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Dispatches From Dystopia

~ "What man by worrying can add one cubit to his span of years?"

Dispatches From Dystopia

Category Archives: Sexuality

Another Day Of Good Self-Care

19 Tuesday Nov 2019

Posted by David in alcoholism, Anti-Marxist Activity, Sexuality

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

#Sober Living, recovery

Follow-up to the post (#Me Too?. 16 Nov, 2019)

It is ironic how I still have to justify good self-care after a qusrter century of sober living. But I got a decent amount of sleep, ignored news I can do nothing about (all of the news, really), went to an AA meeting, had lunch with J, and went swimming, 1750 meters (over 1 mile).

The Serenity Prayer strikes home tonight, “accept the things I cannot change,” I remember my friend Mikey’s advice to “abandon all hope of a better past”.

Sharing the emotional pain of this long ago incident helped a lot of people, given my long term sobriety, and my dealing with the hurt after all this time. Recovery is about having feelings again. Good feelings and bad feelings.

Now, I’m sitting down. I’ve watched a couple of trains pass through Ashland. J’s lunch is ready. I fixed her strawberries and pineapple, plus the homemade chicken salad she likes. She has to leave for work at the ungodly time of 4:15 to get the Holiday stuff (wonder which ones?) off the truck and on the shelves. I will try to wake up when she does.

And I am serene.

#Me Too?

16 Saturday Nov 2019

Posted by David in memoir, Sacrifice, Sexuality, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

#Violation

I’m sitting in my chair. I went to AA earlier. A memory keeps surfacing. It is painful and yet I want to exaggerate my response, minimize the significance, although the incident occurred fifty one years ago on the same kind of cloudy, chilly autumn day that we have today.

I remember details, the reason why I was there and the reason my abuser gave for raping me.

I was seventeen, a track and cross country runner. It was cross country season. And I was a Senior, Captain of the team. And I developed swelling and discoloration in my lower leg. We didn’t know exactly what it was, but it could have been a blood clot. So I went to my family doctor.

His practice was in a building called St Luke’s Hospital on Harrison and Grace Streets. The neighborhood was sketchy then; gay beer joints that you wouldn’t know were places where gays cruised, unless you were gay. There was a movie theater that showed slightly risqué foreign films, like The Lovers with Jeanne Moreau, tame stuff by today’s standards or by the porn explosion that came after Deep Throat.

Richmond Professional Institute (now Virginia Commonwealth University) and the University of Richmond’s University College were there. In 1968, their primary purposes were to provide student deferments to keep middle class kids out of Vietnam. Higher Education, at its best. (note sarcasm and irony in statement).

So here I am at the family doctor, getting my leg checked out. Were I gay, I guess I could have been considered a twink, in today’s patois of the subculture. So my lean, 17 year old muscular runner’s ass is there for a diagnosis, a competent medical opinion about this oddity in my leg, when kindly old Doctor Respectability decided I needed (Get Ready For It!) a prostate exam.

“Drop your shorts.”

Shorts dropped.

“Bend over the table.”

I bend over. He starts probing me with what I assume are fingers. I dunno. When he’s done he hands me a box of tissues to “clean up”. There is some fecal matter there. I pull up my shorts and leave. I leave with this funny feeling that hasn’t gone away after fifty one years. Rape? I dunno.

No subsequent digital rectal examination has ever felt like that one.

I won’t say that my life was messed up because of that office visit. Other stuff did most of that. I won’t say I got warped ideas about human sexuality because of that rather, uh, comprehensive digital exam. The warping began years before.

This whole thing was just one stop in the sexual penny arcade we all visit in the course of living.

At least I am sober today.

I Must Remember This

12 Tuesday Nov 2019

Posted by David in Sexuality

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

#Personal Growth

People respond to you differently when they know you aren’t out to fuck them. By “fuck”, I mean that literally, especially how men come across to women.

Letting go of the “seducer” persona, took me a lot of work. It meant getting honest with who I really am, a truly loving person, wishing to be more selfless than selfish. Do I fail? Frequently. Do I see women that are absolutely attractive? Every day and I don’t need to act on that attraction.

There is serenity in knowing what one’s boundaries are. Observe them.

Four Hour Compilation

12 Saturday Oct 2019

Posted by David in Cartoons, Family, Sexuality, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

# Bendito Tentacion, #Asperger's Sybdrone, #Looney Tunes

Of Looney Tunes, Merrie Melodies, and other miscellaneous cartoonage,

Actually I’ve been through this one before. If four hours of mostly World War Two vintage cartoons seems like overkill, it is. At this point, I have five minutes left. But what’s a sexually deprived 68 year old man to do, if he decides he’s too tired to swim tonight and his wife is boxing up sun tan lotion before Downton Abbey comes on?

