Author: Jack

Masturbation Month: A Look Back

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Yeah, I know.  We usually post these retrospectives in May.  Sorry about that; we’ll try not to let it happen again.

We can use this space for the standard in-depth examination of masturbation as we’ve done in the past, but it doesn’t seem like there’s much to say about masturbation in general, or Masturbation Month itself, that we didn’t say in either of our previous retrospective posts.  So instead we’ll share with you some stats:

My Masturbation Count:  62*
Sessions without orgasm:  17
Sessions with three or more orgasms in a row:  12
With Hitachi Magic Wand:  20
Kneeling: 36
Prone: 26
In shower: 24
While sexy chatting:  36
While Skyping:  3
While watching porn:  12
While reading blogs, perusing blog pictures, etc.:  16

Jill’s Masturbation Count:  46*
With Eroscillator:  20
With other toy:  23
Entirely with fingers:  3
In shower:  23
While sexy chatting:  8
While Skyping:  1
While watching porn:  9
While reading blogs, perusing blog pictures, etc.:  6
With anal stimulation:  4
With G-spot stimulation:  10
A few thoughts on the above data:
In the beginning of the month I used the Hitachi Magic Wand, as I’ve been doing since we got it in late 2012.  Not every single time, of course; while the sensation of having it placed against my frenulum is pleasurable and the amount of effort required to get myself off with it is minimal, I’ve begun worrying that regular use, or at least using it more than I use my hands, will make me less receptive to certain kinds of sensation.  It’s worth noting that thusfar there’s been little if any noticeable impact on my sexual response, but I’ve decided to temporarily shelve the Hitachi just to see what effects, if any, result from changing up my routine.  Thus while the typical month might see me using the Hitachi more than fifty percent of the time, last month saw me using it in around one-third of my solo masturbation sessions.
Though in the past blogs have always been major orgasm fodder for me – at least since 2011 when we joined the vibrant community of sex bloggers and dove into blogging more or less full time – of late reading blogs has kind of fallen by the wayside a bit.  When I find myself with some alone time and want a quick orgasm I am less likely to look up a friend’s blog, though I do find myself occasionally following a link tweeted by someone on Twitter.  I find that sexy chats have been my primary inspiration; few things are more rewarding than feeling aroused, sending a message to a sexy friend, finding out they’re just as turned on as you are, and embarking on a sort of verbal seduction.
Jill, on the other hand, relies primarily on fantasy.  This is due less to lack of interest in other types of stimulation than it is to her reluctance to get her phone wet.  She makes time to masturbate almost every day before she leaves for work, though the nature of her morning schedule dictates that she multitask by getting herself off in the shower.  (The “other toy” referred to in Jill’s stats is one of a couple different waterproof vibrators that she keeps amongst the shampoo and body wash.)  Sometimes I join her there, and of course I am only too happy to do it for her.  But I like the sense of entitlement she exhibits here: She works hard, she does a lot for our family, and she deserves pleasure whenever and however she can get it.  That sexual agency is an aspect of Jill’s character that I not only find attractive, but also genuinely admire.
While Jill finds the mental stimulation provided by a sexual daydream the ideal inspiration for an orgasm in the shower, she’s probably just as likely to lose herself in a vivid erotic fantasy while lying on our bed.  That being said, she would undoubtedly masturbate while watching porn, chatting with sexy friends, or Skyping much more if she was able, but between her work schedule and the fact that she and our daughter are nearly inseparable after she gets home from work prevents this.  Our respective stats clearly illustrate how much easier it is for me to indulge in this fashion than it is for her.
One thing we did not do last month?  Masturbate while reading any manner of non-blog erotica.  This may seem surprising; we have quite an expansive collection of erotic anthologies and such famously housed in a bookcase in our bedroom.  In the past it was not unusual for one of us – or both – to while away an hour diddling ourselves while consuming the stories in a random tome.  Lest you think that our lack of literary masturbation means that we place less of a premium on reading and intelligence than we once did, I feel the need to disclose that I am refinishing one of our other bookcases, and have opted to place its books on the sexy bookcase temporarily.  This has rendered most of our printed erotica somewhat out of reach, or at least inconvenient to access.
If you’ve never ready our previous Masturbation Month retrospective posts, they are definitely worth a look.  Jill’s post and my own can be found in May 2012 and May 2013, respectively.  We’d link you to the posts themselves, but we feel that if you go looking for them on your own you might come across other worthwhile posts.
We hope that your Masturbation Month was as enjoyable as ours!
*For the purposes of this post the masturbation count reflects the number of solo (i.e. not during partnered sex) orgasms.  In some cases masturbation was initiated but curtailed before orgasm; such instances are listed as “Sessions without orgasm” and do not count toward the main total.  Totals are approximate as, especially in Jill’s case, multiples may occur in such rapid succession that it’s nearly impossible to keep track.  Anyway, it’s about the journey, not the destination.

