Passionate Kisses

October 29, 2005

10/28/2005

Friday

FTN has a good thing going at his place where he lays out many of the issues plagueing the physical side of his marriage. He invites people to comment and provide feedback and suggestions to his wife, with the promise that she will (eventually) respond. My hat is off to her if she follows through. It’s a rare thing for a LL person to really be open to this type of discussion, let alone a public forum like this one. Dewdrop is the only one who I know of who seems to articulate the full LL point of view. A cardinal characteristic of individuals with lower libidos is a reluctance to discuss the subject, which makes it almost impossible to solve or help the situation. So I always admire those who are courageous enough to come out and talk about it.

As a HL man, I can not give any advice as to her issues and what to do about them. FTN has access to some of the same material as me, such as the book Indended For Pleasure by Dr. Ed Wheat. I might also recommend Dillow’s book Intimate Issues which is written for and by women. Tim and Beverly LaHaye have also written on the subject in The Act of Marriage. All of the above are written for and by Christians. I have all of them, have read all of them and invited Arwyn to read them. And she has read exactly NONE of them. Yet she has lots of books about Autism and special GFCF diets and sensory integration that she reads. So one helpful bit is to read and absorb what your husband reads. Even if you disagree, it is helpful to have the same knowledge base. Double for reading what he writes. Having this sort of access to his thoughts is valuable beyond measure. Just don’t blow the opportunity by criticizing these thoughts. Co,pain about actions and behavior but not thoughts. I’ve never met a woman who felt good about having her feelings invalidated. But they do it to their husbands all the the time.

FTN alluded to Sexual Aversion and Sexual Anorexia as causing a dynamic where the partner is forced into a situation of involuntary celibacy. This can cause the partner to feel justified in engaging in pornography, masturbation and even to contemplate having affairs. And I am a poster child for what can happen if this is left to fester. I have gone in all of these directions plus added a few more on top of that. It isn’t just the sex, it is the witholding of the full range of intimacy.

For instance, let’s talk about the kissing. My wife is not a kisser. It is a major chore just to get the obligatory “hello” and “goodbye” kiss. If I’m lucky, these are the only kisses I get in the average day. And you can forget about anything involving the tongue. Ever. Her obligatory and “passionate” kisses are exactly the same. Kissing is one of the most intimate acts a couple can engage in with their clothes on. It is not a huge deal to steal a bit of passion while the kids are otherwise engaged. But a LL woman won’t do it, won’t even think of it and may even be disgusted by the idea.

All it takes is one enterprising woman, no matter the age, body shape or position. All she has to do is lay one passionate kiss on a guy and he could be hers for the taking. It’s that easy. And it’s the woman who will holler to high heaven about the guy cheating. Quite frankly, I’m going to say she had it coming. Not giving your man a passionate kiss now and then is akin to driving your car downtown and leaving the keys on the dash. You’re inviting someone to take it. Yes, it may be wrong to steal but if a body is going to be that stupid there should be a stupid tax to pay.

Alright, I know I have a sizable group of women reading me who are similarly deprived by their men. I say there should be a stupid tax on them, too, if they are not willing to make a half-assed effort to contend for their women. Now that I’ve given you HL women some airplay, is it okay to get on with my own screed, now?

We are seeing the classic scenerio being played out by Pretty Peanut. I need to get her and her husband, Not So Normal (NSN) on my blogroll, because it is a rare chance to see this firsthand. I only hope they can survive the bloodthirsty mob of an audience that is us.

