Monday, January 30, 2006

Sharing, aka no more secrets

Where does one start. We had a babysitter, no movie times worked and we never got it together to arrange dinner with friends, so it was the two of us. Five hours later having covered the enormity of the last decade for us (a post in itself), the state of our marriage, our current sex life, my being bi as a concept, my being bi in terms of tangible acts, the world of blogs (I left out that I have one, my only act of omission), our feelings on it all… At the end I said “I feel I have lifted my burdens by transferring them to you.” Not really true – turns out there’s enough to go around.

I have always wondered who I am writing to here. Thought it was to myself, though the fact that a group of you read it gives it reality and me gratification. Having covered the content of ninety percent of my posts last night I realized that I was writing to her all along. While I do feel a sense of selfishness sharing my burdens, my marriage – no its more than that – my world is built on the ability for my wife and I to share ourselves totally with each other. The lack of that weighed heavily on me and while a part of me asks why I could not leave well enough alone, much more of me says we will come out stronger on the other side. It will take work, but worthwhile things usually do.

As I digest all of this, I realize there will be more posts – the act of writing is therapy – forcing me to organize and address diffuse feelings – but for now thanks to all who have taken the ride with me this past month.

Thursday, January 26, 2006


It’s been an interesting week between P/O, Raven and Ben (and in some fashion Chelsea); lots of commonality. So while I haven’t quite figured out how it ties together for me here goes.

The original working title of this was going to be “I Am The Light of This World”, (a Rev. Gary Davis song done by Jorma Kaukonen). The repetitive theme is “just as long as I’m in this world, I am the light of this world.” Easier said than done, but it goes to the heart of being secure in who you are.

When I was getting divorced some seventeen years ago, I saw a therapist. (In hindsight I realize that the fact neither of us figured out there were issues of sexual identity swirling under the surface may call both of our judgments into question.) I was concerned that my complaints with my soon to be ex-spouse were little petty things, albeit enough to leave me in that dreaded life of quiet desperation. He pointed out that life is a tapestry – one made up of many individual threads and while each thread is minor, it is all that makes up the fabric.

Now I have never met any of you – three weeks of reading your blogs is rather limited – but I am in awe of your willingness to not sweep life under the rug and to question these basics. You are the “light of this world” – don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. And P/O, if you were my guy, my heart would lighten when I checked the caller ID and I would take the call.

Monday, January 23, 2006

"Mercy" Fucks

Raven recently wrote of an “awful” sexual encounter with SR and it made me think of “mercy fucks” (my own term). I had an incredible run with my wife – probably averaged more than once a day for the first seven or eight years of our marriage – but life catches up. Between children, life’s pressures, and hormonal issues (I fear we are the old people in this neighborhood), the drop off has been precipitous. Personally, while my stamina may not be quite the same, my desire is still there. I think of it like the old Anita Bryant orange juice ads – “a day without orange juice (can’t say OJ anymore) is like a day without sunshine.”

So what happens is that I lay in bed, and when she falls asleep I take care of myself – still the best sleeping aid ever. It gets dicey when she realizes I’m awake, tossing, etc. and feels guilty that she is not supplying me with sex. The ice is broken (if that would be the term) by comments like – “Come-on, it’s my wifely duty” or in less generous moments “Lets get this over with so I can get to sleep.” It is also usually accompanied by some reference to my being oversexed. Just to add perspective, this is by no means a nightly experience – more of a weekly event.

Now I’m feeling bad – I of course love sex, but it is now tainted love (I know it’s a song). If I turn it down (which I do a surprising amount), I then lay there without sex and surely not in a position to masturbate and generally pity myself. If I accept I feel like I have cheapened myself. (Hang in there Mark; I’m getting back to your post.)

