ErosWired

“Fussy” implies that I have discretion in who fucks me. It’s not my place to puck and choose, simply to provide service. A man who wishes to have my cunt gets my cunt. It’s his to have, not mine to give. That’s the nature of me, my whole sexual purpose. Fussy doesn’t enter into it.

^ There’s something to this, definitely. Insecurity is an ugly thing. I was never one of the Beautiful People (though mercifully I’m not quite Quasimodo either) and I always knew there wasn’t any point in trying to play their game. So I’ve never given much thought to whether or not anyone found me ‘hot’ to look at, I just parade around naked as though it doesn’t matter to anyone else either. The thing is, though, I find that because I don’t give much thought about how I look, I don’t pay that much attention to how anyone else looks either. I’m not comparing myself to anyone else, so I end up not comparing them to each other either. Thus, I’ll fuck anybody. 😀

What you’re pointing to and suggesting, however, actually sharply limits the potential range of localities, because what you describe is by far the exception in America, not the norm. Instead of doctors who have the spare time in their practice to devote to research, we see an increase in licensed nurse practitioners filling in behind a shortage of fully qualified MDs because the burgeoning population is outstripping the capacity of the medical system. There are (many) places in the American heartland where there simply no longer is no local clinic at all - some places are even losing entire hospitals. Even in a place like the third-largest city in Kentucky, in what is probably its best-regarded clinic, my GP didn’t have enough experience with HIV to recognize its symptoms until I had progressed to full-blown AIDS right under his nose. Never mind finding a shame-free clinic, try finding one where they even know it when they see it. The best you can hope for is to find reasonably competent care in Louisville or Lexington, and for the majority of the people in this state that means an hour or more drive, one-way, if you can get an appointment. They’re so backlogged with patients that research is out of the question. I certainly don’t hold godforsaken Kentucky up as any kind of example, but it’s more or less the same story anywhere from rural America all the way up through the mid-range towns and cities. The hard reality is that the farther you choose to separate yourself from the major metropolitan centers, the more high-end options you may expect to sacrifice. There’s a reason the rents get cheaper out there - the standard of living doesn’t merit the price. You should certainly look for the best possible options…but you may have to modulate your expectations.

^ This is putting it mildly. You might find something in a tempting price range in a more rural/remote area compared to metro, but you may also discover that the countryside out there is sparsely populated by people of your like mind, and for a reason. If it were a choice place for you to go, others like you would already be there in numbers. If they’re not, look for the red flags. Landing a dirt-cheap rent isn’t an advantage if you’re surrounded by cannibals. The wrong locale can easily become a stand-in for Hell depending on the locals involved; some of the cannibals like to roast gays over an open fire - not the good kind of spit-roating.

Actually, no. A lot of this stems from the degradation of civil society caused by the rise of online social culture that allows people to anonymously interact and indulge the worst aspects of their character without consequence. People from an older generation developed their character during a time when people knew how to treat one another in order to get along and make society function. Young people now are forming their character in echo chambers full of people who screech that nobody has to play by any rules, and ironically complain that anyone who complains about anything is an asshole. Which means, of course, that anyone who disagrees is an asshole. And since nobody is going to agree on everything, everybody becomes an asshole, and why should you be nice to an asshole? So we arrive at a culture in which no one feels obliged to be nice to anyone, are affronted if it’s suggested that they haven’t, and rise in arms if it’s suggested that they must. Nice society of assholes you’re building for yourselves. It doesn’t encourage openmindedness and acceptance as you’re suggesting - it promotes tribalism, polarization and social schism, and we’re watching it tear our nations apart - the “United” States especially - as we watch. So, no, it isn’t just about butthurt because some twentysomething told us no. It’s because the twentysomething has either forgotten how to behave like a decent human being, or never learned in the first place. I raised two of them, and I made damn sure they, at least, understood the difference.

I don’t recommend this. Peeling them off your cock afterward is a bitch.

I’ve obliged some really quite small phalluses - but none of them for more than a minute or two, because all the ones of that size that I’ve done have popped in a hurry. I suppose they don’t get that much stimulation, comparatively speaking, so remain more sensitive? Totally guessing. But to be honest, I can’t really fairly answer this question because it implies a choice, and I don’t really consider myself as having a choice when a cock is presented to me for service - I guess I have no lower limit.