Non-Monogamy: At a Crossroads, of Sorts

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A much-needed several-day threesome at the end of the month to which Jill and I (and presumably our third) were very much looking forward fell through for various reasons.  This development is twice as disappointing because a follow-up threesome in Vegas that we had planned for July has apparently also fallen through.

We’ll still be in Vegas of course; we’re going there because Jill has a seminar she’s attending, and while she’s busy with work-related matters I was hoping to spend my days playing with our friend before Jill joined us in the afternoon.  Now it looks like I’ll have to find something to do with my clothes on.

So why did it fall through?  Several reasons, though our friend’s inability to incur the travel costs was perhaps the biggest one.  Whether she would have flown or driven out to see us, it would have been a few hundred dollars easy.  So her reservations to that end are quite understandable; it’s not like we’ve got cash to spend on elective travel.

Beyond that, our friend’s marriage is open to a much larger degree than our own.  She’s got numerous partners, all of them presumably a short distance from her home.  Certainly a much shorter distance than she’d have to travel to see us, anyway.  At the risk of sounding like we’re downplaying our own value, why would she hop a plane to come see us?

It occurred to me that we don’t have much to offer an out-of-town play partner, certainly not enough to recommend the trip.  Yes, we both know our way around a woman’s body and we are quite skilled at giving pleasure as a team.  Yes, orgasms are all but guaranteed when you’re with us.  Yes, we’ve had great times with the few friends who did find themselves in our area.  But realistically if you’re in a position where you can play openly you’re not coming out here for the purpose of fooling around with us.

Why would anyone drop a huge chunk of cash on airfare or gas to get laid by relative strangers hundreds if not thousands of miles away?  It’s just not feasible, not when there are countless people in your own area who are more accessible, and who can be vetted extensively beforehand.  Unless you travel for business – which is how most of the experiences we’ve had occurred – it’s not happening.  Most of our sexy friends are, like us, far from rich.

Putting all of your hope into something only to have it fall through sucks.  Of course, I acknowledge that such a possibility is a part of playing the game.  The problem is that for us, such opportunities are far too uncommon.  They come along once in a very great while, and we simply need more of them.  That way if half of the opportunities fall through, who cares?  We still have the half that didn’t.

Obviously the solution is to play locally.  By doing so we eradicate the whole travel-budget-and-schedule problem, which is always a huge headache.  We also don’t have to make a deal with Satan in order to find someone who’ll watch your kid for an entire weekend.  Hell, finding an overnight is difficult enough.

Unfortunately playing locally provides its own built-in problem:  Discretion.  Being outed would have dire consequences for Jill (and by extension myself as well), both personally and professionally.  Her career would be over.  She’s a professional who works with children.  We live in a society that views even vanilla sex as a taboo.  I think you see where this is going.

Also Jill’s extended family is vast.  Her mother’s side alone has more than five hundred members.  They are everywhere, like a secret society.  That may sound like a cop-out or an excuse, but it isn’t.  I run into someone from Jill’s family on a weekly basis:  An aunt, a sibling, a cousin.  Factor in neighbors, family friends, siblings’ friends, co-workers and former co-workers and it’s like we’re living under the watchful eye of Big Brother.

Obviously I don’t give a fuck about any of that for my own sake.  I’m self-employed and most of my clientele has no idea what I look like, let alone whether I’m out with someone who isn’t my wife.  I don’t even care if my wife’s siblings think I’m a serial cheater and/or a womanizer, as long as Jill doesn’t.  Hell, I know at least one of her siblings already does.

