Story Idea and Thought Snippets

Story Idea and Thought Snippets

 

1. Man creates holes like in the old cartoons.
2. Genie makes life fair. Ironic ending, “well after all, life isn’t fair.
3. Bullies in a bar get beaten up by a nerd who is really-alien, devil, lab experiment, whatever.
4. Man meets his future time travelling self, who warns him of an impending event. 
5. Man kills his “bad-luck” dragon/demon. Observe consequences
6. Man is able to see demon that causes problems for him, and questions him
7. Man becomes God for a day and gets to observe his actions.
8. Time warp noticed in elevator (or pool) and getting bigger.
9. "weak" places in the fabric of space due to nuclear, or social trauma.
10. My own search for Buddhism.
11. Kaylee lost at the Bruce Pit. Other humans and dogs help.
12. Ironic story. people have to wear t-shirts with what they are on them. "Nerd", "Slut", "Jock" etc. Story about labels, society limitations etc.
13. Story based on The Iliad.
     
     
     
    Children are at the same time remarkably resilient and remarkably fragile. They are afraid of the sound of thunder as their minds conjure up all sorts of fantastic reasons behind its cause, and we call that fragility, or childishness. But that fragility also gives them insight into the world that adults don't see. The same imagination that lets children believe in Santa Clause or the tooth fairy also makes see dark shapes under their bed and in their closet. They are sides of the same coin. How do you send a kid to bed, the frustrated parent angry that the child is 8 years old and still afraid of the dark, and also expect them to be excited about or a character lunch in Disney without having them turn to you and exclaim: "You know that's just some dude in a mouse suit right?" I will mourn the day my son is no longer afraid of the dark as outgrowing that also means he has left part of his childhood imagination and pure, naïve openness behind. His ability to simply believe.
     
     
     
     
    All that talk about time travel being so dangerous is a load of bunk. We’ve all heard the stories in school…. that time itself is so fragile that if you went back in time and had a significant microbe attach itself to your skin (one that was meant to be part of a chain reaction that would create a future species for example) That it would change all of history ot destroy time in a giant chain reaction.
                Crap.
                Man has seriously over-estimated his significance to the universe, as usual.
                Time is not the fragile delicate creature that past science has painted it to be.  We have seen it again and again in other examples of nature. A nuclear war, or similar disaster, destroys “all life” on a planet. Everything appears to have been wiped out completely. But, give the planet a chance before it is cleansed by the teams, and within 50 years new life forms appear. Usually vegetation at first but given time even the higher organisms recreate themselves in an adaptive fashion. Things may not look the same as they did before… but things go on. Things survive. Time is no different.
                Actually… take that back. Time is VERY different in that it has an infinite capacity to recuperate because it is… well… infinite! Imagine the most powerful explosion you can imagine. One that could erase a thousand galaxies in a heartbeat. Utter complete destruction on a universal scale. Detonate that bomb right now. What do you think will happen in a thousand, a million or a billion years from now because of that explosion? Imagine a billion-billion generations after the explosion? Do you really think that in the grand scale that Time perceives the universe that it really makes a bit of difference what happened that long ago? Again.. things may not look the same as if the bomb was never detonated, but it was. And Time would heal.
                To my students, before I was asked to leave the university for such “unorthodox” teachings, I used what I called the “Giant Vat of Custard” analogy:
                Imagine a vat of vanilla custard the size of a football field and two hundred feet deep. Now sprinkle about a billion pieces of black pepper into that vat and stir it until the pepper is dispersed evenly. Each spot of pepper represents a galaxy in our universe. They bump around, they move. One atom of one spot of pepper may develop the technology to visit another atom on another spot of pepper in a few billion years… but the mixture will always remain, for the most part, random and inconsequential in the greater scheme of things. Nothing that any single or group of pepper spots could do could effect the overall integrity of the tank. And, should one spot of pepper create a bomb capable of destroying the tank… Time is truly infinite. The football sized tank in the first analogy can be said to actually exist on a spot of pepper in a much bigger analogy.
                You go back in time and kill your great-grandfather, thereby eliminating yourself so you would not be able to kill him in the first place thereby re-instating yourself in Time.  This old child’s fable regarding time travel has been used to show how “unstable” our existence is.  Regardless of our interference in our own history there would be a “net” effect that follows. Current and future properties may vary as a result of our influence but nothing so cataclysmic as the destruction of existance.
                If existence were to be destroyed… what would happen one second later?
     
