Sexually Me

Denouement

2007-07-17T23:35:00.000-07:00

Pronunciation

Where to start?

Ah, that's right. A few months ago, things were dire. And as I was to learn, it was mostly a scare tactic. But let me be clear, and not come across as a total buffoon... it was a necessary scare tactic.

I lied to K. And while one instance of that isn't horrendous, it's the pattern that has been woven over the last 10 years of our relationship. If something were to be discovered that I had been hiding, usually something tied to my sexuality or the things that I perceived as being "unusual", my instinct was to lie.

Backtrack.
Cover up.
Find a convincing cover story.
Move on.
Rinse, repeat.

Until of course my intuitive wife would pry the truth out of me, making me feel that I wouldn't be judged. And I wasn't. To say that she's an amazing person falls far short of the truth.

Anyhow, this last transgression was her proverbial last straw of just coping with the pattern of my lies. So she called my bluff. And she went all in. And while I didn't want to fold with what I had committed to the pot, ultimately, there was no way that I wanted to win.

So I came clean. I explained my motives, the reasoning behind my lying no matter how irrational, and started the journey of reparations. In the process, I learned more about myself,. I also made steps to try & figure out the trauma in my life that has caused me to become so secretive. So secluded in my feelings.

I won't get into all of the details now, but I started going to RET (Rapid Eye Technology/Therapy), which is a type of subconscious reprogramming of the mind. It's "very trippy shit" as my guide says... but it works. (And no, it's not brain washing. More like a mind cleansing.) More on that later. And along with that, I started going to Life Skills Classes which work hand-in-hand with the RET sessions to try & bring your whole mental being into better focus. Confusing to write in words, but amazingly cool to go through, and to figure out how our energy fits into the whole.

So while I didn't jump back into the "therapy" pool, I made some steps to repair the damage of self. And before you think I took a mis-step in not going back to therapy, it was probably one of my best decisions of the time, and I still feel the same way. Basically, after a year of therapy, I got tired. Not of just going through the mental motions of figuring things out, but of being in the mind set of "what do I still need to fix?" It becomes mentally draining in so many ways. So after those 12 months, I wanted out. Not permanently, but at least to let my mind settle. To return back to a place that I was once again receptive to the learning & growth process. I'm not sure if that makes sense, but that's the reasoning.

And as far as K:
We defined some things.
We talked a lot.
Lines were drawn.
And after 2 weeks of feeling totally vulnerable & conflicted, I was granted access back to our bed.

That doesn't mean that we had sex or anything right away. Hell, I'm not sure how long it was, but at least I was doing what needed to be done, to show that I wasn't giving up on us, or on what had been built in the last 10 years.

So in a nutshell, the atomic blast is over. The fallout will take a while to deal with, and will require a large effort to clean up. But I'm working on it, and I think that's the biggest piece of the puzzle right now.

Savin' Me

2007-05-07T16:09:00.001-07:00

Okay, you can call this a lame post. I'll own that.

But I watched this again today.

And no matter how many times I see this video, it still just seems so poignant & really... so cool. It brings to mind all of these philosophical ideas, and something that you could sit around for hours talking about. I love any kind of media that pushes the envelope like this, and creates more questions than answers.

And for those that want more, please stay tuned.

Lies

2007-04-18T09:58:00.000-07:00

My Dear Readers: Please be aware that this post has a dark tone. After so much time away from here, I'm sure that you were all hoping for something fun, light-hearted & even witty. I had hoped the same thing. That being said, I'm warning you now that you might desire to skip over this post, and wait for lighter times.

I wish it were a day of productivity & enjoyment in the little things. Instead, it's a day of despair & the feeling of hopelessness. Why? Because Monday night, K & I agreed to terms for a trial separation. Strangely, it was not due to my bisexuality.

It was due to my fear of honesty.
To the truth.
And therefore, lies fueled this action.

Yes, they were my lies. I clung to them even in the face of incontrovertible proof, like the security blanket I had as a child. Maybe that's part of the impetus, in that I don't have a blanket of such making in adulthood. Regardless, the fact remains that the current circumstances are my doing. And sometimes, I feel like I don't remember how to breathe. I feel like I'm floating through existence, unsure of where to turn or what to do next.

I can only hope that I find my way through this, and that the hurt will slowly recede so that I can try to do something constructive.

I have no idea what that is just yet.
Maybe faith will guide me.
I hope.

HNT: 'Tis The Season

2006-12-13T23:39:00.000-07:00

X-mas Stocking
Originally uploaded by Ben aka "lightnyn".

Recently, Mark challenged me to make a return to HNT as part of his ongoing campaign to get me to post more often. Of course, I'm usually trying to bare my soul, not my body, in this blog. But 'tis the season, I suppose, and if a half-nekkid picture of me is what Mark is hoping for from Santa this year, who am I to deny him? You'll notice that my stocking is... hung. I'll leave it to your imagination what it will be filled with on Christmas morning...

Do you think I was more naughty or nice?

Horizons

2006-12-10T23:18:00.000-07:00

I could give you all many reasons or excuses for my absence. Honestly, I don't have any that are good enough to quell that incessant need in all of us to know "what kept you"? So let's just assume it's water under the bridge & move on.

Most of you are aware that I've been going to therapy. And for the little amount that I pay each week, it's amazing the benefit that I'm reaping. I think part of it is due to my willingness to learn & grow. I think another part is that I didn't go into it with any preconceived notions. Mostly, I just wanted to be able to talk to someone about everything.

No holding back.
Cover the gamut of my sexual issues.
Finally try to let some of it all go.

So when my birthday passed during Thanksgiving week, and my father didn't so much as call or transmit a "Happy Birthday", I'll be honest that I was pretty crushed. But as I'm wont to do, I didn't talk about it much, and tried to just let it pass. If you know me at all, you know how well that worked. Particularly when K asked me about it later that day. Still, I tried not to let it bug me too much.

Push it to the side.
Deal with it later.
Pretend it wasn't there.

Then the next morning, I found myself driving with my Mom for some errand or other, and she asked me how I felt. And the burning hot pain of angst reared it's ugly head.

I was hurt.
Still am.
And somehow I have to deal with that.
Somehow, I have to try & not expect so much from someone who seemingly cares so little.

I'm not doing so well.

But I've noticed of late, that the more I'm dealing with my past revolving around the subtle brainwashing inflicted by my father, the more I'm starting to feel the emotion rise to the surface. The more I'm starting to feel the hot searing pain in my throat. The more I'm starting to see just how much I missed a real relationship with a father figure. And as hard as it is, and as much as I try to reject dealing with it, it's still helping. Because with feeling the emotion more, I'm getting closer to dealing with it all, and finally, just maybe, seeing a new horizon without his influence.

