Another solid porn endorsement (enpornment? Nah. )!
It’s called The Big Freshman and it’s another glorious fantasy where our shy and submissive hero gets the big hunky jock of his dreams.
The dialogue is not as good as Alpha, but it’s still both touching and hot AF.
Makes me revisit previous thoughts about whether I could have a boyfriend who is a lot less intelligent than I am.
Which is probable. That describes most people. So it’s kind of important.
Previously, I have doubted that it could work. I could not imagine viewing someone like that as anything but a sort of pet.
Which might be just what they’re looking for. Ya never know.
But big ol’ Aaron there makes me realize that someone doesn’t have to match my intellect in order to be compatible.
He seems like a genuinely good person, with a big heart, and with that massive powerful body and aura of strength and courage, he could go a long way towards making me feel safe and grounded and protected.
So what if we can’t talk Nietzsche? We could still cuddle. Talk about each other’s days. Watch movies and TV. Fuck like bonobos on Viagra. Share our lives together.
So yeah. I could see it working, Intellectual communion isn’t everything.
I’d still sort of think of him as a pet, though.
But one I love more than life itself.
It was him again!
That hot male nurse who looked like a butcher and went about his job like a master carpenter! He was my nurse for wound care today!
Turns out his name is Dwayne[1], and he was still wearing a white plastic apron instead of a nurse’s uniform.
Sadly, because I am down to just the callous on my foot that needs tending, and because the wound care specialist nurse was there, our interactions were nowhere near as close and intimate and lengthy as the previous time.
Actually, that’s probably for the best. I probably would have sprouted more wood than the forest primeval.
Dwayne : Sir. I can’t help but notice your erection.
Me : Thanks! It’s really quite impressive, isn’t it?
Dwayne : Would you care to explain yourself?
Me : Clearly, it likes you.
Might have been the start of something beautiful.
Or the start of a lawsuit, sigh.
The session with the specialist was fruitful. She debrided a bunch more of the callous off. I found the whole experience rather soothing, despite the fact that she was scraping away at my foot with a little metal scraper.
Well that’s the thing about callouses. They’re dead.
She (Nurse Vivian) said that she called one place to see about getting a special insert for my shoes to rebalance things away from the callous.
But they wanted 500 bucks. Oy.
So she is going to try making one for me herself. Apparently she has the training, she just hasn’t used it much.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I walk so little that it barely matters.
More after the break.
The Second Chapter
Turns out there’s a second chapter to the tale of Aaron the big buff zebra and Jesse the oh so pretty stag.
It’s call False Spring. Unsurprisingly, it’s when things get heavy.
I won’t go into the deep complexities of their relationship or why and how they should get together other than to say that I identify a lot with Jesse’s willingness to sacrifice his own needs in order to make other people happy.
It’s more complicated than that makes it sound because sacrificing to help others also makes me happy, but that’s the gist of it.
It’s a tendency I have noticed in myself and truth be told, it goes a lot way towards explaining why I have treated like my needs don’t matter in my life, so I have been trying to make sure I don’t go too far and end up resenting people for treating me the exact way I was practically begging to be treated.
You teach people how to treat you, knowingly or not.
But what I really wanted to get into is another question : could I be in a relationship with a deeply closeted man?
The answer is : probably not. But maybe.
I say “maybe” because I can imagine being more or less okay with being someone’s “best friend” and “roommate” that most people figure is something more but it is neither confirmed or denied.
I can live without public displays of affection. Or erection.
But emotionally, that would be dancing on a knife’s edge because if at any point my man had to distance himself from me, disavow me, publicly reject me, or otherwise sever the tie between us, I would be crushed.
Even if I know he doesn’t mean it.
Of course, the point is moot because there’s no way I am ever going to go back into the closet. There is way too much evidence to the contrary out there, even if I was inclined to closet myself, which I am NOT.
I don’t lie about myself. I am out, loud n’ proud, and I ain’t ever going back. I might be willing to be somewhat evasive about it for the right guy, but I doubt I would fool anyone.
I’m not obviously fey, though I aspire to be. But I don’t currently immediately set of people’s gaydar. I am still somewhat stealthed.
But people can figure it out from how I express myself if they care to look.
And given that one way or another people would know I was a big hairy homo, they would not have trouble figuring out that if my man’s “constant companion” is gay, odds are so is he.
And I refuse to be someone’s “dirty little secret”. Their “side piece”.I have too much pride to put up with that bullshit, even if they are amazing in bed.
I am just not closet compatible.
I guess I can live with that.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.
[[1[[ And I had forgotten his name so when I heard it I was like, duh, of course it’s Dwayne! This dude is such a Dwayne! [[1]]