     
     
     
    One hundred pieces sounds easy right? File this one under: “It seemed like a good idea at the time”. It can’t be his fault. He’s not stupid. The first thing he did was to count all of the pieces, both those on the board and those left in the box. He even tore apart the neatly fitting pieces on the table in order to turn them over and make sure the picture pattern wasn’t repeated on the flip side of the colored slabs. But only the plain, stark grey of flat cardboard stared back at him, mocking him for his efforts and the now unnecessary repeating of those efforts to re-assemble the pieces he had already fitted once. While walking through the local mall last week a store he walked by had a large yellow poster in the window proclaiming how fun it would be for him to have a picture taken of himself, and to then have the fun of having that picture cut into a jigsaw puzzle. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He had the picture taken and bought the puzzle, only had to wait 5 minutes while the machine clunked and whirred away as it
     
     
     
    I'm not sure what day it was when I lost the last of my friends. I can't remember it happening all at once, like some kind of exodus where they all just got pissed off at one time and walked out never to return. It happened by inches. I didn't miss it at first. But at some point I realized..
     
     
     
    Dating again when I turned 47 was not what I had in mind for this stage of my life. I had enough failure at it way back when I was a stumbling, fumbling teenager, and at least back then I had the advantage of youth, stamina and a flat stomach.
     
     
    Overweight, middle-aged, unemployed male with occasional BO and low self-esteem is seeking a polyamorous relationship outside of his league. Looking for a woman who appreciates honesty
     
     
    The tough part is that the bell doesn't "unring" quite so loudly. Would I have agreed all those years ago to be where I am today had I known what that entailed?  Probably. No one sets out in their younger days with their new girl-friend or wife and thinks: "I agree to go the next 9 years without sex since we are totally incompatible in that area". There had been some concessions along the way. And, he loved her so in the end that was the only reason he plodded forward knowing you can't take away some of what a person is and expect them to thank or forgive you.
     
    Creepy.  Candid photos.  Those little moments capturing the truth of a person. It was singing while no one listened. It was dancing while no one watched. It was the honest view of a person without affect for societies sake. It sounds almost honerable when you put it like that. But she had only called him creepy. Her world was full of men who pretended to be dogs while sucking their partners cocks. Cross dressers who enjoyed being flogged in public with their own sweaty undergarments. Her own best friend wanted to find a man and insert a ring of 22 gauge needles around the head of his penis until it looked like a crown. But on the day he confided his own little penchant to her, she wrinkled her nose and let slip: "That's just creepy".
     
     
    In hindsight, the irony of my statement was somewhat staggering. I sat in front of a woman who had shown no sexual attraction in me for almost a decade and announced; "You know what I was thinking? I think I have to withhold sex with you from now on until we get on the same page".  I hope I didn't sound as ridiculous then as I feel now having said it out loud. She gave me the same answer a mother would give a 6 year old who announces he is going to try and grow a beard. "OK, If you think that's best".
    I guess I also thought that she might put up a little more of an argument. "Oh no! Can't we talk about it?" or "Really? That's a big step. Maybe you should reconsider?"
    I guess as a guy that the hardest point to realize is that she considers no sex as being better than "less than ideal" sex. For men, ANY sex is better than no sex. I do find it hard that in almost 10 years there has never been the inclination for her to "take one for the team". I've even hinted at times that I would have been OK with the occasional hand-job or blow-job at times. Just something that would make me feel closer to her or that she was at least trying. But I guess the crux of the argument that I have resisted is that she simply does not find me sexually attractive. I do believe she loves me, but I do nothing for her to get her "hot". I'm also sure that my constant asking over the years has grated on her as well. (What woman isn't more turned on by a man's constant begging for sex?). And believe me, I recognize the difference between someone who simply "isn't in the mood" vs someone who is actively turned-off/repulsed by a suitor. I recently came up behind her at the sink and snaked an arm around her waste in a from-behind cuddle. The response I received was the same shake and shrug as if I had snuck a cold wet slug down the back of her shirt.
    I know I bother her. I know I annoy and harass her and that I make her feel guilty. In some ways, I'm more worried about the day I actually do give up asking her for sex. I'm worried it will be a final admission that it is a done deal, that we will never have sex again and once I actually do close that door then I'm afraid I won't be receptive to ever trying to open it again. Too much will have passed. Even now, imagine the pressure when you know she has stopped having sex with you because you don't turn her on, then you get the chance to try it again. For the first time in 10 years you are probably more likely to cum in your pants than to provide any kind of earth-shattering experience for her to remember.
     