Is it only me who finds it mildly annoying when you’re watching a bit of porn of a bottom getting railed, and you suddenly realize that his pattern of moans is out of sync with the Top’s thrusting? Like what you hear is Unh-unh-unh-unh-unh but the Top’s only thrusted three times. Clearly, the moans aren’t reactions to what’s being done, so it just makes me think that the bottom’s performing, but not doing a very good job of it. Maybe I’m just too critical, but that always puts me off.

The concept of a gay man seducing a straight man into sex seems to draw its allure from the sense that the straight guy would normally be unobtainable - and we want most what we cannot have. But the sharp, immutable separation between “gay” and “straight” is a myth that was dispelled 74 years ago with the publication of Kinsey’s Sexual Behavior In The Human Male (1948) in which he debuted the Kinsey Scale. The Kinsey Scale illustrates the findings of Kinsey’s comprehensive research, which found that sexual identity is a fluid and changeable spectrum, and very few people occupy its extreme ends. For more on this, check out: [think before following links] https://kinseyinstitute.org/research/publications/kinsey-scale.php In the years since Kinsey’s publication, other studies and scales of human sexuality have been developed to refine Kinsey’s foundational concepts. One notable scale is the Klein Grid, which reflects the possibility that a person’s sexual orientation may change over time. You can take a simple assessment to see where you might land on a Klein Grid at: [think before following links] https://bi.org/en/klein-grid I never think about whether a guy who fucks me might be straight because: A) To my mind, a “straight” man is someone whose sexual attraction is, by definition, exclusively to women, so if he’s sexually motivated enough by a male body to fuck it, he cannot be, by definition, “straight” as the term is defined. Excuses like “My girlfriend won’t put out and I need a warm hole to nut in” don’t hold any water; a truly “straight” man would find the very idea of fucking a dude repugnant. I am very well aware of Kinsey, so I realize that such labels are basically meaningless anyway. B) I’m a bisexual. I married a woman and had exclusively hetero reproductive sex for over a decade, and produced offspring. The sex was good. After that ended, I shifted gears and the sex is good. If in the unlikely future event of my finding another suitable female partner, I would switch gears again, because I do monogamy when I take a vow. But because I myself order from the full menu, it doesn’t occur to me to wonder whether anyone else is any different. C) And it’s not as if it matters anyway; my purpose is to serve the sexual need of men with my body. Not just certain men, but any man, and every man who seeks it, without criterion, including his “orientation”. The only thing I need know is that he wants to fuck me; if so, he is automatically entitled to it. D) I am very well aware of Kinsey, and so even if I did somehow think to wonder if the man cunting me were straight, I would instantly get bored thinking about it because the question would be meaningless. A more interesting question is, when a woman is pegging me with a strapon and doing as good a job as any Alpha, do we think of her as a straight woman?

The thing about the way this question is put - whether the OP intended it this way I couldn’t say - is that it isn’t simply “Are you okay with getting fucked with a condom?” Nor is it simply “Are you okay with getting fucked if the Top doesn’t cum in you?” Both of these questions get asked repeatedly on here in one form or another, and they’re fairly straightforward. The test of this question though, comes when you invert it - “Would you be against taking a condom if you knew you weren’t getting a load, but you’d take it if you were?” It suddenly boils the whole thing down to asking whether the bottom is purely motivated by what he can get for himself. If a guy answers, “l’ll take a condom fuck, but only if I get a condomful at the end” you know that his focus isn’t on that Top’s pleasure, or even the enjoyment of sex - he’s conditioned the whole event on whether he gets a little bag if fluid at the end. It almost sounds like a drug deal, and considering the reason why bottoms end up craving cum, to a degree it is. If a guy answers, “I never take a condom in my ass no matter what - If he’s going to cum, it’s going deep in me where it belongs” then again, the choice has been conditioned on the substance, not the experience, and not the other individual. There are plenty of reasons why men dislike, and refuse, condoms. Yes, I will take a condom in my cunt, because if a Top has decided to fuck me, it’s my duty to submit to him, not question his preferences. That doesn’t mean I like it. But it never, not ever once, occurs to me to think that I might refuse a Top because he might not inseminate me. A load from a Top is a gift and a high honor, and I find any bottom taking an attitude that he’s not puttin’ out unless he gets his prize a little distasteful. The whole focus some people have on “I just want cum, all the cum I can get” is distasteful, because it just smacks of self-absorption and greed. I was once invited to join a couple of other bottoms in a hotel room because they were planning on rounding up several Tops for group play. After I arrived, he informed me, “Just so you know, I’m taking all the loads.” He proceeded to demonstrate that he was every bit the douche that made him sound like, and I left. There’s just a type of bottom out there I have very little patience for.