NSN had an affair with another woman. He didn’t have sex with her, exactly, but did make out with her one time and established some pretty strong feelings towards the other woman. He also did have at least one sexual encounter with another guy. For some reason, Peanut has no problems with that one. But she has taken severe exception to his fooling around with the other woman. But preceding these encounters, she had withdrawn from NSN sexually, and there were issues as far as where they were intimacy-wise. In short, NSN became easy pickings for this other woman. Should he have done it? No. I’m not sure exactly how much effort he poured into recapturing intimacy with his wife before taking the bait that was offered. But it is clear that she more or less left him to his own devices, to where he was fending for himself. Now they have some trust issues. He’s unable to go anywhere or do anything without her worrying what he is doing and who he is doing it with. She wants to protect their relationship, which is admirable. But she is now operating out of fear and not out of love or concern, which is pretty much what he wanted in the first place. Until she reorients her efforts, it will cause problems. And she needs to put in some effort to close the intimacy gap.

Back to the important issues: my issues. Arwyn knows the efforts I have made. She knows I am unhappy. She has, in my view, left the keys on the dash. One good kiss might be all it takes, since it’s been over 10 years since I’ve had one.

My advice to FTN’s wife is to pursue this with all the intensity a body can muster. It will go a long way to keeping the family intact. It will save later grief such as Sweet Peanut has had to endure. Life is too short to give in to irrational fear and anxiety. If isolation is what a body feels they need, they should have thought of it before they got marred and certainly before whining about their husband paying attention to someone else.

Fortunately for Mrs. FTN, she has apparently chosen well. She is married to a kind, generous, loving man who is struggling to hold on to his integrity. He is determined and devoted. I can only imagine what sort of woman might be able to inspire qualities like that in a man.

I do want to issue a warning to couples who blog together in any way, shape or form. If the relationship is the subject, beware of the comments. And other blogs like mine. We don’t know you as well as you know each other. I write from my own experience and background. The Pretty Peanut/NSN and FTN storylines interest me because they are so similar to my own. They also interest me because we see two different ways of handling clashing libidos.

A good, long, passionate kiss would go a long way towards improving my views on things.

63

D.

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Cagey

October 27, 2005

10/27/2005

Thursday

I have too many things going on to write like I ought. But sex is not one of the things going on, unfortunately. Where am I at….Day 62 or something like that? But I have not been helping my own cause, as I stay up much later than Arwyn and don’t wake up in time to ambush her for my 2 minutes of daily intimacy. So there is none. It’s not like she is making any effort. I always envisioned that when the weather got colder that my chosen mate would want to snuggle up with me. Instead, Arwyn wears sweats to bed, wrapped in her rug/blanket.

So Gone asked me a question: How could one get a body to do something (wear a cock cage) if they don’t want to. This was in response to my response to Tajalude’s post where she talks about her husband looking at and jerking off to porn, and leaving her high and dry. So Gone has a similar problem with her boyfriend. While locking those boys up will solve that problem, So Gone’s question does present a thorny problem. How could they get these guys in?

Tajalude’s case is the easier of the two to deal with. Her husband has a distinct submissive side and it is obvious that he does care deeply about his wife. Still, he also has a deeply selfish side. When relating about how he confessed to his crimes,Tajalude did point out how he seemed visibly hurt. I think he cares about her, but masturbation can become a compulsion. And his repentent posturing after being caught tells me that there is some serious guilt involved. This is where the wedge is to be inserted to get him to open up to the idea. First of all, Tajalude can get him to promise that his masturbation must come to an end. Or at the very least, give her the right of first refusal. If he is feeling horny, he should go to her first.

I’m sure there might be some such understanding already in place. The idea, here, is that he is going to eventually fail. Tajalude’s husband does have a sense of shame about this as exhibited by the lying, the hiding and his overall evasiveness of the subject. This shame, combined with his submissive fantasies, is what is going to get him into the cage. When he gets caught again, the proper response would be to make wearing it a condition for forgiveness. I think he’d consider it, by virtue of the fact that he knows he’s done wrong, been given a chance and failed…again. It’s like a man with a drinking problem, where you get him to admit he has a problem and only then work towards a solution. Gently promise him support and guidance if he can just try this solution. Tell him how sexy it is. And stop referring to his mighty manhood as his “junk.” At least until you get him caged.