When we have sex under these circumstances (there are other times where we make love under much more favorable conditions), there are three possibilities. There are the occasions where the spark ignites and we have an unexpectedly fun time. The majority of the times it is a quick encounter – I cum, she doesn’t, and its back to sleep: there are worse fates for sure. Then there are the disasters – the ones that are “awful”. She feels guilty for not wanting sex more, I feel guilty for wanting sex when I know she doesn’t.

The saving grace is that on some levels she misses it as much as I do and does want it back (maybe not every day, but a lot more than now) and hopefully the new meds will kick in soon. I guess this is part of the “better or worse” and while re-reading my post it may seem a bit over the top, I am still totally in love and as “worse” goes, it could be a lot worse.

Far From Heaven

Since I saw Brokeback Mountain, I have had two recurring lines of thought. The minor one is amazement at people's reactions when I mention in passing (which I just love to do) that I saw the movie. The predominant reaction is a laugh, more a giggle, and a pronouncement that they will not see it. Of course they have no clue where I am coming from which makes the reactions all the more interesting. And this in very nearby suburbs of NYC; can't imagine the views in the "heartland."

The more significant portions of my musings relate to Far From Heaven. Having seen it three or four years ago, I am somewhat reticent to make a comparison, but here goes. I liked Brokeback Mountain – a lot; I loved Far From Heaven. The thing is that in Brokeback when Alma sees Ennis and Jack, she is crushed and a number of years later finally points out to Ennis that she knows they weren’t fishing. In Far From Heaven, Julianne Moore pays a surprise visit to her husband’s office and finds him in a compromising position with another man. Not only does her life as she knows it come crashing down (not unlike Alma's), but so does her husbands. This is a family in crisis, not a time of quiet desperation. Obviously I bring my own not insignificant opinions and baggage to the table on this one, but it just seemed so much closer to a reality that I can envision and feel.

Friday, January 20, 2006

Taking the Leap

Looking back I have taken the leap twice. The first was probably 25 years ago. My girlfriend had been semi-living with me for five years and things were not going swimmingly. One year at a client’s holiday party – a mega-event for 100 plus – I was hanging out with my partner and a girl who I had become friends (just friends) with. They had a raffle and we all laid out our tickets in front of my friend; we went three for three. My raffle ended up being 2 orchestra seats for 42nd Street on Broadway.

Now I had a dilemma. I was sort of living with someone, not particularly happily at the time, and I had won the ticket with another girl who I really liked. (In the you cannot make it up category, as I am typing and listening to the iPod on shuffle the J Geils song Angel in Blue just came on – that was the song that I and the “other” girl shared – I’m in awe of the Gods of music.) As you can guess, after much consultation with my friends, I decided to take my new friend to 42nd Street. Figured it could be like the defibrillator – shock me and my girlfriend back into sync – or just be a bomb that would blow it up.

It was the beginning of the end for that relationship, which was a good thing as it turned out. I ended being friends for a number of years with the “other” girl, and the play was great.

Lives of Quiet Desperation

At work today we were discussing a co-worker, a 40 something married man who describes his marriage as a “sentence”. His daughter is going off to college next year and he doesn’t have a clue as to how he will fill the void. (I’m sure not going to suggest that maybe he re-acquaint himself with his wife).

While discussing this, the phrase “Lives of quiet desperation” came to mind. Eighteen years ago my wife and I, still just friends then, came to the conclusion that we would not lead such lives and set out on the course which brought us together, though not without much turmoil in its wake.

This all came together in my mind because I have been considering P/O’s post for the past day. It refers to risk taking in relationships without knowing where it will lead to. In spite of all that I have learned and the prices I have paid (everything comes with a price), that risk is still preferable to a life of quiet desperation.

(Thank you Google for allowing me to learn the phrase is attributable to Thoreau (Walden) and for fighting the government’s subpoena.)

Thursday, January 19, 2006

An "MWM"

I was considering earlier this week – Monday to be exact – whether to adjust the name on my blog to “MM” which covers the essential facts – married and male. I ultimately decided to leave it alone for fear of confusing anyone who may actually read this, but did feel a word of explanation was appropriate.

