Interim Post - Yes, I'm Alive

Since bloggers that get me interested in their posts and then cut me off for a week or ten days at a time really bug me and cause severe withdrawal symptoms, I want to make sure the 2 or 3 of you that follow this post know I haven’t bailed on you yet.  The Sigo’s (significant other’s) best friend is getting a divorce, left her house with the kids, and got the soon to be Ex to agree to get a hotel for a couple of days so she could move out.  So rather than a weekend off, we basically bailed her out and helped her move completely out this weekend: weekend destroyed.  But it’s a friend, so what are you going to do?  She wouldn’t even ask us to help.  We just did it.  So I hurt, and I ache and I had no time to write this weekend.  For those of you that are looking forward to more, it will be forthcoming.  Just gimme a couple of days to get my hands, feet, and back into working order again.

 

Michael

 

It's All In The Marketing

Strange things happen when humans turn from their normal daily pursuits and look to find a fling, a love interest, a spouse or a soulmate. Ordinary people suddenly become marketing gurus and car salesmen, trying to find that perfect spiel that will get them the one or the thing that they want, without stretching the truth too badly. Here’s the rub. We’re pretty sure of what you want, and you’re pretty sure of what we want. This gets somewhat more accurate as we spend more time together. So, prior to the Sale, whether it be marriage, a long term relationship, or a one night stand, we all try to Close the Sale by either telling you what you want to hear, playacting the person we think you’re looking for, or basically living a lie for as long as it takes. The acting and the actual are inversely related. The further we actually are from the person you are looking for, the higher the level of playact, lie, cheat, and steal it takes to close the deal.

Here’s the screwy part. The Warranty period on a one night stand and a marriage is the same. For the one night stand, it lasts until you go to sleep after the Deed is done. That’s what you both wanted, that’s what you got, so there is no more need for the bullshit, ‘cause you won’t see ‘em again anyway. The Marriage Warranty might last through the Honeymoon. After that, all bets are off. Lilke a one night stand, you got what you wanted, the papers are signed, and now you’re both stuck. So we SURE as HELL don’t need to playact any more.

Fems in general market SEX. No surprise there ladies. You are not stupid, by any means. You know the thought running around in most guys head 95% of the day. There’s simply no easier way to hook us. So you let us play, you either enjoy or pretend to enjoy it, and at the end of the day, we firmly believe that we have no worries, that you liked it so much you’ll be putting out like this forever. On top of that, you’ve surely managed to stroke our sensitive egos enough that we’re feeling like Superman, ready for anything, including a ring through the nose.

Guys don’t have it that easy. We have to figure out if you want the nice guy, the sensitive guy, the biker, the jock, or the submissive wimp. Every time we start the chase, we have to play a different part. You all have your part down pat because it rarely changes, you’ve had lots of practice, and its very hard to get that one wrong. We’re good liars, because we have too many different characters to play, and they are all specialized enough that you have to know them and do them well or they will fall apart in an instant.

I’m reminded of a joke that was going around in the email about a year ago.

There’s a chapel where they are fixing to conduct a wedding. The Maid of Honor and the Best Man are rushing around, trying to locate the Bride and Groom who have seemingly disappeared. Meeting out front, they see the Bride and Groom coming from the parking area, so they rush back to their places so the Wedding can begin. The Groom steps up to his place somewhat breathlessly, with a huge grin splitting his face from ear to ear. The Brides Processional starts, and the Brides Father is walking her up the aisle. She has this Cat that Ate the Canary grin on her face. As her Father gives her away, the Best Man leans over to the Groom and asks what the grin is for. Barely withholding a laugh, he coughs out a quiet reply,

“I just got the best blow job of my ENTIRE life.” The Best man smiles knowingly.

The Maid of Honor leans over to adjust the Bride’s dress and she too, asks what her grin is for.

Reaching up to adjust her veil and wipe the corner of her lip, the grin deepens into an evil smile, and she replies

“I just gave the LAST blow job of my entire life.”

So what are YOU selling today?

Michael

Beat the Heat

With the continual heat waves grinding their way across the country, it’s high time that we pause a moment and take a little trip to the cooler side.  And par for the course, this will have to be told from the viewpoint of my female readers, because guys, the minute it starts, you’ll be off in your own visual stimulation anyway.  That’s just us……

 

Curled up with your partner on a deep cushy couch, cuddling under your favorite, softest fleece blanket.  Naked, you can feel the blanket caressing your bare skin each time it moves.  Curling under your partner’r arm, you can feel the beat of their heart, pulsing softly against your neck.  Smooth jazz plays low and slow in the background.  A bottle of wine sits close, two glasses freshly poured and breathing, the sweet aroma tingling your nose.  The huge stone fireplace holds a roaring fire that crackles merrily in counterpoint to the music.  Even the fire cannot take the chill from the air that flutters across your cheek and neck, seeking a path beneath the blanket.