I have every intention of spending some time at Steamworks, but as to the rest of it, never having been I have no idea what it’s like, what to expect, how to become involved in any action, or even how to find out whether there id any activity going on. I get the impression that there’s a degree of networking involved, word-of-mouth, people connecting people with other people who know other people - all of which is not something I’m very skilled at. There’s a very real risk I could go there and miss out on everything simply from not being socially savvy enough to pick up on cues. If I become aware of sex parties that I would be welcome to attend, I will certainly do so; if I am requested to provide more personalized service to a smaller group, I will of course gladly do that as well. If all else fails, I guess I’ll just be another in the multitude of raised asses poised in hope of an opportunity to serve. Between now and then I hope to become better informed about what to expect.

Yeah…no. This dude was a random interloper in my hotel room, raving on the phone with this other guy, and he was clearly emotionally unstable. If he didn’t intend to leave, it would mean involving either the hotel staff or the cops, and he was counting on that, because he basically dared me to call them because I’d have to explain why I was having guys into my room to fuck me. Furthermore, when he started to go off on me he decided to play this card: ”And I have Asperger’s!” I replied, “So? I have Asperger’s.” He was not expecting that, and it threw him a bit. But it pissed me off, because Autists do not use Autism as a crutch or an excuse, and this told me as much as I needed or wanted to know about this guy. This wasn’t a case of wiggling out of a bad blind date - this was a case of having opened my door to an unbalanced, manipulative and potentially dangerous hard-luck case and needing to get him the fuck out of this room (that he had, after all, no right to be in once I asked him politely to leave) before I got sucked into his vortex of shit. This is the sort of thing I keep trying to tell guys here, that if you haven’t been out there in the trenches and dealt with this shit first-hand you don’t realize that advocating “people skills” in a dodgy situation like this is akin to suggesting hunting a bengal tiger with a slingshot. Open-door cumdumping is a risky proposition. By definition, a cumdump is essentially live bait attempting to lure large, powerful male animals in the middle of what is potentially one of their most unpredictable and dangerous states - the imperative of their sexual drive. It’s not without reason that we scrupulously avoid messing with elk, buffalo, moose and such when they’re in the rut. When I’m in that room waiting to be cunted, not only am I alone, but I’m naked and exquisitely vulnerable - that being the point - and I’ve ensured that there is no physical barrier to prevent anyone at all from getting to me. I go into that situation fully aware that one day a man could come through that door with intent to rob me (I therefore bring nothing of value) or do far worse than fuck me. I am not helpless, and I am always armed, but I always know that I may one day come out on the losing end of the deal. Living this kind of lifestyle requires one to engage in risk-assessment. Frankly, I expect to be raped at some point, in the sense of being used in a way beyond or against my consent, by force. The more I host, the more of a statistical likelihood it becomes. No amount of people skills are going to deter that assailant.

I’m more inclined toward the hyperspermia explanation - if it had been a case of fluid injected, it would likely have been released in a more continuous stream under pressure. What we see, however, are ejaculatory spurts consistent with emission by his body’s natural function. I do find myself wondering where someone with hyperspermia to that degree holds that amount of seminal fluid. No wonder he’s groaning like that.

This is me. I mean I enjoy oral to an extent, but cocksucking isn’t my strength, partly because the TMJ issue won’t let me open up wide enough. It’s also, I think, because head does absolutely nothing for me if guy goes down on me, and I just don’t have an innate appreciation of how good fellatio ought to be given from a receiver’s point of view. Does that make me selfish? No. I’ll still try to give you head if you want, because I’m all about what the Top wants, but you’re probably not going to enjoy it very much. Try the ass; it’s way better. Does that make me boring? If the only thing that interests you is getting your cock sucked, I guess it might, but if that’s all you want, you’re probably at least just as boring yourself. I’ve got plenty of other tricks up my sleeve. Does that make me lazy? Fuck no. When I’m servicing a Top I’m always actively working to improve the experience for him. Even if I’m just lying on my belly taking it up the cunt I’m busy working the muscles inside to guide and finesse his fuck. The day I had my best gangbang at camp, there was a guy by me at the table who did nothing but suck cock while I was getting ganged. He would harden them up, then send them around to me for penetration. (Every now and again he’d lean over and say, “Here comes a big one.”) There’s a word for a guy like him. He’s a cocksucker. There’s a word for a guy like me. I’m a cunt. We’re both specialists at what we do.