Not sure about the rest of the country but here in the New York burbs there is much activity on Craig’s List. CL and I have this love hate thing – I am happy to have a way to have found the few people I have hooked up with. I am appalled (or at least not excited) by much of what is posted on it. Anyway in CL land, I am definitely a “MWM” based on the prevailing language and culture.

I am thrilled to say that between having found one person to satisfy me carnally and having the blogosphere for my emotional and intellectual side, I have not been on CL in two weeks and don’t miss the “meat market.” Still may change the name.

Guilt & Shame

There was a Jewish comedian, David Steinberg, who once said he had an Italian girlfriend – he taught her guilt and she taught him shame. I come from the guilt side of the equation but always considered the two to be mighty similar. I fear I have finally come to know the difference.

I seem to have found a guy who is in the same place I am – we like each other, we like sex, and you will find us in a motel, not a sports bar. We each have our lives, wives, and are happy. The thing is that I think I should feel guilty about seeing him, but I don’t. So now I feel callous that I don’t feel guilty. Its not that I don’t love my wife and I know that contrary to the don’t ask, don’t tell scenario she would be upset if she actually knew. But I also feel that having been bi in my mind for as long as I remember that if I do not explore – and enjoy- at this point in my life, it will never happen.

The strange thing is that while I seem to lack guilt, I make up for it in shame. With three of five nieces/ nephews being openly gay, one would think this is the perfect family to be open in. (Could imagine a dining room scene out of the movies.) Yet I must confess to feeling ashamed – not being ready for any honesty on the topic. When I started writing this post, I didn’t really expect to end up here, so I think I need to consider all of this.

Tuesday, January 17, 2006

Brokeback in the Burbs

This weekend my 22 year old daughter was visiting and announced that she wanted to see Brokeback Mountain. Turns out that her fiancĂ© will not see it – a common scenario it turns out with that age males in the burbs. I have been unsure about whether my wife wants to see it – I feel like I am still recovering from seeing Far From Heaven together (a wonderful film). So my daughter and I set off for the multiplex. Of all my children, she is the most fun to be around; the fact that she tends to say exactly what she is thinking is just gravy.

I would have expected that most people know the basics of the film – it’s not exactly a stealth entry. Yet the level of surprise and discomfort in the crowded theatre was notable. When the girls behind us exclaimed at the first kiss – I’m going to gag – I resisted the temptation to explain that gagging is associated with other sex acts. Interestingly enough the kiss seemed to upset them much more than the sodomy. (Even more interesting was my wife's comment when hearing the story that she could understand that.)

More troubling on the global level were the places where there was measurable laughter. When Ennis and Jack are reunited for the first time and wildly grope, while Alma realizes her life will never be the same – well, I did not see the humor.

Driving home from the movie I talked with my daughter (who while straight claims to have an advanced sense of gaydar (thankfully not as good as she thinks when it comes to me). She liked the movie, “got it” and was equally appalled by the audience. She was riffing and stated that in real life she would not be surprised if Jake G is bi – no maybe just curious. She went on to tell me about her college friend who was bi and the fact that she knows a lot of girls who are straight but curious and during college had at least one encounter with another woman. In a rare moment, she did not volunteer if she was among them, but she sure described at as prevalent in her circle.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Self Indulgence

I realize that I on the whole I have become very self indulgent in my thoughts. Friday's a good example: After a good week at work, I cut out early to get together with JJ, a guy who I have seen a few times (and now realize may for now be the fun regular gig I have been seeking). Afterwards I drove home along the Ocean Parkway, Maybe the prettiest road in New York, running on a thin strip of barrier beach with water on both sides and on Friday an early eveniong fog - just enough to create a beautiful envelopment without thinking I was going to die in my car.

