A Massage

When I was in California. Almost everyone I knew had a masseuse. Some were friends of friends and so on. So this year I decided to get a massage. My neck hurts, my back hurts and so on and so forth. I thought of getting a massage.

Then I remembered that some of those Asian places gave you a happy ending. Not sure what that was until recently. I felt sooooo stupid. So, I look around and find a guy on line. What could go wrong? I’m getting a massage. Nothing too it. He just got out of school and needed more practice time. I made the appointment and go to his place. That should’ve been my first clue.

I get there and his mother answers the door. I ask for the guy and she takes me to his room. On the way there I noticed that the guys father is playing with miniature figures in the living room table. We greet and he tells me a bit about the figures. I get to his room, It was a cute room, with soft music in the background and scented candles. I sit and wait.

The door opens and in comes this young, hot, good looking guy. I think it was time for me to go. I felt all flushed and nervous. He asks me to undress completely and to lay on the table.

He placed a towel over my naked buttocks and asks me questions about the massage. I didn’t pay attention, I was embarrassed about being naked.

His hands were a god send, they kneaded my tight muscles, it felt sooooooo good, you need to get one. I highly recommend one. I will get another one now that I know what goes on.

Wouldn’t you know it. I get a boner. What am I supposed to do with it. Show the poor kid that I have a boner? He asked me to turn around and I hesitated. He assured me that it was natural, things like this happen. So I did.

Now, I’m laying with a white tent in my midsection and getting a rub down from a cute ass guy. It was the best and also the most embarrassing experience ever.

Type Great

Type Great one more time and see what happens.

I know how to write. I am old enough to know how to write full sentences and large paragraphs.  What is happening to the world today. It’s bad enough that middle America is dummying themselves down, but come on. This is Vegas. We’re a little more civilized than that. Wait. No. We’re not. We get all the rejects form the Red States. They barely know how to write their name and they still vote as if they knew what they were voting for.

When I respond to a post that I might be interested, I write a complete sentence or two. Sometimes a four or five sentence paragraph. I’m not saying that because I’m a write I know how to write. I just have the decansy to write my thoughts.

Why is it that I get responses that go like this:

  • Like you ad
  • Hot
  • Nice
  • Still lookin
  • what you size
  • great ad
  • need I go on?
No. I feel offended as it is. Come on guys. Show me that you can comprehend the written language. If you can’t say more than a word in an email, what do you say in person. Huh???
Somebody tell me please why do I still bother with the listings from Craig.
I’m bored that’s why.

I'm a Bottom

Please, please, please people. What’s up with that? Why do I need to know that you’re a bottom? I mean, those are the words I hear after “Let’s Cuddle,” and “I don’t have money for bus fare.” Leave some mystery, let’s get to know each other first. How bold. I’m on a date to know you, to get some kind of friendship going and maybe go to bed.

But, then again. If yo don’t tell me before hand, than in bed it would be a disaster. I get it now. But still, let’s converse first and then decide on what we’re going to do.

“I’m a bottom.” Sounds like an opening for a bad porno.
One case in point.

I go out on a date and we hang out. We talk for a few minutes and then he casually tells me that’s he’s a bottom. I’m fine with that. Then he insists that I have to be a Top through out the whole relationship because he can’t get it up. Dude. The guy’s 27. How the hell does he not get it up? A medical condition he says. BS. I say. He’s just lazy.

Screen Writer

So I go on a blind date. We have no idea what the other looks like. That’s good. I like mystery in my life. I arrive at the coffee house and order my drink. He shows up and orders his drink as well. Nice guy, white, blond, blue eyes and average. We talked for three hours, we ordered three times and we just talked away.

The topic. My writing and his. He’s a screen writer and works in customer care at an IT service.
So, I am thinking we’ll see each other again. We ended the night well. Maybe not as mates, but at least as mates. Get it? Not lovers, but friends. We exchanged cards and all of that.
Days go by, no call. I called him and no answer.


Why go through all that time for nothing. Don’t waste my time and yours. Get real people.

Boy George or Boy Toy

You know? When I get bored I seek love in all the wrong places. I don’t indulge in it. I just want to see who’s out there and see if someone is less pathetic than me. So I go on and view a few pics and profiles. Then all of a sudden I get a message to hook up. That he wants to know me better and the works.
I look at the picture and for sure I was looking at Boy George. Tall, skinny, with long hair and make up. Really? Not my interest. I want someone masculare and rough. So I decline.
He insists and asks if I’m a “GENTLEMAN.” I said yes. I am a gentleman. We could hang out and see what comes up, if you know what I mean.  I declined again.

He kept insisting and I kept saying no. I don’t know how many times I told him no.  Weeks later he send me another message to hang out. He would make it worth my while. He promised.
Come to find out that if you’re a “GENTLEMAN,” your rich and looking for a boy toy. So now. Not Boy George Boy Toy.

Bus Fare

I got on one of those phone sites. I was at a party and a friend of mine asks to see what I do for dating. I showed her this cool app that tells you who’s looking near by. She gets it and fools around with. She throws it a me and says there’s someone talking to me.

I take the message and we talk for a hours. Okay it was 20 texts, but it took hours.  So we decided to meet the next day.  I get there and he’s not. He claims that he was at the hospital for his aunt, which was his ride to the date. I dismissed it and moved forward.

