I haven’t had a lot of it.

Well, not the kind that involves other people at any rate. I have done my fair share of masturbating, and possibly someone else’s share too.

You weren’t using that, were you? Good.

But as for the non-solo form of sexual expression, I have had very little of it, and most of the sex I have had took place in the Nineties.

So it’s been an almost thirty year “dry spell”.

But that’s not that unusual. There’s a lot of people whose only sex partner is, sadly, their dominant hand.

Or their submissive hand, if that’s how you’re bent.

What is unusual in me is that I am not now nor have I ever been tormented by my lack of fucking. It rarely even enters my mind, and when it does, I view it as more of an itch to scratch rather than a drive to seek a playmate for a playdate.

That’s how painfully underdeveloped and out of touch with myself I am. It’s not a matter of a frustrated sex drive.

It’s about having a sex drive that is barely even hooked up to reality at all. Somehow the “seek a partner” stage has still not happened to me, and I am 51.

At this rate, my libido might die before I get laid at all.

And it’s not that I don’t want it. Trust me, I want it plenty. I would love to spend some time in a busy, active gay bath-house sowing the crap out of all the wild oats I have accumulated over the decades.

But outside that delectable scenario, the barriers to my finding that playmate are substantial. There’s my physical disability, which might complicate matters.

A lot of dudes would lose their ardor completely when they saw the walker.

But at least I can still get around in bed!

More troubling are my psychological issues. I can’t even begin to imagine using some kind of hookup app, or otherwise inviting strange men into my bed.

My social anxiety goes berserk at the very thought of it. It doesn’t like me being around people I don’t know even casually, let alone interacting more intimately.

You know. Up the butt and such.

So it’s hard for me to imagine crossing that great divide between me and the rest of humanity in search of sexual play.

Plus I am not built for casual sex. I get attached too easily. If the sex is good I’m going to want to “keep” that partner.

And to share intimacies with someone only to have them leave and never appear in my life again would break my fragile heart.

Plus there’s the fact that my true sexuality must remain forever cloaked in secrecy because it is considered extremely unacceptable in the world of today.

So the chance of me ever pursuing what I really want are nil. It’s far, far too dangerous. In fact I don’t forsee it being even a little safer in my lifetime, sad to say.

I suppose that’s really the heart of the problem. I like to think that I could pursue the normal sex life of an adult gay man but I don’t know if I can.

It might be that, no matter how hard I try, I would always feel like there is something missing and that would keep me from truly indulging myself freely.

Maybe for me, sex will always be a show. Something I do for, not with, others, Something where my own sexual needs barely enter into it.

If so, that is brutally tragic. I didn’t ask to be wired the way I am. But as far as we know, sexual imprinting is forever. It can’t be changed or “fixed”.

So whatever sexy sex is to you, you’re stuck with it, no matter what it is.

Yet we persecute people for theirs anyhow.

It doesn’t feel fair, does it?

More after the break.

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Fuck my anxiety

I’m starting to get really sick of all this fucking anxiety in my head.

There’s way too much of it and I give it way too much control over what I can and cannot do. More specifically, I let it prevent me from doing damned near anything that isn’t in that narrow little corridor of possibilities I had taken as reality for far too long but was really just a picture show projected on the walls of my tiny cubical of a life in order to fool me into thinking I am free.

But it doesn’t matter how far I can see or how deeply I understand what is going on in all those pictures because it ultimately amounts to less than nothing if I can’t get up out of my seat and go investigate things in person.

There is a fully alive, intact, and realized version of myself slamming against the walls as it’s trying to escape its entombment and sooner or later this rubber room is not going to be able to hold it any more.

And I’m mostly just trying to stay the fuck out of its way and let the process proceed naturally instead of trying to control everything in the massively erroneous assumption that only things I control are “safe”.

Fuck that. I have no idea what I’m doing and neither does anyone else. I’d have much better results in life if I stopped trying to control everything (which is beyond futile) and instead concentrated on being the best version of me I can and learning to handle things as they come.

This will involve a lot of failing. That’s natural. That’s what being young is all about, even if you’re coming to youth very, very late in life like I am.

In the words of Bob Dylan : “I was so much older then/I’m younger than that now. ”

I keep coming back to the idea of just turning off my analysis engine of a brain and just going with my gut for a while.

I don’t know if I could actually do that. I’ve been hyper analytical for a very long time, much to my detriment.

But it’s a good thing to think about in order to at least warm up to the idea that I don’t know a god damned thing and the only way to cure that is to actually do stuff.

But I’m still so damned scared.

And I need to stop letting that stop me.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.