But I think I am handling it well. Rolling with the punches, so to speak.

See, last night, Joe told me that due to the teachers’ professional development day at his school today, he and his co-workers were able to talk their supervisor into letting them work a 2 pm to 10 pm shift instead of his usual 4 pm to midnight shift.

That was fine. Normally Felicity, Joe and I get together after Joe gets of work on Fridays, so this just meant we got to start hanging out a couple of hours earlier.

Then today, in the middle of the afternoon, I get a Facebook message from Felicity telling me that due to today’s snowiness^[1], Joe was actually getting off work at 6 pm instead of 10 pm.

That was a fairly large curveball. I do not have a good history when it comes to handling large changes like that. In my heart of hearts, I really wish they did not happen because they always upset me emotionally.

I don’t do sudden.

But whatever. I am getting better and part of that is getting better at rolling with the punches and dealing with change.

Specifically, change that I did not initiate myself. if i am the one changing things, I can handle it just fine, because I dealt with the psychological impact of the change as part of my decision to make the change.

There’s probably some brilliant mind hack for my depression lurking in there soimewhere, but that will have to wait.

Because it wasn’t until 5 pm when Joe’s arriving home an hour early jarred my brain into realizing that I hadn’t blogged yet.

This was Test #2, the first one being the change from 10 pm to 6 pm. Could I handle this potentially panic/anxierty/depression inducing news? Could I pull myself together and master the situation!

Yup! After letting myself recover from the shock for a few moments, then got up, told Joe about the situation, informed him that I would be ready by 7 pm, he said that was OK by him, and I came back to the computer, sat down, and started typing.

And so far, it’s going swimmingly. This blogging thing is way easier when I am just relating the events of the day in my own unique style ^[1]. The words just occur to me at a natural speed.

It’s too badm then, that most of the time, I have absolutely nothing to write about. Nobody wants to read a blog where most entries read “I played Skyrim, ate, played Skyrim, ate, played Skyrim, ate, and then I went to sleep. ”

That’s why this blog is not a diary. It’s a lot like one, but it’s not one, because I rarely actually write down the events of the day. Because there aren’t any.

So instead, I blog out the contents of my head, which are always dynamic, vibrant, compelling, interestlng, scintillating, fascinating, and like, really smart, yo.

At least to me. Your mileage invariably varies.

One actual thing that has been happening with me that is rather a big deal is that I have been investigating the local craiglist “men seeking men” section looking for a “hookup”, as the kids today call it.

For the tragically dense, I will translate : I’m looking for a guy to fuck.

Or be fucked by. I am flexible.

So far, I have no actual play-dates planned. I am in discussion with some dudes via email about getting together for a (hopefully VERY) good time, but nothing solid has yet to develop, largely due to the usual headache of trying to make schedules match up.

But there is one thing that happened that I would like to relate here because it hurt and made me depressed for a little while and, in general, really sucked.

I found this one fellow with whom I shared an interest in a rather specific and unspeakable kind of gay sex{{3}} and all this week we have been exchanging emails and getting all pumped up about all the stuff we would do when we got together and then, out of the blue, he asks for a “body pic”.

Uh oh. So I sent him this picm which is my fave pic of me of all time because it captures who I really am, and not just my appearance. .

Lodge brother Raoyal Order water buffalo!

Aaaand he emails me back to tell me I am “not his type”.

Here’s what he said : “Sorry, you are not really my type. I am into muscle bears and hot daddies. I like lumberjack men.”

Now I might not have a lot of muscle mass, but I am a bear, and I am certainly old enough (and paternal enough) to be someone’s hot daddy, and the last time I checked, there’s no rule that lumberjacks actuall have to be skinny millennial lubersexual to be a lumberjack. In fact. I imagine them as being quite burly.

So either this fellow is not just pathetically shallow but thoughtlessly cruel about it {{4}}, or he got cold feet and used the lamest and most hurtful of methods to cover it.

I’d understand if he got cold feet and told me.. What we were planning to do is not normal and extremely taboo, and horniness can only take you so far over the line before your conditioning kicks in.

Not for me, of course. I’m a fearless freak who only keeps thing quiet in order to spare himself from negative social consequences and spare the feelings of others.

But for most people.

So if that’s the real story, to hell with that guy. He didn’t have to hurt me in order to get out of the situation.

And to hell with him if he’s just a size-ist snob, too.

I mean, it’s not like it’s the fat we were planning to use as an interface anyway.

But oh well. Even in the world of random hookups, people would rather be shot dead than have sex with a fat dude.

I will find my perverted Prince Charming eventually.

And then we’re gonna have us a might good time.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

[[2]] Which one reviewer described as ”like you combined Martin Luther, Oscar Wilde, Douglas Adams, and a television permanently tuned to the 1980s, then left it outside in the cold until it got depression. ” [[2]]

[[3]] Yes, there ARE things too personal and sensitive for me to talk about here, and trust me, you are very glad that this is true. [[3]]

[[4]] If you have a specific body type in mind, PUT IT IN THE AD. Or at least ask right away instead of  leading me on and getting me all worked up only to let me down. [[4]]

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