get my belt
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Posted:Oct 17, 2022 6:59 am
Last Updated:May 12, 2024 7:8 pm 3556 Views
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No, I’m not going to punish somebody, I just need it to hold up my pants.
It seems my body has finally recovered from the fall I had in late March that fractured my arm and seriously damaged my hip and pelvis. It led to months of inactivity, and a stint of semi-bad eating, but I didn’t really gain weight so much as increase the circumference of my spare tire. That’s because my muscles were being severely underused and my diet was a bit heavy with sugar. While my arms and legs were getting slimmer my stomach and hips were gaining a bit, and as a result my pants were pretty snug when I was finally able to start wearing them again. For months I’d been stuck in the equivalent of long underwear or sweatpants, but I could now put on jeans. Just before my accident I’d needed a belt to wear them, but only this last week or so has it once again become a necessity. That’s right; my pants are starting to slide off my hips and sag a bit, which means my body has finally recovered and reverted back to its previous state.
The bike riding and yard work have made all the difference in this struggle to recover and rehabilitate. At some point I switched back to the clean and healthy diet I was on right before the accident, and that’s been another positive factor in this fight. A couple of months ago I cut the sugar to a minimum and began adding more fat and vegetables on a regular basis, and the results have been fantastic. My body looks and feels good, but it was the sudden realization that I’d been pulling my pants up a lot lately that really opened my eyes to what level my progress was at.
This is less about being able to walk again and more about a healthy body as a whole, which I’ve always taken great pride in. While my hip and pelvis might have been busted, it was all the other things that also got thrown out of whack that had an additional negative effect on me. Being skinny was 1 / one thing, but losing even more muscle and definition did not lift my spirits. Watching my stomach slowly get puffy and start to balloon out a little was actually kind of alarming. I wondered for a while if breaking my hip was going to be a gateway to getting fat, and felt certain of the eventuality if I didn’t recover fully. That was a huge motivation, and it wasn’t rooted entirely in vanity. Looking good is important but feeling good is top of the list.
Soon my abdominal muscles will be back and better than ever, and if I keep up the yard work I might even develop a bit more of my upper body in general. The bike riding will likely get my legs back to where they were before, so chances are I might end up a bit stronger than I was, at least everywhere except the hip that got busted. I’m working on getting strength back there but the fight is tough, and slow, which discourages me greatly. The good news is, I don’t give up easily on things like this and I am a persistent cuss who will usually exceed expectations. So when the doctor says I will fully recover I think about making his prognosis true, but then somehow going beyond to some greater level of rehabilitated wellness. In other words, I’m working on attaining superhuman strength, just to one-up my doctor. Good times.
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stress is not an aphrodisiac
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Posted:Oct 15, 2022 3:32 am
Last Updated:Oct 17, 2022 6:58 am 3553 Views
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I’m almost certain I’ve written about this before, and may have even done so under the exact same post title but if so it’s happening again, so I’m writing about it again. You’ll just have to get over the title being the same - if it is.
There’s no 1 / one particular thing going on right now, but over the past couple of weeks my life has begun to get complicated and tense. Again. My sense of helplessness is matched only by my angry outbursts of frustration and hopelessness. Money is an issue, my mental health is a problem, bad things seem to keep happening to me - you know, that whole routine. I’m a firm believer in bad things happening in threes so I start counting when something significant occurs, so maybe I can produce a false light at the end of the tunnel to help keep me hoping. It’s a mind game for sure, but when the third bad thing happens I can usually feel a literal shift in my mood, and it is invariably for the better. Call me superstitious or whatever it is you have to be to believe the nonsense I just described, but that’s me.
Anyways, - wait. Wow, that was a heck of a digression, wasn’t it?
Anyways, my mind and mood have been so tense and sour recently that it has destroyed my libido. Prior to that I was filming on a regular basis and just feeling easily aroused in general. Now I am so preoccupied and distracted that sexy thoughts don’t really get the opportunity to creep in much. I’m really just so on edge - in fight or flight mode - that there’s no chance for sexy anything. I’ve also been busy with a bit of work-at-home for my lovely sex slave ChrisSwallows, and putting in extra miles on the bike, and on foot, to keep my physical rehabilitation progress moving forward. It’s been a race to see if I could get in good enough shape to work some jobs that were potentially available, but now I might just be able to chill out and not push myself so hard for a little while. The job search might be over, and then again it might not, but I believe I’ve been offered an opportunity to kind of work for myself and want to explore it. Taking the weight of that daily stress from my shoulders and brain might improve my mood, thereby improving my libido. Let’s just say that lately it hasn’t been sexy time, and I miss it.