So Gone’s boyfriend presents a more stubborn and persistent problem because he seems to not be feeling any guilt or remorse about his actions. He sees nothing wrong with it, and therefore has no reason to stop. So Gone’s task will be to give him a reason through either enticement or coercion. Since he is not as keen to have sex, that eliminates her primary carrot. So Gone’s boyfriend hasn’t shown a real submissive streak, which makes this a more challenging task. Unless she applies a very big stick, or a bigger carrot, the odds don’t look good. The offer to both these guys could be extended thus: once caged, you can indulge in all the porn you want. In fact, offer to buy them whatever porn they want as long as they are caged and you are holding the keys. The desire always turns towards the keyholder in the end.

Tajalude’s position is the stronger one because outside of this issue there is a higher level of trust and a higher desire for mutual trust. Her husband shows more promise in this area. He’ll be reluctant, but his own mistrust of himself can push him into it.

Necessary (but not sufficient) conditions seem to be willing to explore a submissive side, a realization of the damage masturbation is doing, and willingness to improve and preserve the relationship. I don’t see any these in So Gone’s boyfriend. While the cage can intensify feelings of devotion, there has to be something there in the first place to work with.

Since I’m on the subject, C-Marie‘s JM is another candidate for lock-up. Again, he doesn’t show signs of being troubled by his negligence. She hasn’t shared any episodes where he has shown guilt or shame. These last two guys are actually in more need of such drastic measures but seem to lack as much promise.

Finally, it’s important that the women be comfortable with a more dominant role. Tajalude definitely shows promise in this area, although she hasn’t exactly embraced the idea of being worshipped and adored full-time. So Gone definitely likes the idea of constant attention, but might find that she’s no longer attracted to the guy if he were to turn submissive on her. Marie, likewise, shows a lot of strength but hasn’t shown a clear dominant streak. It doesn’t have to be a hardcore thing, as I don’t see that in any of these women. At least at this point.

D.


Smitty

October 25, 2005

Wow. That whole oral sex thing took on a life of its own, didn’t it? I may return to that later, but in the meantime…

Confession time. Sort of. This gets a bit weird, just so you know…

Back in my college days, I probably had 30 different roommates. I always had at least 2 other guys (sometimes 4) that I shared a dorm room or apartment with. It was just the transient nature of things. It was a good way to meet different people, but I didn’t always get along with all of them.

Maybe it was my junior year when I shared a student apartment with 3 other guys that I had one of the oddest relationships that I have ever had. Smitty was a skinny redhead who might have weighed 100 pounds soaking wet yet was 5’11 or so. He just had an odd metabolism, because he could eat like crazy but never gained weight. Meanwhile, I was gaining weight and was up close to 200 pounds and 6’1″.

Smitty had brains enough to be a freshman physics major, but not a lot of social skills. He had an interest in girls but few had interest in him. Since we were at a university where engineering ruled, it wasn’t easy to find many women to be interested in any of us. So we spent a lot of time and energy entertaining each other with various nerdy-type games he introduced us to. But he was annoying. Smitty had a penchant for saying or doing stupid stuff. Being a little lightweight, it never took him long to get drunk. And he was always a stupid drunk.

It doesn’t matter so much what he did to bug the shit out of us (like peeing on our beds), so much as how we reacted. The other two guys wanted to take him out and beat the crap out of him. I, on the otherhand, decided on something a little different. I convinced the other guys that punching his lights out might be too dangerous since he looked so small and frail that I was afraid it might do serious damage. So the other guys would help me wrap Smitty up into an old carpet so he looked like a human burrito with just his head sticking out. Then I’d just lay on him, squashing him while rubbing my knuckles on his head or tweeking his ears or tickling the back of his neck.

Smitty hated it. Sort of. In the course of the one semester before he moved out, I discovered that Smitty was a masochist. I didn’t know the name of it at the time, I just knew that he kept doing these stupid things that would earn him a carpet wrap. I also knew that while it took 3 of us to get him in it the first time, it got easier and easier during subsequent wrappings to the point where he quit fighting at all and his protestations were only verbal and weak at that.