So why did I bore you with all of this? Well, I realized last week that I need to share more. Even if for myself, I've found that when I write my thoughts out, whether it's long-hand, in Word, or here, it helps. And after all, this site is more about me.

Oh, and giving you all a good train wreck to enjoy. And I love you for being there to share in the misery. I'll try to lighten the mood soon. After all, the holidays deserve it.

Broken Asunder

2006-10-29T23:33:00.000-07:00

So despite my absence on the blogging scene, I've been doing well. Okay, well is a relative term, but I've been doing much better than I could have hoped or expected in this juncture of my life. Lately, it's been boosted by a simple medication. But that's for another post.

This is more about how even though I'm feeling much better than I could have ever hoped at times, there are pronounced & profound moments where previous guilt & feelings of shame resurface. Making me feel in many ways, lost or wishing that I had made better choices in my life. Choices that wouldn't have hurt some of those that I hold most dear.

How or what causes this you might ask? A few words, composed in a lyrical fashion, accompanied by almost haunting melodies, and sung with a level of anguish & raw context that it nearly makes me cry. I can't say that I really knew the name James Blunt before last night. But now that I do, I feel like I'm just starting my journey of healing. Which is both good in that I still recognize I'm far from perfect & have plenty to work on. And bad, in that my progress can be measured along the yard stick of my mental health in fractions.

And before you just label me as being "melodramatic", which wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility based on some of my history, please listen, and tell me what emotions it extracts from you.

It's real.
It's raw.
It's poignant.

Lost in the Wilderness

2006-10-27T22:39:00.000-07:00

I have tons of respect for incredible men like Nate or even Mark, who from my perspective, seem to write about their daily travails with ease. Well, ease is the wrong word, but I only wish I could let the words flow that freely.

You already know that I hide.
You already know that I sequester myself within my mind.
You already know that I have miles of swampy wilderness to navigate.

Whenever I start to write a post, I feel that it's very much like removing a vital part of myself. I cut it out, often with a less than sharp instrument, and then toss it unceremoniously upon the examination table. I then dissect it into many tiny pieces, inspecting each, trying to understand how they comprise the whole. And the entire time, I have you looking over my shoulder. And yes, this was of my own choosing, hoping that somehow the process has taught someone, anyone, something. Maybe help them navigate these waters more easily. I can only hope that a Magellan of the mind is charting these waters, otherwise I might feel that the journey is hopeless.

After all of this, I try to reassemble and reintegrate that vital piece of myself, hopefully with a new found understanding. But much like putting together a new desk, or working on a car, I'm left with "extra parts". With luck, those parts are extraneous anyway. Yet the process remains as painful, and laborious as the times before.

So, I'm lost.
I'm hiding.
And often thoroughly confused.

And while I'm making significant forward progress, I'm often times left to wonder if I'm traveling in circles. Or if I'm really getting closer to my destination, albeit in a circuitous fashion.

Then again... haven't I seen that tree before?

So thank you my friends for hanging in there, and giving me the time that I needed to get myself together again.

Without Judgment

2006-09-04T23:53:00.000-07:00

Throughout therapy, things have been expected of me, like homework if you will. Some of it is to help push me towards understanding. Some of it is to move me out of my comfort zone.

Several months ago, after stating that I don't always feel "normal" being bisexual, my therapist mentioned that it might be a good idea to look into finding a support group. I thought it was an interesting idea. And my first instinct was to consider if there were even any groups like that in Phoenix. I mean, it's not like it's San Francisco or something. But it was an interesting idea.

The next day, in a moment of Google-itis, I found an answer. Damn you, Google! Just when I figured I wouldn't have to change or grow.

And in the top of the search was a link to an Arizona chapter of BiNet.

So let's flash forward to the night of the social.
I was apprehensive.
Nervous.
Afraid of meeting "crazy people".
Okay. I had no idea of who I would meet there.
But I considered backing out a few times.
But then I'd have to deal with the guilt of "quitting".
[I hate my sub-conscious sometimes.]

I had the expectation to keep my head low. Not contribute much. Stay "guarded". Well, that lasted all of about 5 minutes. A couple showed up shortly after the start time, and they were very similar to K & I. I mean, it's almost scary how close to us they are, in both story & experiences.

Right away, she started in with the pointy questions. The same kind of questions I had hoped to avoid by staying quiet. So my cover was blown. I could no longer be the ambiguous guy at the end of table. No longer the "curious" one, or the "uncertain" one. And it ended up being an enjoyable evening. I found a group of people that were in similar shoes. Not all of them had it "all figured out". But many of them knew more about themselves than I did. Were able to accept things better than I could.

And it was refreshing.
The jungle seemed a little bit brighter.
A little less intimidating.

And ultimately, I might have found a few people that I could be friends with.

Without pretense.
Without secrets.
Without guilt.
And without judgment.

Exhaustion

2006-08-30T20:01:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I suck. Or I have. And still would. But I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about my lack of content here on Sexually Me.

And now that I've had an anonymous poster say that, "u really need to update this bad-boy", here I am. Who knew it was that easy? Just needed an anonymous comment... kidding.

Anyhow, back to the main point. Yes, I suck. And when I say I've been busy, I wish there were some easy to understand sliding scale displaying just how busy I've been. Let's just say that sleep is my long lost friend, who's been on a long trip to Antarctica. And if I'm lucky, their plane gets back sometime this weekend, and I'll be able to "catch up". Is it as bad as it sounds? Yeah, and possibly worse.

Needless to say, I honestly feel like a shell of my former self. There are times that I do something innocuous, like kneel on the floor to pick up some of my son's toys, and the thought crosses my mind to just lie down right there & pass out. Now granted, this has lessened a lot in the last week. I'm now getting some more sleep, but still not enough. With luck, this holiday weekend will help all of that. I hope.

Anyhow, to give you all a brief update on my activities for the last 2 1/2 months, and items of note:

I took on a huge consulting web project, that in many ways appeared to be something that could inevitably help launch me on the path of working for myself full-time.

I went on a vacation to visit my family in Upstate NY, but it ended up being a working vacation. And didn't very well resemble a vacation due to the family drama that was bound to ensue.

Add the two items above, and I didn't get nearly the relaxation that I needed.

While on vacation, I was offered & accepted a new full-time job that was too good to pass up, but only after having to deal with a neurotic recruiter.

I started working part-time for the new job during the second week of my two-week notice.