My diet and sleep schedule are the same, as are most other basic aspects of my life, but it’s the mounting stresses that are seriously affecting me. The dick works, it’s just not very interested in showing what it’s capable of right now. Maybe some free time and a spurt of energy will have me naked and filming soon, but that’s the most I have to look forward to. Heck, that might just be the source of my despair; the grim outlook for my sex life in the near future. Stress is not an aphrodisiac but neither is loneliness, or that sense that nobody finds you attractive. Nope, not turned on over here.
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wrapping it up
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Posted:Oct 11, 2022 7:24 am
Last Updated:Oct 15, 2022 3:32 am 4042 Views
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My time on the gay hookup site Sniffies is mostly coming to an end. I might still be compulsively checking my messages and scanning the map but for the most part my heart, cock and curiosity are no longer into it. There is nothing there for me on any of those levels.
When I log in now I mostly feel disgust and despair. The same people exhibiting the same behaviors are there every time, and the few new faces (cocks and asses) don’t stand out in any particular way. It all appears so reckless and desperate that I have a tough time remembering what I ever saw that made it interesting, let alone fascinating. It’s also strange to think that some of the pictures I am looking at now on the site used to genuinely arouse me, but now I just experience revulsion. What has changed?
Maybe it was all the threats of disease and sickness that people continued to ignore that got to me. Perhaps the fact that I am not really attracted to men had something to do with it. Desperation is rarely an attractive trait and the predominance of it on Sniffies was definitely a huge turn off. There’s a chance my sex drive had also been suffering, but if I look at my output of videos lately that seems like it might not be part of the explanation. I guarantee you if I had a female lover I’d be fucking her / my brains out mainly because it’s been so damn long since I even touched a woman, let alone had sex with one that she’d be like a new toy I’d want to wear out. Ultimately the answer is really simple; I am not gay so a gay hookup site is really not the place for me. Duh.
Since I did not have to download an app the only thing I have to do is refrain from typing the name of the site into my address bar or whatever you call it. Short of that, I don’t need to take any further steps. Chances are I’ll stop by out of curiosity every once in a while, and just verify that I’m not missing out on anything, but that’s it. This is a habit or compulsion I have to break, which is not that difficult for me. Nothing significant ever came from the site so the last thing I am is concerned. No single person will be missed, and it’ll be quite nice to not have to look at hairy asses, cocks, etc. Oh Sniffies, I hardly liked ye.
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back in drag
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Posted:Oct 10, 2022 7:06 am
Last Updated:Oct 11, 2022 7:25 am 3938 Views
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Did I ever tell you that someone got offended once because I was calling myself a transvestite? This female content creator wrote to inform me that using the term wasn’t really cool anymore, which shows right away that she knows absolutely nothing about me, because if she did she’d know I don’t give a damn about what is or is not politically correct or socially acceptable. If I want to call myself a faggot I will, and nobody is going to guilt me out of it, or inform me of some fact or statistic that will make me change my mind. I also reserve the right to make remarks about Polish and Native American people since that is my heritage, and apparently it’s okay to disparage your own people, just not any other races, or genders, or whatever. I am a cross dresser, or a transvestite, but I am definitely not trans. I don’t have confusion about my gender identity nor do I have any issues with the body I am in. I’m just a dude who puts on feminine clothing from time to time in order to film adult content, and the fact that I get off on it is incidental. It takes no level of importance in my life, it simply exists to fill a quota, and that is all. I dress “professionally” would be another way to put it. Only for work.