Anyway, I am neither a serial cheater nor a womanizer.  I take my marriage and the needs of my wife very seriously, and I don’t view women as objects.  Jill and I are happy with our relationship and the boundaries we have set, evolving though they may be.  But I can’t imagine the shitstorm Jill would have to weather if our non-monogamous tendencies became public knowledge.  Even beyond her career, it would be a disaster.  Not weathering it isn’t an option.  She’d have to deal with the backlash.

It would affect her relationship with her parents and her siblings, her aunts and uncles, and her friends.  I accept this.  Make no mistake, they’re all wonderful people.  I like having them in my life.  But I can’t imagine them not assuming the worst and hating me for it, and for that matter losing respect for my wife.  They might even advise her to divorce me.  Obviously she wouldn’t, but still, I don’t want to put her in that position.

I could theoretically play alone; Jill has given me the go-ahead to do so.  But it would heighten the stakes with regard to discovery by her family .  Being outed as a non-monogamous couple would be bad enough in their eyes.  But were I spotted having a drink with another woman in the context of a date it would confirm any suspicions they might have about me.  However, there would be less risk for Jill professionally.  Were I spotted having a drink with another woman, in the eyes of her co-workers I’m just another cheating scumbag and poor Jill.

On some level, I feel like playing alone betrays the fact that we’ve always practiced non-monogamy for the furtherance of our relationship.  That is not to say that those who play separately do not do so for the furtherance of our relationship.  That’s just how Jill and I rationalize the boundaries we’ve set for ourselves.  But I honestly have no problem playing alone.  I like one-on-one intimacy with women; I am able to focus on the other person fully, and since there is no threat to my primary relationship my wife has nothing to fear.

The thing is, I have played alone and it’s worked out fine.  But the more it happens, the more likely I suppose I am to, say, set up an awkward date with someone who turns out to be Jill’s cousin’s best friend.  Once something along those lines happens, it is effectively the Apocalypse.  In this age of social media and near-instantaneous communication there will be no containing it.  At that point Jill and I are both pretty much fucked.

My sole option seems to be to stop seeking out non-monogamy altogether.  Not on Twitter.  Not on Fetlife.  Not anywhere.  That means no looking for threesomes.  No playing solo.  No flirting, because I can’t let flirting just be flirting.  If I could manage this there’d be far less disappointment.  And then if a sexy friend does come out to play with us, it’ll be a wonderful, unexpected treat, something on which Jill and I can look back fondly.

The thing is, I know the occasional threesome or other episode of non-monogamy will only make me want it all the time.  It’s not like eating a meal; my need to touch other women, to see them naked, and to be inside them is nowhere near as finite in its capacity as is my stomach.  It’s just the way I am.  This only furthers the notion that I need more non-monogamy, not less.  To have less is to be incomplete.

This shit is hard-wired into my DNA.  The thought of turning it off is akin to changing my species.  Thus it may ultimately prove a moot point, because I’m not sure I can actually manage it.  I guess we’ll see.

Sinful Sunday: Stockings, Part 1

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After dinner I find her sitting on our balcony in a chair, enjoying the cool breeze of the evening.  She looks ravishing in a tight black evening gown, with matching stockings and heels.  
Overcome with desire, I beckon her inside and throw her onto the bed.  I lift her skirt, intent on pulling aside her panties and feeling her arousal.  

To my delight, I find that she isn’t wearing any.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

Sinful Sunday

Sinful Sunday: Peeping

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You know I’m standing in the hallway, watching intently as your hands traverse your body.  You like having an audience.  You like knowing how aroused I’m growing as you play; it intensifies your arousal and your movements. Your fingers quicken, dancing over your lips until they are a blur.  You moan as climax overtakes you.  And so do I.

See who else is being sinful at Molly’s Daily Kiss!

Sinful Sunday

Slut-Shaming and Why it Sucks

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“Well, what kind of a guy goes to every city, he has sex with every girl, then he catches HIV and — is that someone we want to respect and tell our kids about?  I think he should be ashamed of himself.”

This quote was spoken by L.A. Clippers owner Donald Sterling in an interview with CNN’s Anderson Cooper.  He is referring to former NBA star point guard and current philanthropist, activist, and L.A. Dodgers co-owner Earvin “Magic” Johnson.  It is a cheap shot visited upon a legendary basketball player, as well as a bizarre and ill-advised attempt to deflect attention away from the well-publicized accusations of racism which saw Sterling banned for life from the NBA last month.  This racism is so virulent and long-standing that it led Sterling to change his original surname, “Tokowitz” in order to hide his own Jewish heritage.