How good that is depends on where you are. Where I am, the chance of populating any kind of citizen oversight board with non-judgmental people is remote. Candidly, I take an extremely dim view of LCSWs. I have dealt with more than one, and have found them from inept to incompetent, and apt to cause as much harm as they address. Am I to understand that you were threatened with a mental health evaluation simply because you were diagnosed with gonorrhea? If so, that’s beyond outrageous.

Be careful what you ask for. Last fall I was back in the town I grew up in - hadn’t been there in over 20 years, and the place hadn’t improved. I wasn’t going to be there long, and it feels weird anyway staying in a hotel in your own hometown, but I decided, what the hell, and assed-up on the off-chance I might get lucky. Nobody there was going to remember me anyway. I’ve written about this encounter elsewhere on the forum, but I did indeed get a hit from a guy who said he was interested, but wanted to know if I’d come get him (Nope) and then revealed that he had no transportation, but might make the walk. While I was waiting, I happened to read further down his profile and discovered that he was looking for someone to put him up because he had nowhere to stay. Goddamn it. I messaged him and made it absolutely clear I was *not* offering him a room for the night, just a fuck, and he said he got it. He shows up with his duffle bag and guitar, shivering and half blue from the cold. I put him in a warm shower and got dressed while I made him a cup of warm tea and got him some carbs to eat. Fucking was out if the question. The next hour went straight to hell by way of Dramatown, as he got hold of the abusive ‘boyfriend’/dealer who had left him on the roadside to begin with, and when, after I finally told him that I would take him wherever he wanted to go but he was going to have to leave, he went off on me about what a piece of shit I was, and I began to wonder if I was going to need to avail myself of my self-defense measures before he finally hit the road. No good deed if mine usually goes unpunished, but this one went south spectacularly. My real-life experiences have been having the unfortunate side effect of thinning my patience with much of the inane fapblather that so many guys on here try to pass off as something that actually happened. You’re right about one thing: Life is gritty as fuck.

Well, to be honest, I’ve never quite understood the thinking behind the particular fantasy of being used by random homeless men. I mean, I suppose if a person were to look at them as an “undesirable” class of persons, then one might feel some sense of humiliation, but I’ve never looked at the homeless that way. I see men in difficult, challenging, sometimes tragic life circumstances struggling to meet basic human needs. Granted that sex is a basic need, but when you don’t know where your next meal is coming from or whether you’re going to be able to find a safe place to sleep out of the elements tonight, spending a lot of time hunting up random cumdumps to fuck can’t be high on the list of priorities, I wouldn’t think. Never having, by God’s grace, been homeless myself, I’m obviously speculating. There may be others here who can speak to it with more authority. It may be that I have been cunted by a number of anonymous homeless men who have taken advantage of my open door, and if so, I’m very glad of it - if using my body allows them to meet at least one of their human needs for that day, I’ve been put to my best possible use. In fact, that’s the thing that brings me the greatest fulfillment and gratification of all when I’m lying in a post-fuck mess of sweat and cum - the knowledge that that Top needed me, and he was able to take what he needed.

Because there are some cumdumps who know what they’re doing, and others who not only haven’t got a clue, they haven’t got a clue that they haven’t got a clue. Everybody is a first-timer at some point, of course, and some things you learn as you go. But there’s no reason why a Top should select a prospect whose choice of setup raises the question of whether he has any experience. The Top risks ending up with a bottom who *fantasized* that he could take cock all night only to discover that he was ready to tap out after half an hour. Or a bottom who got a room but didn’t have the experience to know what supplies he needed to bring with him to make an evening successful. Going with a beginner could just as easily mean the Top ends up with a guy who isn’t accustomed to the clean-out necessary for a hard night of cunting, and there could be…complications. The world is overflowing with ass wanting to be fucked, and it’s very much a buyer’s market for the Tops. They have their choice of hole, and there’s no reason they should have to settle for substandard or mediocre service. It never fails but you’ll encounter some bottom online kvetching about how it’s so unfair that he can’t get fucked and that the Tops won’t tap him, and then you find out he’s set himself up on the fifth floor of an expensive hotel with keycard access and interior doors. The idiot’s done it to himself, and doesn’t even realize it. And he’ll be the same guy who talks about how he wants homeless guys to walk in and take him - like all the local hobos are going to be traipsing through the halls of the Ritz-Carlton. A Top is best advised to seek out a cumdump who’s got his act together and knows how to provide hassle-free, high-quality service because he’s taken enough cock to know how and where to do it best. Damn - it has been way too long since I had my ass up in a hotel. I’ve really got to get back on duty.