The semantic argument still rages in my head; should I be considered a legit crossdresser if I only do it when I film? Does our occupation define us, or even just place us in certain categories? It’s not quite the dichotomy of say a vegetarian working at a butcher shop because it has the reputation for being the most humane place when going about the raising and slaughter of the animals, but it feels like that sometimes. I have never wanted to crossdress in my personal life, nor do I find it a particularly attractive “thing” that I do, but it undeniably arouses me when I do it. I’m not ashamed, but were I on the market for a female lover / companion / _______ I’d probably be less thrilled about it than normal. Sure it would be nice to meet a woman who liked that side of me, but not really, because it’s not a “side of me” it’s just something I do for work that I enjoy. That distinction is such a thin line in some people’s eyes that I think it would make me incompatible with almost all available females that might otherwise be a good match. Again, this is all supposition because I am not “on the market” - or rather I am on the market, just sitting on a dusty shelf in the back going bad.
I’m happy to see my body still looks good (to me anyways) in feminine attire. I brought out some clothing that’s been destined to become part of a Facebook marketplace post, so if I sell any of them I won’t have missed out on any opportunities. It still amazes me how many dresses, skirts, socks, panties, etc. I collected. Plans change, of course, but at this point I still want to take some of the clothing I have with me, to Southern Oregon, so I can continue to film that kind of content there. We’ll see how the next 6 / six months pan out, but meanwhile I am having a great time revisiting this erotic activity that has always brought me great confidence and pleasure. Not only do I look good, I feel good, and that’s reason enough to do it I suppose. The potential to make a buck is definitely a nice bonus, it just also happens to be the sole purpose. Were I never planning to film another crossdressing scene I would take no feminine garments with me to Southern Oregon, and I think that fact is what places me over the line and on the side of NOT being a cross dresser. I’d never cross dress again and I predict I’d rarely miss it, if ever. Yet I also believe the moment I did it again, my cock would be rock hard and ready for action. I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care about labels or this might drive me bonkers!
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plan A and B
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Posted:Oct 9, 2022 2:37 am
Last Updated:Oct 10, 2022 7:07 am 3733 Views
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Now that I made my statement of purpose, I have to make a plan. In this case, I will be making 2 / two of them. It’s always good to have a plan B. This is not the detailed version, or even a rough draft, just the bare bones basics:
Plan A: move to Southern Oregon on my own land, open an animal rescue / sanctuary, meet a female who is skilled in the health and well-being of animals and live happily ever after together with our brood.
Doesn’t that sound delightful? How I make that happen is another bag of hammers, but here’s what I’ll do if plan A doesn’t work out:
Plan B: move to Southern Oregon on my own land with some animal friends, have 1 / one final good year where I am not miserable, find peace, then be done with it all.
That might sound a bit morbid, or even like a cry for help, but it is in fact the only other future I really want for myself. Sure, I might find I love it all alone in the desert, and perhaps as suggested in a different post having a few of my own pets to care for will be enough to sustain me, but all I really want is 1 / one good year. I feel like I’ve lived long enough, and been miserable during so much of it that if I could get just 1 / one I could die a happy person. Again; it might sound morbid or overly dramatic but it’s just the way I genuinely feel.
Since as early as grade school I can remember telling people I wanted to make it to 50 / fifty years old and then drive off a cliff in a car and kill myself. As the years passed the way I ended my life got more detailed (and more adult-oriented) but that’s the gist. Depression, even during those early years, had a very negative effect on me and my outlook for the future. I’ve spent most of my life trying to escape the way I usually feel during the day in a variety of ways, from sex to drugs, music, movies, suicide. My genuine hope is that moving to Southern Oregon and having the serenity I need will be enough, but I fear loneliness can be the killer that romantics say it is. If animals can fill that void perhaps it’ll be a Hollywood happy ending after all, but if I’m being selfish I don’t care how my story stops, just as long as it does.
I’m definitely not giving up yet - not even close! For now I am concentrating on plan A because it is something I am certain will make life much more satisfying, and worth living. That is my (wider) goal and purpose, stated once again. Now I better get to work on that !!!