    Each of us develops a picture in our minds of what the terms "Masculine" and "Feminine" comprise. For me, feminine probably takes a strong hint from my mother. Strong, independent, an ability to cook and support "the man" while he works etc. Personally I would add to that what I call appearing "girly". I've always been attracted to petit women (a protection complex?) women with pretty faces, nice smiles, pretty eyes, a soft smell of perfume etc.  Conversely, I've always held a picture of what makes "a man". Again, probably with a strong influence from my father. Strong, or at least always willing to try and lift/move something. Independence from social pressures, self-sacrifice for their family, aversion to pampering (No I do NOT want a hand-massage while I get my hair styled thank you). I've also always thought that empathy and intelligence are masculine traits. My fictional role-models are Superman, Conan the Barbarian. Also, for men, I have always had the strong opinion that a man should be able to sexually satisfy their partner. A kiss should melt their legs, a smile or a touch on the arm should make them swoon.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    
    
    

"Shard" - Working title

 

Decisions matter. Decisions have results, though no results are "right" or "wrong" in a literal sense. They simply "are".

3 people, 3 lives. Unexplained phenomenon happening to them all with no apparent link until we realize they are all the same person. That is, the same person but who they are is dependent on a single decision made some time in their future (or past??). They think it is something complex (a death, murder perhaps?) but it is actually something simple like a food choice. 2 of the people are male one is female. Same fingerprints and DNA. They end up meeting when the link is discovered.  Things fade around them. Newspaper lines alter minutes after they have read them. People know them, or do not, that they remember.

Shard is splinter of reality, caused by both future and past events. Something splinters this reality into these three people as the only alternate possibilities and they have to decide who makes the "decision" that will end in one of them being the saved reality.

Ending? The decision they make is actually responsible for the splinter in the first place, so the book is actually on a loop.

 

As I clean the house, since there is not much else to do when you've spent the last year unemployed, I occasionally come across some of her toys, lingerie, accessories and other various "accoutrements". I see dildos and other such battery operated toys that I have never used. I see boots, lingerie, bras and lace accessories that I have never seen her wear. Two full suitcases and a few smaller backpacks full of cuffs, ropes, blindfolds, lube and a host of other items for the sexually open minded. I have watched and admired her as she has gone through her sexual "awakening" in recent years. I honestly admire it. I cannot imagine being in your late forties before you realize you're gay, or bi, or into wearing diapers, or into water sports, or whatever  might turn you on that is considered outside the norm. Most people have given up on expanding their sexual experiences by the time they have been married for a decade and simply consider it as something that simply will never be fulfilled. Or maybe convince themselves that it was something they really didn't want to do in the first place. So I do admire her foray into the world of BDSM and, as is the case with many hobbies/obsessions, it is something she doesn't do half-way.  My main concern is that it is a journey on which I have been unable to accompany her. Not necessarily unable, but I have not been invited. I have tried to explore my own interest in this lifestyle by keeping my explorations separate from hers. I opened up a profile on a local fetish website and when she found out what I had done she flipped her lid. Nicely mind you, but the message was the same. It was her sandbox and she didn't want me playing in it.