Then I started full-time with the new job.

I still had some things to finish up on the old job, because I care about the people, and my integrity is important to me.

The web project was still on-going.

Another consulting project that had been in a hold pattern for a bit, ramped up again, on top of all of the other things. But the money was seriously worth it.

The new job's requirements for programming are immense, fun & challenging. I'm loving it more than I can say... if it weren't for the stuff that I'm still trying to wrap up.

The web project is still going, but given a bit of luck, I'll be done by the end of next week, and I can't wait to wash my hands of the whole thing.

I've learned more about myself & how I want to operate my consulting than I have in the last 6 years of my consulting.

K & I were pregnant.

K & I miscarried.

I'm worried about K's health above all else.

K & I will find a way to move on, and still have the family that we want. After some healing.

I've never been more tired in my memorable life than in the last 6 weeks.

I want to stop & smell the roses once in a while.

I want to stop & sleep once in a while.

I want to figure out my life, and not feel so lost all of the time.

I want to write more, among other things, to serve as a way to disconnect from my "job".

So much for a short list of items. And that's just a brief glimpse in my life.

This post is also rather innocuous in the grand scheme of things, and where my head is at. But I'll get to the more juicy stuff. I have to. It's been needing to get out. And I've had several posts swimming in my head, while I've written this one.

Stay tuned, and thank you dear readers, all 6 of you, for hanging in there during my absense.

I'm Not Dead

2006-07-16T12:56:00.000-07:00

For those of you that might have wondered, I'm not dead. At least not totally.

As a quick recap, I was incredibly busy two weeks before I left for my "official vacation". You know the drill. "Hey, before you go can you...?" Multiply that by 3 or 4 since the teammate that used to take care of all of those items has been gone for about a month (thank G*d), and he never really did anything that competently anyway. So I therefore have to figure out what he did, how he screwed it up, correct it, and then produce the correct results. To that end, saying that I have been busy is a drastic understatement. So I got all that I could done before leaving on vacation.

Then after doing the West to East Coast travel insanity involving 3 planes, an extra 30 minutes in the air due to weather, 2 layovers, one of which was extended by over an hour for more weather, and another that was a rushed 3/4 mile dash from one plane to another, encompassing a grand total of about 10+ hours... yeah, I was tired. And much to my chagrin, a good part of the vacation involved a stepbrother visiting with his new girlfriend and her three incredibly challenging kids due to a lack of attention on her part. (Uninvolved parenting took on an entirely new dimension that week.) Then cooking preparations for my stepfather's 50th birthday party started, which took almost 2 full days. But we ate like the King of Kings. Amazing. In between all of that, I was doing my level best to work on my consulting regardless of whether I had planned to get some R&R. Also decided on taking a new job by the end of July, which is great for us, but involved several phone calls with a neurotic recruiter. I mean, seriously. I said I'd take the job. How could that mean that I'm not that "excited" about it?

All in all, it was a great vacation, but entirely way too short, and involved way too many ties to my current busy schedule & life. At least I was able to get a bit more sleep than if I was home, and I had the opportunity to spend some quality time with my family.

So that's where I've been. Sorry to disappear, and expect much more from me in the coming days & weeks.

What You Don't Want To Hear

2006-06-14T07:34:00.000-07:00

Lest you begin to think that this journey is a one person travail, you must know that my wife suffers much as I do, albeit in different ways. Last week was particularly trying... for both of us. In her own honest & insightful perspective, she wrote the following to share the other side of the coin with you. Enjoy.

I'm used to being the strong one. The one other people go to when they're experiencing crises. The one they look to for an objective, rational viewpoint. The one who could look Ben in the eye and claim with utter truthfulness that if we couldn't find a way to stay married, I'd still be his best friend. Because I understand. I can see how difficult this is for him and I know he wouldn't have chosen this for us, if the choice was his to make. I'm used to being the strong one.

But sometimes the burden of dealing with weighty matters such as these become too much to bear and even the strongest of us break. And that's what happened to me last week. I broke. And I couldn't seem to put the pieces back together fast enough before the cracks started showing again.

Luckily for me, I've developed enough of a support system, both in the real world and online, so when I did break, people noticed. One of those people was Nate, with whom I've developed quite a strong friendship. Up to this point, it has mostly consisted of me listening and offering advice as he and his wife dealt with many of the same things Ben and I have experienced. But over the last week, the tables were turned and I was able to share with him the reasons behind my emotional breakdown and he was there to support me. And when I was starting to pull out of it, he urged me to share my thoughts with Ben's readers, because they are imbued with, as he put it, things that you don't want to hear, but need to.

There was no one thing that led to my emotional collapse last week. Rather, it was the cumulative effect of months' worth of pressure and difficult decision-making, as we tried to define our marriage in new terms. It was naive of me to assume that I would escape this process unscathed. I think even a person with an over-developed self-esteem would find herself struggling in the wake of the kinds of tense negotiations we have been having. Intellectually, I understand that my husband's sexuality is not a reflection on me, nor does it really have anything to do with me at all. But it is tremendously difficult, emotionally, to convince myself that his desire for other men does not mean that I am somehow "lacking."

I feel as though I'm not good enough, even though I know if I were a man, I would still not have or be everything he wants. The fact of the matter is, while my husband is everything I want and need - sexually, emotionally, physically and as a life partner - I fall short in a few of those areas for him. And much as I try not to let it, there are times when that crushes me.

When I think about Ben having sex with other people, my stomach starts to churn up. I can taste the acid in my mouth and I can feel the blood draining out of my face. But Ben's sexuality isn't going to change. And I can't realistically expect, with so much of our lives still ahead of us, that he will be able to forgo having sex with other men forever. So I have to think about it. I can't pretend that it isn't going to come up again.

Complicating things further, I know myself well enough to know that a don't ask, don't tell policy is not one that will work for us. There has been enough dishonesty in our relationship for me. So we're facing that whirlwind of questions Drew so eloquently described in his post last week, and, like him, we're not finding any easy answers.

The thing is, Ben's bisexuality, in and of itself, doesn't bother me. I was fine with it when it was an abstract concept. Ben gave me every reason to believe he would never do anything to betray me or my trust in him, so it didn't much matter to me if he was fantasizing about men while we were together. It still doesn't, actually. I fantasize about a lot of stuff I would never act on. He can suck all the cock he wants, in his mind, as far as I'm concerned. It's when fantasy meets reality where I start to panic.

