Love is not a commodity!

Anyone who truly knows me knows that I reach out to people in need of help and friendship. I know, it’s a selfish and narcissistic way of gaining pride in myself, but I’m cool with it. The important part is that I mean no harm.

A little over ten years ago someone reached out to me for help, and I gave it. At first it was a mutual loneliness and need that brought us together in a romantic way but that ended pretty rapidly, but I refused to give up on the person who, I thought was worth fighting for.

When I was growing up, there were three words I never recall my parents or brothers ever saying. Those words became, at least for me, alien and undefinable. I never learned what saying “I Love You” meant.

I must admit here that there were other issues of my childhood that caused psychological trauma, which I acted out later in life, but never did I intentionally hurt anyone but myself.

In time, as I grew older, I learned how to say “I Love You” but I was never sure if I felt it because I honestly didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. When someone said “I Love You” to me, I felt like an empty shell, not knowing what to say.

Now that I’m in my mid-seventies and perking along like an old freight train, I realize that throughout my life. I was actually showing people that I love them by caring for and about them. Which brings me back to my little friend.

Did I love this person? In my own way of caring, sharing and being there when someone was needed. I housed, fed, clothed and even tried to get this person started on an education at a two community college, but nothing worked to motivated. Shopping, for clothes at least worked, as did travel but education, nope, went to school everyday spending each one either in the cafeteria, library or off campus somewhere. Hell, I even bought a car just for this purpose, it got ruined. I learned that there’s nothing wrong with the oil in the car if there is no oil in the car, but of course it was checked regularly.

It was about this time that my parental instincts kicked in; I didn’t want this person to have the poor life I had, so I decided not to say good-by; my mistake, but an honest one.

Now, ten years later, after thousands of dollars, three cars, a wasted two years of education, numerous jobs, doctor bills, dentist bills, clothing, dealing with an alcohol and drug problem (neither of which are mine), treatment for an incurable STD, and other medical issues, (also not mine), I get dumped because I’m not affectionate, and don’t say I love you.

There is much more to this story I won’t go into but I will say that I have had my faults to, none of which compare, but faults none-the-less.

The problem being, I began to think that love, like the material things, was becoming a commodity. I want you to do this for me because you won’t say you love me. If you loved me, truly loved me, you’d hold me whenever I want and in whatever way I want. I’ll be nice and friendly if we can go eat at this expensive place tonight.

Although not all comments were so explicit, most did present themselves as terms of a negotiation rather than mere requests.

Now, I’m alone, my Christmas gift was the closing of the door. No thank you for everything; no sorry things didn’t work out and no Happy New Year and no goodbye, just the closing of the door. However, in retrospect, that was my Christmas gift but not from who one might imagine. The gift was from myself to myself; a gift of knowledge that love, true love is not a commodity.

I don’t understand…

I consider myself to be well informed on current affairs in America, and I like to think I understand both sides of each argument but the wall issue has me confused.

There are no indigenous peoples in the western hemisphere, we are all immigrants that, as far as Anthropology can discern to date, originated in Africa. We all came here, we all settled here and we all took, or stole if you prefer, the land from the original occupants, the flora and fauna. Thus, in my mind, no human being has the right to claim indigenous status.

Given recent anthropological discoveries throughout the “Americas,” the question of who were the actual first peoples is in question. But does it make a difference now; will knowing who was here first correct the problems at our borders? No, of course not because since the time the first homo-sapien evolved in Africa, we have struggled to control our own lives and destinies by conquering and forcibly assimilating first the flora then the fauna and eventually other homo-sapiens.

The problem for me in this scenario is that who, and or what was the first homo-sapien – male or female and, here’s the kicker, who did he, or she, mate with to create more homo-sapiens? If you read the Bible, in Genesis, you learn that “God” created man from which he took a rib to create woman, then told them to go forth and multiply, with no sex manual by Dr. Ruth I might add. But they accomplished the task initially having two boys, Cain and Abel; if you read the book, you know Cain slew Abel for reasons unimportant to this story, and that he was cast out of the family.

Cain left town, met up with a woman, they had kids and…whoa? If “God” created the “First Man” and the “First Woman” where did Cain’s wife come from? OK, now I’m more confused than before, and I think that’s what’s going on with most Americans over this border issue – confusion and speculation sans actual facts.

Was Cain’s wife an illegal immigrant? Were her relatives legal? We don’t know, nor do we know about those trying to march into America uninvited and illegally. Who are these people pounding at our gates?