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statement of purpose
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Posted:Oct 8, 2022 6:48 am
Last Updated:May 12, 2024 7:8 pm 3827 Views
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I’ve lived a very full, selfish, self-centered life and although I’ve cared deeply for the pets I had, my love for animals in general could have, and should have, gone much deeper. Growing up, I wanted to be a veterinarian but when I found I couldn’t stomach the bloody parts I at least vowed to be a good pet owner. I’ve never mistreated an animal, but I have definitely gone out of my way to give them a better quality of life, and even been there to make sure they had a peaceful exit. animals have been a very important part of my life, and at times the love I felt for them has been far greater than what I’ve felt for humankind. People are evil, puppies and kittens are not.
So I’ve made a decision, and it’s basically this: I want to end my days in service of animals. Maybe “living creatures” would be a better way to say it. I don’t know how feasible it will be due to my (soon to be) isolated location, but I want to open an animal sanctuary and rescue. This will require funding from outside sources, of course, and it might sound unromantic to say it but I am going to openly seek a female companion who is a veterinarian, or at least wants to be one. I’ve taken so much joy from this life, and I don’t think animals get a fair shake in even the best of circumstances, but maybe I can tip the scales just a tad bit more in their favor, at least if they come into my orbit. Birds, rodents, domesticated pets and wild animals - if they need a quiet, calm, loving place to live (or even die) I want to provide that. Spending all my waking moments taking care of my brood, until my last. That would be a worthwhile end to my story.
Linda Blair, the actress who played the possessed girl in “the Exorcist” has dedicated at least a portion of her existence to helping animals, and I’d like to walk a similar path. Obviously I am not famous, and have no real idea how to raise money the crowd funding way. I am the biggest antisocial introvert in the world, which means nobody knows or cares about me, or what I might want to accomplish, no matter how altruistic it might be. So this dream might wind up being nothing more than that; a dream. If I can’t manage that, then I will at least be adopting dogs and cats from shelters that have been there a long time, and seem unappealing for some reason. If I can afford to end my days taking care of unwanted, unloved animals that didn’t have a chance at a good home I will die with little regret. Heck, maybe having the critters around will make me want to stick around longer.
I recently started taking a serious look at Buddhism, mainly because I was feeling spiritually lost again, but there was also something else going on in my mind and heart. Lately I’ve been trying to respect the sanctity and gift of life that is given to all creatures, not just people. Every living being has the right to exist and I have no right to put a stop to that. In fact, if I believe in karma at all (and I always have) then it behooves me to not only live and let live, but also care for those who cannot care for themselves. Since my relationship with humans is terrible, and the one I have with animals is magnificent, I intend to expand on that. This means I have stopped lashing out at the living things that frightened or repulsed me, like spiders. It means I have to live with watching the one that has been in my room for the past week make its way across the ceiling and walls, but not going over to squash it. Simple enough for some, but there are others of you out there who probably wouldn’t blame me because your repulsions equals or even trumps mine. It used to be I would either kill the spider or find a way to it outside but now I am learning to live with it, and that is the kinder, gentler me that I want to freely give to any creature that crosses my path from now on. The birds who make the noise I hate will receive my love - or at least a little less anger spewed in their direction. The bugs I come across will remain uncrushed, but I can’t promise to refrain from trying to shoo a few out the door, because insects still kind of ick me out. I will strive to do better.
For now I will give some of my love to Ziggy, even if he does try to bite my nose off (he’s just giving me a kiss but I thought the picture looked funny) and there’s a cat I’ve been running into during my nightly walks that I can’t resist giving some scritches, but once I finally head to Southern Oregon I hope to be taking a few furry friends with me. As much as I dig Ziggy he and I are not meant to be together. I can’t provide the kind of home he needs and he can’t provide the kind of peace and quiet I desperately require. So I will do my best not to get too attached and just create my own furry / feathered / scaled / ? family in due time. I have so much love to give and I have a feeling there are plenty of beating hearts that would accept that with genuine gratitude. I take what I can get in the form of purrs and lickings and whatever else comes my way. That will be reward enough.