I have a lot invested in this relationship. And I know Ben's not going to throw what we have away for a fantasy man or woman he's having great sex with in his mind. But, to my way of thinking, the odds change when he starts having real sex with real people. Real people have their own charms and can bring things to the table that I can't, necessarily. So I start thinking that now I have to work extra hard to hang on to this relationship in which I've already invested so much. And then I start resenting that I have to work this hard, while he's got me so easily in his back pocket. And then I feel guilty for resenting him, because I know this isn't easy for him, either. It's a vicious cycle, which is why, if you want to get brutally honest, I'd prefer he never had sex with anyone but me ever again. (Although that starts its own vicious cycle in which I beat myself up for being so selfish and closed-minded.)

The thing is, while I know intellectually that this is not about me, and he wouldn't be working so hard to find a way for us to stay together if he didn't love me, and "it's just sex, it doesn't mean anything", I believe that sex is a form of intimacy, and when you start creating sexual intimacy with people other than your spouse, there is risk involved. And it's a risk that impacts both halves of the couple, even though only one half of the couple actually sees any benefits from it (unless you want to make a case for the "I'm happy you're happy" argument. )

I think that's why there is so much talk from straight spouses about their "queer" better halves "having their cake and eating it too." No, it's not fun for you to be in the closet, and no, it's not fun to have these desires and not act on them, and I certainly don't believe that this is fun and games for anyone dealing with it. Cake isn't even an issue. But if you manage to hang on to your spouse and still explore the other side, you have hit the mother lode, in a sense, while your straight spouse gets...what, exactly?

We're not interested in sleeping with other people, so where is our cake? Should I just rejoice that Ben's decided to try and make things work with me? I suppose I could, and maybe I should, given how things have changed. But considering that I expected that to be the case when we said our vows, I really don't think that's a gain. Maybe I should just celebrate that we've swept the dishonesty and hiding out of our relationship? Well, to be honest, I didn't ask my husband to start lying to me in the first place, and I did everything I could to ensure he had a safe harbor at home, where hiding wasnt necessary, so the fact that we've now eliminated that is great, but it still doesn't strike me as a gain.

THIS is what eats at me during those dips in the roller coaster, and what caused me to lose it last week. I love my husband and I want the life with him that I imagined when we stood up in front of our friends and families and took our vows. But Ben can't take back his bisexuality, so how do we restructure our marriage so that it doesn't feel like at least one of us is getting the short end of the stick? I don't have any answers yet, and neither does he. And the question just keeps getting harder.

Trippin'

2006-06-11T02:04:00.000-07:00

So after I helped K to update her blog template tonight, by chance I clicked on my StatCounter. Now understand, I don't usually check on my stats. Sure, I like to see the little number in my sidebar increment "oh so slowly", but I don't obsess over it. At least not like, ahem, K, ahem.

Seriously, she's obsessed. Just about every 3 days, we have a conversation that goes like:

Her: chuckle... chuckle some more... chuckle even more, breaking out into a full laugh that now requires me to divert attention from my reading or computer work.
Me: What's so funny?
Her: Somebody searched for "slut wife text message" (oh yes, that was a real search term) to get to my blog.
Me: shaking my head in bemused confusion & returning to my work.

So I rarely go to my StatCounter details. I like knowing that people are getting something out of my blog, but I don't care that I have a random consistent reader in Slovenia. Another truth for K's blog. Can you tell I'm shaking my head?

Anyway, I checked it tonight, and I about shit myself. Just yesterday, I've had 47 unique visitors. Which for me, is a lot. And it's been growing from its usual 10-20 per day (usually 10), since Monday or Tuesday. Seeing this new value, I dug further, and found to my amazement that I had been linked from a prominent site on About.com. Apparently, Gay Life covers all sorts of topics that relate to the growing, or more aware, GLBT community. Within the many informative articles, the Best Bisexual Blogs are covered, and somehow I was listed as number 1.

I should point out here though, that as much as I'm flattered by the mention, I don't know that I'm worthy of the attention. I'm only one voice in a vast sea of blogging talent. Just check out the links in my "Inspiration" or "Blogs of Note" sections in the sidebar, to get an idea of how many others are adding their messages, and talking so much more truth that I'm still desperately searching for. I'm still in the beginning stages of my journey, and most days, I find it difficult to speak of.

So I have no idea how I ended up featured among these other truly great writers, but I feel deeply honored. And a bit troubled as well. I mean, don't get me wrong. I owe Ramon Johnson a hearty thank you for putting me on the bisexual blogging map like no other. But that also means that apparently, I won't be able to just hide behind my fears & post at random anymore. It looks like I might have a whole new host of readers, clamoring for attention, and new content. So, yes, my devoted fans, and new eyeballs alike, I will be posting more.

Fortunately, I had decided earlier this weekend that I'm done with hiding. I have too much I've been thinking about & dealing with to not share, even with myself. For I know that at the end of this journey, wherever it might lead, I'll want to look back, and know just where I started.

And hopefully, I'll have enjoyed the journey.

Truth Revealed

2006-06-10T23:08:00.000-07:00

Since I started this blog, along with my journey of self-discovery, I lived with an illusion. The illusion of keeping my mother in the dark. At least until I had the opportunity to tell her in person.

You see, my mother & I have a great relationship. As good as I could ever hope for. One in which we actually strongly considered applying for the reality show The Amazing Race. In fact, whenever I visit, I consider it my task to get Mom to flip me off at least once per day. Seriously, it's a very playful & enjoyable relationship. I couldn't be more proud of how we get along. Particularly in light of how horribly my father & I get along. But that's another post.

So it was with a naive heart that I thought I could hide this blog & my journey from her. I'm sure you already know the punch line to this post. Essentially the first day that K started her own personal blog (February 14th), I left a comment to it. As many of you know, a very quick & painless process in this connected world of words & wisdom. And in so doing, it was left under the profile that is connected to this place in which I share my personal journey.

It was done in a moment. Without thinking. And then I started the commute home from work. A trip of about 45 minutes.

Once there, K mentioned that I used this profile to post the comment, and that she had told her friends & family about her blog. So I might want to remove the comment.

45 minutes.
With a link to this site.
And my mother has long since mastered the use of a mouse.

Let's flash forward to the day before K was to return home from her last trip in New Jersey. April 25.

K & I were IM'g, coordinating plans & looking forward to being together again. The week apart had been very hellacious, particularly since it brought out so many feelings & memories that had occurred from the last trip. I don't remember exactly how it came up, but it led me to ask the question outright. "Does my mother know about my blog & my sexuality?"

Having spoken the secret phrase that would no longer allow her to dance around the truth, she confirmed my worst fear. "Yes, she's known."