           

So, I watch. And wait as she goes out with other men and does things with strangers that she hasn't done with me since before our almost 10 year old son was born.  In the past decade we have had actual sex once, it was an odd conflagration of events that saw her in the mood and me being the only warm body handy. I think I was simply an alternative to masturbation and I lacked the self-esteem to turn her down. It was chance to be close to the sexiest and most gorgeous woman I have ever known, so I took it. The one other time we had any type of sexual contact she allowed herself to be touched by me while we had some side-by-side self fun. But she wore a blindfold, I assume so she wouldn't know who was lying beside her. I don't count it as sexual contact but there has been at least two occasions where she wanted to look "neat and trim" for a couple of hot dates so she asked me to shave her pubic hair. Again, wondering and hoping that something might "stir" in her as she is lying spread-eagled on the bed and I work on her pussy, I lacked the self image needed to tell her no, and so helped her dates have better access to her pussy when they ate her out or fucked her.

 

The hard truth is, I don't turn her on. I may be a great provider, father to her son, family man, doer of tasks and killer of spiders, but whether physically or psychologically, I do not get her engine revved. I believe her when she says she would stop seeing other men. But to what end? Her stopping with strangers wouldn't suddenly make her attracted to me, so what is the point of both of us being frustrated?

 

I have tried. I have been horny and persistent enough at times that she has almost had to hold me off with a stick. She yells at me and tells me she feels pressured and that if I only backed off she might get more in the mood with me. So, I take the opposite approach. At last count I have made it to the 6 month mark without so much as oogling her or laying a suggestive hand on her hip at night, and yet she either has not noticed, it is not long enough, or she assumes I'm getting elsewhere and she no longer has to make the effort.

 

On paper I am the trophy husband. I do the housework (whether I'm unemployed or not) I am the one who deals with our son 90% of the time (playtime, personal time, morning sendoff to school, lunches, special events etc.) I do the laundry and make the majority of the meals for the home. As far as romance goes, I remember every annual event (first date, child adoption anniversaries, wedding and birthdays etc.) I buy her treats, surprises, flowers and listen and make notes when she hints about something she would really like to have. I even spent a month and a half trying to "woo" her by sending her nightly e-mails and text notes with Shakespeare love quotes before I went to sleep. She often told me how jealous her friend were and how much they wished they had a husband or boyfriend like me. Yet... here I sit unfucked and with a gorgeous wife that has zero interest in me.

Shaving

 

Washing her back. Picking her outfits or which pics make her breasts look te best for other men.

 

 

 

It was 13 years that my mother lived with the death of my father on her mind. In all that time I never thought to ask her what happened, or how he passed. It either never occurred to me or if it did occur I quickly buried it without realizing it. I think my sister asked her, but I never knew how much detail mom went into or how much of the actual moment she managed to impart to my sister. All I know for sure, is that my father was sitting on the couch in our living room in his TTC uniform, ready to go to work. He was sitting and just relaxing for a moment as he felt a bit "off". Then, apparently, he simply said: "Oh dear".

 

 

Last Meal

The last meal I had as a virgin was at a local Harvey’s in Rexdale.  I think the restaurant is still there though it has been renovated several times in the last 30 years.  I was 17 when I decided that I had waited long enough to traverse the ritual into manhood. Every once in a while if I know I have to drive through Rexdale on an errand I make an effort to drive by Islington Road and Rexdale Blvd to look at it. 

 

My friend Ron and I had talked about going to downtown Toronto to look at hookers (and maybe “get one") for several months. For the longest time it was just that... talk. I don't remember what pushed us that final step from thought into action. Payday? Hormones? A combination of the two?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I was 17 and

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Imagine a scenario in which a man already has a compromised self-image. Already thinks of himself as unimportant, unremarkable, unloved, worthless. Thinks of himself as the family nigger, partially because of the response that word generates in the mind and partly because it reflects the level of servitude he feels his own guilt yokes him to them.

 

Imagine that man tries to get past it. Wonders if it is simply a chemical imbalance in the brain that is preventing him from being happy. If he can just develop new habits, develop new bonds he can get past it. "I know!", he thinks, "I'll call that lady i met at the LLL lunches a while back. We met for a coffee after the lunch and even hooked up once. She was sexy and a lot of fun and I drive by her house almost every day on my way to the park where I walk the dogs. I'll send her an e-mail and see if she wants to maybe have a little more fun."

I send the e-mail, short, concise, not even overtly sexual. Just a quick "Hello"  to "see if you're enjoying the summer", with the obvious liaison left unspoken depending on her response. I sign it with my full name as my e-mail address is not specific to who I am.