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ASD
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Posted:Oct 7, 2022 6:42 am
Last Updated:May 12, 2024 7:8 pm 3182 Views
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This December I will be 50 / fifty years old. Anyone that was born in the 70’s / seventies or before knows what it was like for folks who had mental health issues. As a young boy I was obviously troubled, or something was definitely wrong with me, but back then there were few diagnoses to choose from. You either had ADHD or were OCD or it started to get into the scarier stuff like borderline personality disorder. There wasn’t really a “spectrum” so to speak. Mental health “experts” tried their best to pigeonhole you so they could prescribe appropriate medications, but even that was limited at the time. I’m sure there are a ton of different brands and types a person can try out right now but back then you could take Ritalin or Zoloft, maybe Paxil. There wasn’t much known about brain issues, and a lot of them didn’t have names yet. Times have definitely changed though.
Obviously I’m not being super thorough here, just making a generalization based on my experience. There were certainly more diagnoses and more medications than what I just mentioned, but compared to today it was a mess. Since my younger days I have seen a few more mental health “experts” but things haven’t changed a whole lot. Eventually I was told I suffered from Aspergers and had issues that seemed related closely to Tourette’s syndrome. I recall someone saying they thought I might have borderline personality disorder, but there were a slew of guesses thrown in there as well, by professionals that were not so professional. I’m talking about prison and jail psychiatrists, and folks like that. Overall it was always just a race to see what medication a doctor could put me on, and each attempt was a failure. I had nightmares, vomited and felt like a zombie. A casual observer would think I was relatively sane but someone who spends a little time with me starts to notice eccentricities that even I don’t have the patience for. What to make of all this? Maybe the internet could help.
Yes, I’ve self-diagnosed before, taken online tests and things of that nature. Typically, I can very easily identify enough traits or issues or whatever to comfortably place myself in certain categories, or confidently claim I have certain issues. Misophonia has been like that for me. No doctor or professional of any kind has ever written down on a piece of paper that I suffer from the chronic auditory issue, but anyone who knows even a tiny bit about me knows how much it fucks with my daily existence. I don’t need anyone to tell me I suffer from it, but for some people / businesses / government offices it is extremely important this fact get recorded somewhere that it can be referenced at a later date. If I’m going to claim to be crazy, organizations like Social Security want someone other than me to state and verify that. I don’t blame them, I’ve just avoided seeing doctors like the plague, so nobody has really had a chance to stick that (and other) labels to me.
Recently I was asked a series of questions about my mental health / state of being and offered everything I’ve written above, and more, as evidence I am a pretty unhealthy individual. When I tried to speak about symptoms that were Tourette’s or Asperger’s-like the doctor made it a point to correct me, mentioning that stuff like that now falls under a different label; “Autism Spectrum Disorder”. He did what I had hoped other doctors would do in the past and simply asked me questions that would help determine if I was “on the spectrum”. He first began by stating that ASD is usually seen during adolescence so every sentence started with, “ who have ASD experience…” and go from there. Before he could even complete sentences I was nodding my head in recognition, and it happened every single time. There wasn’t a single situation, frame of mind, or reaction that I did not completely relate to. No doubt about it, I have ASD. This of course does not come as a surprise, it’s merely the same conclusion to a question that was only differently worded or categorized. The end result is the same, and that is all that matters.
Chances are excellent that I will probably perish before I ever truly know “what is wrong with me” but that is okay. For me that’ll be like dying and not knowing the meaning of life. Maybe I’m supposed to know, or maybe there’s a chance I could really make a supreme effort to find out, but in the end I have done what I can to identify and accept those things which do not completely disable me and work on either changing them or dealing with them in a healthy manner. We say we are born this way, but I know from experience it has always been a struggle between nature and nurture. My DNA, the way I was raised, and the way the world has treated me for nearly 5 / five decades has all combined to create this mess called Walter. Misophonia, depression and things like ASD are only a part of that, but sometimes their level of importance weighs heavy. Luckily the pendulum always seems to swing the other way, eventually. Not all days are bad; I’ll be the first to admit that and give thanks for it. Unfortunately it is often the tough days dealing with the war in your head that stand out. I continue to work on that imbalance every day.
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it's a celebration (bitches) !
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Posted:Oct 4, 2022 7:08 am
Last Updated:May 12, 2024 7:8 pm 3061 Views
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6 / six months and 2 / two days after falling from the top of a ladder and doing serious damage to my hip and pelvis which resulted in a major surgery and 10 / ten day stay at the hospital, I am able to walk unassisted, with only the slightest hint of a limp. I discovered this during a stroll at 4 / four in the morning. It was, and remains, a joyous moment.