Now, before you go thinking that K had been deliberately lying, or embellishing the truth, she hadn't. She had been sworn to secrecy for months by my mother. Sworn to let me come to terms with things, and speak to whomever I chose on my own time. But alas, even I, who is emotionally guarded at my best of times, and a Fort Knox most often, didn't have any control. The truth was out... and it was to myself.

So no, K had not deceived me. But she had hated every partial conversation of me asking & hinting of my mother's knowledge, yet never led to her being able to come clean. And for a brief instant, I hated both her & my mother. Very brief.

Mostly, I hated myself.
For feeling ashamed.
And for being weak.

But that's also another post. Mostly, I felt lost. I had wanted to tell one of my best friends, my mother, about the truth. For several reasons. With as good of a relationship as we have, I didn't think that I could feel as honest as I claim myself to be by withholding something that was such a deep part of who I am. Or who I'm becoming. I'm still confused to think about it. In addition, if for some inexplicable reason, K & I end up going separate directions, I figured it would help the questions from circulating like a tornado if Mom had a brief glimpse of the truth early on.

So the hatred. Again, it was a brief thing. Part of me hated that K had been used against me by my family, but I understood.

It was for me.
For my growth.
For my self.

And I hated that too. Because I hate feeling selfish. I'd rather have the word "selfless" on my tombstone. But I also know that I'm far from that in my progress towards the truth within myself.

Mostly though, I hated that when I found out, it was desperately past midnight on the East Coast. And while this was important & traumatic to me, I didn't think it warranted putting my mother through a sleepless night to call her right then. (See the paragraph above, and know that I try.)

I had previously planned to pick up some tools inadvertently left at J's new bungalow, after helping her put up countless items of framed art. (Which ended up looking incredible by the way, but that's another post.)

After speaking with J, and feeling my heart ready to rend itself in two, or to have a flashfire of anger consume me until I destroyed something of value to her or myself, I did the next best thing. I drove. I drove, and spent several hours driving in the more desolate parts of Arizona.

In my pain & angst ridden anger, flashes of jerking the car off the road, or just "missing a turn" were constant antagonists. But my desire to see K after her weeklong trip, and seeing the smiling face of LD kept me from doing something monumentally stupid. Something that would cause God herself to slap me upside the head.

After making myself quite tired. Numb even. I returned home. And slept through a fit of depression that made me feel barely livable the next day. And in the morning, I called Mom.

And the world didn't end.
And things were good.
Not great, but not terrible.
She reacted as I always figured that she would, but feared she might not.
And life continued.
Still does.

So long story, short. We're visiting near the 4th of July. And I'll be able to share the truth in person. Sure, it's a bit late, but at least I can get a hug, and not feel quite so torn. Not quite so dismantled.

Maybe even loved a bit more.

For who I am.

Reading Repast

2006-06-04T21:40:00.000-07:00

So Mark had done this a long time ago, and it seemed fun enough, so I thought I would post it as well just to get back in the groove. I think I've been hiding long enough.

Lame? Yes. Better than nothing? Yes.

As you'll see, there isn't much on this list that I've actually read, but I could add loads of my own titles if it covered a more fantasy genre.

Original Source: History Detective
Lifted From: Defending the Raven

Instructions: Bold the ones you've read, italicize the ones you might read, ~~cross out~~ the ones you won't, underline the ones on your book shelf, and place (parentheses) around the ones you've never even heard of.

The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
~~The Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger~~
The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy - Douglas Adams
~~The Great Gatsby - F.Scott Fitzgerald~~
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
(The Time Traveler's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger)
(His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman)
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - J. K. Rowling
(Life of Pi - Yann Martel)
Animal Farm: A Fairy Story - George Orwell
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
(The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon)
Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
1984 - George Orwell
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - J. K. Rowling
(One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez)
Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
(The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini)
The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
(Slaughterhouse 5 - Kurt Vonnegut)
~~Angels and Demons - Dan Brown~~
Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk
(Neuromancer - William Gibson)
(Cryptonomicon - Neal Stephenson)
(The Secret History - Donna Tartt)
~~A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess~~
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
~~Brave New World - Aldous Huxley~~
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - C. S. Lewis
(Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides)
(Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell)
The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
(Good Omens - Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman)
(Atonement - Ian McEwan)
(The Shadow Of The Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon)
~~The Old Man and the Sea - Ernest Hemingway~~
(The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood)
(The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath)
Dune - Frank Herbert

Floating

2006-05-23T14:04:00.000-07:00

I wanted to let you all know that I'm here. Things have been a challenge in the last month or so. I'm going through therapy which is leading to incredible insights, but also to tremendous realizations about myself & who I am. All of which can be pretty draining.

However, I'm here. I've got some posts in mind that I'm mentally working on, and I just need to get my butt in gear to write them. I might even take a page from Nate, and start hand-writing them. That way I can type them at a moments' notice & get them posted right quick.

Stay tuned, and please know that I haven't forgotten you all.

Too Many Questions

2006-04-24T11:43:00.000-07:00

I know that I haven't posted very recently. And it's eating at me. Because I do feel a certain amount of responsibility to you all. To try & force myself to share more of what I'm going through, and therefore help myself along the path of healing & understanding.

At the same time, I started this for me, and right now, I'm feeling very vulnerable. In the past few weeks, there have been highs & lows. But mostly lows.

And of late, I've been feeling even more lost that usual, and even thinking that a good cry might just help. Help me release some of the build-up. Some of the trapped emotion that I don't let go of very easily.

I don't know.

I might just sleep it off too. It's hard to say.

The primary source for this high-level of emotion, uncertainty & depression? Well, K has been out of town since Tuesday. She returns late Wednesday, so the wait is almost over.

But until then, I have too many thoughts.
Too many worries.
Too many questions.

Because it was when she was absent the last time that I performed an act that is still hard for me to discuss, much less admit or embrace.

So the moral of the ~~story~~post, is that I'm sorry for having been absent. It's not by intention, but more of a gut reaction to pull away, and avoid things that inflict emotional pain.

Even if it's from a self-manifestation.

Which makes it hurt that much more.

Nice Catch-22 that I've placed myself in.

Awareness

2006-04-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

So two Tuesdays ago, I divulged some of my secrets to another party. And amazingly the walls & ceiling didn't collapse upon me. Yet my heart rate was nearly palpitous, and I felt at any minute that the other shoe might drop. Then I'd be sitting there feeling rejected, shunned, and judged. And this is the root of my fear... at least as far as I can tell right now.

