely grouped under Muscular Dystrophy. Basically, my muscles simply stopped working. All my muscles. My eyelids drooped, I couldn't lift up my arms, I had difficulty keeping my head up. I walked like a drunken zombie. I couldn't roll over in bed and could only get out of bed by cantilevering my body against the wall. Because this is a such a rare condition, it took over 2 years to be diagnosed. During those two years, my beloved dog of 7 years, was diagnosed with lymphoma. I decided to treat him with chemotherapy; I felt he deserved the right to fight as much as anyone else. And he did fight for a year, poor little guy. Must I tell you that the vet, one of the few canine oncologist in Ontario, demanded payment up front; $300-$500 every three weeks, plus meds. It destroyed me financially. When Max finally could fight no longer, I had to euthanize him. I decided to have him cremated, which the vet said he could take care of, which he did. That cost me over $1,000, which I didn't have.

I had an operation in July of 2007, to remove my thymus gland; supposedly the root of this particular disease. I am s-l-o-w-l-y recuperating. The chances of me going into complete remission are slim, as men my age rarely do. I am determined to do so, however. I just have to rely my on body's ability to heal, as there is literally nothing I can do to promote healing. I am broke, living on a pension which does not allow me to continue to live as I always have. I am forced to return to my home town, which I happily left 28 years ago, where I can live much cheaper. So, good bye to my life.

Believe me, there is plenty of other stuff to flesh out the above. I have truncated it, giving you the high lights if you will. Am I lucky? To be alive, I guess so, but what kind of life am I looking at? I guess I am lucky to live in a country where my health care has been free. I am lucky that I have learned to roll with the punches and cope with what life throws at me. Adaptable, that's me.

My sister still says I'm lucky.

MEN: Can't live with 'em, can't shoot 'em.

What a refreshing philosophy, no? I'll tell you, it's a real problem sometimes, considering that I'm gay. Men, in case you don't know, are an integral part of gayness; without them, we'd all be lesbians. I don't know what it is but, I have a really difficult time dealing with men and all of their hoo hah. I seem to get along a lot better with women, as sexually arid as that is for me.

I like women. Some of my best friends are women; my mother was one and so is my sister. Come to think of it, they all have a hard time with men too. ;-( Maybe it's genetic?

My big problem with men is....

1) As smart as they may be, be they corporate titans or just Joe Everyday, their IQ flies out the window when they think with their dicks. Actually, this seems to be approximately the same in both the hetero- and homo- genre. Men make BIG mistakes following their cock. Let's all talk about Elliott Spitzer. Not to mention the embarassment that is Larry Craig. Oh yeah, and my ex.

2) EGO. Men have such a problem with it. And, it's funny what their ego gets them hung up on. Gay men get all caught up in a variety of egocentricities, but the one that knots my underwear, is appearance. We all take such pride in ourselves, making sure that we're up to date on the latest clothing, haircut, fragrance, et al. Our bodies are pre-eminent though. It is often the real deal breaker, with hyper worked out bodies refusing to even recognise anyone who isn't their mirror image. Personality doesn't count, education doesn't count, walking on water doesn't count. It's the size of the biceps, the number of visible abs and the size of your pecs. One of the most illustrative encounters I ever had, was standing in a crowded, popular bar, with hundreds of men of various shapes, sizes and appeal all standing around and I overheard a guy, who was standing beside me, confide to his friends, '..I don't know about you, but I'm the best looking guy here.' This astounded me for both it's meaness and shallowness. It was worse when I realised that he was being sincere. I wanted to hit him.

3) Masculinity. What the hell is this? I know the dictionary definition, but it seems to be highly individualised. On fuck sites, it's mentioned in practically every ad. Masculine looking and acting offered and sought. What the hell is this? Hairy? The ablility to leap tall buildings in a single bound? Butch? I remember one ' masculine' guy I fucked silly, actually barking in my ear during the seduction. I almost started laughin, which I'm pretty sure would have killed the mood. How masculine is it to take cock up your ass? I'm not an effeminate man, but I have a real problem with this one. Masculinity is innate which explains Rock Hudson's successful charade.