It’s true that Magic Johnson was diagnosed with HIV following a prolific sexual history, as Sterling claims.  It’s also true that, while announcing his condition to the world, Johnson promised to dedicate his life to fighting the disease.  Shortly thereafter Johnson created the Magic Johnson Foundation, the initial purpose of which was to fight HIV.  In 1999 he spoke at the United Nations World AIDS Day conference.  He has worked hard to raise awareness of the disease, and to combat the then-ubiquitous belief that only gays and drug users get HIV and AIDS.

But even if he’d done none of that, Magic Johnson’s HIV-positive status is ultimately not Sterling’s concern.  Sterling’s astounding claim that Johnson has done little for the African American community, as well as his miscategorization of Johnson’s condition as AIDS, were deliberate and personal:  Sterling’s mistress posted to her Instagram account a picture of her with Magic Johnson, which is what led to the racist tirade which caused Sterling’s expulsion from the NBA.  Beyond Sterling’s racism, his attempt to condemn one man for his sexual proclivities is noteworthy given the irony inherent in his having a mistress in the first place.  According to Sterling, having a mistress is okay, but having several is not.  
(Disclaimer:  The woman at the center of all of this, one V. Stiviano, has as far as I know not been acknowledged by Sterling as his mistress; reputable media outlets tend to refer to her as a female friend.  However, in March of this year Stiviano was sued by Sterling’s wife for the return of a $1.8 million duplex, a Ferrari, two Bentleys, and a Range Rover, all of which were purchased for her by Sterling.  Is there anyone out there who believes that these items would have been purchased for her were she simply a casual acquaintance?)
Ultimately, Sterling’s attack on Magic Johnson is slut-shaming.  It seems to be unusual for one male to slut-shame another male; the target of this heinous practice is traditionally female, as slut-shaming is a response to female sexual agency, and a means of punishing same.  Presumably there have been other instances of one male slut-shaming another, though this appears to be the most high-profile of which I am aware.

What’s the big deal? you may be asking, though if you’ve read this blog for any appreciable length of time you probably aren’t.  After all, this isn’t the first time we’ve blogged about slut-shaming.  Two years ago this week we published Slut Power!, a post examining the phenomenon, questioning whether the word “slut” should be retired, and calling upon sex-positives everywhere to reclaim it and rob it of its power to harm.  After all, that’s the point; most people who use such language do so to hurt women, to keep them in their place, so to speak, and to maintain the status quo.