I came home to our Friday tradition - K, my wife, waiting with a pitcher of perfect manhatans and a great dinner (the girl can cook). Sounds good. Then we start discussing my strangly gay family and particularly if my 18 and 20 year old sons are gay, bi, straight, confused (the current bet) and I started to note that considering me - her head popped up and with a firm quietness that brooked no dissent said "Don't Go There." For much of the rest of the weekend, I fixated (as I tend to) over the line thats been drawn - don't ask, don't tell, it keeps coming back.

As I thought about it more, I am still troubled by the comment and what it represents but also realize that to fixate on that and ignore the rest of my life is, well, self indulgent. I also realize that on some level my guilt on loving sex with other guys is as much internal as anything imposed by K.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

The Passion (from long before Mel Gibson coopted the phrase)

Eighteen years ago I heard a book review that caught my attention. By the time the dust of that period of my life had settled I was divorced and remarried. The book was The Passion by Jeanettte Winterson. While I have not picked this book up in ten years, as I lay in bed last night, I still remember that we read from page 62 at my wedding. Part of it reads:

If I find her how will my future be?
I will find her.
Somewhere between fear and sex passion is.
Passion is not so much an emotion as a destiny. What choice have I in the face of this wind but to put up sail and rest my oars.
Dawn breaks.
Jeanette Winterson - The Passion (1987)

Also the books cover sheet:
You have navigted with raging soul far from the paternal home, passing beyond the seas' double rocks and now you inhabit a foreign land

(Thanks to P/O whose blog keeps reminding me of the joys of literature, something easy for me to forget lately)

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Family, Genetics and the Missing Link

Int he last few days read one post about a family scene from the movies (Po) and other comments about the sexual continuum which to some degree we are all on and realized that my family could be a scientific study. We are the gay cluster on the map of life.

My late parents have 9 grandchildren genetically (step grand kids just do not count for this one). Figure that you have to exclude the under ten crowd. That leaves seven. Of the ones over 23 (adults of sorts), there are five of which three are gay. Of the two late teens, suspect one is at least bi if not gay, but time will tell.

Now you would think at some point someone - me, my siblings - would say that its strange for a cluster like this to just appear randomly. Definitely those fruit flies of high school bio would suggest a connection.

I know I am not bringing it up because I am not ready to out myself as bi - can't say why no one else asks. I do feel that at some point before I kick, I owe the gay generation of my family the knowledge that I am at least one of the missing links.

This also brings me to what has become a firmly held belief (for this and other reasons) - Much of who we are, particularly sexually is hard wired. I have a choice whether to give a bj, but no choice when it come to being excited by it.

Anyway, felt the need to say this even if it feels rather mundane even to me.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

"Don't Ask, Don't Tell"

Recently after an 11 year break from acting on my bi desires (no break from having active fantasies) my wife - K - and I ended up at a new spot. Not sure how the path started, but we started on occassion with K giving more bi-sexual encouragement in bed than usual - a technique she uses to help me cum, particularly if going for multiples. As I somewhat mentioned in a previous posting, one night around three months ago she "suggested" I get a toy for my ass; I brought one for me and another for her. While she was on top with me in her, she took the dildo for her and started fucking my mouth, saying how a nice a real one would feel. Now I'm more oral than anything and I started to cum, and cum, .... It was pretty awesome.

Then we sort of rolled over and instead of her being happy, she seemed almost weary, as if her worst fears were confirmed. She explained that I needed to deal with my desires; she did not want to know about it but she accepted that I had a need that had to be addressed.

Well, I'm pretty happy - I figure if she is assuming I am doing it, I might as well do it and in the last three months have had some nice times with other guys (not the perfection I am looking for but it works for a start) and kept my oral desires satisfied.

Thing is I should have remembered Bill Clinton - "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" addressed an immediate issue, but ultimately has become a joke. While I love the psychological freedom to see guys while feeling I am not dishonoring K, there has been an unexpected price - honesty.

Used to be that I had no secrets from K. Considering that other than readers of this or the small number of guys I have been with, nobody knows I am bi, having one honest relationship was no small thing. Now I lay in bed knowing she is assuming I am having affairs - and she is right - and it gives me no joy. Even having found this blogosphere - something I am quite into - is an item I cannot figure out how to share.

