Ride Lust.com

And thanks, everybody, for wondering where the hell I was.

Hell, I miss Virginia.

NEXT.

The second place I walked into was being ruled by a short brunette with a Monroe piercing and a sleeve full of ink. The door had barely shut behind me before she barked, “We just opened, we’re not ready for customers.” I looked her dead in the eye and said, “You’re hard ass routine just lost you a sale,” and I walked right back out.

NEXT.

Third time’s the charm. Found a shop over on South Street in Old City, run by a group of guys who collectively strongly resemble My Chemical Romance. Their portfolio is pretty impressive, and they were incredibly genuine and friendly.

I have an appointment to go back tomorrow at 2 and do the deed.

I seriously have not been this excited since I won the bid for a new transmission switch for the Volvo on eBay Motors for like two thousand less than an OEM. Yeah. THAT excited.

I believe this officially makes me a tough guy.

I will be posting pictures.

Well The Nasty Boys of The Nasty Boys Sports Blog tagged me, and the whole experience reminded me (for whatever fucking WEIRD reason) of being touched by an angel, only a different kind of angel…the kind of angel that paints letters on his naked chest at home football games…the kind of angel that stands vigilant beside you at every pre-game party, just in case you need help with that keg stand…

But I digress.

The Nasty Boys tagged me in keeping (loosely) with the rules of a challenge issued to write ones own life memoir in six words. The complete rules of this challenge are as follows:

1. Write your own six word memoir
2. Post it in your blog including a visual illustration if you would like.
3. Link to the person who tagged you in their post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere.
4. Tag 5 more blogs with links.
5. Don’t forget to leave a comment in the tagged blogs with an invitation to play.

As for my contribution - a picture’s worth a thousand…right? My six words of genius are as follows:

 Truth be told, I would have used this as my memoir even if it hadn’t met the six-word requirement.

You’re turn:

• The Road Now
• Penis In A Rowboat
• All The Dumb Things
• Logical Complex Infinitive
• Finkenwalde
• The Political Realist [I'm taking liberties with rule #6 and placing Devon on retainer, he'll participate when he comes home from Basic Training at Fort Benning]

And yes, that is the only thing that this makes me think of, and yes, I have been told I watch too much television.

But that won’t be necessary; I’m not particularly upset that he didn’t call.

Right.

We spent the evening bar-hopping with the two men Mark has been friends with since childhood, and then we went for a drunken, late-night swim in one of said childhood friends’ pool. I’m pretty sure everything went well. I mean I was “one of the boys” in high school, I know how they think, it’s not hard to fit in with them. Add to that the fact that Mark’s friends’ are pretty cool guys, and I’m pretty sure everything went well.

So what I am obsessing over? Why, I’m so glad you asked.

At the end of the night Mark and I went back to his house, and we did what most inebriated, physically compatible people do. Still no home-runs, but definitely a solid triple.

Well actually, only one of us got to third base…the other one of us has only made it to first.

One of us was pleasured orally, for a long time.

After one of us came from said pleasure, one of us tried to return the favor, but was politely rebuffed with an, “I like to take things slow, it’s a trust issue. I just want to hold you right now.”

Guess who got politely rebuffed, folks?

Yes, that’s right, it was me, I was the one…I’ll give you a second to digest that.

Now do you see what I’m obsessing over? Never in my life have I had a man turn down a blow job…at least not without a hand job to stand in it’s place. Mark wanted NOTHING. He REALLY DID just hold me and gently kiss my face until we fell asleep.

So ever since Friday night, I’ve been obsessing over that incident. Did I do something wrong? Why didn’t he want me to touch him? He was completely naked, just like me, and the lights were out (which is another thing – I couldn’t see a mother fucking thing. I usually leave the lights on, but he turned every single damn one of them off), so what possible insecurity could there be left?

He can’t POSSIBLY be concerned about penis size, does he REALLY think I’m expecting Magic Johnson?

But if he’s not insecure, what is it? He certainly isn’t conservative…holy shit, or is he? He told me he was incredibly “Straight Edge” in high school – but we’ve never discussed anything like religion or faith. He swears, and he drinks, so how overtly moral can he be?

I can’t help but think, though, that I’ve done something wrong. We went out on Friday night, and I haven’t heard from him since. That fact in itself doesn’t necessarily alarm me, it was Father’s Day weekend, I do know he had plans to go to the shore. But there is a tiny part of me that is slightly concerned I’ve scared him off, or intimidated him in some way. He seemed just fine Saturday morning, but still…

Seriously guys, I need some input on this one. PLEASE.

So I called. Got the voicemail.

Of course.

I really get tired of waiting by the phone.