President Trump, on the recommendation of the Homeland Security Staff, the Border Patrol and private citizens living along our southern border has determined that an appropriately designed and constructed solid barrier is needed to stem the flow of drugs, human traffickers, criminals, gang members, terrorists, and illegal immigrants, among other undesirables from entering our country.

In his proposal to our Congress, those who claim to represent all of us taxpayers, the President has outlined how he would build the wall, add additional staffing to our Border Patrol, and upgrade security electronics along the border, and what it will cost (estimated at less than $ 50 billion).

With a current estimated taxpayer burden of $ 150 billion per year for illegals in America, the continuous illegal immigration costs could double, perhaps even triple that. Seems to me that what President Trump wants makes, if nothing else, financial common sense., however, a good substantial portion of those who claim to represent American taxpayers state the President is playing politics and they refuse to help.

Almost every day, at least once a day, I either hear or read comments from Democrats berating our President and claiming to have proof from “experts” on border control who state a wall would be ineffective. My only problem with this is, they never cite (name) those “experts” nor provide easy routes to verify their claims. It’s like, “I am a Democrat! You will take my word for everything and never challenge me!”

Sorry dude (dudette?) but not this old fart. You make a claim, you substantiate that claim with proof positive. Hell, I learned that the hard way.

What this all comes down to for me is this; the Democrats, who I prefer to refer to as the neo-Monarchs, have declared they will, once in power, spend millions more taxpayer money investigating and attacking President Trump while illegal immigrants, terrorists, drug dealers, human traffickers, and other criminals continue to ply their trades unchallenged in America.

Now I may be an old fart, but I’m not a crazy old fart. As I see it, the Democrat monarchists have but two goals; destroy President Trump and control taxpayer money. The tragic part of that is the Democrat voters who will also lose if the monarchists take over; who will they cry to then?

Pelosi has proclaimed the wall to be immoral, but can’t define why? Perhaps it has to do with the alleged drug smuggling operations of her two daughters who claimed immunity because they are her “aides?” It would be so immoral if they had to go to prison for 30+ years.

Whatever excuses the Democrat monarchy has for not funding the wall to protect Americans, they are wrong. It’s past time to listen to those who fight the battles on the front lines every day and stop playing politics with our lives.

My Special Cherub

What is I told you I met a real Cherub today?

Would you think me insane, delusional or simply drunk on my butt?

Whichever you choose, and many others I’m sure would all be wrong, because I did meet a live Cherub on line today.

Now, if you don’t know what a Cherub is, get off your butt and look it up. Once you do, you can do your happy dance while singing “I learned sumthing today.” (Sorry it wasn’t a spelling lesson).

Now, before you go off and say, “he met a boy today because all Cherubs have little peenies” you better check your sources more carefully as they can be either male or female. Since their roles in the universe are identical, does it really matter peenie or not? Hell no, and that’s important for many gays to remember because the peenie, or penis if you want to be formal, has nothing to do with the person unless they allow it to by letting that little head down there do all the thinking for the big head atop their neck.

I met a Cherub today, and I could care less whether it be male or female. What I do care about it that my special Cherub cared about me. I met a silver-haired Cherub with an angelic face and a bit of a devilish demeanor.

OK, I hear the rumbling and fingers stumbling to challenge my tale with insane mumbling. But it’s true, I did meet someone who, at least for today, made me feel appreciated, cared about and, though not in a romantic sense, wanted. It was a remarkable gift from a perfect stranger through an exchange of thoughts and words. How fricking amazing that?

Sometimes, when we least expect it and most need it, a power greater than us sends us a lifeline. My special Cherub is my lifeline this year and I’m thankful.

I’ve spent many holidays alone, but this one was different. I wasn’t depressed or upset that I didn’t receive any calls, cards or gifts, I was just a little lonely; someone or something knew that and sent me a special Cherub to make me smile. Ii worked!

With this in mind, I’m going to say to every single person I know, gay, straight or otherwise, stop feeling sorry for yourself and looking for love in a pretty face, nice body, sexy butt, vagina or super king size peenie, because love is not in any of those things.

Love is knowing, trusting, caring, sharing and most of all growing.

Perhaps a Cherub will one day come into your life; will you recognize it?

Change – Curse of the Self

I’m an avid student of human behavior, not for any class but for myself; to know, understand and accept myself in the hope of being the best me possible. Oh sure, I have quirks and desires that may not fall into any real mainstream regimen, but then that’s me.

What I’ve found very interesting, yet extremely troubling is a growing inability for people to accept that they have faults; even more so, that they are either unwilling to or incapable of appropriately dealing with those faults.

