Certain qualities run in my family while others trot, then some gallop. The rest are panicked in the barn. Their tell-tale footprints only landing here and there in the genetic tree. I was a lucky one. Over the years I have developed unnatural fears of things. Like celibacy, for example. It is always there at the perimeter of my sex life, waiting to close in on me. After every orgasm I wonder, What now? What next?
Sometimes I will go long periods without sexual contact with another human being. Like most things, there is an arc to this experience. Once I am past the apex I settle in to not minding being alone so terribly much, though I always prefer to have some squeeze.
Sometimes I will go long periods without sexual contact with another human being. Like most things, there is an arc to this experience. Once I am past the apex I settle in to not minding being alone so terribly much, though I always prefer to have some squeeze.
Always is not the right word. Often. I often prefer it.
I should update my Tinder profile pic with the one above. It is perhaps more honest than the one I currently used (below). Can you tell which one was actually shot in black and white? Should be easy.
Tinder is easy enough, though it is wildly incomplete. It has reduced human physical contact down to only the superficial. As a middle-aged man I presume that it must feel somewhat similar to how young women have felt all along in their relationships with men: wanting. It robs the interaction of the first charmed "yes" two people get to enjoy, at least when discovered without a mechanism in place to prompt it.
A swipe sounds like a form of theft, a threat, or phonetically: to clean something up, like one's own ass.
It is not two people whispering their yes yes yes's in the dark.
Yes just means yes.
But, there is still all of that undiscovered loving out there - lips and sugar and smiles and butts and giggles and titties. Who am I to question.
No, I kid.
I question. I question it.
My answer is always: Sure, yes. Why not?
.
