Category: Essays & Bad Ideas

An assortment of ramblings; some thoughtful, some thoughtless

I just saw someone getting shamed for reblogging me. And I’ll be honest with you: I like when a girl takes a hit in my name. Nothing makes a man feel more like a god than a woman who subjects herself to scorn in praise of him.1 That’s damned sexy girling, that is.

But wow, it is bizarre watching someone espouse feminism while lambasting a woman for something a man wrote.

Incredibly hot, but still bizarre.

  1. Just imagine how Kevin Federline must have felt during the salad days. ↩

A Guide To Cranky Old Men

A lot of you want my attention. Very few of you have a clue how to get it, much less keep it. So here is a new installment of quick pro-tips that may (or may not) help you navigate into my orbit.

  1. Don’t be scared. You already know I’m going to hurt you, and if things go well, it’ll happen quite often. The more we trust one another, the worse it’s going to get. You even know how I’m going to hurt you: I’m going to take advantage of your weakness. And who knows your weakness better than you? Exactly. If you look deep inside, you can already see the worst things to come… so why be frightened?
  2. Understand that I don’t need you. I may like you. I may grow to adore you. I could even –in my misguided way— depend upon you. But you will always be the most disposable thing in my world. Act accordingly.
  3. Use your fucking blog to say something. Even if that “something” is just “Hey everyone, look at my ass!” I don’t want to wade through a wall of reblogs of random shit that someone else created… I want to see you, ya dumb bitch. And you want to be seen, right?
  4. Remember that you ultimately don’t matter. You’re only of interest to me if you can inspire me. That’s your job. That’s your purpose. If you can’t do it, then you’re fundamentally worthless. Perhaps I’ll end up attached to you and want you around for additional reasons, but the baseline understanding is this: be good for me, or begone.
  5. Your boobs are not that great. Well, okay, some of them are actually outstanding. But at this point, tit pics are to me as dick pics are to you. Show me the parts of you that you didn’t flash to every frat boy and horny dad on Chatroulette back in 2009. I’d rather see your outfit of the day than one more smartphone nipple snap.
  6. Keep your chin up. If I don’t care for your body, or your face, or your voice, or your thoughts, it doesn’t mean you’re ugly. It just means you’re ugly to me. Change my mind. Change yourself. Be better.

Cranky Old Man Shit: Aftercare

Aftercare isn’t about kindness, love, and that sort of goopy shit. It’s not a chore or a to-do item on a checklist that you need to tick off in order to Do The Right Thing. I know that’s how the kink community likes to frame it, and hey, that framing may work for you… awesome. But if it doesn’t, there are other ways to look at it.

For me? Aftercare is a decompression chamber for your humanity. It’s a space where two people who have just done something really strange can spend a few minutes coming to terms with what that strangeness says about them.

My Fetishes?

I’ve always been attracted to the sound women make when they’re feeling particularly small and ineffectual, but I didn’t have a name for it. MTV came to my rescue ten years ago, during a scene on Laguna Beach where two of the hotter, meaner girls were shopping, and one of them was making a kind of whimpering, whiny, squeak as she struggled to grasp an item on a high shelf.

“You’re making the Reaching Noise,” the other one noted.

I am all about the Reaching Noise.