Posts Tagged predicament

Things Heat Up

In the summer, my company offers half day Fridays. It’s an amazing perk, and I take full advantage.

GroceryShoppingI live for my weekends, so if there was anything I could do to make them better, I did. I utilized my free Friday afternoons to run my errands so Saturday and Sunday would be all mine. I tried to clean and do laundry, run to the grocery store, etc.

This Friday, I was very successful getting through my list. I stopped by my allergist for my weekly shot. Since I left work at 1:00, I decided to eat lunch at McDonalds (never a good decision). While sitting there, I noticed two men walking holding hands across the street. I was a bit surprised. I immediately thought, “We do that in Hoboken?!” In the six years I’d lived in Hoboken, only once before had I seen two men holding hands. I was thrilled to see the courage and the progress.

When I finished eating, I swung by the salon for a haircut and hit up the gym to lift and swim. After my swim, I called CK from the roof deck of the gym. Although we made tentative plans for Saturday night, we hadn’t discussed plans for that night. It was our anniversary. He automatically assumed I was spending the night in the city since he came to Hoboken the previous night. I was not under the same impression, so I explained I did not want to spend both Friday and Saturday night away from place. I told him to pick one. This of course turned into an argument. He complained about the trek to Hoboken, and I resented this. I’d made the trip back into the city to be with him many times after a long day at work, and I did it without complaint. He always made it seem like torture when he had to traverse the Hudson River. The argument grew more and more heated until he threatened not to come at all. I wasn’t having any more of this, so I hung up on him.

Rooftop Phone CallI was tired of this game we were playing. I didn’t want to argue anymore. In addition, my testosterone was already flowing after a solid workout, and my blood was beginning to boil with every complaint.

After I got home and a few minutes passed, he called back (He always was good at playing the role of peacemaker). He told me he’d come to Hoboken, but it wouldn’t be until later. We discussed the argument calmly, and both apologized for getting out of hand. He explained he had assumption I was coming there all day. The idea of him trekking out to Hoboken on a bus wasn’t all that thrilling to him after having those expectations all day. I explained how one of us would always have to make the trek to the other. There was nothing we could do about that, at least for now, so the more fair and balanced we could make it (and the less complaining), the less burdensome it would feel. He agreed.

Since I had a fair amount of time before his arrival, I continued with my to-do list and swung by Shop Rite and Target. When I finished and returned home, I was still a bit depressed from the bad news I’d received at work that week, so I plopped down on the couch and watched TV until CK arrived.

WatchingTVHours passed, and I heard nothing from him. I felt he was dragging his feet and as every minute passed, I grew more and more annoyed. He told me he had to shower before coming over. He obviously wasn’t still showering. I was sure he was just lounging about, which is fine. But I wanted him to be lounging about with me.

This wasn’t just any night after all. We were supposed to be “celebrating” our three-month anniversary. I finally got so annoyed I sent him a text: “Maybe tonight would be better spent apart. I’m in a really cranky mood now.” It was already past 10:00. At this point he was coming over to sleep and not much else. He called and told me he was already in a cab on the way to the PATH. I encouraged him not to doddle before saying goodbye. I needed to cool off before he arrived, or it was a guaranteed fight the moment he arrived. It seemed all the smallest things so easily got under my skin. I was all wound up. Work was stressing me out. Life was stressing me out…

Finally, at 11:00, he arrived, flowers in hand to make up for the botched night. Honestly, I would have preferred he came three hours prior, but the gesture was utterly sweet. And, I forgave/thanked him immediately. I tried to be cool with everything and have a nice time with him since it was a special night. There was no use being miserable.

It wasn’t really his fault either. Work made me a miserable son-of-a-b*tch. He asked me how my day was. I further explained my new predicament and fretted over the possibility of being unemployed in the near future. I was very pessimistic about the whole situation.

DepressedI certainly will hand it to him. He remained positive and tried to assure me everything would be fine. This is why I loved him so much. NO matter how much of a Debbie Downer I can be, he always picks me up and dusts me off. In spite of my pessimism, he was always optimistic.

We also learned to collaborate professionally. We were helping each other bolster up our positions in the social media realm of our jobs. He taught me things I didn’t know about, and through my recent vigorous research, I taught him a thing or two as well.

When I’d had enough talk of my job situation, we agreed to order Chinese food for dinner. I was too tired to cook. While we waited for the food to arrive, we smoked to relax.