The person I discussed this with was my therapist, Lisa. We hadn't touched on all of my "issues" yet, but I had alluded to them... many times. I almost waved a banner every time I'd reference the topic, but knew we didn't have time to discuss it. And now that she's real person number five to be aware of my personal challenge, I'm not sure how I feel about it. Rather, I feel fine now, but afterwards, I was spun out. For several days. (And please, my friends, don't be offended, but there's something different to knowing a real live person that I interact with is aware of my personal truth.)

I had the unique opportunity to talk with S shortly after my session, and I still couldn't really put it into words. Even now, I'm grasping at straws as to how to say it, or even what to say here. It's just very hard for me. And with the next session, I found out that it's a normal feeling.

As I was talking the situation out with her, I mentioned that being bisexual wasn't something that I grew up with and had to address as I moved into adulthood. It's been more of a slow awakening over the last 5-10 years, or thereabouts. I mean, yes, there were a few signs, and things that I questioned about myself, but never any feelings that made me want to scream out, "I'm gay." Or anything that I really dealt with through my formative years. It was only after being married that my mind started to register this awareness. In fact, part of me can draw lines to specific points in my history that while they may not be things that started the ball rolling, they certainly stick out as things that pushed me in the direction I traveled over recent years.

One such instance was when I read the Sleeping Beauty Trilogy. It was written by Anne Rice, long before her Interview with the Vampire fame, written under the pseudonym of A. N. Roquelaure. Within the first book or two, an explicit act of a male steward servicing another man orally, a slave at that, distinctly stands out in my memory. The slave was bound, gagged & immobilized, and all he could do was take the forbidden pleasure being granted.

What shocks me, even shames me in a way, was the hypocrisy with which I viewed male homosexual sex. My small exposure to it prior to my awakening, was one of revulsion & just not understanding what was so good about it. Not that I judged others that indulged in it, but that I couldn't understand the reasoning, or even the pleasure to be had. Mind you, this didn't stop me from exploring my own anal play in various & assorted ways, but for some reason, I couldn't connect the dots as to what the men got out of their acts. Their perversity.

Back to my exposure of the Beauty saga, and I couldn't help but be drawn, again & again to that scene that was so luridly detailed. Part of me wanted to feel the helplessness of being bound, and having to endure or succumb to whatever torments my captors subjected upon my flesh. Yet, even more so, I was drawn to the role of the steward, and wanting to be upon my knees, servicing the hapless victim with abandon. And ultimately, to be rewarded with a job well done, by swallowing his essence.

Now, this transition wasn't immediate, yet it was one of the first in which I could ultimately see myself wanting to try out the firmness of a man.

So where am I going with all of this? I don't know. I have now expanded my world of truth to my therapist. I didn't grow up with the knowledge of my possible bisexuality, and therefore, my growth is very far behind that of someone who knew they were gay before the age of 12. I don't have that experience, nor did I need to go through the growing pains during the years of schooling. And while I don't envy the torment I can only imagine some of my peers had to endure, I also do envy the fact that their education & growing to be comfortable with who they are, started long before my fantasy world started to unfold.

So mostly... I feel bare.
Raw.
Stripped of my protective armor.
Much like a child of 12.

This is in essence why I have so much trouble being comfortable with myself. And I know that this will be something that I will struggle with for a while to come. I know that it's a necessary step, and only time will brings the answers I crave. But then, I just wish I could get the Cliff Notes version, and be able to move on with my life, and just feel better.

MY Wife Speaks

2006-03-22T22:30:00.000-07:00

So, I've been toying with the idea of writing a guest post for Ben for a while now. I actually started one, and then deleted half of it and started over, and then I got hit with some writers' block. It's still sitting, half-written on my laptop. But then Mark posted, questioning why more wives don't talk about the issues inherent in being married to a bisexual man, and whether he intended it or not, I felt like it was a kick in the ass. So while I obviously can't speak for everyone, I can at least share why I will blog about my kid and my friends and the fun parts of my relationship with my husband, but I won't blog about this.

For one, if I talk about it, it means admitting that this is not something that will go away. Obviously, I know that it's not going away, whether I talk about it or not. But putting it out there for everyone to see, so that everyone knows about my private pains, makes it somehow more real. It means that for the time I spend committing words to paper, and for as long as people read those words and comment on them, I am reminded that my marriage is no longer what I thought it was, and that I'm still struggling to define what it is now.

Secondly, as Nate so eloquently put it, what is read cannot be unread. And there are times when my thoughts towards my husband are not particularly charitable. Yet, I know that he is struggling, as many of you are. So, while, yes, I deserve an outlet just as much as he does, I don't want to hurt him by putting something out there that will make him feel any worse than he already does. I have to consider that what I say has a lasting impact on him and where we go from here.

Then there is the fact that while I learn a lot from your blogs, I don't know what you could learn from me. You know that when we find out that you're bisexual, we're hurt, and confused, and tortured about what this will mean to the lives we thought we were building with you. You know that when you cheat on us, you're doing something that you can't take back and which will likely hurt us more than the fact of your bisexuality. You know that when you lie to us and hide from us, you risk causing more damage to the relationship than if you were honest with us and dealt with the consequences up front. You don't need me to tell you that. So I don't know if I really have any new insights for you.

And finally, sometimes the wound is just too raw to be dragged out and discussed, particularly when you're unsure of the reception. I have spoken with some of the readers of Ben's blog via e-mail or instant message, and they understand my feelings, as I understand theirs. But speaking with someone one-on-one is a very different thing from opening up to the general public about issues of sexuality within a marriage. I don't feel comfortable talking about something that has caused me more than one sleepless night, knowing that there are some people who will judge me and how I am handling this marital rough spot. This has been difficult enough without having a bunch of people weighing in on how well/poorly I am dealing with it.

So while I understand why getting the wives' perspectives out there is so important, I don't know that I'm up to the task. I want to be. I want to help, particularly if it means one other couple can navigate this more easily than Ben and I have done. But for now, I'm doing what I can.

Reliving Glory

2006-03-16T16:34:00.000-07:00

For those of you that haven't seen this touching story as yet, here's a link to Mark's post about it. The circumstances surrounding the event are magical, and truly inspirational. And it's close to my hometown. So it has a more personal aspect for me.

So I started thinking about the lives we lead, and as I could feel the tears come to my eyes, I realized that I once had a moment that was similar.

I was 11 or 12. I can't remember the year exactly, but the moment itself is permanently etched into my synapses. I was playing baseball during the summer in the town league. It was my 2nd year with this team, after a miserable previous year under a coach that was as clueless as he was unfair. So my view of baseball had been shaded. (One of the few times that's it's happened in my life.)

