Well, my romantic life seems to be turning around. Perhaps a little too much turning, a little too far. Two men have expressed interest in the last few weeks. One of them has been a long-time fan of my daddy-bearness, the other must have been drunk one night and explained what a misfortune it is that I've never had sex with a man. An inquiry embedded in a compliment, wrapped in vague disappointment at what might have been. It is all very flattering, of course, but eventually they're going to want to fuck, or more, and that's when the flattery takes on a different shape and form. It gains thrust.
Seems uncomfortable. I've always been fascinated at watching women during the act of sex. Though when, through the component of imagination, I place myself in their position then the vision turns silly. But, that is what a straight man's mind goes to almost immediately: the fear of unlikely penetration. Though, light male-on-male petting seems nearly just as strange.
If you close your eyes and really think about it, a lot, it does.
I have little interest in romance now - straight, gay, or otherwise. I have retreated back to the candlelit withdraw point where I don't seem to care much any more. That can all change quickly, as we know, but for now I am happy to be alone.
To wit. I awoke this morning, rolled over onto open bed and fell back asleep, a simple luxury that would not be available to me otherwise. I woke up and only made two cups of coffee. Again, it is wasteful to have a romantic partner, especially one that likes coffee in the mornings. There are only so many domestic resources. Who wants to have to buy toothpaste at twice the normal rate? Or, to have someone to make dinner and wash the dishes with, or go shopping for clothes with on the weekends. Or, to listen to music with, or while you're in the shower to have someone to talk to from the other room. To speak the private language of love, over the sound of a shower.