He told me about his day at work and the stellar presentation he delivered to the powers that be. He was proposing a new initiative that was well received by the decision-makers. I was happy for him, but also jealous. Sure, I realize how horrible that is to say, but I’m nothing if I’m not honest.

The rest of the night was much better than the evening had begun. Eventually, I forgot all about our fight and my emotions were back in check. We ate our food while watching TV in each other’s arms on the couch.

GeneralTsosI finished eating, but CK was still chowing down as he poured some of the General Tso’s sauce onto on his plate. After a few minutes, he started fretting. Apparently, he’d eaten something quite hot. After investigating, I realized he ate a whole chili pepper. Tears were streaming down his face as he rinsed his mouth over and over again in the sink. Next he tried a glass of milk and a few pieces of bread. That didn’t seem to be helping. He even took to wiping his tongue with a napkin. Nothing helped. It was all I could do to maintain my composure, but after a while I couldn’t hold back. His face wasn’t the only one wet from tears. I was hysterically laughing so hard I was crying.

After a good laugh, interspersed with failing advice, I consulted Google for a better solution. We’d tried everything in the book. When I told him someone suggested eating another one, he looked like he was going to throw me out the third-story window. I was still getting a chuckle out of all this but certainly at his expense. It was torture for him, but he had no idea the gift he was giving me. He delivered exactly what I needed that night — A good laugh.

Eventually the pain subsided, and he forgot all about the incident. As our eyelids grew heavier and heavier, we moved to my bedroom for the night. As tired as we were, our appetites weren’t quite satiated.

We were pinning each other down for the count before we counting sheep. As hot as things were for him during dinner, things in the bedroom were even hotter. We tired ourselves out between the sheets before he finally drifted off to slumber wrapped in my arms. That night taught me something very important. No matter how much we fought, this was the man I loved, and there was no changing that.

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Am I Broken?

The following topic of conversation is very embarrassing and very personal. It’s not easy to talk about, but I have a strong feeling I am not the only one who suffers from the issue. Warning: It may make some of you uncomfortable. I am exposing myself in this post, but I feel I need to face my demons to be able to get over them. I also feel guilty writing about this, because it’s a bit of an invasion of privacy for others, but I also feel it’s necessary if I’m being honest with myself and this blog. I wonder if someone out there may have insight to help me and others with this predicament. I feel the need to shine a light on this issue, as no one is talking about it.

My intentions were obvious this time around with Smiles. My hand was down his pants fondling him until I was pushed away with a grunt. There was no misconstruing my intentions. After being denied sex yet again by Smiles, I felt the need to consult my council.

I called Boston for his take on the situation. I explained being denied sex on more than one occasion. His immediate response was, “Oooooo. That’s not good. Something isn’t right.”

I responded, “I know, right? I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making a mountain out of a mole hill.”

We chatted about the issue, and he told me I needed to address the issue. “Sex is an important part of any relationship, and based on what I read in your blog, sex is important to you,” he added. We discussed the best way to bring it up. The main consensus was waiting until the relevant situation arose. He suggested I don’t bring it up over dinner. If I was denied again, I should bring it up immediately to find the root of the problem.

This was the point in the conversation where I made a small confession of my own. I was worried I may have been to blame for the quantity. I explained my climaxing issue to Boston for the first time in full detail. I told him, while I’d been with Smiles a few times, I had yet to climax. This was through no fault of Smiles. This was a common occurrence for me dating back to the days I was with Broadway. In fact, I feel it was a large part of the reason we broke up. It put a lot of strain on the relationship. He took it personally, even though I assured him it had nothing to do with him. I was still quite attracted to him and still received pleasure from sex, but I wasn’t finishing.

I never was able to find the root of my problem. For a while, I hoped it would fix itself. When it didn’t I explored a number of theories. The leading one being I hardwired my brain to function in a specific way in relation to sex.

For 16+ years, my main outlet for my sexual frustrations was viewing gay porn and pleasuring myself. I wasn’t dating men, and I wasn’t exactly a lady killer either. I would go home, open the laptop, and take care of myself. I worried my brain was hardwired to react only to that stimuli.

I wanted nothing more than to “fix” this issue. For some time, I masked it by prepping myself. If I knew Broadway and I would be having sex, I watched porn before I saw him to build up a “spank bank.” I referred to this when he got me close to finishing to get me over that last hill. It worked for some time, but eventually that solution lost its effectiveness. That’s when things got really bad. I got so stressed about it, when the moment came, there was nothing I could do but think about my lack of performance. I was so wrapped up in the issue, there was no unwinding me at that point.

