Where is the monkey?

 

A strange thing happened and it awoke something inside.  I needed to come back here to see where I got lost along the way.

It was not an epiphany.  Not so focused or loaded with religious overtones.  Just an idea tinged with a sense of loss for a different life and level of energy.  It seems that entropy, not fear, is the mind killer.

I regret to say that I don't like where I have found myself.  I love my wife more with every day and the kids make my chest swell.  They are not the problem or a burden nor something I wish any different.  They are actually the best part of me.  

The problem is that this world does not impress me.  The light has faded from the gem it once was.  It seems to suck the very marrow from the bones of adventure and leave me playing a game that I still have yet to master.  

I have never run from challenge or others limitations but I find myself 18 months into this pandemic paralyzed and prone and to be honest fat and sad.  This is not me.  

Or maybe this always was me.  Maybe I lost my monkey along the way.  Maybe he got Covid and died while I was not watching?  I mistook his wheezing last gasps for my own while pushing a lawnmower.

Fuck I hate mowing lawns.  It is grass for fucks sake.  Who cares?  Where is the pride in having chopped and cropped a fucking lawn into order?  It is like a public statement that "if you think this patch of green shit looks under control, you should see how locked down the rest of my life is!"

Hmmm.  That is causing an awkward stutter in my brain now I think about it.  Never did get around to mowing this weekend.

Is this how it happens?  Is this the getting old thing that sneaks up on people?  You wake up one day only to see that you fucked it up so far back that it is now too late to fix it?  That you took the blue pill, thought that working hard would get you though only to realise too late that cheats really do prosper and there is more value placed on pretend work than actually making something?  

I feel dumb and trapped.  If home schooling has taught me anything it is that I don't know how to direct the next generation out of this mess.  These boys are not drawn to the same things I am or even was.  I don't know how to steer their ship when we can't agree on a direction and the answer to most things right now is that we cant go outside and do that.  

I find myself hanging out for the apocalyptic failure of society with dreams of salvation though manual labor and self sufficiency.  Quick thinking and problem solving will see me at the top of the heap being a man and providing for my family.  

The plot holes and incompetence of the characters in the Walking Dead loom large as opportunities to do it so much better!  

Sadly the logical mind kicks in and reminds me that I can't even keep a fucking lawn under control so why do I expect can suddenly grow yams and corn in lead laced suburban soil once the water and power go out??   We will be dead from dysentery, sepsis or the Omega variant of Covid because my prepping was as weak as my financial planning.  I will have managed to drive right up the middle ground of both class and survival only to land arse first in punji trap that someone set up just for this day.

And the my mind circles back to the pandemic.  As a rule I do not shy from risk and yet here I am.  Embracing lockdowns, swearing at the anti-vaxers and protesters from behind closed doors and a mask for their lack of science and social responsibility.

Doom scrolling the news and being smug that this all pretty much matched happened as I thought it may back in March of 2020.  

There is no joy in being right if it just makes you scared. It only reinforces the other dark ideas and scenarios that play out in your skull.

So, today we start to fix it.  Or maybe tomorrow if the weather is better and I have had some sleep.

Exercise, diet and sleep with a healthy side of shagging for my lady love.  The rest can go away along with the dream of generational wealth.

I may even keep writing here.  It would be good to be home if the monkey ever comes back.  I miss him a lot.

A voice from the past

Amazing the way that life moves you on some times.

Truth be told not much has changed except the time and motivation to write have vanished. The outlet that once was this blog has not been needed and as such it has languished untended and unloved.

It is sad to say that technical writing and industrial design work have sapped my creativity outside of work hours while keeping my brain at full speed the rest of the time.

I still visit some bogs now and then but comment rarely, feeling like an outsider now I don't post myself.

Who knows if I will return? Maybe one day but right now there is lots to hold my attention; a great relationship with that same young lady and more dancing fun - comps and teaching gigs -than I could ever imagine.

All I need now is summer to roll around so I can hit the water again and life will be complete.

Let the fur fly

I have rediscovered the bush. My play thing is in full winter coat.

Over the last number of years, no fur has been the norm in my boudoir. Not by demand mind you, it was just that was what had presented itself.

It seemed that the order of the day was bald badger or if not bald then trimmed to the point that Ashley and Martin were salivating at the need for medical intervention.