I don’t know why so many of my entries seem to center around numbers - I’m not a numbers kind of guy. Nevertheless: Ten. I’m getting bred by another man in ten minutes from now, ten minutes from this moment. That’s enough time to put my whole life into a weird perspective that leads up to me being a hollow vessel for another man’s lust. Ten. Ten toes that splay and curl with his penetrations; when he forces me to an anal orgasm In missionary I can see my own big toes draw under and inward in involuntary response, as though they weren’t mine, but his - which, of course, they are. Ten. Viagra is dispensed in doseage measurements of 10mg. Ten. The cock length that somehow almost everyone claims to have taken, in spite of their rarity (I, however, absolutely have. It was not a comfortable fuck. I took an 11 that was much better.) Ten. The number of times the man who is about to fuck me has cunted me like a piece of fuck meat and inseminated me deeply with his seed, into places where it fuses with my being and colonizes me like all the invaders who ever entered Britain, and whose essence remains yet today. How many men am I an amalgam of now? How many multiples of Ten? Not multiples - orders of magnitude. How much of me that was original remains? If I am a vessel, my inner walls are coated thickly now with layer on layer of deposits, densely packed and each resonant of the man who left it - whether any actual molecular trace remains or whether the residuum is in my mind matters not at all; his entry into me is indelible. This man almost here has flooded me so many times I have truly lost count. I have taken s great deal of his semen into my body. Ten. The number of letters in CUMDUMP FAG, SLUT FOR MEN and WHORE ME OUT. I have been whored out, and would eagerly accept the opportunity again. If I found a man who wished to do it, I would let him traffic me for his bank. Ten bucks a fuck? Ten cents? Ten. The number I need to count to when I say such things to myself, because part of me means them in deadly earnest. And now he’s here. My ten are up, and I am fuckmeat now.

I have to say, I can't avoid a slight sense of jealousy toward someone who can take cock in a front and a back hole simultaneously - I may take a DP, but that's something I will never, alas, be able to experience.

Not that I disagree in principle, but I feel obliged to point out that item 4 is a highly subjective measure, and item seven is a matter of opinion subject to definition. These may be biodegradable and thus better for the environment, but what about the sheep? Are you fine with lambs being led to slaughter so you can fuck with a marginally more sensitive condom full of microscopic holes that defeat its entire purpose? I'm waiting for the kink community to invent sharkskin condoms made from sharkskin. Shark skin is like sandpaper.

That’s legit, and how that’s how I roll myself. The fact that you’re conscious that those small things can be appreciated says you can find your way back to them. My own rabbit hole has gotten very deep indeed, but I haven’t altogether become lost in it. Not yet. Though I know what you’re getting at, and I can imagine a devolved point-of-no-return in my own mind. The scary thing is that when you’re standing at the edge of a cliff, a tiny part of you is always urging you to jump. Heh. I’ve battled this treatment-resistant depression more or less nonstop for 35 years. Many hypotheses have come and gone, along with the doctors who proposed them. This dopamine hypothesis seems most workable because treatment based on it is the only thing that’s ever laid a glove on my condition. It seems to check the boxes as well as anything can, given that the state of scientific understanding of how the brain works is still largely at the level of educated guesswork. The psychiatrist who proposes it has treated me now for over a decade, and spends part of his time as a teaching fellow at a university, so in all I’m pretty comfortable with the hypotheses until something better comes along. We take what fragments of solid knowledge science can glean and use them to try to connect the dots to resolve a clearer picture. The more dots we get, the less crude that picture becomes. I always keep my mind open. And don’t be concerned about the comments on methamphetamine. This is a clinical discussion about the pharmacological effects of psychoactive medication in the treatment of conditions of the brain, and the reference is one advocating abstinence. It does not offend the rules of this area of the Forum, as would comments encouraging and glorifying recreational use.