Cartoons finished, wife upstairs, I’m now watching Bendita Tentacion, the Mexican trashy lingerie show. I don’t know how long this will hold my attention. Actually I miss the quiet of no TV, but I’ll settle for a gratuitous thrill from these Champions of Body & Sex Positivity from Mexico. You gotta love ’em. Looks like it’s a cancer awareness show tonight, with pink balloons and a couple of doctors on as guests. One of the lingerie models is demonstrating breast self-examinations. I don’t think you would see this show on U.S. broadcast TV.

I’m going up to the quiet in a bit. The no TV moratorium will resume.

I slept a lot today. I talked with C, #2 son, as he decided to go over Jordan Peterson’s list of 102 books to read, book by book. It’s not a bad list at all, titles worthy of being read. It’s just exhausting, but that’s how being with an Asperger’s person can be. He can’t help it. I love him anyway.

This was a frustrating day. My wonderful Asperger’s son called, wore me out, but I would do it again, just to hear his voice. I watched families with beautiful children having pizza at Mellow Mushroom. The loneliness and loss buttons were pushed hard and long today.

Now I need the sleep.

A Confession

06 Sunday Oct 2019

Posted by David in Sexuality, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

#menage a trois.

It is 2:11 AM on Sunday morning. The memory of a rather unseemly, if not immoral, incident from my second marriage came to mind.

It involved A, my ex-wife, M, her long time friend, and me. I had sexually “awakened”, thought I could do anything. M lived in Raleigh. She was a writer , a harpist, and a massage therapist. We were all in our 30’s at the time. We were down in the area for a visit.

I wanted a ménage à trois, among the three of us. However, I didn’t really communicate this desire to either woman. M was giving me a massage. There was that hippie New Age-y music playing. We were smoking reefer. I wanted to have sex with both women. They weren’t interested, so nothing happened. Except I got a pretty good massage. All in all, the best outcome all around.

But it was pretty creepy, me wanting to do this stuff. And not being up front about what I wanted.

A died four years ago. I don’t know what happened to M. And here I am, living with the wreckage of my past.

Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days

26 Monday Aug 2019

Posted by David in memoir, Mid Century Modern, Sexuality, Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

#humiliation, Summer

There was a song from my childhood Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days Of Summer, sung by Nat “King” Cole. It was catchy because, even today, after almost sixty years, I can’t get It out of my head sometimes.

It was a Summer where my father had his gall bladder removed, in the days before laparoscopic surgery. This required opening up the abdominal cavity to excise the offending organ. It took a while to recuperate, but it did leave a cool scar. We kids were farmed out to our extended family; my elder brother and I stayed with our Uncle W and Aunt J, my sister and younger brother to Pop and Grandma Eva.

I guess I remember all this now because of my son’s episode with his gall bladder. And this Summer is almost over. I did not swim outside rven once this year. I don’t “tan”. Sitting around outside is not my thing. During the Gall Bladder Summer, our aunt took us to this fancy recreation center, Ginter Park Recreation Association. There was a nice pool. It was architecturally impressive, kind of a Tudor Style building, consistent with the anglophilic spirit of Richmond. That was the summer I saw my uncle eat dinner in his underwear, actually with just his trousers off, his shirt and tie remained on. Maybe he had a meeting later, with the Masons or the Republicans or a Vestry meeting,and the press of his trousers needed conserving, but Daddy never ate in his underwear.

This is also the year we played strip poker with my cousins. I lost, was totally naked. They teased me and I hid in a closet. So, is that why I am somewhat “peculiar”? It was powerful humiliation with homosexual overtones. I don’t know. This little incident, coupled with my uncle’s choice around dressing for dinner, were truly formative experiences.

Getting back to the song. It seemed to fit. These were times of lunch counter sit-ins, The Cold War, Cuba. People went to drive-in everything, movies, burger joints, even churches in Southern California..

There were psychopathic killers then and executions of psychopathic killers. Westerns were on television, along with cigarette commercials, quiz shows, and, of course, Sitcoms, all in summer reruns. The new tv shows came in The Fall, along with new car models. The season change was about New Stuff. We didn’t know it then, but popular culture was controlled by advertising agencies in New York. Think Mad Men.

We wanted to believe we were a modern world, making progress. People waited on line for vaccinations against polio. Imagine that happening today.

Simpler time? Actually pretty damn complex, hierarchical in ways we can’t imagine. We live still in reaction to that time, while still buying in to the notions of material progress that set the tone of yesterday and today.

Baseball. Blue Balls

21 Sunday Jul 2019

Posted by David in Sexuality

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Feelings.

I’m sitting here watching baseball. J is taking a hot bath because of generic back pain, most likely one of the scores of teeny tiny little kidney stones in her medullary sponge kidneys has worked itself loose.

I read some pretty good naughty, dirty stories on Word Press. I feel like I’m not enabling the perverts of the world by reading this stuff.