Once wrapped and laying on the floor with my weight on him (and sometimes another guy, although this also decreased over time) and me giving him knuckle burns, he would roar out, try to kick his feet and try to butt my head with his. It was usually so loud, I’m surprised we never had neighbors or the campus police knocking on our door.

In order to be freed and get the tortures to cease, all Smitty had to do was say three words. “I’ll be good.” That’s it. As soon as he said these words, I’d get up and allow him to free himself. Like clockwork. It was just another way of of saying “Uncle.” It was, in fact, Smitty’s safeword(s) before we even knew what such things were.

As our sessions increased in number, they began to change in nature. I actually looked forward to them, and apparently Smitty did too. At least he seemed to always find ways to provoke a good wrapping at convenient times when there was always at least 30 minutes available.

While in top of Smitty, I would often hold his head down to keep him from flailing it around. I would talk softly into his ear, “I’ll be good.” Smitty would roar “NO!” and I would continue to put my full weight onto his body burrito, giving him knuckle burns and holding his head to the floor.

He would roar, holler and yell as the session wore on. I would intermittently softly say into his ear “I’ll be good.” and he would roar back defiantly “NO,NO,NO!” thrashing about with new vigor which only increased my resolve. I was almost afraid of hurting him, he carried on so, especially in the early days. It seemed so simple to say those three words. But Smitty would hold out until he finally could take no more. By this time, we were both pretty tired. Sometimes he said it quietly and sometimes he’d say it loudly. “I’ll be good.”

I’d get up and get some water. In later sessions, I’d get us both water. Smitty would disentangle himself from the carpet, rolling it up and putting it into the corner for the next time, emerging hot and sweaty.

Sometimes Smitty would say “I’ll be good.” only to shout a defiant “NO!” as soon as I got up. After a couple times of that, I ended up letting him go anyway. Firstly because I was too tired to play anymore and secondly it hardly seemed fair to work him over again. It was as taxing emotionally as it was physically. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I didn’t get some kind of charge out of it.

While the carpet treatment went on, our relationship sort of improved. We didn’t fight or argue. He’d do something especially annoying and I’d just get the carpet, roll him up and we were on. There were times when he’d pester me, and I’d tell him I’d have to get him later as I was busy at the moment. He accepted that, and would occupy himself elsewhere.

I know this all sounds odd as hell. It was weird to me, too, not knowing a thing about D/s at the time. I was uncomfortable with it on many levels. First, I knew I wasn’t gay but I wasn’t so sure about Smitty. At the same time, I did feel conflicted about being somewhat turned on. It produced an adrenaline rush of a sort. Only another dominant would probably understand it, although I can’t speak for anyone else. You might be creeped out by reading it. I get kinda creeped writing it. But it was an important revelation to me and it’s only recently that I came to realize that I had and probably always have had a sort of sadistic dominant side. Who knows what might have happened if I had a little more knowledge back then? For one thing, I probably wouldn’t have moved out. At the end of the semester, I moved into a condo with a couple of other guys. It was further from campus, but infinitely nicer and roomier. I never had the sort of conflicts I had to put up with Smitty.

I also would have sought a more submissive woman and better respected and treated her when I found her. I eventually did end up with one, but was still so in the dark about kinks and BDSM that I was clueless what to do exactly when she did tell me she wanted it rough and hard. It’s only been in the past 3 or so years that I’ve begun to explore this new area.

I might have seen Smitty around campus later on, but never talked to him again after moving out. I heard from one of the other guys that he moved back to the dorms the following year.

D.


42

October 24, 2005

10/24/2005

Monday

42

That’s how old I turned today. Yes, today was my two and fortieth birthday. Two score and two years ago, on a bright, warm day in October I breathed my first breath of air. As the first born, the life of my 19 year-old mother and 23 year-old father would never be the same. They’d only been married since late January.