The next morning I wake to the response: "Sorry, who is this?".

 

 

At the drop of a hat anyone feels comfortable asking him to drive to a restaurant, drive to the east or west end to pick up a wanted item. Drive to the store for . yet let this same man ask for a coke from the fridge and watch the excuses fly. The man tries to read a book and can't finish a page before someone asks for something.

Delete After Here??

 

Story Idea and Thought Snippets

 

1. Man creates holes like in the old cartoons.
2. Genie makes life fair. Ironic ending, “well after all, life isn’t fair.
3. Bullies in a bar get beaten up by a nerd who is really-alien, devil, lab experiment, whatever.
4. Man meets his future time travelling self, who warns him of an impending event. 
5. Man kills his “bad-luck” dragon/demon. Observe consequences
6. Man is able to see demon that causes problems for him, and questions him
7. Man becomes God for a day and gets to observe his actions.
8. Time warp noticed in elevator (or pool) and getting bigger.
9. "weak" places in the fabric of space due to nuclear, or social trauma.
10. My own search for Buddhism.
11. Kaylee lost at the Bruce Pit. Other humans and dogs help.
12. Ironic story. people have to wear t-shorts with what they are on them. "Nerd", "Slut", "Jock" etc. Story about labels, society limitations etc.
13. Story based on The Iliad.

Short story about a secret service or NSA agent who accidentally detects patterns of suicide online instead of territost activity.

 

 

 

Children are at the same time remarkably resilient and remarkably fragile. They are afraid of the sound of thunder as their minds conjure up all sorts of fantastic reasons behind its cause, and we call that fragility, or childishness. But that fragility also gives them insight into the world that adults don't see. The same imagination that makes children afraid of the dark is the same imagination that lets them believe in Santa Clause. They are sides of the same coin. How do you send a kid to bed, the frustrated parent angry that the child is 8 years old and still afraid of the dark, and also expect them to be excited about the tooth fairy or a character lunch in Disney without having thrm turn to you and exclaim: "You know that's just some dude in a mouse suit right?" I will mourn the day my son is no longer afraid of the dark as outgrowing that also means he has left part of his childhood imagination and pure, naive openness behind. His ability to simply believe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All that talk about time travel being so dangerous is a load of bunk. We’ve all heard the stories in school…. that time itself is so fragile that if you went back in time and had a significant microbe attach itself to your skin (one that was meant to be part of a chain reaction that would create a future species for example) That it would change all of history ot destroy time in a giant chain reaction.

            Crap.

            Man has seriously over-estimated his significance to the universe, as usual.

            Time is not the fragile delicate creature that past science has painted it to be.  We have seen it again and again in other examples of nature. A nuclear war, or similar disaster, destroys “all life” on a planet. Everything appears to have been wiped out completely. But, give the planet a chance before it it cleansed by the teams, and within 50 years new life forms appear. Usually vegatation at first but given time even the higher organisms recreate themselves in an adaptive fashion. Things may not look the same as they did before… but things go on. Things survive. Time is no different.

            Actually… take that back. Time is VERY different in that it has an infinite capacity to recouperate because it is… well… infinite! Imagine the most powerful explosion you can imagine. One that could erase a thousand galaxies in a heartbeat. Utter complete destruction on a universal scale. Detonate that bomb right now. What do you think will happen in a thousand, a million or a billion years from now because of that explosion? Imagine a billion-billion generations after the explosion? Do you really think that in the grand scale that Time perceives the universe that it really makes a bit of difference what happened that long ago? Again.. things may not look the same as if the bomb was never detonated, but it was. And Time would heal.

            To my students, before I was asked to leave the university for such “unorthodox” teachings, I used what I called the “Giant Vat of Custard” analogy:

            Imagine a vat of vanilla custard the size of a football field and two hundred feet deep. Now sprinke about a billion pieces of black pepper into that vat and stir it until the pepper is dispersed evenly. Each spot of pepper represents a galaxy in our universe. They bump around, they move. One atom of one spot of pepper may develop the technology to visit another atom on another spot of pepper in a few billion years… but the mixture will always remain, for the most part, random and inconsequential in the greater scheme of things. Nothing that any single or group of pepper spots could do could effect the overall integrity of the tank. And, should one spot of pepper create a bomb capable of destroying the tank… Time is truly infinite. The football sized tank in the first analogy can be said to actually exist on a spot of pepper in a much bigger analogy.