Days go by and he contacts me again. This time by phone and we talk and set up another meet.  This time he tells me that he has no bus fare. I told him not to worry, I can buy the drinks. He says that I didn’t understand. He didn’t have bus fare or any other fare for that matter. Dirt poor. I told him that when he gets a job and has bus fare to call me.

People. Get a job, the economy is getting much better. If your not working, that’s understandable, the economy is bad. But, at least try to find one. Go out there and search. Its a numbers game.  This guy wasn’t even looking, he said that he was waiting for his opportunity to knock on his door.


I Met the Man of my Dream (or so I thought)

I met the man of my dreams.

Or so I thought.

For a whole month we spent together I felt more than alive. I felt alive. Yeah, I repeated myself. I felt alive. All of my fears from past relationships disappeared. I felt that I could do no wrong. He was the man for me.

We spent every available moment together. We were a team. We talked about the present, our future, how we were going to get married. What we were going to wear at our parties. We talked about the nonsense of the world and how happy we were.

He cooked, he cleaned, he loved me. I could feel his body every night and make him smile. His body was jello under my fingertips. I took advantage of him that way. I worshiped his body like the snakes on Medusa’s head. He was mine and I was his. Forever.

Reality set it. He left for his things out of town. He got transferred, he never came back. He called me names, not that it was all his fault. But I didn’t call him names. I miss him so, and so be it. I am now a free man and not afraid anymore.

I miss you so much.

Update You Pic

Okay. Maybe I shouldn’t talk about this subject.

No matter where you go to look for a date. Either a good male on male website, app or otherwise. Those pictures you see of those guys are sometimes old and/or touched up. Imagine me putting this picture up? I would definitely get a lot of response from pedo’s. That’s why I don’t do it. Hello. It’s kind of obvious.  However, please put up a picture of you that is more recent. I don’t mean today, but at least within the same century, hopefully the same year give or take a year.

Imagine my surprise when I go on a date and the guy sitting there waiting for me is twice as old and twice whatever than the picture. So, please update your pics.

I know that I need a brow wax, a haircut, exfoliate and shave. Do the same.

Age Is Relevant

I don’t know about you, but I don’t look 40. I look maybe 30ish. I am not saying I’m the cream of the crop, or that I am a spring chicken. My bones hurt when I move, I run out a breath when I go up the stairs at my apartment (I think it’s because of my weight), and I have to trim my nose and ear hairs. Daign it. I’m old. And I feel it.  I have friends my age (give or take 5 years), that either has been grandparents for a while or are waiting for their latest one. I’m also at the age where some of my new acuatences have parents my age. I don’t know how to feel about that one.
Maybe my point is that now I see why young guys look for me. I have been dating (okay, not dating, we have yet to go somewhere, or have a conversation that is more than “Hi,”) fa man who is 18 and 1/2 (that half is important) for a few months now. He’s blond, blue eyed, six feet, athletic and very good looking. He know’s what to do in bed. Out of bed, he’s a genious. The positions… The sex is great. I look forward each time he would come over.
I felt that having a younger man would make me feel younger. Or that it would make me feel more active. I WAS WRONG. I can’t keep up with him. Not in bed or otherwise. I just can’t do it.  We never leave my room, we just have sex. I’m not talking a few minutes. I’m talking an hour, hour and a half. I mean, I was so exhausted a few times that I was throwing up in the bathroom, trying to breathe.  I had to stop.
I am glad it’s over. The sex was AWESOME, but I couldn’t keep up with him. He wanted to come over four or five times a week. Once he came over twice in the same night. Now I feel old. My body hurts for days; I have muscle cramps and can’t get my bearings. It’s embarrassing.
Good thing we never left the house or continued the relationship out of my bedroom. I knew nothing of him except for his hot body. I don’t know if he knew how to read or write. I knew he could talk, he could talk very well. If we had ever left my house, my siblings would be harrasing me. One of my friends would get upset for being her competition. Another would just high five me and tell me what a stud I am.
Here are some of the jokes I can think of that would make me want to question my dating him in public.
·         Out on a date? Circus Circus?
·         When you buy him a present, is it Angry Birds Star Wars?
·         Dinner? MacDonald’s or are you taking him to Chuckee Cheese’s
·         Come over for a playdate. Your boyfriend can play with my seven year old.
·         Put him back in the crib.
·         Amber Alert. Child Abduction.
·         (With a milk carton in hand), Let me see, I think I’ve seen him before.
·         My kid is having a birthday party, bring your boyfriend over; we’re getting a bouncy bounce.
·         Let’s go out to drink. Oh. Wait. Can you find a babysitter with such short notice?
·         Have a beer. A root beer.
·         Are you investing in your future? You change his diapers today, and he’ll change yours tomorrow?
·         (At the restaurant), Do you need a booster seat?
·         (At the store), Young man, I have a register open, bring your father over and I’ll ring you up.
·         (Security at the mall), Thank you sir. I’ll find his parents.
·         You’re taking him to the casinos? Silverton has a fish aquarium.
Give me some of yours. I have to start a list of some of these.
Needles to say. I don’t see him anymore. The dread of hearing the above jokes just makes me cringe. I am sure I would die of a heart attack or other natural causes if I kept up with him.
I’m single again. Well, actually, I’m still single.
Yes, I still think age is irrelevant. In my defense. I want to date someone my own age give or take ten years.
Not more.
If you young and dating an older man, tell me your stories. I’ll start a blog on that.