My new exercise routine, along with yard work and bike riding, has helped me continue to gain strength and flexibility. Unless I do something foolhardy, or have an accident, it is clear I am indeed going to fully recover - and perhaps sooner than anticipated. As relieved and confident as this makes me feel, it has also brought forth a new level of caution. It’s funny to think that just a few weeks ago I was outside with a single crutch, watering plants in the darkness and doing so in areas that I frankly would have avoided during the daytime because they were so uneven and potentially dangerous. I’m not going to get paranoid or anything but I will be extra careful over the next couple of months. I truly have no idea what would happen if I were to just trip and fall right now, let alone take a tumble from my bicycle but every time I get on it that risk is VERY real, and that is now my sole form of transportation for the foreseeable future. I am already a cautious but confident rider, now I’m going to have to unbalance that scale a bit and lean heavier on the side of safety.
My gait is still unsteady, but getting better. Just a few days ago I couldn’t even conceive of going for a jog around the block, or even just across the yard, but I am doing that as well. It doesn’t look good, and feels a bit awkward, but there is no pain except in the muscles that are waking up and redeveloping. Sore muscles I can handle, so I will continue to push myself. Right now I can walk around the block, trying very hard not to limp the entire time, but when I return I am exhausted so that shows I still have a ways to go. My bike riding may be beneficial but it is also very weak, and if I am to continue using it as my sole form of transportation I will have to get stronger, but more importantly work on my stamina. I start out very strong but fatigue quickly, so my car remains covered in the carport and I now ride to do everything, including trips to the library, grocery store, marijuana dispensary, bank, you name it. The freedom and movement have been therapeutic on my mind and body, and I am grateful to be doing this well at this time.
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banned or blocked
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Posted:Oct 2, 2022 5:14 am
Last Updated:Oct 4, 2022 7:07 am 2681 Views
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What is it like to be such an irritating, offensive person that your thoughts / words / actions get you blocked or banned from a discussion group / thread / site? Is there pride in this sort of behavior, or does the person feel embarrassed and remorseful once it happens? What about individuals we know as “trolls” who make this a regular part of their existence; what must it be like to be so angry inside that it becomes a need to anonymously lash out? That must be a horrible way to live.
I have never been banned but I’ve almost certainly been blocked by a few people. There were some times in my past where I thought being an asshole was something to be proud of, and I admit I’ve gone through phases where pure anger has guided me, but for the most part I have tried to be a decent human. It’s pretty easy to identify when you’re being an asshole, maybe a little bit tougher to stop once you’ve begun, but it’s possible. I’ve recognized and halted troll behavior in myself more than once, so I know it can be done if you are self aware and have something called self control. Oh, and a conscience helps.
Had the internet and social media been as commonplace during my earlier years as it is now, I would have almost certainly been a very prolific troll. In my early 20’s / twenties I was quite proud of being able to verbally rip anyone apart that dared to challenge me, or just had the misfortune to cross my path. Growing up a skinny who didn’t know how to fight, and didn’t want to learn, I became quite good at using my brain and mouth to attack and defend. Sometimes words hurt as much as fists, and could even have a longer-lasting effect. Had I been able to wield that bit of pathetic power anonymously, it likely would have become addictive, and I would have hurt a great many people. Thankfully age and humility have worked a different attitude and way of thinking into my DNA. When I even say / write something slightly offensive or hurtful now I feel quite a bit of shame, as it should be. Now, instead of fighting back against trolls and jerks by responding and having a war of words, or just flat out trying to insult them, I utilize the ability to block them and simply move on with my day. Nobody “learns a lesson” that way but I long ago realized the futility of trying to teach an asshole why it’s not okay to be one. Now I just deflect that presence when I can, and let the person shift their attention and intentions to another victim. I am no hero, just trying to get by.