Meanwhile, the Red Sox and Orioles are going at it in Baltimore. I keep thinking how it’s hot and thoughts of Maryland twenty-five years ago pull me back to the days of early recovery.

Now I wonder if I’m not a sex addict too. I fight all these feelings and thoughts. Sex isn’t an entitlement but sex sure feels good. Expressing my needs and then get ignored, or feeling like I’ve hurt her by acknowledging my need in the absence of any libido on her part, just makes it too painful. Being with a woman when she comes is so incredible. Having my own orgasm too. Then eating breakfast together the next morning after we’ve made love the night before. And she’s glad I’m there and I’m glad she’s with me. If we’re someplace special like the beach in the off- season or Manhattan, that day together is even better.

This part of Summer when we’ve almost turned the corner on the hot weather, and thoughts turn to Fall increasingly are nice. The thought of the seasonal change and how, in your mind’s eye, the leaves turn perfect shades of red, yellow, and orange, the wood fires in the fireplaces smell perfect, are such pleasant thoughts. All that stuff.

OK. Back to Summer and I’m still horny.

Where’s Porno?

19 Friday Jul 2019

Posted by David in Sexuality

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

#Crime

Everybody talks about the mainstreaming of pornography and its cousin “erotica”. Talking freely about our sexuality is a good thing. No disputing that. But what about people whose ideas about sexuality are, well, creepy, and whose sexual behavior may very well be criminal? I’m talking about rape, child rape, and human trafficking.

It’s one thing to play the victim or the perpetrator in a nonconsentual consent fantasy scene, and another issue entirely to rape another person, especially a child. A postpubescent teenager under 18 (age of consent) of either sex is considered a child under the law.

The perpepetual 24/7 365 sexual environment in the digital world has left people jaded and sceptical about any sort of criminality taking place in the real world. They couldn’t possibly be doing that, could they? Then Theodore McCarrick is exposed, next comes Richard Bransfield, allegations swirl around the late Cardinals Bernadin and Spelman. And that’s just the top tier of the Catholic Church. Meanwhile over in the secular world, the exposé has just begun with NXIVM and Jeffrey Epstein. Both of these cases have extremely wealthy, well-connected and influential people associated with them, on the periphery, at least for now. The investigative journalists who were ridiculed and discounted just a few months ago, like the Miami Herald reporters and Mike Cernovich are now being taken seriously.

And the criminality blends in quite well with amateur hedonists, the swingers, the routinely curious, and just plain old erotic fantasizers. Like Waldo in the Where’s Waldo pictures, the criminals can hide in plain sight.

It used to be the issue of missing children was written off as noncustodial parents kidnapping their own children. I’m not denying those occurrences. But there are something like 800,000 children kidnapped every year.

A porous border invites all forms of human trafficking. Organized crime gets involved in enterprises, which by their very nature are illegal and/or morally repugnant. With cannabis on the fast track to legalisation, expect to see more human sex trafficking, of both sexes, and of children in particular.

Prurient Interest

02 Tuesday Jul 2019

Posted by David in Sexual Identity, Sexuality

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

# Eroticism

That phrase figured in the legal language in determining what was obscene back in the day when the prosecutors and the courts cared. If dicks got hard or cunts got moist, then something was obscene. You don’t need so arcane a phrase as that when one is dealing with kiddie porn. Since we are rapidly moving toward a post-literate age, nobody is particularly worried any longer about Molly Bloom’s soliloquy from Ulysses.

I’m having one of those afternoons where J is home, decompressing from work. Part of relaxing from work is watching The Waltons, a preachy show about liberal virtues that J finds heartwarming and I find annoying. I’m in one of those lazy moods, still a little groggy from the pain meds. There is a certain virtue in letting things pass that aren’t important. I learned that from a hair stylist in Georgetown, who was dying from AIDS. I remember those days.

Which takes me back to prurient interest. I can create a sexual fantasy around darn near anything, the smell of Lapsang Souchong tea, a rose, a Monroe. Letting desire build, letting our environment invite erotic reverie are not lost arts, just neglected activities. I’m just sitting with no TV on, no access to the web, except what I am writing now.

And my mind has wandered to how thrilling it is to engage in a deep, lingering, and spit-swapping kiss, or to revel in the feel of naked skin on naked skin, or the sound of my lover moaning with pleasure. Intimate. Yes. And totally life affirming.

Blog Posts Of Sex Bloggers

12 Wednesday Jun 2019

Posted by David in Love and stuff, Sexual Identity, Sexuality

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

# Polyamory, #Blogs, Sex

I have been reading sex blogs as long as I have been reading blogs. I do not know if any sexual activity posted on a sex blog actually happened to that blogger or not. I’m just sceptical.

Tell me it’s so, if it is, bloggers,

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