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Playing Catch-Up
28 April 2003
4 14:57

Friday was a real mess. Actually, I was a real mess. I'm still not sure I'm entirely cleaned up, and I'm inclined to think not. Too much debauched insanity lately. This third new entry will catch me up to today, though, for the most part.

Late Friday afternoon, C calls me, and we plan to meet later in the evening. He'll call after he gets done at the gym. I, meanwhile, will finish up at work, go home, hit the gym and shower. This plan didn't work at all. It was another half-hour or so before I left work, and when I went home, I couldn't convince myself to go to the gym at all. I just sat around and fucked about with my computer, which was not useful in the slightest. Around 8 o'clock or so, he calls me, wondering why I haven't called him. Duh, you said you were going to call me. At this point, it comes out that he was dragged off to Happy Hour with co-workers and has not gone to the gym at all. I throw some things into a bag and head to his house. We watch TV, order dinner from the pizza place across the street (best damn calzone I think I've ever had in my life -- I think the bread is seasoned in some way that just makes it superyummydelicious), and after eating it (and drinking two or three margaritas each) we head to Tina & Dave's to hang out for a bit. They have a strange portable contraption in which one can build a fire in their backyard, so we lit a fire and sat around it. Ah, yes, good times, good people, good drinks, good smokes, and a nice warm fire on an early spring night. And then, it began to rain. Dave is a madman, so this was not a problem; he simply added more wood to the fire, defying the rain's ability to put it out, and moved the fire-cauldron (It's on wheels!) over next to the large canopy-type tent they have set up (as said tent was quite wet, though mostly waterproof, there was no great worry about setting it alight). I swear, these cats have the coolest backyard of anyone I know. Rob and Alison have a great grape arbor, but Dave and Tina have lights all around the perimeter, cool trees, great chairs, a portable fire-cauldron, a tent-type canvas roof, a nice kitty, and a pond just beyond the fence. As the hour became later, police cars began to patrol the perimeter of the pond. (I love alliteration.) I have no idea why, but apparently, people like to illegally hang around the edges of the pond. Now, typically, I like cops, but at one point this fucker shone his searchlight through the trees, through the fence and into our faces in the back yard. Dave was quite loudly displeased at this, as he was on his own property and didn't enjoy being hassled by bright lights when having a nice relaxing evening, so he got up and shouted and made various gestures in the direction of the police cruiser. The last I remember of the police car, it had turned around and gone back to the other end of the pond and was sitting with its lights off. I was happily nursing another margarita, then a beer, and having a nice smoke. At some point, C felt it was time to call it a night, so we thanked our hosts for their hospitality and headed back to his place.

Once there, we decided we hadn't had quite enough frivolity, so we mixed ourselves another drink (in my case, some strange concoction with cranberry juice, orange juice, tequila, and Malibu rum, which I thought was quite yummy, if considerably more sweet and tropical than the things I normally drink), and flopped down on the sofa to watch one of his South Park tapes, which he'd not yet unwrapped from the cellophane covering. Though I was in a great mood for South Park, I'd have more appreciated a bit of Adam Sandler, I think, and was hoping for Happy Gilmore, but hey, not my TV, not my call. Unfortunately, the South Park episode was the one which focused on Mr. Hanky, the Christmas Poo, which rather than funny, I simply found disgusting. (Speaking of disgusting, some random guy sent me an IM this morning asking me to take a shit on him. What the fuck?!) When the episode finished, C was tired and headed up to bed, but I stayed downstairs on the couch, as I felt I needed some mental cleansing, and watched a bit more TV. I don't remember quite what I watched, but it can't have lasted long, as the next thing I knew, it was a few hours later, and I was waking up on the sofa. I turned off the TV and went upstairs and snuggled up next to C for the rest of the night, which lasted 'til nearly noon, as seems to be the habit when we hang out and get trashed. As always, C was horny in the morning, and I hadn't given it up for him in awhile, so when it became clear that the blowjob I was giving him wasn't really what he had in mind, I climbed on top and rode his cock for awhile. Considering what I'd taken on Wednesday, it was pretty easy to take it, though the lube we used was silicon-based, which I don't like as much as I like water-based lube, so it ended up hurting a bit once we switched positions. After we both got off (not the best performance ever out of either of us, I'm afraid), we got cleaned up and went out for brunch.

Getting to the diner where we wanted to eat was quite a challenge, as traffic on Saturday was, for some ineffable reason, horrendous. When we finally arrived, the service was rather severely lacking; the menu, though incomparably huge; was a bit over-priced; and the food was merely passable. I paid, 'cause it was definitely my turn, and since we weren't stoned, rather than going to Linens 'N' Things right across the street (which I'm sure would have been amusing to someone who was high, but has nothing at all which interests me under normal circumstances), we went to a rather enormous head-shop called Utopia. The merchandise was interesting enough, but the real attention-getter was the adorable boy behind the counter. When we walked in, he was swinging his keys around in a circle such that I was inclined to think, "Damn, Mary, you betta quit swingin' them things around or you gonna bust somebody the fuck upside they grill-piece," but then, watching him interact with another of the employees, C and I both came to the conclusion that he was str8 and digging her scene, rather than ours. I wasn't looking my cutest, so I wasn't so game for finding out for sure, and we decided to split. We went back to C's place, I picked up my bag and drove home through the miserable rain and traffic.

