Nano news, nano blues

It’d all over but the final frantic sibilance as scribblers everywhere rush to finish.

I am done.

Oh yes, and early. I told my sweetheart, and now he wants to read it. But there are things in there that might make him feel bad. Like hard dicks. In fact, there are quite a few. Including one beloning to a character quite like him, in form and feature. So I am in a quandary.

I am learning how to express myself without restriction–

And yet I am restricted by my dueling impulses to have my work read, to obtain my  sweeties approval, and to not hurt my his feelings, or provide evidence of some paranoid conviction that I am unsatisfied with him.

I am,

but not because of his dick. It’s more the way he is because of his dick. Or maybe his dick is like that because of the way he is. But it’s that part, that part, that shamed, self-hating, toxic, corrosive part that is the problem.

And it’s really like, who am I to complain? That’s his cross to bear, and he has to deal with it.

But I have this other set of dueling impulses, one of which is my desire to be around him and the other, which is to get away from the toxicity.

Sucks. But anyway, I tried to figure out how the hot guy could have ED. Or maybe the hot guy (who so resembles my lover), could pop a quick Viagra before the love scene.

Or I could let him read it the way it is. But I have no wish to hurt him. Maybe I should say, he’s a grown up, and he can handle it.

Decisions, decisions…

My boyfriend can’t get it up

My boyfriend can’t get it up. You might wonder why he’s still my boyfriend, and sometimes so do I, but not because of that. The truth is, he’s a sex god. How narrow minded you are, to think only a hard dick can be a sex god. No, he is so hot, one look and my body melts. More orgasms than you can count. He’s that good.

Unfortunately he does not understand this. He, too, is convinced that a hard dick (preferably huge) is all that counts. He’s also balding, overweight (I don’t care), and convinced that his dick is too small, even when hard (it’s not), which probably has a lot to do with why it doesn’t get hard. Size matters, but not as much as other things, like, oh,  skill, for example. Trust me, I’ve dated younger, slimmer, hairier guys who were hung like a horse, and they were completely useless in bed.

It all started out so nicely, so hot, so rich, so good. And then… He was too tired. I was masturbating before he got home because I was so horny, but he was too tired. He hurt his shoulder. I was understanding, and restrained myself. Mistake. The second year I had a drug reaction and gained 10-15 pounds. he had a lousy summer and became seriously depressed.

Not fun, living in one tiny room with a seriously depressed guy who (you are pretty certain) thinks you look repulsive. When drunk, he said we should let the whole thing go. Sober, he did not remember saying this and denied wanting to end it. I stayed. Mistake.

He tries Viagra; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. When I’m not around is when it tends to work. Oh. No, I don’t feel completely shitty about this. So now I am dating a totally hot sex magic god who so doesn’t want to fuck me, he can’t get hard on Viagra (I’m beautiful, by the way).  I hate the Viagra because it becomes all about the dick and not about me. Getting laid with Viagra is worse than without, b/c he just gets his rocks off, and where are all my orgasms?

He comes to stay with me, has no job; I employ him. He has another lousy summer, stays at my place depressed out of his mind. I am understanding. I give him money. Mistake. I am now buying his smokes and basically supporting him and he is depressed. I am not getting laid. there isn’t even any Viagra around. I tell my therapist; she says, “So he has a mood disorder. But when you talk about him you look younger and it’s the only time you smile.”

He has the most beautiful voice and he makes me laugh and his hands are magic, but he won’t touch me. He’s not interested in my breasts and he doesn’t like to kiss. I love to kiss. He feels so bad about his body (or maybe mine), he turns the light off when we make love.

But he didn’t used to. And I am not getting laid.

I tell him I will not give him any more money. He understands (he really is not a mooch. How the fuck did I get here?) I go back where I live (we lives thousands of miles apart). Sometimes we talk on the phone. He is broke. He has let all his credit cards collapse and phone get turned off. He has only a 10 cents a minute cell phone. When I call him he has no minutes or his phone is on silent. Sometimes he doesn’t call me for days. Like 10 of them.  I am not getting laid AND I am worried. I say I need him to email me every day, write to me for at least 10 minutes. He starts, then skips three days. I tell him he will email me EVERY DAY or I am done.

I am still not getting laid.