Last night Arwyn baked a cake using a box of lemon cake mix we had lying around and put chocolate frosting on it. She and the boys sang happy birthday and I blew out the candles. My mom called and I talked to the folks for several hours before turning in to bed. Since I’m working a little later to sweat off debt, last night worked out better for a celebration for the boys.

This morning, at Arwyn’s urging, I took the cake to work to let my ladies indulge. And they did, although I never said anything about it being my birthday. They never asked. But I’m slightly uncomfortable making such a huge deal about it. We had work that needed to be done without the distraction. Maybe I’ll tell them tomorrow.

I came home and found Arwyn and the boys just finishing up a pizza. For dinner, I was on my own. Again. Arwyn got me a sweatshirt and a T-shirt and a card. The card cover was filled with words like money, shopping, laundry, projects, cleaning, calls, errands, work, committment, relatives, trash, in-laws, etc with a line in the middle that said “Somewhere in the middle of it all…”

And then the inside read, “There’s a quiet place called love. (I’ll meet you there.) Happy Birthday, my husband, my love” And the Arwyn signed her name.

Sort of appropriate. I bet that there is not a counterpart card for women. My favorite SAHM blog is Katie Fleck’s. She has 5 kids, is a den mother for her son’s scout troop and a leader for her daughters’ brownie troop in addition to about 5 million other things revolving around her kids and running a house. She seems to be intelligent (giving me some steller suggestions and ideas for cheap Christmas presents) but seems to be out of her mind trying to do so many things all at the same time. In addition to blogging about it.

I’d be a lot more hostile towards her obsessive compulsive have-it-all lifestyle if she wasn’t so darn CUTE! But she moves and flits from project to project so quickly that my 42 year-old lazy ass would never catch her. It wears me out just reading her To Do list every week.

The point being that women are more prone to taking on an insane number of committments (usually interrupting the husband’s serious couch time and committing him in the process) while calling it “multi-tasking” and the husband gets left in the dust. In my case, digging in the fridge looking for food on his birthday. She didn’t have to work today and both boys were in school.

So, at least I can look forward to putting an end to this 57 day No-Sex streak, right?

Make that 58. And counting.

She came through in her sweat pants and T-shirt, I knew it was me and you good folks. I walk in the bedroom shortly after the lights are out and she is cocooned, inverted in her rug blanket. Asleep, more or less.

I’m not terribly surprised. This is the way it has been for…I dunno. For as long as I can remember. Last year she hand surgery on her hand two weeks before my birthday. That ruled out any sex.

Two years ago..THAT was priceless! I was actually locked up in the cage and had been for the week before my birthday. I was *really* looking forward to getting out. My birthday fell on a Friday. Friday came. We did the cake/card/present thing. And then we went to bed. She went to sleep without saying a word. My frustrated self did not sleep good at all. All she would have had to say was “Look, I’m tired. I still want to have fun with you sometime later so I’m going to keep you locked up.” I’d have been thrilled. I’m hard just thinking about that scenario.

But that’s not how it went down. No, the next day I asked her about whether or not she was teasing me. “Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot! I’ll let you out later tonight and we can have some time, then.” So, Saturday I was pretty fired up, and helping get those kids to bed early. She forgot again. By Sunday night, I was pretty pissed. She did unlock me that night and I got a handjob. It would be 2 months before I wore the cage again and it was the beginning of the end of Arwyn’s role as keyholder.

Any Ivillagers may remember that as I posted about it back then to tham. I got a couple of interesting offers from Texas and Arizona from women in CL relationships who read it with quite a lot of indignation.

I find tease and denial to be very stimulating, or at least the idea of it. All I ever seem to get is the denial.

Arwyn may very well have had intentions last night or tonight but she has never said. Or signaled There’s been no lingerie in 7 years, which would be a really nice signal. An enticing kiss would be nice. I didn’t even get my 2 minutes this morning.