            You go back in time and kill your great-grandfather, thereby eliminating yourself so you would not be able to kill him in the first place thereby re-instating yourself in Time.  This old child’s fable regarding time travel has been used to show how “unstable” our existance is.  Regardless of our interference in our own history there would be a “net” effect that follows. Current and future properties may vary as a result of our influence but nothing so cataclysmic as the destruction of existance.

            If existance were to be destroyed… what would happen one second later?

 

 

 

 

One hundred pieces sounds easy right? File this one under: “It seemed like a good idea at the time”. It can’t be his fault. He’s not stupid. The first thing he did was to count all of the pieces, both those on the board and those left in the box. He even tore apart the neatly fitting pieces on the table in order to turn them over and make sure the picture pattern wasn’t repeated on the flip side of the colored slabs. But only the plain, stark grey of flat cardboard stared back at him, mocking him for his efforts and the now unnecessary repeating of those efforts to re-assemble the pieces he had already fitted once. While walking through the local mall last week a store he walked by had a large yellow poster in the window proclaiming how fun it would be for him to have a picture taken of himself, and to then have the fun of having that picture cut into a jigsaw puzzle. It seemed like a good idea at the time. He had the picture taken and bought the puzzle, only had to wait 5 minutes while the machine clunked and whirred away as it

 

 

 

I'm not sure what day it was when I lost the last of my friends. I can't remember it happening all at once, like some kind of exodus where they all just got pissed off at one time and walked out never to return. It happened by inches.

 

 

 

Dating again when I turned 47 was not what I had in mind for this stage of my life. I had enough failure at it way back when I was a stumbling, fumbling teenager, and at least back then I had the advantage of youth, stamina and a flat stomach.

 

 

Overweight, middle-aged, unemployed male with occasional BO and low self-esteem is seeking a polyamorous relationship outside of his league. Looking for a woman who appreciates honesty

 

 

The tough part is that the bell doesn't "unring" quite so loudly. Would I have agreed all those years ago to be where I am today had I known what that entailed?  Probably. No one sets out in their younger days with their new girl-friend or wife and thinks: "I agree to go the next 9 years without sex since we are totally incompatible in that area". There had been some concessions along the way. And, he loved her so in the end that was the only reason he plodded forward knowing you can't take away some of what a person is and expect them to thank or forgive you.

 

Creepy.  Candid photos.  Those little moments capturing the truth of a person. It was singing while no one listened. It was dancing while no one watched. It was the honest view of a person without affect for societies sake. It sounds almost honerable when you put it like that. But she had only called him creepy. Her world was full of men who pretended to be dogs while sucking their partners cocks. Cross dressers who enjoyed being flogged in public with their own sweaty undergarments. Her own best friend wanted to find a man and insert a ring of 22 gauge needles around the head of his penis until it looked like a crown. But on the day he confided his own little penchant to her, she wrinkled her nose and let slip: "That's just creepy".

 

 

In hindsight, the irony of my statement was somewhat staggering. I sat in front of a woman who had shown no sexual attraction in me for almost a decade and announced; "You know what I was thinking? I think I have to withhold sex with you from now on until we get on the same page".  I hope I didn't sound as ridiculous then as I feel now having said it out loud. She gave me the same answer a mother would give a 6 year old who announces he is going to try and grow a beard. "OK, If you think that's best".

I guess I also thought that she might put up a little more of an argument. "Oh no! Can't we talk about it?" or "Really? That's a big step. Maybe you should reconsider?"