My fault is not my fault it’s your fault for causing my fault because you have more faults than I have, ergo your faults caused my faults because I didn’t have any faults I’d admit to before I met you and your faults now you have forced to me think about my faults which are actually your faults projected onto me.

Now here’s the logical question: “I’m lonely, why can’t I find happiness with anyone? Someone who will love me for me.”

Whoa, did I actually say logical question? My bad, how about a self-motivated logical question? Ya, that fits better.

For me, building a solid and lasting relationship takes cooperation, dedication and a willingness to change. A willingness to sacrifice old habits and misconceptions to open one’s mind to new potentials and understanding of the self and the importance of that self in a union with another.

Changes in a relationship do not work. Changes in people, do. Look beyond the obvious to see that which is within. Remove the mask, to that others might know you.

Unite with the self in peace and harmony before you attempt to unite with another.

The Art, or lack thereof, of Dom/Sub communications

A Question of Submission/Domination and Communications

The other night, I got into a fascinating conversation with a young gay lad about what it means to be submissive in a relationship.

His question was: “How do I know I’m submissive; is there a scale to follow?”

My initial thought was, is this guy kidding, but then, on thinking, I realized he was honestly confused about his feelings towards someone who he described as being “dominant.” Of course, the first thing to come to mind for him was what he had learned about the Marquis de Sade’s works on the topics of Sado-Masochism which, for me it the most radical form of dominant/submissive relationship. However, it did get me to thinking about the topic sub/dom relationships.

Personally, I think there are distinct levels of both dominance and submission. Example: A dominant person meets a submissive person, they get together, enjoy their activities in private but do not seem to actually satisfy each other’s needs; critical word there, NEEDS.

Let’s be honest here, while there can be a significant amount of physical pleasure, and some pain in Dom/Sub relationship activities, there may not be any psychological gratification, ergo only physical needs were addressed. So how does this happen and how can it be avoided?

One word answer here: COMMUNICATIONS. No, not telephone, telegraph or tell a loudmouth, I mean real face to face, honest exchanges of feelings, wants and needs.

“I need to dominate you because it gives me feelings of superiority I’ve never be able to have before.”

“I love how you spank me, my dad never did, and I think I missed out on something.”

“I’ll tie you up and ravish your body because that’s what men are supposed to do.”

“I’ll let you tie me up and ravish my body to take away the guilt I feel for even doing this.”

And so the list goes on because no one candidly communicated these needs and the problem remains until eventually, the relationship dies because there was no communication.

If you feel you are either dominant or submissive, express that openly, but for God’s sake, don’t do the “I get into anything and everything mode” then nitpick at whatever your partner suggests. Be open, be fair and be communicative; set your parameters for all activities and stick to them. Communicate what you think fills your needs and what doesn’t, before you agree to anything, but don’t forget, it’s a mutual thing so listen to your partner’s needs too.

As silly as it sounds, make a list of your dos, don’ts and won’ts so that when negotiating, and that’s an integral part of all relationships, you can be direct:

“No, I won’t have sex standing up in a canoe, but I’ll rock your world on a pontoon boat.”

How about: “No, I won’t run around the house in a mini skirt and handcuffs but leave them in the bedroom for later.”

If you want that person in your life, communicate that fact. The worst that can be said in reply is “No thanks.”

The return of no one

Does the world really repeat itself as we age? 

As a youngster, I was pretty much ignored in my family. My dad died when I was 15; up until that time, I can only remember him actually talking to me. For quite a while, I actually thought he was mute. 

I also had two older brothers (?), ok, biological siblings is a better description as, compared to what I note in other families, they shared no brotherly affection or interest in me at all. Well, maybe that’s not exactly true, my one brother, David, loved to bully me whenever possible; a couple of times, he did some pretty severe physical damage.

My mother did most, if not all of the talking in the family. She was quite adept at encapsulating each member of the family so as there was no real family unit, just disconnected parts.  To the best of my knowledge, she did this to everyone she knew. Her favorite phrase was something like, “Someone said this about you, but I promised not to say who.” or “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but this is what happened to your nephew and no one wants you to know.” Then why even tell me? Easy, to reinforce her control of the isolation she placed me in as a child.

Now, with some things changing in my life, it’s very hard for me to accept being alone. I realize that should I live longer, my mind and body will deteriorate, perhaps to the point where I’ll be in a vegetative state; alone again, in my world of thoughts unspoken. 

Someone, I once cared about and for, is leaving my life this month. It’s time this person left and time hard lessons are learned, but they’re not mine. Strange as it may sound, there is an old emptiness returning to me with this parting.

Who, will be there for me when my time comes?