Thanks for reading.

Minor thoughts on guilt

I was going to read other blogs and not post, but after checking out some old posts on perfekt dad, I had direction. We have opposite guilt reactions - Even though I would never cheat on my wife with another woman (not that I don't have the desire on occasion), I feel guilty thinking about it. Somehow masturbating with another women in my mind feels like cheating - there is nothing I can be doing that I could not do with my wife.

I justify myself to thinking about other men without guilt as being acts she could not help with. I appreciate that the reasoning is fallacious at best and solely an attempt to avoid feeling guilty while giving myself pleasure.

This leads to another topic, but will do as a separate post.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Not So Alone

I was going to abandon the blog. It was fun to check some of the blogs I discovered, but was not really relevant to my life. However due to search engines and some persistence, I have started to find blogs of other bi married men.

It is amazing how after years of a certain dormancy, it has become an "issue" at home. My wife knew (actually encouraged) an encounter I had a decade ago and then at then at her request I stopped. She announced a few months ago a "don't ask / don't tell policy" (why this occured is for another post); I was happy with the new policy and have had some encounters, but now it sort of feels like a "presence" lurking in our sex life.

I'm curious as to experiences of others. My wife and I had great sex two nights ago, but I am no longer sure what she is thinking when she has me use the vibrator on myself and reminds me of what a man would feel like. Suppose I should be happy - compared to a fully closeted life, this is much better and it has led to some great sex with her over the years.
Time to go back to the real work - thanks for reading

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Past and Future - Thanks

Amazing how in a day or two I have discovered a whole new world complete with a community of couples of similar minds who have come together through their blogs. As I read all your postings I travel back in time 15 years when I was your ages. I think my wife and I could have come close to matching the levels of action and creativity - laying in bed last night I figured that we went for 10 years probably averaging 10 sexual experiences a week. Many a marathon was included in them between a multi-orgasmic wife and being able to cum 4 or 5 times a night. If there had been CL or blogs I suspect we would have had our threesome (though I have not given up hope).
Alas I feel like the ghost of Christmas future - when we are on, we still have incredible sex - the kind that comes with total trust, abandon, and knowledge of every inch of one's partners body and psyche. But age takes its toll - hell if I have a 3 cum night I feel like a giant.
So I suspect I will abandon this blog to you "kids", but wanted to thank you all - I suspect I will still visit yours and comment on occasion. I think it is great that you have the lives you do and the outlet and extended community it brings.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

A Starting Point

While I believe sexual desires are hard wired, going back to conception is a bit much. So while I
probably have always been bi, I came to realize it fully around 15 years ago. (Somewhat realized earlier, but that's for another day). Was recently married (second marriage - still going strong) and was having a great sex life, which probably is how my wife realized I got excited by anal stimulation and was very oral. Had tried buddy booths a few times, but didn't do it for me. We talked about three somes but never got it together (pre-CL and not sure how much she really wanted to).

A few years later (in honor of turning 40) with my wife's encouragement I went to a gay bar in another City on a business trip and was successfully picked up. For that night I ended up being a pure bottom. Will go into the night more in another posting but still remember it clearly 11 years later, especially the feeling when he fucked me the second time when I was on my back and had my legs on his shoulder - it went so deep that by the end it was on edge of hurting but still felt good. Afterwards my wife decided that she was not thrilled with the idea of my doing other guys so I took a decade or so off.

Over the years, she has talked about it in bed - a sure way to get me to cum that second or third time and recently she has pointed out that she doesn't want to know but I need to pursue it; there was one moment when she had me playing with a toy in my ass and took the dildo I thought was for her and started fucking my mouth and I just started cumming and cumming. No denying things then.

Over last few months have hooked up a few times and had some fun oral experiences but still looking for the right fit (figuratively and literally).