Slut-shaming reflects a stunted and unhealthy attitude about sex, a practice in which virtually everyone takes part.  We all enjoy sex, don’t we?  So why the negativity surrounding it?  Why judge someone for taking part?  What gives anyone the right to belittle another person for enjoying sex, regardless of whether they’re enjoying it in a different way, or enjoying more of it, or enjoying it more publicly, than someone else?
In case I have been in any way unclear up to this point, I must state for the record that I am unequivocally against slut-shaming in any of its forms.  That being said, I can almost understand why a man might slut-shame a woman who’s having sex, but not with him.  I would never do it, nor do I support the practice; any man who slut-shames a woman in this fashion betrays either his unchecked sense of entitlement, or his deep-rooted feelings of inferiority (or both, but almost certainly the latter).  After all, a man who is confident in his own sense of self shouldn’t care that any given woman has rejected him sexually.  In such a case, slut-shaming is born from jealousy and insecurity, and many men – most men?  The majority of men?  I don’t want to generalize here – exhibit more than their share of these two things at some point in their lives.  Thus I can see a malformed and deficient half-man striking back in the face of rejection by slut-shaming a woman who has declined his advances.
What I absolutely cannot understand, and never will understand, are men who slut-shame women after they have sex with them.  This is, somewhat counterintuitively, a pretty common thing.  In my younger days, before slut-shaming had a name or at least before I was made aware of it, I remember hearing guys talk about their conquests in a negative fashion, and I remember wondering why someone would have sex with a woman if he thought so little of her.  Nowadays I still hear of it; societal attitudes about women have created an environment wherein such a thing is tolerated if not encouraged.  In more than two decades of fucking, I’ve never had sex with a woman and immediately thereafter thought she was a lesser being because of it.  Hell, I probably thought the exact opposite, though that may be due more to my rampant ego.
Maybe I was raised with healthier attitudes, or maybe I’m just grateful when a woman chooses to have sex with me.  But the idea of in any way exploiting or otherwise mistreating a woman after she’s put herself in a vulnerable position – after she’s trusted me to that extent, with her body and/or with her emotions – is anathema to me.  It points to such a flagrant lack of care for the woman.  Now, I’m not saying that I’ve cared much for every woman with whom I’ve had sex, or even that I cared for them at all.  But I sure as hell didn’t see them as a potential victim.  The fact that so many men do is a big part of what is wrong with relations between the sexes these days.  
Men slut-shaming women with whom they’ve had sex is indicative of a different, perhaps less obvious problem:  Lack of self-esteem in the men themselves.  That a woman’s perceived value in the eyes of a man can somehow decrease after he’s had sex with her speaks less to the value of the woman and more to the value of the man.  Forget the fact that a man’s perception of a woman’s value has no bearing on reality and should in no way dictate her self-opinion; why do these men apparently view their own penises as some sort of toxic waste dispenser?  She’s the same woman afterwards that she was before, but your own fucked-up attitude about sex has tarnished her in your mind.  Shake off the programming and get some self-esteem, fellas.
“You fucked me? What’s wrong with you, girl?”
The worst version of slut-shaming, however, may well be the “women slut-shaming women” variety.  As with any other type of slut-shaming, the breadth of the victim’s sexual experience is no more the business of a woman than it is a man.  However, it is unfortunately all too common for people to judge others for failing to live up to their own arbitrary standard of behavior; women can be as guilty of this as men.  That a woman chooses to have no sex, or have less sex, or have sex privately and refuse to acknowledge it publicly, or have relatively vanilla sex, or sex in the context of a monogamous relationship, does not give her the license to hurt another woman for having different needs.
I feel that this variety of slut-shaming is so much more insidious than the more widespread male-on-female form because, while men who slut-shame are simply perpetuating the same old bullshit misogyny – how original! – women who do it have allowed themselves to be blindly co-opted by the oppressive establishment, used as its agents to further browbeat women who, again, are guilty of nothing more severe than enjoying the same activities as everyone else on the planet.  The difference is that these women aren’t willing to pretend they’re not, or be forced into a society-defined compartment.  Begrudging someone else the happiness you’ve consciously chosen to give up for the sake of appearances is awful.  But when you’re a woman denying another woman, it’s betrayal.
Just because you’re too ashamed, sheepish, reactive, out-of-touch, afraid, conditioned, self-conscious, or stupid to take an active interest in sex and exhibit some sexual agency doesn’t give you the right to deprive anyone else of the same, or to slut-shame them when they refuse to be similarly cowed.  If you are a man and you slut-shame women, you are another in a long line of oppressive assholes.  If you are a woman and you slut-shame other women, you have no decency, nor have you any sense of the greater picture.  Women seem to have enough to worry about these days, from inequal pay for equal work to victim-blaming for the most awful crimes.
In Slut Pride!, I opined that I probably wasn’t very knowledgeable with regard to the label, and probably shouldn’t have been talking about something that didn’t really affect me the way it does women.  But in the same post I quoted Dossie Easton and Janet Hardy who, in their 1997 book The Ethical Slut defined the word as “a person of any gender who has the courage to lead life according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you.”  This is certainly an apt description of myself, and while I’m not a fan of labeling in general, “slut” is a label I now wear with pride.
At the time I also denied that I’d ever been called a slut.  But I can remember on one occasion having the word lobbed at me by male friends – see?  It does happen! – who may have been smiling when they said it, who may have been trying to sound good-natured about it, but who I assume felt uncomfortable by the fact that I was getting laid.  Perhaps they were envious.  Perhaps they believed that sex was better left for marriage.  I can’t guess.  I never took it personally, and in fact I may have chalked it up to the aforementioned envy; however, I never understood why they made such a big deal about it.  
Sex is healthy.  It’s wonderful and fun, and undeserving of the prevailing taboos surrounding it.  The more public attitudes on the subject shift, the more the concept of slut-shaming is likely to disappear.