I had laughed out loud when David Duchovny (as Hank Moody) had proclaimed something along the lines that he liked his ladies to have a little hair so he knew they were not pre-pubescent. It took me back to the days when the young ladies I played with had not yet been conditioned to wax or shave beyond the bikini line.

I had a flash back to that rich 70's and 80's Playboy and porn with a full bush of thick pubes that has gone out of fashion.

So you can imagine my surprise in the dim light when on peeling back the knickers for that first taste of the holiest of holes, I was presented with what looked like another pair of knickers!

Now I admit it is like unwrapping a Christmas present and in theory you should not know what you are getting, but sometimes you just presume it will be the same as last year, just a different colour.

Like a true pro, I went about my business without missing a beat however as I explored, licked and sucked I got more and more turned on in a new and interesting way.

I love the smell of fresh sex and I realised that a good full bush expands on it. It adds to it. It is like the perfect brandy glass to accentuate the aroma.

I was dipping my nose in it as you would a red wine glass and it opened up a whole new world that had been forgotten.

It was at that moment I realised that bald had been a novelty. I had tried it and enjoyed it but it lacked a little something.

I am not the kind of guy to dictate grooming standards and as we talked about it later, I found out that bald was the norm for this lady. As we had kicked off with little notice, there had been no pre coital grooming carried out.

At her age and build - lithe with the smallest but most sensitive of breasts, I, like Hank, find the bush a blessing and just quietly, I think she is enjoying that she is off the hook for the foreseeable future too.

That dirty old fucker

At what point do you become the creepy old dude? When is an age gap really an issue.

I have been pondering this of late. I am pushing towards that magical 40. The marker at the end of your dirty thirties.

It has been some time now since my last long term relationship and I wonder if I will have another. I honestly wonder if I am ready to compromise where I need to and open myself up again.

To throw trouble into the mix I seem to hanging with the wrong age group. I don't know exactly how it happened but just seem to have a disproportionate number of young female friends in my life.

By young I mean 20-23 year olds. Obviously it is a dancing thing but it is also through Kite surfing and climbing.

Girls my age seem to be either hanging in wine bars, married or watching TV with a tub of ice cream. I suppose they are out there but they just don't seem to be out doing the stuff I enjoy.

The ones that are, are all loved up and awesome people but just not available...they are the women I want but can't seem to find one who is single.

As my last couple of posts alluded to, there is a girl of interest who is age appropriate, who is active in most of the ways I like (although not much of a water baby...) but, and this is the killer as there is always a fucking but, she seems to have the most anoying commitment issues herself. She is hereby named Miss Unpredictable and I honestly have no idea where we stand.

It is at the point that I want to walk away from something that could be awesome because she is doing my head in. On the occasions that we have hooked up the sexin was good but it was not insane. It was a tad vanilla and to be honest, she just did not seem to be in the zone - not hungry. I like hungry. I like a girl who knows what she wants and demands it. Sex, roll over and go to sleep is not how it is supposed to be, especially at the start of a relationship.

So rewind to last night. One of my other, younger buddies is talking about friends with benefits while we climbed. She was bemoaning the fact that her last bit of fun had a girlfriend now, and the other option was overseas. God damn it, she had an itch that needed scratching.

Here was my dilemma. We have been mates for some time now, a couple of years. We are cuddly affectionate people but there is 17 years between us so it has never looked like crossing that line.

We have talked about all sorts of fun stuff and both joked and talked ourselves up on bedroom technique and etiquette but it was always a little at arms length because to be honest, I did not want to be knocked down for hitting on a 22 year old chick.

An insanely hot 22 year old chick. She dances, pole dances, climbs..in a word, fit.

Anyhow, after a big night of climbing we went back to my place on a whim and ended up curled up on the couch together watching good old MasterChef that I had recorded while we were out.

It was a do or die moment. In a flash we were together in a very cosy position that I had not even tried to engineer.

At the end of the show it was time to make a call on the situation. "So do you want a ride home or do you want to crash here and that itch scratched?"

I braced for the laugh, the knock back, the face screwed up "ewwwww!"

With the cheekiest of smiles she looked me in the eye, gave my leg a squeeze and suggested that if it could stay uncomplicated, mutual itch scratching was a fantastic idea and too long coming.