We had been blessed by the league & by the many irritated parents to get a coach that still influences me & who I am. As well as how I play ball. He was a renowned high school varsity coach that had moved from another city, and his coaching was far better than any of us could have hoped for. I can still hear his exclamations of, "Garsh, darn it!"

Anyhow, per my usual (at that age), I had struggled a bit with my batting skills. I'd get into a bit of a "slump", and then overthink every time at bat. Thus, making my slump worse. And no matter how much my father attempted to get me out of my funk, it never helped. (I understand why a lot more now, and my skills have vastly improved.)

Anyhow, I can remember the harshness of the later afternoon weekend game. The smell of the cut grass that almost seems like it's starting to singe from the heat. The mingling scent of sweat with MY uniform after being in the humidity for almost 2 hours. The almost electric feel of the air, touched with the intoxication smell of glove leather.

It had been a tough game. We fought, and we fought hard. It was against a team that had won last time, and we wanted to right the wrong. Our 6-inning game had come down to our last at bat. The score 6-5. Yes, I believe there were 2 outs, although part of me thinks there was only 1. And as cliché as it may sound, the bases were loaded. For most ball players, this is the dream...

...and I'm up.

I can't remember every emotion in my head from that day, but I know a lot of it was, "Fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck!" I was afraid that I'd fail. Hopeful that I'd at least move a runner. Wishful that some God, any God, would just let me walk, saving my dignity for another day.

I remember getting into the box. "Digging in" as I was inclined to do at that age. Hefting the weight of the bat, which for all intents & purposes could have been an iron girder. But hold it aloft I did, with tremulous hands.

And if there was ever a point in my baseball experience that time stood still, it seemed to be that moment. I've had a few afterwards, but up 'til then... never.

I waited for the pitcher, and his motion. I can almost imagine my labored breathing in the heavy, humid air. Forgotten within my task. Buried in my fears.

When the first pitch came in, it seemed to float, or dance on the air. But the Gods heard my silent prayer, pushing it into that little vortex of nirvana, commonly referred to as the "grapefruit zone". The best way to describe it to those that don't play ball religiously, is like hitting a wiffle ball with that comical plastic bat in your fledging childhood years.

In my minds eye, I can count the stitches on the ball, slowly trace the rotation, and point to the exact spot in which I connected. My being took all of my teaching up to that point, and focused it on one moment in time. My step was precise, my arms synchronized, my eyes never wavering from the ball. I even remember that I was looking down when I connected. No turned head, hoping to see the ball leave. Instead it was attached to the focal-space of impact. I don't even remember seeing the ball leave, or exactly which direction it left. It was a perfect swing.

I remember having to struggle to bring the bat around to my other shoulder where long-time practice would dislodge it from my tightened grasp. It was like that iron, turned feather, had rematerialized as lead.

And as I scampered to first base, I performed a common act of heresy. I turned my head to look where I hit the ball. Afraid that I'd see the ball effortlessly sail into the outfielder's glove...

(I'm sure you're expecting to hear the ever clichéd phrase "home run". But you have to understand, I've never been a power hitter. I was a contact hitter. Destined for an upper-lineup role with a keen eye for the strike zone. And fast enough to attempt a stolen base.)

..., yet I was rewarded (thank you benevolent Gods of baseball) to see a baseball, my baseball, glide over the left fielder's head, watching the numbers on the back of his jersey bounce in frenetic pursuit.

As I coasted into second base, and my head started to clear from the pounding rush of excitement at gettind a double... dawn awakened behind my eyes.

I looked down, and confirmed I was standing on second base.
Second base.
I'm on second base.
I'm on second base!

I glanced at the scoreboard, and confirmed that we were a run down.
I'm on second base.
Loaded bases preceeded me.
Now partially empty.
Two runners just scored.
And we were the home team.

For once & maybe the only time in my life I leaped. I'd like to think like a gazelle, but probably more like a crazed lunatic. I continued to leap on a lazy path towards third base. My teammate on third started waving me back towards second, afraid of impending doom in the hands of our opponents. And then I saw dawn erupt in his eyes as well.

Before I knew it, I was surrounded. Crushed. Beaten even. But pain & humiliation were not my friends.

I was receiving adulation that I'm gifted to have experienced at least once. I was a "hero". I was a game winner.

------------------------------------

As I related this story to you, I fought back tears several times. Not because I miss that, but because I feel truly blessed to have enjoyed that... at least once. And if you couldn't tell, my life since the rough age of six has been surrounded by baseball, but not in the expected fashion.

I've never filled my brain with statistics & numbers. Names & factoids. Hell, to this day, I still have to scratch my head & try to remember where the Diamondbacks are in the division.

No, my immersion in ball is the true glory & freedom that I feel while on those hallowed grounds, marked out by a chain-link fence, green grass, redish clay-encrusted dirt, and white, crisp lines of...

Right & wrong.
Fair & foul.
Ball & strike.
Safe & out.

Thank you for reliving this with me, and sharing one of my moments of glory.

HaloScan

2006-03-15T21:50:00.000-07:00

Just a quick post to let you all know that as of this evening's post, I have upgraded from the standard blogger comments to HaloScan. It ultimately will give me more control over how they display, along with some other cool features that I've been wanting to muddle with.

So never fear. The comments that you had in previous posts are not gone, but just need to be linked back in... which I will be doing slowly in the coming days.

But feel free to add a new comment at any time. Cheers!

Firsts

2006-03-15T20:46:00.000-07:00

With the idea in mind of posting more, and divulging more of my varied & eccentric past, I'm going to take a detour into the past. Quite a ways back in fact, to probably one of the most fucked up experiences that I've gone through.

Let's warp back to my third year of high school as a Junior. I was newly 17, and sick & tired of not having a girlfriend up to this point in my life. I'd never experienced any kind of lengthy physical contact much less a kiss. And let's face it. I was 17, and ready to jump anything that moved... or stayed still for that matter. Irregardless, I did have standards, and I desperately wanted to shake off the "nerd" stereotype that I was labeled with throughout my academic career. (I thoroughly shook off that label once in college, but that's another post of hilarity.)

Now, for perspective, my high school was small. When I mean small, I mean that the entire building would probably fit inside a Super Target, or a decent sized Walmart. We literally had 100 students in my graduating class, and we surpassed each of the 3 years before us by about 15. So yeah, small is an understatement.