I guess as a guy that the hardest point to realize is that she considers no sex as being better than "less than ideal" sex. For men, ANY sex is better than no sex. I do find it hard that in almost 10 years there has never been the inclination for her to "take one for the team". I've even hinted at times that I would have been OK with the occasional hand-job or blow-job at times. Just something that would make me feel closer to her or that she was at least trying. But I guess the crux of the argument that I have resisted is that she simply does not find me sexually attractive. I do believe she loves me, but I do nothing for her to get her "hot". I'm also sure that my constant asking over the years has grated on her as well. (What woman isn't more turned on by a man's constant begging for sex?). And believe me, I recognize the difference between someone who simply "isn't in the mood" vs someone who is actively turned-off/repulsed by a suitor. I recently came up behind her at the sink and snaked an arm around her waste in a from-behind cuddle. The response I received was the same shake and shrug as if I had snuck a cold wet slug down the back of her shirt.

I know I bother her. I know I annoy and harass her and that I make her feel guilty. In some ways, I'm more worried about the day I actually do give up asking her for sex. I'm worried it will be a final admission that it is a done deal, that we will never have sex again and once I actually do close that door then I'm afraid I won't be receptive to ever trying to open it again. Too much will have passed. Even now, imagine the pressure when you know she has stopped having sex with you because you don't turn her on, then you get the chance to try it again. For the first time in 10 years you are probably more likely to cum in your pants than to provide any kind of earth-shattering experience for her to remember.

 

Each of us develops a picture in our minds of what the terms "Masculine" and "Feminine" comprise. For me, feminine probably takes a strong hint from my mother. Strong, independent, an ability to cook and support "the man" while he works etc. Personally I would add to that what I call appearing "girly". I've always been attracted to petit women (a protection complex?) women with pretty faces, nice smiles, pretty eyes, a soft smell of perfume etc.  Conversely, I've always held a picture of what makes "a man". Again, probably with a strong influence from my father. Strong, or at least always willing to try and lift/move something. Independence from social pressures, self-sacrifice for their family, aversion to pampering (No I do NOT want a hand-massage while I get my hair styled thank you). I've also always thought that empathy and intelligence are masculine traits. My fictional role-models are Superman, Conan the Barbarian. Also, for men, I have always had the strong opinion that a man should be able to sexually satisfy their partner. A kiss should melt their legs, a smile or a touch on the arm should make them swoon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Shard" - Working title

 

Decisions matter. Decisions have results, though no results are "right" or "wrong" in a literal sense. They simply "are".

3 people, 3 lives. Unexplained phenomenon happening to them all with no apparent link until we realize they are all the same person. That is, the same person but who they are is dependent on a single decision made some time in their future (or past??). They think it is something complex (a death, murder perhaps?) but it is actually something simple like a food choice. 2 of the people are male one is female. Same fingerprints and DNA. They end up meeting when the link is discovered.  Things fade around them. Newspaper lines alter minutes after they have read them. People know them, or do not, that they remember.

Shard is splinter of reality, caused by both future and past events. Something splinters this reality into these three people as the only alternate possibilities and they have to decide who makes the "decision" that will end in one of them being the saved reality.

Ending? The decision they make is actually responsible for the splinter in the first place, so the book is actually on a loop.

 

As I clean the house, since there is not much else to do when you've spent the last year unemployed, I occasionally come across some of her toys, lingerie, accessories and other various "accoutrements". I see dildos and other such battery operated toys that I have never used. I see boots, lingerie, bras and lace accessories that I have never seen her wear. Two full suitcases and a few smaller backpacks full of cuffs, ropes, blindfolds, lube and a host of other items for the sexually open minded. I have watched and admired her as she has gone through her sexual "awakening" in recent years. I honestly admire it. I cannot imagine being in your late forties before you realize you're gay, or bi, or into wearing diapers, or into water sports, or whatever  might turn you on that is considered outside the norm. Most people have given up on expanding their sexual experiences by the time they have been married for a decade and simply consider it as something that simply will never be fulfilled. Or maybe convince themselves that it was something they really didn't want to do in the first place. So I do admire her foray into the world of BDSM and, as is the case with many hobbies/obsessions, it is something she doesn't do half-way.  My main concern is that it is a journey on which I have been unable to accompany her. Not necessarily unable, but I have not been invited. I have tried to explore my own interest in this lifestyle by keeping my explorations separate from hers. I opened up a profile on a local fetish website and when she found out what I had done she flipped her lid. Nicely mind you, but the message was the same. It was her sandbox and she didn't want me playing in it.