 

Sitting up, you slide from beneath the blanket, picking up your wine glass and walking to the frosted window.  Outside, the moonlight creates a silent panorama of white and icicles, broken only by the dark contrast of the still pines.  Sipping your wine, you wrap your arms around yourself slightly as the cold fingers of air reaching out from the window intently stroke your skin.  Goosepimples and firm, erect nipples reward the chill.  Your feet are cold on the stone floor.  Yet you stand there, entranced by the peaceful scene on the far side of the window, like a looking glass onto another world.

 

Sliding up silently behind you, your partner, wine glass also in hand, wraps both arms around your stomach, pulling you back close against them.  Your back is oh so warm now.  Fingers gently pull your hair away from one shoulder, replaced by lips that nibble and nip lightly across your shoulder, and up your neck.  Slowly, teasing.  Warm breath across your ear.  A hand gently strokes your other cheek. 

 

“Come back to the couch, now.  It’s getting cold.”

 

You smile to yourself, wondering if they have the slightest clue just how hot it’s fixing to get…………….

 

Michael

 

 

                                                                               

What's Your Label?

Society has its good points and its bad points. It provides a framework of accepted behaviour and attempts to promote the positives in that framework and punish the negatives. Our societies most glaring weak point, however, is in its black and white judgement, with almost zero tolerance for the multifacted array of different hues of gray in between. Everything and everyone must have a label in the frame.

Several of my favorite blogs lately have either touched on or had comment threads sprouting like a field of weeds about labeling people either Homosexual, Heterosexual, and if you are really lucky, you get the bisexual label. Lets face it. Our society has been ingrained to deplore outright homosexuality. Here's the fun part, and the double standard. A guy can be with a girl 999 times out of a thousand, yet will still pull the Homosexual label if Customer #1000 is the same sex. Girls get the cute break. As long as you fall at least 5% het, its all good. You can do the girl thing 95 times out of 100, and that's just perfect with us. The only thing that bothers us is when you go strictly women. Then we label you bull dykes, man haters, and unfit for society. Let me tell you my read on this. That shit scares us, because we have no control in that situation, and we love to be in control, and Society has ingrained in us that we should be. But even worse than that, if a fem we're interested in is strictly interested in girls, then

We have no chance.

That REALLY pisses us off, more than the control issue, or anything else. Guys, like girls, love the chase. The hunt. The adrenaline rush.

We don't get any of that if you're locked in 100%. It's like deer hunting with a wooden gun. You can chase all you want, pretend its great as long as you can kid yourself, but in the end, when you pull the trigger there's no bang, and you look like an idiot because you're truly shooting blanks, and all your buddies know it.

That little 5% gives us a chance to be the hunter. To prove our manliness. To convince you that guys are the way to go. The other 95% is just all part of the marketing turn on.

Ladies,
You all know that two of you playing is a turn on for most of us. Even flirting with yourselves does it for us. Starts the blood boiling. The imagination running. What you don't know is that, even when you are doing it as a tease, and we KNOW you are just teasing, the second you leaned over and touched the tip of your tongue to her ear, looking right at us when you did it, a flash bulb went off in our head, and suddenly there's a photo with the two of you running around in our heads. Only SURPRISE! We're right there in the picture too!

But I wander. I'm dazzled by the glare of all of those bulbs going off in my brain, and the images that accompany them. It's hard to concentrate, because the images turn into videos, and what are you going to do then? I think that very few of the mass of humanity in this country is 100% homosexual or 100% heterosexual. But take heart, ladies. It's okay for YOU to admit that you fall in between.

So what's your label?