Sinful Sunday: Glass Table Top

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This shot was taken during a recent hotel stay.  I love everything about this image:  The insouciance of Jill’s pose, the position of her legs preserving her anonymity, the deep brown of her stockings high on her thighs, and the filmy white curtain that acts as a backdrop.  But I really love the way her upper thigh is reflected in the glass table top on which her foot rests.  A happy accident, I assure you.

Sinful Sunday

“Just know one thing…”

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I always find it exciting when a woman makes it clear that everything she’s been talking about doing with me isn’t simply idle fantasy.  I know I’m desirable.  But I don’t always assume that the women with whom I flirt want it to go any further than that.  During a brief text message exchange with our friend S Wednesday morning, she said the following:

“Just know one thing…Whatever you and [Jill] fantasize about with me?  Know I’d be game [in real life] and then some”.


Yowza.  Bring it on.

TMI Tuesday: May 6, 2014

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Today’s TMI Tuesday was inspired by Dominic Wilcox Variations on Normal and from questions submitted by Virtual Sin. Both men are brilliantly creative.

How creative are you?
Jack’s Answers
1. Have you ever had an idea for an invention that you thought would be commercially viable? Care to share a brief synopsis, photo or sketch?
I invented and attempted to patent an engine that runs on water but Big Oil stepped in and had my prototype destroyed, as well as all my sketches and photos.  Ergo, I have no sketches to share, nor have I photos.  You’ll just have to take my word for it.
2. Visual arts: Do you do any painting or drawing? Are you a photographer? Sculptor? Ceramist/potter? Silversmith or other? Share one of your favorite works with us, post a photo.
I dabble in both painting and drawing, and the occasional modeling clay sculpting project.  As for photography, is this your first time here?  I post photos of my sexy wife Jill (and myself), though nowhere near as often as I did a couple years ago.  Here’s a personal favorite:
3.
a. Do you write fiction? Poetry? Share with us by linking to your work.
b. Do you make up plots, even if you never write them down?
Again, have you perused this blog before?  If so you are undoubtedly aware that I write the occasional piece of erotica.  Beyond this blog I write non-erotic fiction, including screenplays and short stories.  I even write a bit of poetry, though it’s the absolute least of what I do creatively.  I have invented a few plots that have, as of now, never been expanded into a finished work, though I generally do record them in a notepad or a text file in the hopes that I’ll someday be able to get a story or script out of it.  Here’s a link to something I wrote.
4. Do you write music? Do you sing or play a musical instrument? An audio clip would be nice 🙂
Generally speaking I am not musically inclined.  I do not write music, and I only sing when driving (if a favorite song happens to be playing) and while in the shower.  However, if you ever join me in the shower I will be too busy pleasuring you beyond your wildest dreams to even consider serenading you.  As for playing a musical instrument, I play the acoustic guitar, though admittedly not as well as I once did.
My daughter doesn’t seem to mind.
5. Do you write computer programs? What do you like most about that?
I’ll tell you instead what I like least about it:  When the Master Control Program scans me into the Encom mainframe and forces me to fight for my life on the Game Grid.
Just in case you all forgot that I’m a huge geek.
6.
a. Do you have a hobby that involves making something? Examples might be woodworking, baking, sewing, etc.
b. What is the last thing you made?
I make small handicrafts.  I lack the room for any real woodworking, though I do the best I can with the space at my disposal.  I make things like coasters, trinket boxes, and other functional items to give friends for birthdays and such.  The last thing I made was…wow.  No clue.  I need to get back on the horse.  I think it might have been an ornate bookmark.  Actually, based on the wording of the first sentence of this question, Legos would count.  I like Legos.  Does anyone not like Legos?
Other than anyone who’s ever stepped on a stray brick, I mean.
Bonus: What is it? How would you use it? Write a caption.
This appears to be a lifecast taken from the face of President Richard Nixon.
Jill’s Answers
1. Have you ever had an idea for an invention that you thought would be commercially viable? Care to share a brief synopsis, photo or sketch?
I once made a dildo out of ice.  Does that count?  It was actually Jack’s idea.  So I guess the answer is no.
2. Visual arts: Do you do any painting or drawing? Are you a photographer? Sculptor? Ceramist/potter? Silversmith or other? Share one of your favorite works with us, post a photo.
I don’t really paint or draw unless I’m leading an art lesson with my class.  I don’t sculpt, nor do I work with ceramics, though in the past I have made millefiori beads and other very basic clay projects.
Lately, however, I am very interested in blown glass.
3.
a. Do you write fiction? Poetry? Share with us by linking to your work.
b. Do you make up plots, even if you never write them down?
I have written erotic fiction in the past, though it’s been quite some time since I have found myself with the time and the mental wherewithal to do so.  I frequently make up plots without writing them down, usually when I am telling my daughter a spur-of-the-moment bedtime story.  Here’s a link to one of my favorite things I’ve written!
4. Do you write music? Do you sing or play a musical instrument? An audio clip would be nice 🙂
I don’t write music, though I have occasionally written poetry.  And although I do not play any instruments I do sing, though as is the case with drawing and painting, it’s only when I’m leading my class in a music lesson that I do.
5. Do you write computer programs? What do you like most about that?
I do not write computer programs.  Sometimes I wish I knew how to design apps.  I’m not sure why, as I have no idea what kind of currently nonexistent app would be useful.  I guess it would just be a nice way to maybe make a few extra dollars.
Sad but true.
6.
a. Do you have a hobby that involves making something? Examples might be woodworking, baking, sewing, etc.
b. What is the last thing you made?
I enjoy baking.  I make lots of different kinds of chocolates and other candy, as well as brownies and cookies.  During the holidays we send care packages to friends and family.  But if you ask those in the know they’ll tell you that such delicious goodies are only the second-tastiest thing about me!
Bonus: What is it? How would you use it? Write a caption.
It’s a cucumber. I’d use it in a salad.
How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Hey, Guess What? I Might Be Poly.

