I haven’t been there as much as I’d like to have been, and I haven’t done that, at least not enough to call myself comprehensively experienced. More than one forever-gay friend has told me my enthusiasm would easily outstrip my experience and they were correct. I was forewarned…but I haven’t let that slow me down.
Instead, I’m like that kid in a candy store where I want to sample every sweet-tasting candy stick in those tall glass jars behind the counter. The clerk warns me all that candy will damage my teeth and even wiser counsel suggests I will spoil my dinner. I don’t give a tinker’s damn about dinner in the short run; there is no question that I am a total slut for immediate gratification. I almost always fill up on appetizers…or candy, as the case may be.
I approach my quest for experience with an enthusiasm seldom even remembered by those who long ago allowed wonder and novelty to fade. My newfound sexual liberation and empowerment manifest as freedom to meet and enjoy the company of men on a level I never previously imagined…and I’m diggin’ it. Does this make me overly promiscuous? Well, perhaps not overly; maybe just a little bit.
Promiscuity carries with it numerical requirements better realized in a bigger pond. Thus, my enthusiasm is constrained by geography, which I believe is keeping me out of trouble. Given my inexperience and apparently boundless enthusiasm, I undoubtedly would land myself in less than savory circumstances. Regardless, I’m always looking for ways to increase my travel budget because the best candy stores are some distance away.
If all these metaphors are confusing, I’ll try to be clear. Compared to many, I am a relatively inexperienced, newly out, gay man. Yet my enthusiasm is that of an adolescent. In seeking to broaden my experience, if I didn’t live at the head of the draw I would be considerably more sexually active.
As it is, I travel to meet male friends. Therefore, I have plenty of windshield time to ponder and fantasize my actions, and my carbon footprint sucks. But I am one enthusiastic lover after the rubber leaves the road and the engine is ticking as it cools. There I go with the metaphors again.
Instead, I’m like that kid in a candy store where I want to sample every sweet-tasting candy stick in those tall glass jars behind the counter. The clerk warns me all that candy will damage my teeth and even wiser counsel suggests I will spoil my dinner. I don’t give a tinker’s damn about dinner in the short run; there is no question that I am a total slut for immediate gratification. I almost always fill up on appetizers…or candy, as the case may be.
I approach my quest for experience with an enthusiasm seldom even remembered by those who long ago allowed wonder and novelty to fade. My newfound sexual liberation and empowerment manifest as freedom to meet and enjoy the company of men on a level I never previously imagined…and I’m diggin’ it. Does this make me overly promiscuous? Well, perhaps not overly; maybe just a little bit.
Promiscuity carries with it numerical requirements better realized in a bigger pond. Thus, my enthusiasm is constrained by geography, which I believe is keeping me out of trouble. Given my inexperience and apparently boundless enthusiasm, I undoubtedly would land myself in less than savory circumstances. Regardless, I’m always looking for ways to increase my travel budget because the best candy stores are some distance away.
If all these metaphors are confusing, I’ll try to be clear. Compared to many, I am a relatively inexperienced, newly out, gay man. Yet my enthusiasm is that of an adolescent. In seeking to broaden my experience, if I didn’t live at the head of the draw I would be considerably more sexually active.
As it is, I travel to meet male friends. Therefore, I have plenty of windshield time to ponder and fantasize my actions, and my carbon footprint sucks. But I am one enthusiastic lover after the rubber leaves the road and the engine is ticking as it cools. There I go with the metaphors again.
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