It’s an interesting question. I have never had the slightest wish that I had been born a female - I wouldn’t be interested in having breasts or broad hips or any of the other secondary characteristics that define females. And if I were to stumble onto a porn clip of a woman masturbating, I generally am hard-put to think of anything I would find more boring more quickly. But A while back I saw a photo of this guy who had a great body, very fuckworthy, and I suddenly realized that there was no cock there. He had a vagina. A very successful FtM change, I’m sure, but it took my breath away. For the first time, I thought, God, I wish that was me. I mean I don’t, except I do. I’ve had a cock for 55 years. I can’t imagine not having it. But I don’t need it - I don’t use it as such - a real, bona fide cunt would be ever so much more practical and useful. Imagine not having to was out my intestines just so I can fuck. So, if I had to endure painful, risky and costly surgeries to get a vagina, I’d likely give it a pass. But if I could just snap my fingers and -hey presto- I can’t say I wouldn’t be tempted…

@rock-cock-jock - Dealing with a condition where you have a chronic imbalance or deficiency in one or more of your brain’s neurotransmitters is like being in a boat in a storm at sea. You can learn skills to help keep the bow turned to the wind, and to keep from capsizing, and maybe even figure out how to navigate through the typhoon. But what you will always really need is to just get out of the weather and onto calmer water. The storm in your head isn’t going to let up on its own. You may find lots of measures to help you cope with it, but the thing you should aim for is calming the underlying chaos so you’re living, not just coping. I have my own issues with dopamine, a more or less thorough lack thereof, which manifests as depression rather than ADHD. The approach to the storm, however, is the same - regulation of the brain’s ability to produce, use, and dispose of dopamine in a normal and orderly way. A moderate dose of Adderall functions as a dopamine release agent, and a complementary dose of bupropion acts as a norepinephrine/dopamine reuptake inhibitor to make sure what’s produced stays put to get used where it’s needed. The classes of medications used therapeutically for ADHD have varying methods of action, but essentially they all attack the problem at its source from some angle with the intent of calming the storm. My nephew’s ADHD is somewhat pronounced, and his behavior has been much as you describe, with consequences to go along with it. He is only able to maintain any kind of stability on his ADHD meds - if he goes off them, his impulsivity eventually gets the better of him no matter how hard he tries. The graphic you shared of the iceberg is actually telling you more than you think. It’s telling you that there’s an unseen mountain of difficulty embodied in dealing with ADHD, and you’re not going to find an easy way to deal with it. It wasn’t hitting that little bit of ice on the surface that sank the Titanic - it was the running into the fucking ice mountain underneath. You say you wonder whether your ADHD might not just be mild, but the behavior you describe isn’t what mild ADHD usually looks like. It’s not just a matter of talking about something and - oh, look, a squirrel! You’re talking about risky behavior, hypersexuality, self-destructive behavior, poor impulse control, and issues that result in problems maintaining relationships. That suggests something more complicated, and more likely to benefit from a professional evaluation. (I, by the way, am neither a doctor nor a mental health care professional. I have, however, been one of the moderators for a mental health peer-support forum for over 15 years, and we have had many members with situations similar to yours. The first order of business is always an accurate diagnosis. Self-diagnosis can sometimes lead you very far astray. The second order of business is steering far away from using any psychoactive substance recreationally, at least until you’ve stabilized your chemistry. And for the love of God, no more methamphetamine - it’s neurotoxic to the dopamine transporters in your brain. Every hit of that shit does damage to your ability to access dopamine normally. If you insist on using meth, no amount of belly-breathing is going to do you any good.)

Doublelist is a poor replacement - while I can often rely on a Doublelist ad turning up some action, actually getting the add successfully posted is akin to trying to launch a space shuttle. The image and language restrictions on the ads are so opaque and byzantine that you never know if you’re going to pass muster until your ad is rejected - and you’re not told why - assuming it gets processed in a timely manner at all. I’ve set ads for an evening only to see them finally pop up as I’m packing to leave the next morning. It’s a crap shoot. CL was reliable. I hold out hope that one day the pendulum will swing back (pendulums always swing back) and we’ll be able to reach out to each other again in with CL grace and freedom. Remember - it matters who you vote for.