How long, Lord?

D.


CALLING ALL MEN

October 21, 2005

Gentlemen, I’m in need of your assistance. A certain lady friend has sent me an email that should interest all of us, men and women alike. To wit:

When it comes to oral sex, so many women are afraid to give it because they hate it or think it is degrading. Yet, I hear more men say they ENJOY giving oral sex because they love it and would do it with nothing in return (of course this was not my experience). Do you think this is REALLY true OR do you think men say they would give oral sex to the woman with the strong inner hope she will return the favor and learn to love giving them blowjobs, yet in reality they secretly HATE giving oral sex to women just as much as women claim to hate giving it?

(I ask this question because it is becoming harder for me to believe men really want to please a woman orally. I am starting to believe most are insincere from the begnning… and don’t care that much about the woman… instead they care about doing what is necessary to get a blow job) Your thoughts?

Gentlemen, what say you? I invite everyone who has a blog to devote some space to this discussion. I think there are many women who may feel this way and would like some answers. How do you feel about giving women oral sex? Why do you do it? What do you like about it? Is there anything you don’t like about it? Are any of you opposed to doing it? Why do you think so many men don’t like it?

Okay, you have your mission. Should you decide to accept it, let me know. We will be doing some heavy linking, I am sure. And for some, hopefully some heavy licking!

D.

Oral Sex on and for Women: Digger’s Take

I was relatively late discovering oral sex, compared to most. I think I was 27 dating the 36 year old. She LOVED giving head, and was so open and honest about loving my cock. That was such a confidence booster that I was inspired to give it a try. And I really liked it. But it would be the next woman who would ice my love for oral. When she orgasmed, it about brought the roof down or at least woke the neighbors. I absolutely loved that feeling of control, but then I like that whole control scene

I loved the taste, the texture and the smell. Perhaps I should spend some time on this, because many women who hate all things oral equate it with grossness, disgusting and stinkiness. Some women have a real problem with their own body image. A woman will almost always be more critical of her body than her man. And the nether regions especially. As men, I think we are especially tuned in to the scent of a woman’s arousal. Speaking only for myself, I find it intoxicating. Really and truly. Maybe that’s just me. And it could be.

There are few odors emmitted by my wife that will turn me off. I can’t think of any off the top of my head. Yes, you read correctly. Maybe a new kink, but this is not universal to everyone. I don’t like how everyone smells. But in Arwyn’s case, there are no bad smells. It’s part of my earthy nature, I suppose. To me, the good and the bad are intimate exchanges of a sort. Since oral has been out for years and Arwyn wears no perfumes, I’m a little deprived on that count. I love the smell of her hair.

Okay, I’m drifting.

I love the feel of a woman moving in response to my touches, grinding ever more into me. I can feel her muscles tighten and taste the increased wetness and knowing I am doing that to/for her is heavenly. My greatest pleasure is herr greatest pleasure.

Would I want nothing in return? That would not be the most uncomfortable of states, seeing how my arousal is brought to boiling by my partner’s pleasure. I would really, really want release with whatever assistance my partner would want to render. Remember, I am an intimacy hog. A glutton. I want to know and be known to ever deeper levels. I want and need that safe, soft spot.

While I’m at it, I’ll briefly discuss blow jobs. My memory is a bit fuzzy on this as it has been nearly a decade since my last one. But I believe I actually favored giving oral to receiving it. Actually, 69 was a favorite position of mine with me on the bottom. I never failed to climax from that position. But it took some work for me to actually get to like it. That older gal saw getting me off from just a blowjob as a personal challenge. Outside of the 69 postion descriped above, I don’t think she ever succeeded. The giving of pleasure was so intimately connected with my own pleasure I couldn’t do it. I might could today, having been conditioned to be a lousy lover.