A word on “heroic” actions; while on the gay hookup site Sniffies I kept running into the same few ads posted by guys who were clearly trying to make a few bucks giving massages with happy endings. Every time I saw this, I reported it, and as a result my account was frozen for a few days. The algorithm that is installed in the site tagged me as soliciting, when in fact I was the person reporting others for that same offense. I don’t know how a program can get that backwards that a person reporting a crime gets accused of it, but that’s what happened. It was a case of the squeaky wheel getting replaced, not greased, and it definitely taught me to mind my own business. People on that site can advertise, be offensive, or do whatever they want to but I will remain out of it in order to keep things as they are. Thankfully reporting trolls on other sites does not result in punishment, but the experience will occasionally make me hesitant to do anything at all except ignore the perceived slight or troll behavior and just move on. Sometimes if you can’t ban or block a troll the next best thing is to ignore them, and I have to say I became very good at that very quickly once I started on TikTok. The nastiness you can randomly encounter there simply has to be ignored if you want to remain sane, and at least moderately happy.
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beyond woke and p.c. and slipping into idiocy
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Posted:Sep 30, 2022 5:39 am
Last Updated:Oct 4, 2022 7:08 am 3482 Views
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Even though this post will begin with a quick mention of the gay hookup site Sniffies it is not about that. I recently came across a unique creature there, one with a vagina that was nevertheless intent on being perceived as a male. All that pronoun, gender identification hubbub aside it was just a person with slightly different equipment, but with the same agenda; having sex. So I sent a message expressing interest, and received a reply that informed me I’d have a better chance of corresponding if I went to a different site where this person more frequently stopped by. I gave my profile name on that site, and a day later received a message. What it amounted to was pretty ridiculous.
Now take into account this was FetLife, which is a kink and BDSM focused site. If you know anything about those communities you know that rules, negotiations, contracts and protocol are very important. I dealt with this while skirting the edges of the community and long ago decided to not become a part of it. If there are rules I recognize them, and will be respectful of them at all times, but I’m not going to overly discuss our potential coupling let alone sign a contract or anything of the sort. I take the person I am with seriously, not the process the folks in the community claim is required. On the “about me” section of my profile I am quite clear about this, and state it emphatically. I am not a member of the community and don’t wish to be. This is what caught the eye of the person I’d contacted on Sniffies, and they brought it up immediately. If my attitude was as stated, we weren’t going to be a good match. I sent a mildly condescending reply back, mostly because we hadn’t said word 1 / one to each other about entering into a BDSM relationship or situation or anything like that. Not even a hint. This was supposed to be talk about getting together to fuck, so where did this hesitation because I wasn’t a part of the community come from?
This is when I was accused of having a “violent” name. My profile / member name on FetLIfe is VascularHomicide which is a play on Vehicular Homicide. Vascular refers to a person who has veins that show very easily, which describes me perfectly. In a sense, it is in fact a violent sounding name, but only to the most sensitive and ludicrous of individuals on the planet. Just about anyone with even a tiny sense of humor gets why I call myself VascularHomicide, and how it is not meant to sound violent or aggressive in any way. It reminds me of when Scarlett Johansson was being referred to as “ScarJo” by the media, and how she actually took the time to chastise people because it sounded violent. You have to have very little to worry about in your life to get bent out of shape about something like that, which is exactly how I visualize p.c. and woke folks. Easily offended, a bit delusional, and definitely unhinged.
I used to be a guy who wrote blog posts about my cunt girlfriend, whom I also described as the love of my life. Back then my attitude (at least expressed in the blog) was that women were meat, meant to serve and service men for their pleasure and entertainment. I wrote about this openly and received praise from one person after another, and not all were men, believe it or not. Back then that was part truth part bravado but nowadays I don’t think or act like that at all. My respect for women didn’t change; it was always there, I just saw a certain dynamic in a more favorable light than others. Being a Daddy to a babygirl helped me change, but I think it was inevitable. I can’t imagine going through my entire life thinking women are for fucking, making babies and keeping the house clean, but some do. I hope I have evolved, and within that came a different way of looking at everything, including women, my relationship to them, their roles, etc. The irony is that when I should have been called a violent person, when I was literally getting up on stage and using my girlfriend as a punching bag, it was praise I was given. Now that I am a much kinder, gentler soul I can’t even have a name that sounds a little bit dark or scary without getting chastised and accused of being a bad person. Oh how times have changed (for the worse).
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