I'm hungry, so I'll continue this rant later.
e.

SPAM

I think we all agree that we hate spam mail. But I get a kick out the names they use as senders, eg: Jess Block, Cprni Sackti, Hans Sudor, Connie Moser, et al. These 'people' believe that I would be interested in: leaving my weight problems behind, Strong Evidence of Love, Teen Katie strips suimsuit(sic) bribers,Teen Sex Blonde public flashing and toying tarzan,Does it look better now and finallysothere! orangutan buboed penthemimeral angelologic athwartships jacinthes winebag
aerobia clearly ephemeromorph!!!

My conclusion is that there are a lot of sexless, fat people with erectile dysfunction who need Canadian drugs. Somehow, my email address includes me in these categories. I know that spamming is a billion dollar enterprise, but tell me, are people really stupid enough to believe that a patch can help them lose weight or get a bigger penis? It's mind boggling that somewhere, some people do, or it wouldn't happen. Kind of makes your skin cold, doesn't it?

Me, I definitely want to see that Teen Sex Blond and her toying tarzan!

ed.

Internet Gay 'Dating"**

**indicates a euphemism

Okay, I admit it, I love cruising the men on internet fuck sites; dating has little to do with it. Hey, it beats going out every single night to try and get laid. Now, you can cruise from the comfort of your own home while watching tv, cooking or otherwise multi-tasking (how 21st century!)

There are several things I have learned from this occupation and I willingly share them with you. Descriptive terminology can be very misleading. For instance:

Bear = fat and hairy
Stalky (sic), stocky, ruby player build, football player build, etc. = fat, but not necessarily hairy and I can't spell
Toned. tonned (sic) = not obese (see Bear and Stalky, et al.) and I can't spell
Swimmer's build = skinny, and on the way to->
Defined = emaciated
Dancer's build = skinny and effeminate
Athletic = I walk by a gym on a regular basis
Gym body = I work out and you better too
Jock = I work out and I'm conceited about it
Muscular = a totally subjective body image
Masculine = I don't shave on a regular basis and I have a natural speaking voice
Butch = see above, but overly so with a deep bass voice, rarely shave, a tendancy to ignor basic hygiene rules and a penchant
for cigars and wife beaters and leather
Straight acting = I don't get this one, why act? How straight acting is it taking a cock up your ass?
Fem = so extremely limp and girlish as to embarass women everywhere (cross reference to CD)
CD = I'm an ugly, overweight man who dresses in women's clothes and goes by any name hyphenated with Sue, Lee, Anne, eg.
Wanda Sue. Melody Lee etc. They barely pass as human, let alone women
Trans = I've had implants and take hormones, but may still have my cock
Hairy = you could mow my back
Smooth = I shave or wax, sometimes both, my entire body
Naturally smooth = I'm asian
Healthy lifestyle = HIV positive
Bareback = not only am I stupid, but I have a death wish
Top = I only fuck
Bottom = I only get fucked
Versatile = I'm ashamed about it, but I love to get fucked

This is not an exhaustive list and I'm sure I'll be back with more interpretations, but I'm hungry now.

And so, it begins...

Well, I've been diddling around too long; I guess it's time I write something here. Crappy day here in Toronto. More snow, like we needed it. That's not very interesting though. Let's see..

I find myself drawn to Erik Rhodes' blog, 'Slipping Away', to see what's what with him. In case you don't know, he's a gay porn star who admits that he's miserable. He is remarkably candid and writes about his depression and disillusionment with all things gay. He's recently single and having a hard time dealing with it, as well as his repudiation of the life of a porn 'star' and escort. Wow! I always wondered what some of these guys think.

It turns out, he thinks a lot. It seems that he cannot connect with anyone in his social milieu compounded by the fact that he's completely jaded by it. I always thought that if I was handsome (which he is) and had a fab body (which he does), I'd have it made. I guess it's a case of being careful what you wish for.

I encourage you to read it and let me know what you think. I find it hard to dislike him, as much as his posturing annoys me. Oh ya, I also comment on his blogs-wonder what he thinks?