Why don’t more men actually like doing it? Same factors as found with women, I suspect. A lot of selfishness, mainly. Or perhaps a fear of doing it badly. Criticism KILLS intimacy. So does lack of confidence. Lack of positive feedback might also contribute. If a woman just lays there and doesn’t offer positive feedback, it might kill the desire to do it. Don’t fake, but relax and give yourself over to it. Stop thinking about the laundry. Stop mentally taking meat out of the freezer or cleaning the litter box or planning what the kids are going to wear the next day. Give over control and float.

I would utterly love to tongue lash a bare/bald pussy. I shaved a couple of years ago, and Arwyn just laughed. She related how her and an old boyfriend had both shaved at the same time and she swore she wouldn’t do it ever again after getting razor burnt. That bothered me that she would do this for someone else but not the man she married. I think some of this sissy attitude is reflected by some men. They are too big of wussy’s to go down on their women.

My advice to these guys would be to quit the whining and get down between those thighs with exuberrant gusto!

One cure for the selfishness bit is enforced chastity. Tell him that his cock isn’t getting out until you get 40-50 orgasms. Just watch that

tongue get busy! I’m amazed at guys who are willing to get a blowjob but unwilling to reciprocate. Cunnilingus can be an enjoyable experience for its own sake apart from an eventual pay off. However, unless strictly enforce, a guy will really, really want relief afterwards, especially if he is into it. But the reward isn’t why I do it. I’m definitely not tonguing just to get a blow job. I’m doing it because I like doing it and I savor the response.

At least that was true at one time. Over the past decade, I suppose I might have changed. But I still fantasize sometimes about the forbidden zone that oral has become in the Jones household.

D.


112986548031730715

October 20, 2005

The Sound of Music


Told you I was going to be posting a lot…

You want to know a silly thing that that I miss?

Of course you do, else why would you be reading?

A few years ago, when I was at a Promise Keeper’s conference, the all-male choir wore T-shirts that read “Real Men Sing Real Loud.” I thought that was sort of cool. In the Army, not “sounding off” loud enough while singing a cadence was sufficient grounds for a myriad of creative punishments administered by loud drill sergeants intent on breaking us before molding us.

I am not a good singer. I am also not a bad singer. I can carry a melody in two different octaves. Or two different voices, as it were. I’m okay with being good enough to blend in but not good enough to carry a solo. Arwyn is also not a good singer, but better than she thinks. She often sang our boys to sleep when they were babies, and they liked it.

Prior to my military days, I was often too self-conscious about singing in church. I would maybe sing quietly or simply lip-synch. After all, as a teenager, every guy who has experienced that most inharmonic cracking voice couldn’t help but subdue it. And there was a bit of the sissy factor, thinking only sissies sang. It was the military that taught me to sing out loud as well as the value that singing could have on morale. Also, no matter how bad an individual sounds, you get 150 young men singing in perfect cadence and it sounds good. And loud. And those hard-as-nails drill sergeants had no problems belting their songs out.

I enjoy singing hymns in church, since the melodies are mostly fairly simple and lend themselves to good singing by people who may or may not be good at it. Sometimes the tunes are catchy, like “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” or touching as in “Softly and Tenderly” or “Just as I Am” which is sung at every Billy Graham crusade. Even some contemporary tunes like “Awesome God” lend themselves to some good rousing singing. Of course, even heathen readers will be familiar with the various Christmas hymns like “Joy to the World,” “Away in a Manger,” and “The First Noel.”

All of these especially lend themselves to the blending of voices. And I find myself missing that, since Arwyn never sings out. Not a lot of guys seem disposed to singing out although my Dad was. It wasn’t uncommon to hear him belting out in song from the barn as he was finishing the chores. It was quite awhile until I appreciated how his voice blended with Mom’s while we were in church. We usually sit up in the balcony, out of view from most others in order to keep our sometimes rambunctious kids from stealing the show. So I often find that my singing is sort of cast out there to intermingle with the masses. This is fine, for the most part.