I had many frank discussions with Broadway on the subject. After discussing it, we agreed not to talk about the issue for some time. It was the only way I was going to be able to relieve some of the pressure I was putting on myself. Eventually it did the trick, and I had my happy ending. However, it wasn’t a 100% solution. Most of the time, I was only able to cum after he performed oral sex. A majority of our relationship, I never climax from anal penetration. The issue was still there. It was just lessened.

It wasn’t as big an issue with San Francisco because we were an entire country apart. When I was physically with him out in San Francisco, I had no issue. When we Skyped, it took slightly longer, but eventually I climaxed. After San Francisco, I slept with a handful of guys. I specifically remember it being an issue with The Trainer. I know it’s not an issue of physical attraction, because he had a body like a god! However, I had to finish myself off that time, and it took some time.

When I was dating N, it took a long time, but I almost always finished. He started noticing my “condition” as time went on. We discussed it lightly, but I think he was under the impression it just took me a little longer than most guys to finish. As I’ve said before, I had to resort to my “spank bank.” Many times, what I was imagining involved the two of us. I wasn’t even imagining porn stars. It was the two of us in different scenario/locations other than in my bed.

Over the summer, it wasn’t really and issue for me. I had no strong connection to the guys I was sleeping with. It was purely recreation and my own need to get some crazy out of my system. I had no pressure or image to keep up. I was just having fun, and it worked.

The first time Smiles and I had sex, I bottomed. No matter who I have been with, I have never finished from bottoming. It has its pleasures, but it never had that effect on me — Hence my status as a preferred top. With Smiles, there was one time when I was very close during oral sex. I was right there, but I just couldn’t close that final gap. After we had sex other times, and I still didn’t finish, I began to morph my theory.

I have a very high pain threshold. Because of this, I wonder if I am in turn cursed with a high pleasure threshold. Maybe it takes more to get me off. I also wondered if my stimulation comes from something more visual. Maybe I need to witness the penetration to climax. Again, these are all just shots in the dark, no pun intended, but I want nothing more than to figure out this enigma. However, I haven’t been able to test my theory at this point.

Smiles expressed his interest early on to work with me to figure this out. It meant a great deal to hear him verbalize this to me. I need someone who can be understanding and patient with me if I’m going to lick this thing.

After I talked to Boston, after a drunk night at the bar, I discussed in length with D my issue. This was really tough for me because I am so embarrassed by the situation. It makes me feel like less of a man. He was helpful in our discussion and helped me feel more comfortable talking about it.

I also called to Broadway. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable talking to him about the details of my new relationship, nor did I think it was fair to him. But, he had experience with this issue. He knew what was going on with me, and maybe now that we weren’t together, he could help me find the key. When I told him I was being denied sex, he immediately said, “Something’s wrong! That’s not normal. You need to talk to him about it.” Everyone was telling me what I already knew, but not what I wanted to hear. In thinking I was partially responsible for the situation, I brought up my issue. Maybe he was avoiding sex with me because I couldn’t finish.

Broadway told me I needed to stop being so stupid about it. I was stressing myself out over it, and that wasn’t going to solve anything. I needed to acknowledge to myself the issue and go see someone about it. I told him I had been entertaining the idea of going to see a therapist, but it takes a very special type of therapist for such a sensitive issue. It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to find in the yellowpages. He again just indicated I needed to talk to someone about it if I wanted to get over it. He also reminded me I needed to talk to Smiles directly about why we weren’t having sex more often.

The next morning when I woke, I sent Smiles a message detailing my desire for him to be in the bed next to me and how horny I was. He responded positively and seemed he would have been up for morning sex had he actually been there. I was surprised considering a few hours earlier I was denied.

We made plans for Sunday, and I went on with my pondering my issue for the rest of the day. Did he think I didn’t enjoy sex? That certainly isn’t the case. Even if I don’t finish, I still thoroughly enjoy sex and still get a body high from it. Did it bruise his ego to know I wasn’t being fully stimulated by him? I can assure him, it is me, not him. There were a million questions, but no solid answers.

One thing is clear. I need help. I cannot solve this problem on my own, but maybe talking about it with my therapist, Dr. WordPress, will help me face my demons head on and conquer them. Only time will tell…

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