           

So, I watch. And wait as she goes out with other men and does things with strangers that she hasn't done with me since before our almost 10 year old son was born.  In the past decade we have had actual sex once, it was an odd conflagration of events that saw her in the mood and me being the only warm body handy. I think I was simply an alternative to masturbation and I lacked the self-esteem to turn her down. It was chance to be close to the sexiest and most gorgeous woman I have ever known, so I took it. The one other time we had any type of sexual contact she allowed herself to be touched by me while we had some side-by-side self fun. But she wore a blindfold, I assume so she wouldn't know who was lying beside her. I don't count it as sexual contact but there has been at least two occasions where she wanted to look "neat and trim" for a couple of hot dates so she asked me to shave her pubic hair. Again, wondering and hoping that something might "stir" in her as she is lying spread-eagled on the bed and I work on her pussy, I lacked the self image needed to tell her no, and so helped her dates have better access to her pussy when they ate her out or fucked her.

 

The hard truth is, I don't turn her on. I may be a great provider, father to her son, family man, doer of tasks and killer of spiders, but whether physically or psychologically, I do not get her engine revved. I believe her when she says she would stop seeing other men. But to what end? Her stopping with strangers wouldn't suddenly make her attracted to me, so what is the point of both of us being frustrated?

 

I have tried. I have been horny and persistent enough at times that she has almost had to hold me off with a stick. She yells at me and tells me she feels pressured and that if I only backed off she might get more in the mood with me. So, I take the opposite approach. At last count I have made it to the 6 month mark without so much as oogling her or laying a suggestive hand on her hip at night, and yet she either has not noticed, it is not long enough, or she assumes I'm getting elsewhere and she no longer has to make the effort.

 

On paper I am the trophy husband. I do the housework (whether I'm unemployed or not) I am the one who deals with our son 90% of the time (playtime, personal time, morning sendoff to school, lunches, special events etc.) I do the laundry and make the majority of the meals for the home. As far as romance goes, I remember every annual event (first date, child adoption anniversaries, wedding and birthdays etc.) I buy her treats, surprises, flowers and listen and make notes when she hints about something she would really like to have. I even spent a month and a half trying to "woo" her by sending her nightly e-mails and text notes with Shakespeare love quotes before I went to sleep. She often told me how jealous her friend were and how much they wished they had a husband or boyfriend like me. Yet... here I sit unfucked and with a gorgeous wife that has zero interest in me.

Shaving

 

Washing her back. Picking her outfits or which pics make her breasts look the best for other men.

 

 

 

It was 13 years that my mother lived with the death of my father on her mind. In all that time I never thought to ask her what happened, or how he passed. It either never occurred to me or if it did occur I quickly buried it without realizing it. I think my sister asked her, but I never knew how much detail mom went into or how much of the actual moment she managed to impart to my sister. All I know for sure, is that my father was sitting on the couch in our living room in his TTC uniform, ready to go to work. He was sitting and just relaxing for a moment as he felt a bit "off". Then, apparently, he simply said: "Oh dear".

 

 

 

 

 

I stand in line with the rest of the losers. We’re all here for the same reason. The courses are free, it may lead to a job (apart from the fact that I’m now in competition with the same people I’m standing in line with) and, in the end, it simply makes me feel like I’m doing something. Moving forward.  Being “Proactvie”.  It feels better than sitting at home and going over what I lost while I feel the judgmental looks from my wife over my shoulder.

I’m one of them now. The same people I used to drive by on the street

Last Meal

The last meal I had as a virgin was at a local Harvey’s in Rexdale.  I think the restaurant is still there though it has been renovated several times in the last 30 years.  I was 17 when I decided that I had waited long enough to traverse the ritual into manhood. Every once in a while if I know I have to drive through Rexdale on an errand I make an effort to drive by Islington Road and Rexdale Blvd to look at it. 

 

My friend Ron and I had talked about going to downtown Toronto to look at hookers (and maybe “get one") for several months. For the longest time it was just that... talk. I don't remember what pushed us that final step from thought into action. Payday? Hormones? A combination of the two?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 I was 17 and