But occasionally, from beside, in front of or behind, I’ll catch the high, strong pitch of a female voice. I will incline my ear and blend and harmonize with that voice. And it feels like such a wonderfully intimate thing to me. The blending, intertwining and mingling of two voices resonating together. The molecules of air dancing about on compression waves; kinetic energy generated by the lips, tongues and breath of a man and a woman interlocked together in the interplay of musical notes. Separate and distinct, yet joined together as one.

Age or attractiveness is not an issue in this, at least for me. I am simply happy to revel in this admittedly odd way of gleaning some form of intimacy. The spiritual nature of the music and atmosphere adds a unique flavor to this seemingly irreverent way of participating in worship. I’m not sure how irreverent or sinful it is, but hope God is understanding of where I am and where I’m coming from. It’s only been over the last year or so that this has become an issue. Well, not really an issue the same way finances or sex is an issue. The music is probably more of a metaphor for the physical and emotional melding, blending and interplay I often long for.

D.


Scorpion King

October 20, 2005

10/20/2005

Thursday

As previously promised, the 100 Post is about to be buried. But I’m sure those most avidly interested saw it. It sort of plowed up a lurker or two in the process. I got one email with a picture attachment that I had to forward to another email account because it exceeded my scrawny 2 Mb limit. If you sent that (and you know who you are) go ahead and send a short msg if you’d like a reply as forwarding stripped the original address clean off and like a knob I didn’t save it into my address book.

I don’t read my horoscope and do not take stock in the whole Astrology/Zodiac thing. Having said that, almost everything I’ve read about Scorpios seems to be uncannily true for me. Equally as odd, almost every relationship I’ve ever had has had its beginnings in the fall of the year, about this time.

One cardinal characteristic that gets the most airplay is the sexiness of Scorpios. Actually, that isn’t quite accurate. The word should be Passion. While sex is exceedingly important (and readers can read how to make a Scorpio miserable right here) it extents to all areas of life. That’s not to say I’m passionate about everything. There are a great many things I don’t care about at all. But those things that I am into, I care about deeply with a real zeal and intensity. Intensity goes along with the passion.

And another oft cited characteristic is secretiveness. Longtime readers familiar with my defunct blog recognized most items on my list so there were not as many new revelations for them as they might have liked. That was somewhat by design. I carefully choose how much of myself to reveal. Even though we’re getting pretty deep here, know that it is still measured. That 100 list, even though conservative in content was a terribly risky stretch for me. But it was a risk I thought I had to make which involved some serious editing and rewriting before I thought it fit to publish.

Along with the secretiveness is a slight aversion to the spotlight. I like attention, no doubt. I love attention and moreso adoration. But that spotlight gets too bright and I’m scuttling for the shade. It threatens that secret side of me a bit much.

Another characteristic associated with the sign of the scorpion is vengefulness, coupled with a certain amount of sadism. I also have that one in abundance. While I am intensely loyal, I expect such loyalty to be returned equally. Violate my trust and expect to be struck back with great intensity. I can allow most things to roll off my back. But should I decide to take an offense personally, I will pursue justice with pedantic vigor. The object of said justice will become an object lesson: This is what happens when you mess with the wrong person. Vengeance is executed with intensity calculated to insure that a violator will never want to violate me again. I experience pain intensely, and dole it out with equal vigor…when I eventually get to it.

This sounds terrible, and it is. I am hypersensitive to it, which is why I’ve evolved a heightened tolerance for abuse and negligence. That sadistic vengeful side is the scariest of monsters which I can ill afford to allow running loose. It isn’t whimsical, it isn’t fun and it is not funny. It knows no humor.

Sadism that is not vengeful can be intensely passionate and erotic to me. I did have an opportunity to exercise that once, and the intensity was scary in a way, but not dangerous. Getting in touch with my submissive side has been good for me in that way, allowing me to understand the other side.

So I guess you could look at this as a bonus to the 100 post. I still won’t be checking my horoscope.

D.