Michael

I Just Got Played

I had something entirely different in my mind for the first post to this blog, but the events of the past few days have turned that around completely, and thus:



Women have to be the most bizarre, intriguing, frustrating, amazing, mercurial, intelligent, but crazy thing that ever happened to the male population. It is absolutely amazing to me at this moment that the birthrate and marriage rate in a mostly free country like the United States is as high as it is. You get email all the time about how women forgive but never forget while guys forget but never forgive, how women approach things on a more emotional basis than men, and so many other similar comparisons. I shudder to wonder how many marriages we would actually have if sex were removed from the picture and the human species was set to handle reproduction without intimacy or the sex act. Lots, you would say. It’s not about sex, its about love, you hear. My female significant other and I were having a heated discussion about an entirely different topic the other night. She’s not one to talk about things. She could go through life and be perfectly happy, never having to have a serious conversation about feelings, what’s bothering her, etc. She totally believes in the status quo, which to her means if I just ignore it, and continue on, then things will be alright and everything will stay the same. I’m the talker, preferring to work things out even if there’s blood shed in the course of a brutally honest conversation. So I’m really down on myself at the time, because I once again managed to open my mouth about the wrong subject, at the wrong time. . .



>>You gals made one fatal mistake, back when the guidebook on “How to Treat Women, How to Understand Them, and How to Keep Them Happy” came out – you didn’t bother to make a copy for us. You all have the thing memorized, are readily willing to punish us for breaking the rules in the book, but not one of you ever bothered to give us the book. Hell, I would have been happy with excerpts from Chapter 3 How The Rules Change Dependent on Mood and Situation. You’ve left us in the dark, ladies. With blinders, a gunny sack over our head, in a sealed room under a new moon overcast sky. How can you reasonably expect us to know how to act? No, wait. That’s one of the rules I figured out all on my own. The word reason and the word logic (in its dictionary definition, not the female logic version) are not in the Book.<<



. . . so I say, frustrated as all get out, “Can you tell me one single thing that I do right?” A pause. An attempt to divert the subject elsewhere. I ask again. Another pause, another different attempt push buttons and turn the conversation elsewhere. I ask the third time.



>>this might sound absolutely absurd at this point. Nope. This is part of the Michael and significant other accepted conversation rules and tactics when discussing “IMPORTANT THINGS”. Sometimes she wins, as I’m easily diverted. Sometimes I win. Get the question in three times without diverting to another subject, and I get awarded with an answer. Get diverted, and I can ask fifty times over the course of a month and I may still be looking for the answer to a question I don’t remember at this point. Thems the rules. I can live with them. As long as I don’t get diverted.<<



I get my reward – an answer. Now, pause before reading this, then read it slow, then read it again, because believe me, this thing has more layers than an onion.



“Because you stick around and put up with me through thick and thin even when I don’t really deserve it.”



Read that one more time. She has just given me the most serious and POSITIVE response of our entire relationship.

Uh oh.…

She robbed me of my momentary pity party, by taking the blame on herself. Are you kidding me?!

Double Uh Oh….

She just flung that trap out there and I walked right into it. Who in their right mind would not want to stick around, or even consider NOT sticking around, after that kind of admission.



She got me. Bizarre, intriguing, frustrating, amazing, mercurial, intelligent, but crazy. What could I possibly do? I shut the fuck up.



Exactly what she wanted in the first place……….

Opening Scene, Act 1 - Credits and Disclaimers

While the information is probably out there, finding the proper method to open a new blog isn’t something your parents tried to teach, like the facts of life, and the SEX thing. So like the sex thing, even if you have some information and have seen some pictures, diagrams, or examples; the first time you just sort of muddle your way through it, trying for good results for the involved parties, hoping for great results, but basically fumbling your way anxiously through the process hoping to get at least some parts right without totally humiliating yourself or managing to hurt her.

But first, the credits. Let us give proper thanks to those that have paved the way before us. While I’ve considered a blog for some time now, the idea began to ferment and plunge toward its awkward birth after having fallen into addiction to the Waiter at www.waiterrant.net and through that, to our favorite barmaid at http://barmaidblog.livejournal.com/ .

Disclaimer: I don’t have a service industry job that produces a lot of awesome stories, and I certainly don’t for a minute imagine that this blog will take off into the stratosphere like Deb’s did. But I have a few good stories, I pick up well on character studies of people I meet and what makes them tick, I’m an absolute masochist when it comes to self analysis, and I can take you anywhere you can possibly imagine with the written word. I plan to make every possible attempt to stay away from politics, but other than that, fact or fiction, everything is pretty much fair game, and I hope the future entries in this blog will at least allow one or two people to get away from there day to day grind for at least a few moments, laugh a little on occasion, and simply step out of their life to someplace different for a quick breather.

Does a falling tree in the forest make a sound if there is no living thing around to hear it fall?

Better to ask whether a blog can be meaningful if there is no soul around to read and experience it.

Onward, and enjoy.

Michael