Once home, I did nothing of any import. I had ambitions to hang things on the walls, continue organising and decorating, but instead, I had a smoke and did nothing but watch TV. In fact, I didn't even watch much TV; I fell asleep remarkably early (probably around 8) watching Comedy Central, because the comedy didn't seem very funny, and I'd managed to depress myself with my own chemically-altered neuroses to the point that I just didn't even want to be in my own presence anymore.

I've started having interesting epiphanies on very simple common-sense things lately when I smoke. Amidst the sex-fest that was last week, I smoked and found myself on the internet checking out various websites, including a couple of sites dedicated to the cause of getting guys together who want to have unsafe sex. Now, I have to confess, I've experienced barebacking VERY briefly and in carefully controlled situations where there was NO transfer of bodily fluids, but I've ALWAYS stopped those experiences (a total of five; three in which guys slipped my cock inside themselves and started riding before I had a chance to put on a condom -- this was much to my annoyance and I quickly threw them off and cleaned off and wrapped it before continuing to fuck them, one in which a guy (who I happen to know basically doesn't pre-cum at all) slipped himself inside me and started going before I had a chance to make sure he was covered -- this also annoyed me greatly, so I made him pull out, and we basically just ended up jerking off, and one in which C's condom broke when he came inside me, but I know his history and feel pretty safe about that one, though I absolutely freaked at the time) before they went far (well, except that last one), and it's something I totally do not condone; though I'm 99.9% sure that I'm safe, I trust no one. So here's simple epiphany number one: Do not have unprotected sex. It's just a really stupidly risky quasi-suicidal thing to do, and I don't care what your psychological issues are, you do not want to die slowly and painfully from a terrible disease, the medication for which may prolong your life but is nearly as lethal as the illness itself, and the combination of the two will strip you of any and all prettiness you might once have possessed. Just don't fucking do it.

The second realisation is tied to the concept that if I'm really digging SoccerBoi, I probably ought to show it by not fooling around with other people, but I'm a Class One Grade A Fuck-Up (tm), and when I feel myself possibly starting to fall for someone, I do everything I can to avoid it, including fucking every hot guy I can get my hands on, which constitutes running like Hell. This is a really stupid thing to do. While right now, we are "just friends," I know very well that he'd rather I didn't fool around with anyone else if I'm going to be fooling around with him. There's no implication from this except that it's a respect and safety thing, and I need to get my head around that. Simple Epiphany No. 2: Do not allow fear to compel you to do foolish things which might hurt people whom you might love on some level.

The third awakening concerns itself with the act of smoking. It makes me lazy. I accomplish nothing as a result. There is no good reason why I should have lived in my apartment for nearly two months and still not be completely organised. I must impose some self-discipline on myself and commit to a more regimented schedule. Hitting the gym, for example, is very important, as SoccerBoi is very nicely built, and I should work harder to approach and surpass his level of fitness, because right now, I can't see any reason why he should be as attracted to me as he apparently is. I ran into him online yesterday, and he went on about how he was starting to miss me and called me Stud, like he always does. I melt into a puddle of quivering grape jelly on the floor. Simple Epiphany No. 3: Pleasure is a wonderful thing, but it must be tempered with focus and discipline. (Luckily, SB and I, when we go out tomorrow night, will be hanging out at his place, rather than mine. I'm looking forward to that in a fashion I can't begin to express right now.)

After stifling myself to sleep with these thoughts against a backdrop of what seemed to be mediocre stand-up comedy, I woke around 1 a.m., kicking myself for having not stayed awake and possibly gone to Gotham, wondering if SoccerBoi had gone there and flirted with the many boys who want him, and feeling, as usual, a bit randy. I logged onto the computer and found a my buddy Chris, with whom I'd been trying to schedule some "action time," waiting. After chatting for awhile and debating as to what we should (or shouldn't) do, considering the hour, I decided to go to his place. I arrived at about 4 a.m., definitely the craziest thing I've done in awhile, and we had a nice chat while watching TV before I made the first move by putting my hand on his leg. One thing led to another, and after at least a half-hour of foreplay, I was fucking him like a dog. The boy is a champion bottom if I've ever encountered one, and phenomenally tight. During the course of our liaison, we started missionary, and I somehow managed to roll him over 180 degrees while doing him so he was face down, which became uncomfortable for him, so we returned to the original position. I scarcely had to pull out; damn, that boy is flexible! When I started jerking him off while powerfucking him, though (yes, I was using his dick for leverage to a certain degree), he came almost instantly; I followed suit. We'd been going at it for long enough that I didn't feel the need to do any sort of aerobic exercise the next day; we definitely got the time in, and the level of strenuousness was one I haven't reached on stairmaster, bike or treadmill lately. Due to the hour, when we were done, I took off and headed home for a brief nap before getting up to do my usual Sunday things, plus taking at trip to the grocery store. I felt like a fuckslut, so I think I've pretty much sworn off sex with anyone other than SoccerBoi for at least the foreseeable future; I think all the people who were on the list to be done in the immediate future have been covered, and I want to feel like the sex I have is actually meaningful, rather than just me getting used by someone I'm using to get off to get off. (Yeah, that bad structure was intentional.)

Sunday night, once again, I accomplished nothing. This morning, though, I did manage to make my own lunch and bring it to work with me, thus beginning some of the disciplined behaviour and saving myself some money. Tonight, I think I'll even try not to get altered and actually do some of the things that need doing around the house. This is a time of great resolve. I CAN be the better man he makes me want to be.

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