Jack3 Comments
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Last week I sent a picture to S, the friend who up until last September was strictly platonic, and who Jill and I would both like very much to take to bed. Nothing lascivious; just a shot of my usual adorable and sexy self, looking handsome as always. She replied, “I love this picture. I love the subject.” It’s a flattering comment, and one someone might hope to receive under such circumstances. Let’s break it down, shall we?

“I love the subject.” This is something a person might say of any work of visual art, be it a painting or a photograph. It is the sort of statement that can be made of a still life featuring a bowl of fruit just as it can a young girl with a pearl earring. Now, please understand that I am not in any way comparing myself to Joannes Vermeer’s masterwork. Simply know that, upon first reading my friend’s comment on the photo I sent, I assumed she meant it in the same way a wide-eyed museum-goer might: That is to say, with appreciation for the visual beauty but no real emotional investment or attachment.

Let’s re-read that statement: “I love the subject.” Wherein “the subject” is me. In other words, “I love you.” She may appreciate the subject from an aesthetic standpoint, but that’s why she began with “I love this picture.” The second sentence of her reply was an expression of her feelings for me personally. To be fair, it’s not like she hasn’t said as much prior to this, or that I haven’t said the same to her. But moreso than the typical three-word admission of love, it took that specific reply to drive home the point: S loves me, and I love her too.*

It’s not merely the love of two friends who have known each other for more than twenty-five years. It may have begun that way, but it has grown into something deeper and more substantial. It transcends sweet and caring, venturing at times into deeply romantic, with a dash of do-anything-for-you devotion, aided and abetted by sexual attraction to spare. And that’s when it hit me: I’m poly.

When I was in my early twenties, I remember asking my first girlfriend – by then my ex – if she wanted to hang out one weekend when I was in town. Yes, we had sex a couple times; we were both single and had no real reason to abstain. If we ended up not having sex for whatever reason, I probably wouldn’t have been devastated. But I cared for her, even in light of our rough breakup several years earlier, and I wanted to spend time with her. Whether I was trying to relive the happy times we shared before mutual infidelity got in the way I cannot say. However, I was pleased to see her, and I can’t say that temporarily resuming contact with her stunted my emotional development in any way.