[The year after I graduated, they had completed a single campus concept for the entire town into that one structure. It was a melting pot of K-12 under one roof. Granted, there was an insane amount of construction that went on during my Junior & Senior years, but fortunately it didn't impact classes much.]

Okay... so it was a small school, I'm a nerd, and I'd like to change my image a bit. I had just reached the place in my personality that I was tired of the "chase". I figured I'd just be myself, and stop trying to play the game.

The result was meeting my first true girlfriend, who I shall call Candy Girl (CG). But not to be confused with the fabulous & incredible CG of Pretty Dumb Things. With the numerous talents & gushy adjectives that I could throw towards Chelsea Girl, I'd have as many, if not more for my first girlfriend. So not to bore you, I'll continue with the saga.

I met CG, and she was taller than I, and a heavier type. Granted, I'm not altogether short at 5'6", but certainly not even average. She was around 6', so yeah, comical is a pretty apt description. If I stood to the right of her, we'd just about make a 1-0 in the photo.

Regardless, she was intrigued by me, and I was clueless to her advances. I take that back. I wasn't sure. I wondered if she was interested in me for our first day together. I had her & a mutual female friend of ours take me to the mall. I brought along my stash of cash that I had set aside for just this purpose. (Being 17, working, but not having much to spend it on besides hanging out & video games, I had collected a vast $200, which was probably the most money I had in one place at one time... ever.

So we're at the mall, and I played a "Ben doll" for the day. They picked stuff out, I tried it on, we made decisions on it. But I ultimately fell on their opinions because my taste in clothing had gotten me to the irritation I felt regarding my current state of affairs. In simple terms, I wanted out of the "nerd club".

So CG & I spent plenty of time together in the next few days, my cluelessness evaporated, and more firsts were had. My first stroke of her arm... Oh my God, what have I done? What if she's not interested in anything "close" yet? My first kiss. My first french kiss. Wow. I rounded first headed for second base. Holy hell, it was a stand-up double. Absolute WOW. I've been missing out!

I think if we hadn't been at her house, with her parents upstairs, it could've been an in the park homer, or at least a stretch-triple. It was that hot. That intense. And I was to learn in a few days, that "easy". No, that wasn't a subtle declaration. By day number five, five of our "relationship" (can I call it a relationship when it's that young?), at my apartment, with fumbling hands and nerves of Jell-o, I no longer considered myself a virgin. And while I'd love to regal you with this amazing long-winded story of lust & passion, I'll be honest. There was no long. There was no repeat. At least not that night.

In the coming week, I made up for it, and then some. As I was to quickly learn, she had a hair trigger. Looking back, I would love to have a discussion about this with her because it just seemed unnatural. Honestly, in a session where I would hold out as much as I could, she would get there at least twice, if not thrice. I felt like a stud. A short, skinny, nerdish stud, but still.

So, yeah. I ended up having tons of sex to make up for my 17 years of forced abstinence. It was great. But let's fast-forward to the most ~~horrific~~ ~~confusing~~ fucked up first.

We're now 8 months into our relationship, and I find out by her confession that she takes coke. And not the "real thing" with the distinctive red & white swoosh. I mean the white powder.

So yeah, a first of monstrous proportions.

I could go on & on, and I will. But not now. I think I've wasted enough of your time already.

----------------------------------------

P.S. Thank you all for being patient with me as I've been working like an insane man of late. I appreciate you, and know that some of you have been subtly, or not so subtly hounding me to post again. So here you go.

HNT - Entry Eight

2006-03-09T18:01:00.000-07:00

Showered Affection
Originally uploaded by Ben aka "lightnyn".

For all of my devoted fans, readers... you people. I know that the thought of me sudsing up sent several of you into a "lather". So this is for those of you that would like to "foam" at the mouth.

Once again, another great photo from my favorite photographer. Although, she didn't get the detail that I'm sure all of you would have preferred. Just remember that you need to pay the big dollars for that. After all, I'm not cheap... at least not regularly.

Regardless, I "wash my hands" of the process since I'm merely the subject.

HHNT!

HNT - Entry Seven

2006-03-02T12:48:00.000-07:00

My Head Hurts
Originally uploaded by Ben aka "lightnyn".

Okay, it didn't really hurt, but it seemed like a suitable caption. And now for my apology...

My dear friends, I'm sorry that I've neglected you to such ginormous proportions. I've been busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest, and frazzled to the bone. Whenever I've been on my laptop, it's entailed deep involvement in a myriad of projects or staring blankly at the screen, trying to remember where I left my carton of cupcakes.

Needless to say, it hasn't been intentional, just an oversight due to an almost overwhelming volume of tasks. However, I've started counseling, and it just changed to every week, so I expect to have tons of material that will be dredged out of my forgotten past & damaged psyche.

So please stay tuned, as the insanity will continue, if not intensify. Take care!

Parental Insanity

2006-02-25T21:45:00.000-07:00

So I'm sitting here, waiting for my adorable wife to finish her blog reading & internet surfing. I think my exact request was, "If we're going to watch a movie together, I'd like you to put away your computer so that we can spend time together." Funny how things can go full circle, when I'm typically the computer geek, solidly attached to my laptop by the surface tension gravitational force of my finger pads resting against the keys. I'll admit it. Now that she's blogging, I've created a monster. But all-in-all, it's a good thing.

Outside of that though, I'm being driven slowly insane by this sweet, adorable, and almost too hard to resist voice down our hallway intermittently yelling out "Dayee, Dayee!" (Yes, he can't quite enunciate the second set of D's in my "name", but for crying out loud, he's two. Cut him a break.) Anyway, he should be asleep by now, since he was put to bed over an hour ago, but alas, he's fighting it tooth & nail... much like someone else I remember who fell asleep at the age of 3 in his doorway, listening to his parents & their friends downstairs at a get together. Because I wasn't allowed to leave my room. On pain of some horrible, unmentionable punishment, which was probably just the withering glare from either parent.

So, yes, my resolve is crumbling, and I'm almost willing to go in there & placate him so that I don't have to listen to yet another enticing utterance of my so called parental identifier. Did you catch the word almost in there?

In other words, I either go console my adorable kid, or I write a long overdue post to my fellow readers & friends. Consider yourself blessed, and I'm grateful to have you.

Because I think you're saving me from another withering glare.
That of my previously mentioned adorable wife.
And the glare that I'd earn if I were to get up and appease a 2 year old.

So... again... thank you.

HNT - Entry Six

2006-02-23T08:30:00.000-07:00

Ass Watch
Originally uploaded by Ben aka "lightnyn".

Does anyone have the time? Oh wait, nevermind. I'm good.

HHNT!