In an instant, the age gap was forgotten. This girl, so young, was the most sexually self aware and demanding bed partner I have had in a couple of years. I have not slept so little in a night of fun that just never seemed to end.

You know it is a fun night when you first roll into bed at midnight and while you are going for it yet again, the garbage trucks start rolling by and the sun peeks over the horison.

Un-fucking-believable is all I can say and work is killing me. So much so that I am writing this post rather than do what I should be doing.

If I knew for sure I was dating Miss Unpredictable then I would have to admit to being a cheating bastard but right now with so little communication and commitment from her I don't know what I am.

Opportunistic is probably the most appropriate word.

At the risk of bragging this is one opportunity I am so glad I got. It reminded me what makes me tick, what I want in a sexual partner and the connection, the raw desire I need to feel.

I had wondered if a slightly lack lustre sex drive on my part was age related and I have to say after last night, hell no. I just hadn't been with the right girl since a particular lady and a bathtub that I have yet to write about....

Miss Unpredictable has a date with me tonight and as crass as it sounds I get to do the side by side taste test.

It is going to be an interesting night indeed.

Enough

I am not one to whine but seriously this is pissing me off.

I want to move on with my life and find that person. I want to share adventures, dancing, good food and laughs. There is plenty more of all to do yet.

I don't want to be worshipped and coupled 24/7 but I want a spark and passion and focus when we are together.

I want my toes to curl, I want to make your toes curl.

I need smart and creative, witty and dark. A touch of style and a bucket of self confidence.

What I have got is one sided and as good as over. Again.

Fuck it.

Roll on Friday. Is it time to go for a drink yet?

Standing up for myself

So I was stood up

But I got up and made other plans

Bigger plans with younger fans

When my fun was done, I saw the text

Where are you now, what is going on?

I got stood up and I need some fun

Delete

Get with the program, the wheel turns fast

I've already moved on

Old enough to know better

Age is a funny thing. Now more than ever I am convinced it is as much in your head as your bones.

Right now my bones are giving me a gentle reminder of what I have done with my nearly 39 years so far but after the weekend just gone I am amused to know that I pulled up better than friends 6 to 17 years younger.

As a side note, actually writing that number is a little shocking - It dawned on me just last night how old I actually was last night when I was doing some paperwork.

You see, Saturday I did about 3 hours of kite surfing, working hard on some big tricks and actually landing some - back rolls, raleys, hand drag back roll transitions, kite loops - all the fun stuff that puts your body on the line.

Sunday afternoon had more of the same in a solid 30 knots of breeze and I have to admit that when I came off the water things were aching just a little.

I checked my phone and there was confirmation that my latest flame could just be the one I have been looking for.

"Heading over to the States sports centre for gymnastics at 7 with the gang. Wanna play?"

Now, I have never done gymnastics. I wish I had but tumbling and being thrown at mats has been strictly limited to martial arts while under the age of 22. Sure I tumble through the air under a kite but that is over water.

Wandering into the gym, I was confronted by a sea of blue bouncy fun like the biggest padded cell R.P. McMurphy had ever seen.

This is where the age thing hit home. Paperwork, sign your life away - gymnastics will kill you at some point so you do this at your own risk - you idiot. And how old are you?

In my head I am late 20's, 30 at the max. My fingers corrected that with the rude shock that somehow I had nearly got to 39 years old.

My partners in crime against gymnastics were all between 22 and 33 with the normal class participants more like 18-24. Scary to think of it this way but some of these guys and girls were born about the same time I finished school. Conceived the same time as I was trying not to.

For a moment I paused and wondered what on earth I was thinking. Why are all my closest mates so much younger than me. Am I that creepy older dude that hangs around making people feel awkward?

Then I realised that I can still out perform and out last most of these kids. Right now I am getting back to the fittest I have been and am pushing harder than ever. It feels great.

After an hour and a half, we were a ball of messy sweat and silly grins. Somersaults, back flips, spectacular crashes into mats and pits of foam blocks from the trampolines. An insane amount of swinging and grunting on the uneven bars and a hit to the nuts on the pommel horse. We had done it all.

Today the messages flowed in...this hurts, that hurts and while I have to admit I could do with a new set of quads, seriously kids you need to harden the fuck up.

I am ready to do it again and my only disappointment is that I have to wait until Sunday.