Not long after that, I remember somebody calling me an asshole for maintaining contact with a different ex-girlfriend even though I had a new relationship. I wasn’t trying to date or have sex with this ex; my new girlfriend served both purposes perfectly, and at any rate I didn’t want to go back down that road with my ex. I just thought we could be friends. I cared for her – are you detecting a theme yet? – and, knowing that her home life was less than peaceful, I thought she might appreciate a little support. Anyway, Seinfeld had spent eight years showing that men and women could make a post-dating friendship work.**
Friendship is all it was, though. I wasn’t trying to sneak around behind my girlfriend’s back, nor was I in any way keeping my ex on the hook in case my new relationship fizzled quickly. I just wanted to stay connected to this person after the romantic and sexual aspect of our relationship had concluded. Is that weird? Does it come off as needy or clingy?  Generally speaking, I don’t believe that I am a needy, clingy person.  Weird, certainly. But not needy or clingy.
Let’s make one thing absolutely clear:  I am non-monogamous for the sake of sex, not for the sake of love.  I require physical variety more than the emotional equivalent.  Given the choice between new women to fuck with the smallest amount of emotional connection as possible – or none at all – or new women to love emotionally without the possibility of sex, I imagine you already know which option I’m going to pick.***
That being said, however, I now understand, and to some extent I’m happy with, the fact that I am capable of multiple concurrent emotional relationships.  I’m not even necessarily talking about love, though I would hate to rule it out.  I guess what I’m talking about is care – there’s that word again – and, for lack of a better word, closeness, especially with the possibility – nay, likelihood – of sex.  I’m talking about positive emotion, whatever you want to call it.  While I definitely enjoy the spontaneous excitement of casual sex, I’ve almost always found sex more gratifying when I’ve known the person beforehand, even for a short while.  Meeting someone in a bar or other pick-up location and fucking them immediately is always a thrill.  But at least for me it’s trumped by the thrill of spending some time wondering what someone looks like naked or how they sound when they come, and then getting to find out.
None of this should be taken as any indication that I am insistent upon getting to know someone well before we have sex, or that I’m necessarily going to grow attached afterwards, or for that matter before.  For discretionary reasons I rarely cruise the local bars, and aside from occasional forays on OKCupid I am not actively looking for people online.  So hypothetically speaking, if I’m having sex with you it’s probably because we have already developed some kind of rapprt that goes beyond, say, you taking my order at Starbucks two mornings a week.  Either we know each other through Twitter or the blogosphere, or else we are acquainted offline.  Additionally, I’ve never been much for a one-and-done; if the sex is good I’ll want another at-bat.  That’s admittedly due less to my possibly being poly and more to my being a greedy motherfucker.
There is, admittedly, a downside to poly, and that is the increased risk of heartbreak and hurt.  It’s just common sense:  More emotional attachment means more vulnerability.  If you open your heart to anyone, whether you’ve known the person for a week or a decade, whether you met him through a personal ad or you came out of her vagina the day you were born, there is a chance that this person will hurt you.  This seems to be the hardest lesson to learn, and one that most if not all of our poly-identified friends report having struggled with at some point.  It isn’t an easy lesson.  No one likes to be rejected, or hurt.  I can’t imagine that anyone enjoys being told, whether explicitly or implicitly, that they aren’t good enough for another person, or even that the other person is done loving them.  

But is there anybody reading this who doesn’t feel like boldly tasting all that life has to offer, including its at-times daunting risk of heartbreak, is preferable to sitting at home too afraid to venture outside?  I question whether the pain of loss brought about by the end of a relationship is in reality any worse than the shame and embarrassment of defeat in sports, business, or any of a number of other ventures.  I guess it depends on the individual.
For me, it’s probably a moot point; while my wife is generally comfortable with physical non-monogamy, love is an altogether different story.  It is her hardest limit, the one absolutely unbreakable boundary.  For her sake, I am capable of not having multiple concurrent relationships.  But I cannot deny that there is a part of me which is poly, and which truly feels something for the most of women with whom I have had sex.

In closing, the one conclusion to which I’ve arrived is that more love cannot possibly be a bad thing unless it somehow takes love away from one’s primary partner.  But the way I see it, love is not unlike oxygen, or the stars in space:  It’s the sort of thing of which one cannot truly run out; if one is inclined to love, there will always be enough.  So how can a surplus of love be a negative?  In a world that at times seems increasingly shitty, increasingly unfair and imbalanced, who would begrudge someone as much love as he or she can handle?
Note:  This is our 750th post.  We’re three quarters of the way to a thousand!

*For the sake of brevity, I’ve omitted Jill’s name from this paragraph, but I am compelled to point out that her feelings about S are similar to my own, just as S’ feelings about Jill are similar to her feelings about myself.

**Yes, I know it’s a television show.  Just go with it.
***The first one.